The Drinnglennin Chronicles Omnibus

by K. C. Julius

  Mother spread her hands, as if appealing for her daughter’s understanding. “I hadn’t known much kindness since my parents made the Leap.”

  Maura seemed to have lost her voice. She watched in frozen silence as her mother lifted the skein of wool from her lap and slowly unraveled it.

  “Soon he was giving me fine tokens: an enameled brooch, a filigreed bracelet, a delicate anklet of gold and amber. Of course, I had nowhere to wear these adornments, but I treasured them, because they were gifts from him. And…” She paused. “And it wasn’t long before he asked for a gift in return.”

  There was no bitterness in her words, only an echo of wistfulness.

  “Before I left his bed that first time, I knew I had conceived. Å Livåri women do. I said nothing of this until I discovered he was departing in a few days’ time. After we made love that night, I revealed my secret, and he seemed pleased. But the next morning, when he passed me in the corridor, I sensed at once that his ardor had cooled. Still, he was not without care for me. He requested I be allowed to join his entourage, and of course Sir Drenen and Lady Harrien were happy to oblige their illustrious guest. I was of no great importance to them.

  “But I never shared my lord’s bed again. Instead, my former lover arranged for me to be present at the Sommerfest. He had an appointment to meet a renowned lapin merchant and his son, from whom he was considering purchasing significant amounts of wool. My lord clothed me in finery and bid me wear all the trinkets he had bestowed upon me. To my surprise, he called me ‘cousin’ when he introduced me to the masters Trok. Arrangements were made to meet for supper, and then again for a hunting party. In the following days, his lordship made sure I was often in the merchants’ company.

  “All the while, I feared for my future and that of my unborn child. So when a match was encouraged, to which both father and son seemed more than amenable, I agreed. My future father-in-law saw the chance to elevate his station and secure valued concessions, while Papa… well, he’s always said he fell in love the moment he laid eyes on me.”

  Maura’s mother smiled to herself at the memory, but Maura’s mind was reeling. Papa…

  “Of course, your grandfather was deeply disappointed when, a few days later, he learned the truth—that I had no connection to my lord’s family, or even his household. But by then it was too late. Your father refused to return home without me. So in exchange for his blessing, your grandfather was offered an exclusive concession for his wool by those my lord represented.”

  Maura cringed in her chair, trying to distance herself from what her mother was saying. “No,” she whispered.

  “Your papa has always believed that you are his. And you are his daughter—in that he has always loved you as his own. It would push him beyond grief to learn… otherwise.”

  Tears had begun to stream down Maura’s cheeks. “And Dal?” she asked tremulously.

  “Oh, Dal is your papa’s true son,” said Mother, twisting the yarn she held into a tight ball. “He is your half-brother.”

  “Is?” Maura grasped at this small beacon in her misery.

  Her mother looked away, into the crackling fire. “On my mother’s deathbed, she told me of the full pledge she’d made regarding repayment for taking Tobar’s child to live outside our clan. With her last breaths, she told me of the debt she was passing on to me. At the time I didn’t truly understand the obligation—I was a child, and consumed by grief—and thought it might be forgotten. But now that Dal has reached his twelfth year, I’ve been held to it.”

  It took Maura a moment to understand what her mother was saying. When she did, she sprang up from her chair. “Dal has been taken by the Lurkers?”

  Mother raised her chin. “He has gone to the å Livåri, yes.”

  “You must tell Papa! Perhaps we can find him before—”

  “Before what, Maura? The å Livåri are well known to disappear without a trace. And Dal went willingly.” She was still staring into the flames. “Those men you saw at the pool… one of them was my grandfather.”

  “But—but why did Dal go with them? What did you tell him?”

  “The truth!” retorted Mother, rounding on Maura with impatience. “That it was his duty to pay the debt, and in doing so, to protect his father from harm.”

  “Dal is a child!” Maura cried. “He can’t possibly understand the fate to which you’ve condemned him! You’ve bartered my brother away! When Papa learns of this, he’ll go after him and bring him back!”

