Winterbirth

by Brian Ruckley

  The city was already half-woken. Traders were setting up their stalls in the square and dogs chased one another down side streets. The great castle by the Glas opened its gates even as the first hint of dawn fell upon it. Torches upon its battlements were doused and a flock of crows clattered up into the lightening sky. Beyond Anduran, the dawn reached the flat pools and misty islands of the Glas Water, lifting the marshes from their slumber. The ruins of old Kan Avor came sluggishly and reluctantly out of the night.

  Herons fell away from those broken walls on outstretched wings, heading out over the water to hunt. The day's first light found men already at work on Sirian's Dyke, repairing sections of the great dam that might not hold through the coming season.

  At last the sun came to Glasbridge, and to the sea. The docks were alive and bustling as fishing boats opened their holds and crowds gathered to haggle over the best of the catch. The Glas poured its waters into the sea, and the light rushed on over the widening bay, picking out the foamy wave crests. To the north it played across the rocky ridge of the Car Anagais and rippled over the treetops of the dark forests along the shore. To the south, it chased the darkness from the hamlets and farmsteads along the coast, until finally it fell upon Kolglas. Like a great granite hillock, the castle on its island was lit by the day, and the lamps burning in its windows were one by one extinguished.

  When this new day had run its course and passed into night, winter would be born.

  In that bright morning the Thane of the Lannis-Haig Blood rode out from his castle and into the heart of Anduran. Half his house-hold came with him. Croesan's Shield marched at the head of the procession, bearing pennants. The Thane himself rode just behind them, flanked by a dozen crossbowmen. His mount was a magnificent grey charger bedecked with silver armour and trailing ribbons from its halter and saddle. Behind Croesan came Naradin the Bloodheir and his wife Eilan, riding side by side and waving to those who lined the streets. In their wake followed a succession of retainers, officials and distinguished visitors from Glasbridge and Targlas. All were extravagantly dressed, as if they were some luxuriant pageant fresh come to town, and with the flags and banners snapping in a fresh wind it was a spectacle as fine as any Anduran had seen since the Bloodheir's wedding two summers gone.

  The street running down from the castle through the Crafts' Quarter to the wide square in the middle of the town was packed with people, all cheering their Thane to the echo. The new Feast Hall was an imposing presence on the western side of the square: a great timber edifice that dwarfed the houses clustered on either side of it. Its heavy doors sat in a carved frame, surmounted by the Lannis crest.

  Before the building a wooden stage had been set up. Croesan drew to a halt and dismounted. As his Shield hurried to form ranks on the platform, he went alone with Naradin and Eilan into the great hall.

  Despite the excitement outside there was a quiet grandeur about the deserted chamber. Its vaulting oaken beams, its walls and the very air they enclosed seemed imbued with expectancy.

  Croesan turned to the young couple and smiled.

  'It will be the happiest Winterbirth Anduran has seen in many years,' he said. He put his arms around their shoulders, holding them tight against him. 'To be a grandfather must be the finest thing in the world,' he chuckled.

  'Even for a Thane?' asked Eilan.

  'Especially for a Thane. At this moment my grandson means more to me than all our lands and castles put together.'

  'Have a care,' said Naradin, 'someone might hear you.'

  Croesan laughed and released his son, who eased himself down into the nearest chair. Eilan kissed the Thane on his cheek.

  'You'll be the finest grandfather any boy could wish for,' she said.

  'Thank you,' said Croesan. 'I hope you are right.'

  'Of course she is,' said Naradin.

  Croesan walked towards the high table. He stood beside the immense chair that would be his seat during the night's revels and laid his hand upon it.

  'It is a strange thing, to feel you have arrived somewhere that you have been travelling towards without knowing it. Anduran thrives, my grandson sleeps in the castle. I can see the future through his eyes. He will sit in this chair years from now, surrounded by his people, and by his own children. For tonight at least, I can imagine that there is nothing more for me to do.'

  'Until tomorrow,' said Eilan wryly.

  'Until tomorrow,' agreed Croesan. He sighed, a momentary distraction from his pleasure. 'Your mother would have been so proud of you,' he said to Naradin.

