by Jane Glatt
“You’re Pater’s nephew aren’t you?” Brenna stepped over to him and smiled.
“You know my Uncle Pater?” He looked up at her in surprise.
“That I do,” Brenna said. “I bet you’re the lad who hurt his foot. That was one of my poultices you used for it.”
“You’re Brenna the healer?” At her nod he continued excitedly. “Uncle Pater says you likely know more about healin’ than anyone else in Kingsreach, not just the Quarter. He says you could set up shop and treat only nobles and such, but you prefer to stay in the Quarter treatin’ folks who really appreciate it.”
Brenna laughed and squeezed Martyn’s shoulder. “It’s true; I do like the people of the Quarter.”
“Huh,” Carolie said. “Who ever heard of the heir to the throne being a healer living in Thieves Quarter? If you really have royal blood why aren’t you living in the castle with the king?”
The girl was annoying. Brenna ignored the comment and turned to Feiren. His shrug told her that he had yet to figure out a way to handle her.
“Don’t be thick.” This was from Colm, the only one of the boys who looked to be Carolie’s social equal. “She’s the long lost heir. Makes sense she wouldn’t be living anywhere fancy, otherwise she wouldn’t be lost, would she? And why not a healer? If the old prophecy is true she’s partly descended from Aruntun and she was a healer.”
Brenna caught Feiren’s wink as she turned to hide her smile. Carolie’s huff followed her as she walked over to Feiren, but the girl didn’t say anything more.
“So Weapons Master,” Brenna said. “Please don’t let me interrupt the lesson any more than I already have. What were you working on before I joined you?”
Brenna sighed as she wrapped both hands around the warm mug. She closed her eyes and breathed in the steam from her tea. It was only early afternoon, but she was already exhausted. They’d spent the morning running through some of the drills Feiren and she had been working on. This let Feiren get an idea of how experienced each student was in terms of their weapons training. After the noon meal, she’d worked with each one of them separately, trying to understand the individual songs. She frowned. Carolie’s knife was not a match for her. In addition to the girl’s haughty manner, she’d had to deal with mismatched old steel. Footsteps sounded in the hall and then the door creaked open. Feiren stood before her, face weary.
“How did Carolie’s father take it?” she asked.
Feiren ran a hand over his short hair. “I don’t think it was a surprise.” He grinned. “Carolie decided that her father was saving the better weapon for her younger brother and she made sure he knew she wasn’t happy.”
“I think that she’ll show up here tomorrow with whatever was promised to her brother,” Brenna said.
“Aye, I think so too. When I explained that you could tell the knife wasn’t original to the family, aside from being embarrassed, her father was impressed so that was well done. Guild Master Brunger has been vocal in opposing you as the Caller and his position in the guild means his opinion carries weight. When I met his daughter this morning, I feared we’d not be able to make any headway, seeing that she was at least as hard headed as her father, but you’ve shown him that you do have special sense about old steel. He’ll not forget.”
“I doubt Carolie will allow him to forget,” Brenna said.
The next few weeks fell into a routine. Two days out of every seven, Brenna practiced with the young members of the Brotherhood. Carolie did indeed show up with a knife that was a better match for her. It was very plain, which explained why she’d been given the other one in the first place, but now that the girl knew it was more of a family treasure than her first knife, she made much of it.
In very little time Brenna was able to stand outside a room and know who was in there, just by sensing the old steel. Once, Feiren had her six training mates trade weapons. Not only did Brenna know that they didn’t hold their own weapons, but she could tell whose weapon they held.
She knew she should treat all of the youngsters the same, but Jemma, the only daughter of a weaver, quickly became her favourite. The girl was quiet and serious when with the others, but alone, Jemma had a quick wit and wry sense of humor. Brenna and Jemma often sat apart from the rest while they waited their turn in the practice yard. Jemma seemed content to let Carolie flirt and giggle with the boys while she and Brenna discussed other matters.
Already apprenticed to her father, Jemma had a good grasp of how politics shaped and affected her particular trade. Brenna listened uneasily to Jemma’s thoughts about Comack. Duke Thorold’s reliance on his mines for wealth combined with his obsession with developing feed and pasturage for his horses meant that southern Aruntun, not Comack, now produced most of Soule’s cotton. As the church of the One-God gained power in the king’s council the possibility of trade disruptions with Aruntun became more likely. If that happened whole trades could disappear.
“As a weaver I would likely be fine,” Jemma said. “I can still work wool and such. But it’s not just the growers who would lose trade. The cotton merchants and the ship owners and caravans that transport it would be hurt, as well as the dyers and those who collect and grow what’s used in the dyes. Some dyes are only good for cotton and can’t be used on wool. And all because the church won’t tolerate the old gods.”
Brenna shivered. Trade would be disrupted, just as Jemma outlined, she was sure. Was this another vision? Maybe not, but Duke Thorold rarely did things by accident. If he’d been encouraging his farmers to grow grain rather than cotton, there was a reason. She shivered again. What had the cotton displaced on the Aruntian farms? Wheat? Corn? Would Aruntun be able to feed her people if trade with the rest of Soule dried up?