  “You’re right,” said Mother. “If your father ever learned of this, he would stop at nothing to try to find Dal. Which is why you’ve been sworn to never tell him. He would seek vainly for years, and never discover where my mother’s kin have taken him.”

  Maura’s breath was coming in ragged bursts. “But if you’d told Papa, before they took him… he could have stopped them!”

  Her mother shook her head. “Alas, he could not have. And he would have died trying. Come, Maura, the debt is paid, which means you’ll not have to bear this burden I inherited from my mother. All you must do is honor your oath and say nothing to Papa. We cannot rob him of both his children.”

  Maura shook her head in disbelief. “If he were to learn how deeply you have deceived him…” She didn’t bother to conceal the menace in her voice.

  “It would break his spirit completely,” her mother declared. “He’s just begun to recover from the loss of Dal. And I have news for him that will further ease his pain.” She cradled a hand across her lap, and Maura’s eyes widened. “Two babes quicken in my womb. Your papa will mourn Dal still, and there will always be a hollow place in his heart, but these children will help him through this sorrow and bring him renewed joy.”

  The words felt like a blade through Maura’s breast. “You think my brother can be so easily replaced in Papa’s heart?”

  “Not replaced, Maura. Dal will never be replaced, for any of us. But the babes will ease our pain. You too will be leaving home soon.” She turned her attention to her spindle. “You’re of marriageable age. New life in the house will help me make Papa happy again, as I have always known how to do.”

  Her meaning was clear. She hoped Maura would soon be gone as well.

  Maura burned to tell her father everything she had just learned, but she feared her mother was right about what it would do to him. How would he feel toward her, knowing another man had fathered her? Would he still care for her at all?

  The possibility that he wouldn’t frightened her, and she cried out, “Who was the man you embraced at the pool?”

  Mother didn’t pause in her spinning. “Yoska is my cousin.”

  “You knew him,” Maura accused, recalling how her mother had clung to the man. “How is that possible if your mother was banished from her people?”

  Mother reached down for another skein of wool. “The elders disapproved of my mother’s actions, but Yoska is of a new breed. He tracked me down some years ago, and came to see me from time to time, for he believes the bond of kinship should never be broken. Unfortunately, it’s through him that my grandfather found me.”

  Maura gritted her teeth and asked the question that welled between them like dark, baneful water. “And my father…?”

  “Is home!” Papa swung through the door, bringing with him a gust of cold air and a glimpse of falling dusk. He threw off his cloak and reached out a hand to draw Maura from her chair. “How’s my lapin princess?” he teased, kissing the crown of her head.

  He smelled of ale and sweetleaf, and Maura leaned against him, wishing he could soothe away all her hurt, as he had always done.

  He stretched out his free hand to his wife. “Ah, my ladies,” he murmured, bringing them together in his arms and holding them tight.

  Maura felt her gut wrench as her mother laid her hand on her belly, her lips curving in a small, triumphant smile.

  Chapter 12 />
  After her mother’s revelations, Maura avoided the house as much as she could. Now that she had glimpsed her mother’s true nature, she found it nearly unbearable to be in her presence. And it was nearly as difficult to be around her father, now that she knew she had no true right to call him Papa.

  More than anything, she missed Dal.

  It was Orlana, the breeder, who provided her with unexpected inspiration. During her weekly visit to Fernsehn, Orlana announced she wouldn’t be coming for the next fortnight. “I’ll be in Soren,” said the older woman as they trimmed the lapins’ nails together. “Bretta Frindin’s attempting to mate great blues with tangerins, and I’m to assist her.” She lifted Trin and examined his underbelly. “This buck is in prime condition, Maura. You’re to be congratulated.”

  Maura mumbled an acknowledgement of the compliment. The wheels of her mind were occupied elsewhere. Tyrrin-on-Murr lies beyond Soren to the west. I could go there to seek Dal. Her mother had said it was impossible to track the å Livåri, but Maura couldn’t place her trust in anything the woman said anymore.