  The Bloodheir had never known his mother - she had died in his birthing — but still a grave expression came across his face. 'And of you,' he said.

  Croesan shrugged that off. 'I have only done what was required of me,' he said. The smile came bursting back upon his face. 'None of it has given me half the joy of becoming a grandfather. I have the liberty of imagining I have nothing more to do, but the same cannot be said of the pair of you.'

  Eilan raised her eyebrows at him.

  'I will want a granddaughter next,' Croesan continued. 'And more after that. I wish to be plagued by boisterous children in my dotage. I require a throng of them to pull at my beard and play tricks upon my failing eyesight and disturb my rest with laughter. Now that truly would be a happiness beyond measure.'

  Eilan laughed. Naradin put on a face of mock horror.

  'You will allow us some time to recover from the first, I hope,' he muttered.

  He received a hefty jab in the ribs from his wife for that.

  'Us? What have you to recover from?' she demanded. 'The effort was mostly mine, as I recall.'

  'Enough, enough,' said the Thane. 'No arguments.'

  He looked around him once more, and made a deep, satisfied sound somewhere at the back of his throat.

  'I am not done with building yet,' he said. T would give you, and your son, a gift. A house, fit for future Thanes, where you can spend the summers. No, humour an old man. We will build you a grand house in Grive, close enough that I can come and stay when the years weigh so heavily that I need a few days' rest away from Anduran. We will make gardens where your children can play, and stables and kennels for your horses and hunting hounds.'

  'That is a happy thought,' said Naradin. 'Thank you.'

  Eilan embraced the Thane and kissed him once again. Croesan smiled contentedly and ran a hand through her fine hair.

  'Will you give me a little time with my son, Eilan? Perhaps you could keep our guests outside amused for a few minutes more. I am sure they would rather have your company than mine, in any case.'

  As the Bloodheir's wife left the hall, there was a resurgence of excited cries from the crowds.

  'They love her almost as well as you or I,' observed Croesan.

  'Not as well as I,' said Naradin. 'Anyway, they would cheer a well-dressed donkey today. It has been a good year; they're ready to celebrate.'

  Croesan nodded. 'The best year in a long time. There's one shadow I can't quite escape, though, even now. I wish with all my heart that Taim Narran was here to share all of this with us. Winterbirth will not feel right without that man here. I should not have let him go south.'

  'What else could you do?' his son asked. 'You could hardly refuse the High Thane's direct command in such a matter: we might argue over tithes and levies and the settlement of his warriors on our lands, but a call to arms is different. And Taim would never have allowed you to send so many of his men without him. You know what he's like.'

  'Better than he knows himself. He hasn't the heart for the life of the sword any more. It's only his loyalty that's kept him from seeing it. This bloodletting in Dargannan-Haig will have been hard for him.'

  'One more mark in the ledger against Gryvan oc Haig,' said Naradin.

  Croesan ran his hand over the arm of the great chair and glanced across at his son. 'As you say. One more amongst many. Do not forget them. I hate to speak of such things on what should be a joyful day, but you should know that I fear
Gryvan is not done with us yet. From the Steward's hints, I think our High Thane is about to demand extra tribute, to meet the costs of subduing Igryn.'

  'The blood of our warriors is not enough for him, then,' muttered Naradin.

  'Apparently not. A part of me would long to refuse him if he does make the demand, but I would have your counsel on it. These decisions are no longer mine to make alone. The safety of our Blood will fall to you before very many more years have passed.'

  'Do you know where Lheanor stands?' asked Naradin. 'If Gryvan means to grind us down still further, he will have the same in mind for Kilkry.'

  'He will,' agreed Croesan. 'He sees no difference between Lannis and Kilkry, and I would have it no other way. I have sent word to Lheanor. It is time he and I met again, in any case.'

  Naradin shook his head. 'Has Gryvan really become so blind that he sees no danger in driving such wedges between the True Bloods? Does he no longer care that we are the ones guarding his borders against the Black Road ?'

