Alana never painted her face for court, and she didn’t this day either, but she did take a sip of Roark’s blood potion. He studied the actual transformation: her skin tightened around her jaw and eyes and the marks upon her hands disappeared.
“The potion is miraculous. I wish I obtained more.”
Alana’s eyes went dreamy, but then hardened in resolve. “I wouldn’t take your blood, but we don’t have any idea what to expect. My hope is it will be a joyous reunion, but we ask a sizable favor.”
They mounted their horses and rode into town.
Merchants, smiths, and other trades stopped to bow as soon as they approached. Alana and her apprentices heard their names whispered and spread through the town. A few blocks from the square, builders constructed another block of two-story buildings.
“Good man, what is being built?” Alana asked one of the workers.
“Four new shops and homes above, Lady Alana. The Doyenne and Lady Ylynn’s plan to help the refugees.”
“Refugees?” Roark asked.
“Yes, the tale of your great deed proceeded you by many months, Master Roark.”
A cry rang out over the square. “Lady Alana! Lady Alana is here!”
Three women raced towards them. Roark didn’t recognize the common women, bowing in reverence and clasping his aunt’s hands to their cheeks.
“I am glad to see you found safe shores,” Alana said.
“Milady, every able adult ship did as you commanded,” the wisewoman said. “We split to our respective Realms, but we each carried any weaker than us. Though a few went on, most of the Fairsinge traveled to Eryedeir, because, though we hear of the tales, we have never seen another Martlet. We petitioned the Doyenne. She and Lady Ylynn found us room in the garrison, gave us food.” The women started weeping. “Now the Doyenne builds these homes, gives us loans to restart our shops. I opened an apothecary.”
The women bowed again and tried to kiss their hands, their horses. More commoners surrounded them and did the same. Whispers of their arrival flew towards the castle. Finally, the three escaped up the limestone road, which spiraled over the curvature of the hillside until they came to three arching oak and iron gates. The sentries gave them wide smiles.
Inside the walls, the garden was ablaze with vivid red and yellow colored bracts. Stablekeepers, including a young girl, hurried to take the horses. Roark caught a glimpse of a scar on the girl’s face before she knelt in the dirt and kissed Alana’s boot.
“Child, rise. I am simply a Martlet, and I ride for the good of our people.” Talia sidestepped so Alana could dismount without tripping over the girl.
The stablemaster hurried over, his face set in a frown, but before he arrived, Alana took the girl’s hands and pulled her to her feet. The girl covered her scar with her hand.
“It gladdens my heart you are safe. Have you been well-cared for?”
“Yes, milady.”
“And the Stablemaster, Stablemistress, and hands have been kind to you?”
“Yes, milady. Especially the Stablemistress.”
“Good. I won’t keep you from your duties any longer, dear one.” She handed Talia’s reins to the girl, who clicked her tongue and led the horse into the barn.
“Forgive Adana’s impetuousness.” The stablemaster’s eyes darted from side to side, trying to decide who to look at. He eventually decided on the ground. “I will chastise her for disturbing you if you wish it.”
“I assume Idana does not stop every person of my House.”
“No, milady.”
“And she’s a devoted hand?”
“Yes, milady.”
“Then there is no reason to chastise her. I am gladdened the poor soul found a place. She is younger than I realized.” She pointed at his chest. “Your heart would’ve broken if you had seen how I found her. I slaughtered him gladly.”
“I would’ve liked to squeeze his neck if I could, milady, as would my good wife,” The Stablemaster said. “My wife even forbade the hands to make the girl the butt of their jests as is often the case with green apprentices.”
“Bring your wife to me.”
The Stablemaster bowed, turned almost stumbling over his feet, and ran inside the carriage house. Seconds later, the Stablemistress approached with husband and bowed deeply, wiping her hands upon her heavy woolen breeches. “Lady Alana, Master Roark. Master of the Guild,” she said in turn to each of them.
Roark couldn’t believe the commoners thought Eohan part of the gentry — though he supposed he might earn the title of War Ender.
“Do you care for Idana?” Alana asked the stablemistress.
“Yes.” The woman paused and, as if she made out the reason for the questions, said, “Fear not, though Idana’s green, she’s devoted to the horses and hunting dogs.”
“Good. But I ask you one thing more.”
“Which is?”
“As she has no mother to speak for her when she is ready – and I realize it might be a few years yet – speak for her if she chooses to be married? You will ensure a good match?”
The stablemistress’s eyes lit up in understanding. “Of course, we wouldn’t let one of our hands be taken in by some smooth lordling or ladyling that comes to visit House Eyreid. No disrespect to you or your friend, Master Roark.”
“None taken,” Roark replied.
“We know you’re true gentlemen to save the girl and all the others as you did. She told us the story many times. How a dark-haired slave boy — I don’t think she knew you were a Guild Master, milord — rowed the ship even though waves tossed it to and fro. She never knew what happened to you, only you disappeared with Lady Alana, and another young man whom we knew by her description was Master Roark.
“But we know the type you’re worried about, Lady Alana, and we’ll be keeping an eye upon any suitors that come this way. It is kind of you to ask after the girl.”