  It wouldn’t serve Maura’s purpose, though, to ask Orlana if she could accompany her to the fellow breeder. That would involve deceiving the kind woman as well. Instead, she decided to make the journey on her own—but tell her parents Orlana had invited her to Soren for the breeding. With luck, she would be at the coast by the time any of them discovered her deception. Once there, she’d find a way to let Papa know she was safe without revealing her whereabouts. And then she would find Dal.

  She announced her intention at supper that evening. “Orlana says the lapins in Soren have exquisite coats, and the breeder has developed some new strains of color. She plans to leave at the end of the week to examine them, and she has invited me to join her. I can ride Azta over to her farm in Bren the day before so we can get an early start.”

  “It’s a two-day journey to Soren from Bren,” said her father. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you two ladies on the road alone. Perhaps I can find some time to escort you.”

  “There’s no need, Papa. Orlana’s brother is coming with us.” She was shocked at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. Perhaps I’m more like my mother than I know, she thought ruefully.

  Surprisingly, her mother supported the idea. “It’ll do Maura good to get away for a little while. And it’s sure to result in profits to the farm.”

  So it was settled. The following day, while her parents went to market, Maura studied her father’s maps of Branley Tor and Tyrrencaster. She was pleased to discover her route would be relatively straightforward. It would take her four days to ride to Glastor, which lay beyond Soren, and from there she could follow the Great Road along the river to Tyrrin-on-Murr. At the coast, she’d look for any Lurker who might be able to tell her where his people camped. She had money to pay for information, and if she revealed that she too was of the å Livåri, one of them might honor her bond of kinship and help her.

  * * *

  On the day of her departure, Maura was up before dawn. The provisions she had pilfered from the larder were already deep in Azta’s saddlebags, and tucked under her kirtle was a full purse, holding the earnings Papa had paid her for lapin-tending.

  As luck would have it, her parents were distracted with inventorying wool bales, so she was able to take her leave with little ado. Still, her heart ached as she hugged Papa farewell, for it struck her that if she succeeded in her quest, he would learn that his marriage had been a deception from the start. Her mother waved from the storehouse, and Maura forced herself to smile and wave in return before riding off.

  The sun had not yet cleared the peaks surrounding Fernsehn, but its emerging light promised a bright day. Though it was true winter to the north in Valeland, here on the southwestern side of Amueke, a warm föhn wafted down the slopes, and the trees still bore remnants of their autumn glory. Maura hummed to herself, accompanied by birdsong and the steady beat of Azta’s hoofs.

  She descended toward the Fork, where the road to the right led to Orlana’s farm in Bren. She lingered at the crossroads, recalling her father’s last embrace. But then she thought of Dal, somersaulting down the sloping meadow, his boisterous laughter ringing in the air, and she shook the reins decisively, turning west toward Soren.

  She hadn’t traveled far when something crashed toward her from the forest above the trail. Reining in her startled coilhorn, she had just time to avoid colliding with a man scrambling out of the bracken. Their eyes met for only one wild moment before the man bolted headlong through the trees—but that instant was long enough for Maura to recognize the careening figure.

  It was the Lurker she had once harbored.

  Realizing he could have information she badly needed, she drew breath to hail him, but her cry died on her lips as an enormous tawny hound burst out of the brush in hot pursuit of the fleeing man. When it saw her, the dog gave up the chase and circled her coilhorn instead.

  Maura had seen a hound such as this before: a Great Karabas from the broad plains of the south. Prized by the shepherds of Karan-Rhad, they were fearless against wolves, bears, and even the wild cats that occasionally roamed through parts of Drinnglennin.

  To her surprise, the dog began to shepherd Azta up the slope, driving the coilhorn along the narrow trail. Maura sensed no menace in the hound; in any case, its insistence was not to be ignored.

  They emerged onto a broad expanse of pasture. The dog raced ahead then, skirting a herd of grazing coilhorns toward something dark sprawled on the ground.

  It was several more heartbeats before Maura realized it was a man’s prostrate body.