  'Ah well, there is the nub of it, isn't it? The Gyre Bloods have not bestirred themselves for thirty years. It seems they're more interested in arguing amongst themselves than in renewing their feuds with us. Only Horin-Gyre out of all of them even bothers to send scouts and raiders over the Vale of Stones any more.

  I keep reminding Behomun that there are still skirmishes being fought up there, but I fear his master Gryvan knows as well as we do that - for the time being at least - the threat from the north is not what it once was. Thus he feels free to play his games. After all, with Kilkry at our side we could still turn back the entire Horin-Gyre Blood; Haig is a different matter. If it came to open war, Gryvan could count on Ayth and Taral to join him against us. We would last a few months at best.'

  'So,' said Naradin, 'however we might long to defy Gryvan oc Haig, we will bite our tongues and do enough at least to avoid an open breach.'

  'Yes,' Croesan sighed. 'I pledged loyalty to Haig when I became Thane, as you will no doubt have to do when my time is done and yours arrives. Gryvan may not put much store by that promise, but I hope we can hold to it even in the face of his provocations.'

  The Thane clasped his hands together and shook himself, as if to shed such unwelcome thoughts.

  'Let's not dwell on such things any more than we must,' he said. 'There are celebrations to get started, and I mean to enjoy them.'

  Naradin rose from his seat and took his father's hands in his own.

  'One day, your grandson will love you just as I do, and as Eilan does. Even the High Thane cannot deprive us of that.'

  Croesan clapped Naradin on the shoulder.

  'That is true, that is true. Now let us go and save your beloved wife from all the excitement.'

  Rothe came to find Orisian in his chambers. During their stay at Anduran their routine of regular practice had all but lapsed, and the shieldman was insistent that it should now be resumed. Thus Orisian found himself out in the castle's courtyard, parrying the big man's weighty blows as they circled each other.

  They used wooden practice swords, but still the impacts sent stinging shivers through Orisian's hand.

  When he had been younger he had found such exercises embarrassing. They all too often attracted a small audience of onlookers. He had little instinct for swordplay, and it had been a long and sometimes painful learning process. He was at least good enough now that his work did not provoke outright mirth amongst any observers. Today, in any case, everyone was busy with preparations for Winterbirth and hardly a glance was spared for the two mismatched sparring partners. The one exception was Kylane, who paused to watch as he wandered past. His presence distracted Orisian, who at once received a cracking blow on the back of his knuckles. Kylane strolled off, chuckling under his breath and shaking his head; perhaps, thought Orisian, lamenting the ineptitude of his future charge.

  At the end, as Orisian sat breathless on the cobblestones, flexing and massaging his sword hand, Rothe grunted in muted approval.

  'You'll be a swordsman yet.'

  'If my arm doesn't fall off first,' replied Orisian.

  Rothe offered him a broad hand. As Orisian took it and hauled himself upright, he could feel the hard ridges that scarred the warrior's skin. Rothe had spent most of his life with a sword in his hand, fighting Kyrinin in Anlane or Black Road raiders in the Vale of Stones, and had been marked by the weapon. He had never married; Kylane said - always out of Rothe's hearing - that his sword was too jealous of his company to allow anyone to come between them. Though it was not a life Orisian would choose he had never seen any sign of regret in Rothe.

  'What would you be if not a shieldman, Rothe?' he asked on impulse.

  A crude smile formed in Rothe's beard and the great man shrugged in a small, almost vulnerable way.

  'There are other things of worth,' he said, 'but none I know anything of. How could I say what else I might be than what I am?'

  Late in the afternoon of that day, Orisian looked down from a window in the keep upon a strange scene.

  The acrobats who were to perform at the feast were filing through the castle gates and into the courtyard.

  They were big men, their bulk accentuated by rough fur jackets and capes. They wore leather boots and trousers, and each carried a small pack over his shoulder. The last few to enter were laden with small chests, barrels and cloths and a pair of long, thick poles that looked freshly cut.

  There were perhaps a dozen in the company. Orisian had never seen so many masterless folk together.

  All were long-haired, their locks tied back and dyed in exotic hues of rust and gold. They walked lightly despite their size. When Orisian looked more closely he realised that there were a few women amongst them, a trifle smaller than the men but dressed just the same and looking no less powerful.