Alana handed the stablemistress three gold sovereigns. “Take this for the child. You may not think you need it, but my apprentices are both growing out of their boots.”
As they walked away, Roark saw Idana peek out of the stable after them. He wondered why his aunt hadn’t chosen the girl to be his friend since she seemed to be so taken by her now.
Keeping her voice low, Alana replied, “Because, dearling, I didn’t know if she would survive. She was so ill-used and malnourished ... I wasn’t even sure of her age. If you would like an additional companion, assuredly she would make a fine groom, but I shudder to think of that sweet child in battle.”
The carved wooden doors of the inner keep opened into the Great hall Beside him, Eohan gasped.
The entire room danced in light from the stained-glass windows. Fireplaces were set every ten paces or so, and between the fireplaces were groups of portraits hung by generation. Some faded and restored many times, the previous few generations brighter.
In Roark’s generation, only three portraits hung upon the wall. His elder siblings and his cousin, Saray, looked down upon them. Their youthful, fresh faces each painted upon the earning of their title. How many more years until I join them?
At the head of the hall sat his mother upon her throne and his family surrounded her. Roark wanted to remember her face or feel love for her, but his heart felt achingly empty as she looked upon him with piercing blue eyes that matched his own. She was older than Alana by a decade, but since she rarely saw the sun, her skin was only marred by crow’s feet. Her long, silver curls spilled down her back. She stood tall in her perfect white velvet gown which opened under her full bust and exposed layers of satin and scalloped, sparkling lace. “So my sister and son have returned?”
Alana, Eohan, and Roark bowed.
Laraena opened her arms. “My son.”
He crossed the steps into his mother’s outstretched arms, though he didn’t know if she truly wanted to embrace him or was doing it for the approval–or disapproval — of the court. There was always something. Lowest Realm, she might have a dagger to
stick in his back. Happily, Roark discovered she didn’t. Laraena looked upon Alana but slipped a note into Roark’s pocket. He smiled. It would have been worth being stuck to feel his mother’s embrace.
“I return your own blood and seek your counsel in a matter of great importance, Doyenne.”
“What is this matter?”
“As the other refugees were, this boy, Eohan son of Aedell, was taken from Fairhdel shores and found enslaved in a distant land. I made him my apprentice. Now we seek his lost brother.”
“That seems like an insignificant errand for a Martlet,” Roark’s father said. As was expected, Roark’s father wore house colors in his velvet coat and a taciturn smile. Roark’s eldest sister, Ylynn sat at their father’s side and was not smiling at all, and nor was her husband. Roark’s brother stood on the right at the house priests section. Roark’s heart grew colder; his mother might embrace him, but they would not.
“What is Roark’s involvement in this?” Laraena asked.
“Eohan is my friend, my Lady Mother.” Roark realized the truth of his words. Other than Alana, Roark never trusted anyone, but he trusted Eohan to stand beside him.
“But he is a commoner?”
“Yes. It is my honor to serve our people as Martlets have done before me,” Roark said, his voice growing in passion as he spoke. “All our people. The Martlets have served only the nobility for far too long, and our people are poorer for it. We allow slave ships to ravage our shores and find sanctuary in our cities.”
Laraena stepped away from Roark and studied him carefully. “You are quite improved, my son.”
“Aunt Alana sensed his importance — his future importance to me and this House,” Roark said.
“How so?”
“She had a vision.”
Laraena turned back to Alana “I suppose you don’t want to spoil the surprise for the young men.”
“No.”
“Then walk with me. Ylynn come along. Roark, introduce your friend to your father and brother and cousins.”
Saddened to see his mother leave, Roark itched to see the note in his pocket. He waited. He was good at waiting. He introduced his friend to his relatives as he was bid.
*
As they entered the center chamber, Alana detected the sharp odor of vinegar and noted the plastered walls and painted floorboards were freshly cleaned. Alana opened the panel in the servant’s corridor. Empty. Ylynn closed the thick oak door and lit three candles and set them on the table. The candlelight created strange shadows, just as the fire in her vision. Alana thought of the little girl that shared her name.
Laraena sat down beside her harp and began to play loud enough that no one could hear their words, soft enough for conversation. “What do you need, Alana?” she asked.
“Money to kill Kian’s masters. We want to put out a contract on them. Keep it legal.”
“You believe this boy and his brother are that important?”
“Eohan’s destiny is to be a War Ender. Eohan and Kian will be the protectors of one of your granddaughters.”
“One of my daughters?” Ylynn asked.
“I can’t be sure. The girl looked very much like Roark.”
“Roark’s inclinations remain unchanged?” Laraena asked.
“Yes.”
“How will Roark sire a child, much less a child with a maternal line of substance?” Ylynn asked. “If he sires a child, will she be in line for Doyenne?”
Alana sighed. Doyennes and Doyennes-in-training often thought the world revolved in court. “Your daughter is perfectly safe, Lady Ylynn. All I saw was Roark scolding a frightened child. Eohan rocked her to sleep. I couldn’t hold the vision, but the child is on the road at a tender age. She must be the next generation’s Martlet.”
“Why does she wander so young?”