Most days the mental work with old steel combined with the physical activity of weapons training left Brenna exhausted - those nights she slept deeply and did not venture out into the city. On the nights that she did take to the streets she always wore her knife. She followed Kane’s advice and worked hard to keep old steel quiet. It wasn’t long before she could pinpoint Brothers when they were blocks away.
Testing for old steel became second nature. Brenna was confident that she was no longer being followed. At least by the Brotherhood. Of the church, she saw no sign, but kept to the shadows and rooftops just in case.
She also kept to the better parts of town. She was much less likely to be recognized outside of the Quarter. Especially once she’d come across some student’s clothes left outside to dry. The disguise suited her well enough. She’d even worn it into the odd tavern in the hopes she could glean information about Thorold’s activities. She might be Feiren’s guest and the Brotherhood believed her the heir to their prophecy, but she had not lost sight of her promise to her mother. She would find a way to make Duke Thorold pay for her death.
News was rare but one night at a small out-of-the-way tavern she was able to slip unnoticed into a booth beside a former informant. Messengers from abroad had visited Thorold’s estate after dark, he told his companion. And one message had been intercepted. Duke Thorold’s son Beldyn was to wed the King of Langemore’s daughter.
As she crept out of the tavern Brenna wondered what other correspondence Duke Thorold might have had with the King of Langemore. She could see no reason for him to want to keep a betrothal secret – not after King Mattias’ lack of a marriage and natural heir.
On her way back to Feiren’s house she cursed her inability to find out more - but she’d have to go through both Kane and Eryl to question her old informants, and that she wouldn’t do. She didn’t yet trust Kane, not with this. And Eryl? She knew better than to trust him. No matter how ambiguous she tried to make her questions, he’d see through them. And she’d never be sure that he’d tell her the truth.
But something about Thorold’s late night messengers bothered her. Another hunch, she thought wryly, and wished her Seer abilities were clearer. Maybe then she wouldn’t need to work so hard at finding things out. No doubt she
’d find the information she sought in Thorold’s home if she dared the old gods and looked there.
As high summer hit Kingsreach and the nobles made plans to leave the city in order to escape the heat and odors of the hot weather, Brenna worried that she would lose her chance for this year. Kane told her Duke Thorold planned to leave for Dryannan soon. She was getting desperate to learn more of his plots.
Dressed as a student, Brenna walked slowly past the high wall of the estate, the gate and the guards. The lane she turned down branched off to the right and sloped down towards the river. She’d walked this path shortly before midnight every fourth or fifth night since she’d found her student disguise. The first night the guards had watched her every move, but each night after that they’d paid less and less attention. Tonight her presence barely caused a head to turn and she smiled in the darkness. She was as invisible as she would ever be to the guards at Duke Thorold’s estate.
Brenna slowly headed back to Feiren’s. Her next step would be the library. If she could find plans for an estate the same age as Thorold’s she might be able to find a way in. But that would have to wait. Tomorrow was the unveiling of the Caller to the Brotherhood and she needed to be sharp to manage all the old steel.
nine
Kane strode through the castle, barely noticing the rich tapestries, thick oak tables and richly carved panels and doors that he passed. He turned left just past the offices of the three duchies - as usual the offices of Aruntun and Fallad were dark and empty while a light showed from under Comack’s closed door.
He reached his own office and pushed the door open. Dasid looked up from his seat at the desk, papers and scrolls piled in front of him.
“Ready to go?” Kane asked. Tonight the Brotherhood would acknowledge Brenna as the Caller and heir to the throne. The oath they had given when they joined the Brotherhood was real and every one of them owed their allegiance to Brenna. Including him. He hoped it never conflicted with the oath he’d sworn to protect King Matthias.
“It will take me only a moment to finish up here.” Dasid said. He rolled up a scroll and added it to one of the stacks of papers on the desk while Kane paced the small room.
The meet was scheduled to start in two hours and Kane was impatient to get to his uncle’s and make sure all was well. He’d handled the security measures himself but he needed to make sure his plan was executed smoothly.
Because of the large number of people expected for tonight’s meet, arrivals had been staggered over the past two days. Right now travelers from outside Kingsreach were concealed in the underground passageways. Some had been there for two nights.
It was the biggest recorded meeting in Brotherhood history. Well over six hundred Brothers were expected. Since there was no way to keep a gathering that large a secret, they’d had come up with a ruse. Uncle Feiren was hosting a party in honor of the retirement of the Kingsguard's weapons master. Almost three hundred Kingsguard and high ranking townspeople would enter through the Rowse estate through the front door. What wasn’t general knowledge was that the Weapons Master was going to manage their new training facility.
Finally Dasid was finished and they headed for the stables.
Their horses settled in the Rowse stables, Kane headed for Feiren’s study while Dasid went down to the cavern. His task was to document all the Brothers in attendance, a huge undertaking he’d already spent weeks on. Now he was going to see who had arrived since the morning.