  Chapter 13

  Borne

  Borne leaned against a boulder, his cloak bunched up behind him to cushion his aching head. He’d brought the herd up to the higher meadows at daybreak, and was feeling sluggish from lack of sleep. He’d stayed much too late at the Bristled Boar the previous night with Cole, Sir Heptorious’s son and his closest friend, where they’d consumed copious mugs of ale.

  He brushed his hair from his throbbing brow and cursed the unseasonable weather. The old farmers were predicting snow within the week, and he for one would welcome it, as then the coilhorns could be brought in from pasture. While most of the time he found shepherding pleasurable, he was eager for the extra hours of study and training at arms that the winter months afforded.

  The herd had ranged beyond his line of sight, but he wasn’t concerned; Magnus was with them. Now four years of age, the dog had mastered all Borne could teach him, and the hound could easily manage the coilhorns without human oversight. In any event, the faint clang of Chasty’s bell identified the herd’s whereabouts.

  Chasty had been a day-old calf when Borne first made his way into the world, and was presented to his parents by the Hurdd, the shepherd’s guild, as a birth gift. The lead cow was now in her dotage, but still ruled the herd imperiously. In a way, Borne thought of her as all that was left of his family—for in the winter in which he’d turned ten, his parents died, buried under an avalanche of snow.

  He closed his eyes against the pain of the memory. A freak storm in the early autumn of that year had brought with it snow long before it was expected. Borne was sent to bring the herd down from the high meadows, and in his haste to return to his cozy home, he ignored the signs he’d been taught to read: the sudden rise in temperature as the sun burst through the clouds; the wind’s moan growing to a roar through the trees. He drove the coilhorns down the mountain too quickly, and the pounding of their hooves triggered the unstable snow. It heaved suddenly over the slopes before them, and crashed into the barn where his mother and father were preparing to stable the beasts. It had taken days to dig out their bodies.

  Guilt-ridden and bereft, Borne hid in the attic of their farmhouse, where Sir Heptorious eventually found him. The connection between the baron and the boy had been forged a few years before his parents�
�� passing, when the lord called with his small son at Bergsehn to inquire about purchasing wool. Young Cole, barely out of clouts, had toddled away from his dozing nurse and into their coilhorn pasture during rutting season, and Borne had risked his own young life to scoop up the child just before two massive bucks locked horns over him. For his service to Sir Heptorious’s house, Borne was granted the privilege to study with Cole at Windend. The two boys had been fast friends ever since, despite Borne being three years Cole’s senior.

  After the passing of Borne’s parents, Sir Heptorious offered the boy a place in his household. But Borne begged to stay at Bergsehn, and his new guardian honored his wishes. The knight sent over a woman to do the cooking and to care for him, and his lordship’s own reeve, Master Waman, hired and oversaw the laborers who kept up the farm. Thus Borne was able to divide his time between tending his coilhorn herd and the manor, where he studied the arts of war and received a classical education along with Windend’s heir.

  Cole was a good-natured lad, if a bit indulged, as he too had lost his mother. He preferred playing pranks, hunting, and dueling on the training ground to lessons with his eminent tutors. Sir Heptorious believed that Borne had a steadying influence on his son, and perhaps that was true—his natural inventiveness kept Cole happily, and safely, entertained. The baron encouraged their friendship, as well as Borne’s higher education. In truth, Borne loved the lessons as much as Cole abhorred them, and their tutors pronounced him an excellent student. Whenever time allowed, he spent treasured hours reading in the baron’s private library.

  Borne valued these privileges bestowed upon him, but he didn’t let them go to his head. In a few years, Cole would go off to serve another lord and perhaps fight for the glory of the realm; Borne, as much as he envied this, would not. He was a shepherd born of a shepherd, and knew his place in the world.

  At least he could experience the excitement and glory of battle through books. Today he had brought Ritter’s Gralian Wars with him to the meadow, but the excesses of the previous night had left his brain foggy, and the book remained in his rucksack.