“The child has noticeable foresight.” Alana gestured to her own brow. “Due to our training, your son’s gift is no longer latent. Ahh, perhaps that explains it.”
“How so,” Laraena asked.
“Perhaps you and Ylynn allow Roark to sire a child in the Martlet line to ensure the gift does not fade in House Eyreid.”
Laraena ran her fingers one at a time up the harp strings.
“Funding you might endanger our House. Eryedeir has remained in peace for two centuries, we do not want a war with the Daosith,” she said.
“Rulers often have more than one enemy, as you well know,” Alana said. “Eohan will pay for assassination, and if we fail, it is he who will shoulder the blame. I ask for funds to save this boy, so Eohan doesn’t run off half-cocked. And this child of our house has a devoted protector.”
“Does my son fall early?”
“No,” Alana hoped this might wait, but the subject had arisen. Now was the time to tell it. “Roark will fall aside in his training. He will be an assassin or worse try to wander without steady employment from the Guild. He does not have the temperament to end wars. I have foreseen it. I ensure others will catch him and the child.”
Laraena rubbed her hands together. “I grant you this, but I will ask more of you, Sister. Once you save Kian, I will fund an expedition to save the other children. Find word of deaths or buy the children and bring them to these shores. My new citizens miss them.”
“Happily.”
*
Once away from the House and on the road, Roark slipped the note from his pocket.
Son,
Our holdings are richer for your defiance. The refugees tell a wild story that gets greater with every telling, but I fear for you both if this story leaves our borders. My heart overflows with pride at your accomplishments.
- Mother
*
Chapter 19
Guild House of Olentir in the Realm of Fairhdel
“What is this?” Corwin screeched, his spittle landing upon Alana’s cheeks.
She had known the House Master would take news of the job badly. She planned for it; she left her apprentices in a private chamber and faced him alone. He might try to hurt them to hurt her.
“Lord Daeberos? Are you insane?” His fists landed on his counting table.
She wanted to rail against the injustice of the Realms, against slavery of their people. However, the morality of slavery was an old argument between them. She wouldn’t reach Corwin by those words.
“What could you possibly hope to gain by doing this?”
“Nothing, but it’s within the law for Eohan to legally pay for a contract and request I plan the job as a training exercise for my apprentices.”
Alana’s words were caught in her throat by Corwin’s hands squeezing tightly.
Bringing her left arm up, she tried to knock his hand away. With more power than his wizened body should hold, he backed her into the stone wall behind her.
“I should have you crucified.” His hot breath reverberated through her ear. “Tell me why that boy is so important to you … for any reason at all. Our years together ... our child’s death. It doesn’t matter as long as you tell me before I mercifully strangle you and hide your body within the catacombs. You’re an old War Ender, no one will look too hard.”
Alana had instructed her apprentices to ride if she didn’t return to them within an hour. She wished for the blood potion, but it wasn’t with her. It remained deep in her saddlebag.
He squeezed his fingertips harder but left room on her throat so she could speak.
Unwilling to show her fear, Alana sighed. “Corwin, I have never touched one of my apprentices in that manner, nor will I. You know this.”
“Then why is that hedgeborn boy important to you?”
“I saw him in a vision,” Alana said.
Corwin let go of her neck but held her fast against the wall. “Of?”
Choosing her words carefully, she said, “A child who bears my name will be gifted with foresight. I only know if Roark stands alone that night, his circle of protection will collapse. Something would have broken through. In my vision, Eohan liste
ned to her, though she was quite small and frightened.”
“Why?”
“He is a War Ender. Just like you were once; he listens to all sides.”
Corwin was not yet convinced.
“The next Alana of House Eyreid will be the War Ender we hoped so many others would be.”
“The type of War Ender I want, or you want?”
“Unknown.”
She expected anger; she was surprised by his sadness. “Why couldn’t you see such things about our Saray?” he asked.
“I didn’t choose our child’s fate,” Alana whispered. “You want the Guild to be respectable again, to have stories and sagas told and retold. This girl is your chance.”
He released her. “If you would have told me before, I’d have saved you the coin. The empress’s granddaughter has been nipping at the throne for years. Too late now to trick her into hiring the Guild.”
“If you’d stop threatening me and my apprentices like a jealous fiend, we might enjoy each other’s confidence once more.”
Corwin didn’t answer her; he only chuckled as he turned away. But before his withered form disappeared through the walls of darkness, the chuckle fractured into a sob.
His sadness tugged at her heart, but she was too old for regrets.
Thirty-seven years ago, Corwin happily placed Saray in House Eyreid with his name and nothing else as was proper. Their daughter had died in battle. She presumably had since resurrected. Nothing could bring her back no matter how much each of them wanted it to be different.
*
Chapter 20
Great House of Josael in the Realm of Daouail
Kian ignored the stench of blood over lingering floral perfumes as he carried the tray of wine for the Empress and Royal Consort into the Great Hall. Each time, he smelled blood his mind revolted to a different time. A time that didn’t matter. All that mattered was he didn’t spill the wine.
The War Enders Apprentice (Chronicles of the Martlet Book 1) Page 11