Feiren’s study was empty. Kane looked out the window to the practice yard. Uncle Feiren was there with Brenna and the six youngsters, going through their drill one final time. When he stepped outside, Kane’s sword tingled slightly. Though her back was to him and all her attention seemed to be on the drill, Brenna had just greeted him.
Her control over the old steel amazed him. Two weeks after his talk with her none of the Brothers on watch complained of unexpected incidences with their weapons. At first Kane had been pleased - then he’d smartened up. Now half the Brothers posted to watch the house and its exits went without old steel. So far, according to the reports, Brenna still roamed at night but now she kept to the better parts of Kingsreach, where she wouldn’t be recognized. She also showed a respectable amount of caution when she went out and often wore a disguise she’d picked up somewhere. And because she was so good at remaining undetected, tracking her through the streets of the city was excellent training for his men.
Drill complete, the group in front of him all lowered their weapons. Uncle Feiren headed his way and Kane caught Brenna’s eye and smiled.
“Everything going well?” Kane asked.
“Aye, as well as can be expected with this lot.” Feiren’s eyes sparkled with humor. “All right. Head inside and get yourselves something from Cook,” Feiren said and Kane stepped to the side as the group headed to the door.
“Mind you,” Feiren said. “Cook will be busy so don’t make yourselves a nuisance. And see if ye can’t keep from staining your shirt, there Owen.” Feiren bellowed as he followed them into the house.
Brenna stopped beside Kane.
“It looks good,” Kane said. “The drill. Was the way you’re dressed your idea?” All six young Brothers had been in head to toe black. Not unlike what Brenna had been wearing the first time he’d met her.
“Well, it is practical.” Brenna grinned up at him. “Black breeches and shirts are useful, especially for the boys. Even Carolie seems to like it. Now take your uniform.” Brenna gestured towards him. “With so many buttons to polish I’m surprised you have time to show up at all.”
Kane dipped his head in acknowledgement. He hadn’t spent much time at his uncle’s, though he knew he should. He needed her to trust him, to trust the Brotherhood. Staying away didn’t help him there.
“I might have more time if I didn’t have so many security reports to listen to,” Kane said. She shrugged at his comment but it was true. He’d insisted his men report her every move to him, and they did. Pages and pages each night she was out. “I’ve been told the subject is being very careful.”
“I can’t believe you still haven’t told your Uncle.” Brenna met his gaze, her eyes serious. “I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“You forget who I am, Brenna.” Kane kept his voice gentle. “As Captain of the Kingsguard I sit on the king’s council. I’m also in charge of security for the Brotherhood. That makes your safety my responsibility, not my uncle’s.” He hoped he never had to choose between his two roles. His first loyalty was to Brenna and the Brotherhood. “Besides,” Kane continued. “I did suggest you tell him.”
“So you did,” Brenna said. “I just didn’t expect you to keep a secret like this from him.”
“It’s not a secret unless it’s kept,” he said quietly. Maybe, just maybe, she would trust him a little now. “And speaking of secrets, I’m sure Dasid would love to discuss the house with you. He might be able to show you a few more exits.” Brenna laughed and he felt her relax a little. Good, tonight was too important for her to be too nervous. “Not that I think you need more ways out of the house.”
“Do you really think he knows more of them than I do?” Brenna asked.
Kane pretended to think about it. “He’s had access to the house for twenty years and you’ve had access to it for what, less than two months? No, I doubt he knows more of them than you. But he would like to record them all.”
Up in her room, Brenna could hear the sounds of people arriving - hearty greetings, booted feet in the hallway, laughter. But underneath it there was a heavy hum of old steel. A lot of old steel. She’d successfully blocked it out until now but with so much below her, her head ached. At one point, in an effort to find out just how many weapons there were, she’d reached for it and had almost been overwhelmed. Since then she’d stayed in her room rather than face the old steel and the Brothers who carried it. In hopes of some relief, she dabbed her neck with cool water. She leaned over the wash basin and studied her reflection in the mirror.
Idly she picked up her knife and toyed with it, first lighting the blade and then letting it go dark. Kane and Feiren believed she could manipulate old steel because she was heir to the prophecy. She thought it was something she’d inherited from her mother, along with the charm of concealment and her ability to see well in the dark.
The trouble was, as Kane had reminded her tonight, this wasn’t a game. She was about to try to convince hundreds of people that she was the one prophesied long ago, the one they felt should be on the throne. There was no way she could ever believe that, nor did she want what they offered. She had her own plans, her own life and they didn’t include being the figurehead for the Brotherhood.
But she needed to know what game Thorold was playing so she had to keep up appearances with Kane and his uncle. Unfortunately the longer she stayed in the Rowse home, the harder it would be to see Kane’s reaction to her deception. She admired him. He was a man of honor, a man to be trusted. He would stand by her if she asked, likely to the death – and that shook her. No-one other than her mother had ever had that depth of loyalty to her. And she didn’t deserve it. She wasn’t what he thought she was. Kane had been correct earlier when he said she’d forgotten who he was. She, a thief, had no right to expect anything from the Captain of the Kingsguard.