  He found Anyara loitering in the doorway at the foot of the keep, watching the new arrivals with frank fascination.

  'They're very . . . big, aren't they?' she said.

  'I suppose. They all look the same.'

  'Well, perhaps they're all related,' smirked Anyara. 'You know what they say about the breeding habits of masterless folk. Still, they look well enough put together to me.'

  A few of the castle's guardsmen were gathered outside their quarters. Muffled laughter every now and again suggested some coarse discussion of the female newcomers, yet not one of the acrobats so much as glanced across. They worked with practised efficiency, in silence, as they arranged their equipment on the cobblestones and checked over it.

  'It must be a good show, with so many of them,' mused Orisian. 'Where are they going to perform?'

  'Ilain said they were going to give a show inside the hall, then do some tricks out here in the yard later.'

  'Where do you suppose they're from? It must be Koldihrve, or somewhere near there, for there to be so many. Don't you think?'

  Anyara shrugged. 'Or somewhere on the Kilkry coast. There are still masterless villages there, aren't there?'

  As they watched, Bair the stablehand wandered across to peer at the collection of wares arrayed in the courtyard. He reached out to touch a coil of thick rope, but one of the acrobats flashed out a hand to seize his wrist. Surprise flung Bair's eyes and mouth wide, and had he not been mute he would surely have cried out. The man shook his head a little before gesturing Bair away. The boy edged backwards, continuing to watch with wondering eyes from one of the stalls in the stable block.

  Orisian glanced up at the sky. It had darkened in the last half hour as the sun sank away. The castle yard was falling into shadow. Torches would be brought out soon, for Winterbirth was a night when darkness must be held at bay.

  'We should be getting ready,' he said to Anyara. 'The feast will be starting before long.'

  She nodded, turning to follow him into the keep with an almost wistful glance back over her shoulder towards the party of acrobats.

  Inside, early arrivals for the night's feasting had begun to assemble, gathering in small knots in th
e great hall. There were bundles here and there of the gifts they had brought for the Thane. Already the mood was jovial. Animated conversations filled the hall with sound. Etha was moving along the tables, checking the trays of bread and flasks of ale and wine that had been set out. She was oblivious of the crowds around her as she muttered under her breath, no doubt compiling a list of reprimands for those who had laid the tables.

  'It'll be a long night,' said Orisian, remembering Kylane's words at Glasbridge with a slight smile.

  'Of course it will,' said Anyara. 'It always is.'

  Inurian intercepted them as they made their way up to their rooms to change.

  'There you are, there you are,' said the na'kyrim.

  'Here we are indeed,' Anyara agreed with great gravity.

  'Your father asked to see you both,' Inurian said. 'He sent me to find you.'

  'He's up, then?' Orisian asked, feeling a little surge of hope. Perhaps the clouds had lifted at last.

  'Come and see,' Inurian told him, beckoning them to follow as he set off up the stairs.

  They found Kennet standing in the middle of his bedchamber, frowning in concentration as he examined the fur of the heavy cloak he wore. He looked up as the three of them entered, and even in that first glimpse Orisian could see that his father had come back at least some way to himself. His eyes had a focus and life that had not been there for a long time.

  'This cloak is not what it once was,' the lord of Castle Kolglas said glumly.

  Anyara ducked under his arms and hugged him around the chest. Kennet swayed fractionally and for a moment seemed unsure what to do; then he returned the embrace.

  'There are plenty of furs in the market,' Anyara said as she stepped back. 'We'll buy you a new one.'

  Kennet smiled at his daughter and cupped her face for a moment in his broad hand. 'Very well, then.

  That's what we'll we do.'

  As Orisian watched him, he could not help but think how old Kennet looked. He might have hauled himself out from under the shadows once again, but there was a price to be paid. However much brighter his eyes were, the skin beneath them was dark, the lids above them limp and heavy. When Kennet smiled, as he did now, turning to Orisian, the expression had to work its way up from some deep place where it had been left, forgotten and unused, for many weeks.