'So be it,' Theor echoed with a nod. He knew Nyve could have put an end to Shraeve's ideas of going south, and of taking Kolglas, with a single, soft-spoken word. But there had been good reasons to give her free rein: it was many years since the Battle Inkall had tested itself against the old enemies beyond the Stone Vale, and Nyve had wanted a loyal pair of eyes to report on events and on the strange alliance Horin-Gyre had forged with the White Owls.
'Still,' sighed Nyve, 'good fortune may be lapping at Kanin's ankles so far, but he'll need to be carried off his feet by a great flood of it if he's to press his advance much further.'
'The High Thane certainly seems to think so. I spoke with him at Angain's interment. He was no more forthcoming than is his wont, but it's plain enough he doesn't mean to exert himself in Horin-Gyre's support.'
Nyve rubbed at the scar on the side of his head with a knuckle.
'Still itches,' he muttered. 'You'd think by now...' He let the thought drift away unexpressed, and regarded Theor expectantly. They both knew, in the way of old colleagues, that the time had come for the crux of the conversation.
'It concerns me,' said Theor almost casually, 'that all our gentle efforts to reaffirm the bonds between the Gyre Blood and the Inkallim have borne such meagre fruit, these last few years.'
A sound at the door betrayed the return of the serving boy Calum, bearing a tray of food.
'Not now,' Nyve said without looking around. Once they were alone again he pursed his lips. 'Do I take it that you feel ungentle efforts are required?' he asked softly.
Theor gave a slight shrug. 'Perhaps I am growing suspicious, downcast, in the autumn of my years. Or too enamoured of times past; when Ragnor's father ruled he barely decided the colour of his bedding without consulting us.'
'That's true. In truth, it was wearisome, but it served us all well.'
'Of course,' said Theor, speaking a little more firmly now. 'The creed requires a strong hand to sustain it, a strong pillar to uphold the roof beneath which all may shelter. It needs the Gyre Blood. Perhaps Ragnor forgets, as his father never did, that the Gyre Blood needs the creed, too.'
'You doubt his fervour,' Nyve stated.
'I fear the possibility of his . . . distraction. However much his father loathed Horin-Gyre, he would have been a great deal more interested in Kanin's achievements than Ragnor seems to be. He is more preoccupied with juggling the loyalties of the other Bloods, with securing his power and control. It's not the first time it has happened. It is the nature of rulers to adopt ruling itself as their purpose; look at Gryvan oc Haig. But for us it must be different. The High Thane of Gyre cannot exist merely to be High Thane of Gyre. He must be both warrior and guardian of the Black Road, above all.'
'Still rather fiery, even if in the autumn of your years,' smiled Nyve.
'I am Master of the Lore. I could hardly be otherwise.'
Nyve nodded. 'I detect a proposal looming on the horizon,' he said.
'Ragnor's inactivity puzzles me. Greatly. He gives every sign of preferring to see the Horin-Gyre Blood extinguished than the return of his own Blood to its rightful place in Kan Avor. Imagine it: for the first time in more than a hundred years we have an army of the Black Road winning battles south of the Stone Vale and the High Thane of Gyre is at best indifferent. No matter how sceptical he was at the beginning, Kanin's successes should at least have attracted Ragnor's interest.'
'Strange times, I agree.'
'Too strange to be all they appear. I desire to know the mind of our High Thane, and there may be a chink in his armour of reticence. He was not the only one I spoke with when Angain was being consigned to the catacombs. When we were alone, standing over her husband's corpse, Vana told me that she has a prisoner: one of the High Thane's messengers, caught as he tried to cross out of Horin-Gyre lands.'
Nyve raised his grizzled eyebrows. However long he had known Theor, it was evident that the Lorekeeper could still surprise him.
'The Horin-Gyre Blood is seizing the High Thane's messengers?'
'Only this one. He made them suspicious. Where, they -- and I - wonder, was he going? What need has Ragnor to send word beyond the borders of the Black Road? The man would not say, and the message he bore is in a cipher Vana's people cannot read.'
'It goes beyond strange and into perilous for one of the Bloods to be imprisoning Gyre couriers,' the First of the Battle said. 'And for us to know of it and not - I assume this is what you propose -- not make Ragnor aware of the fact.'
'We are Inkallim. The creed comes first, always. Before all other considerations. If the creed is threatened, we must know of it. Vana has the same concerns, but cannot get to the truth of it. She offered to pass the messenger and his message to us. To the Hunt.'
'Have you talked to Avenn about this?' Nyve asked. He sounded doubtful. Neither of them needed to say that whatever his mission had been, the messenger would not survive the attentions of the Hunt Inkall.
Theor shook his head. 'I will never do so, unless I have your agreement to it. You know that.'
'I need some more narqan,' Nyve said. He rapped on the table at his side. 'Where's that boy when I need him?'
He looked thoughtfully at Theor. 'You will allow me to think on this,' he said.
'For as long as you wish,' Theor replied.
Nyve's smile returned. But for his ugly scar, he looked like a jovial old man immersed in a life of ease. 'It's a long time since there've been such events as these in flow. It's almost enough to make a man feel young again.'
Theor left by a discreet side door, out of sight of the training yards and weaponsmiths. He followed a colonnaded walkway to the rear of the Battle's compound and passed through a gate in the outer wall. His litter-bearers were waiting there for him; until winter tightened its grip, the tracks across the hillside to the Lore sanctum would remain muddy and unfit for the First's feet.
The little snow that had fallen in the night was almost gone, but the air had the heavy taste of more to come. As he rocked along, Theor could see over the trees on the lower slopes to Kan Dredar. Ragnor oc Gyre's city was a brown and black sprawl across the flat ground, an almost formless jumble of wooden shacks milling around the few stone buildings: the city guard's barracks, the market hall, the High Thane's stronghold. The scene was a peaceful one. Cities always looked best from a distance in Theor's experience; closer inspection tended to reveal grime and greed. Buzzards and kites were patrolling over the city as they always did. Theor noted how the birds spaced themselves out, dividing Kan Dredar between them, each circumscribing its patch of back streets with leisurely circles.
A pale shape by the side of the trail caught his eye. It was a small bundle wrapped in a sheet. Theor caught a glimpse of grey, blotched skin; a baby, then. When a weak or crippled child was born, some families would put it out like this, in the woods or on the hillsides, to test its fate. It was a practice the High Thanes of Gyre had outlawed long ago - every potential warrior was too precious to be risked, when only ten thousand had made the journey into the north - but for some of the commonfolk it was a stubborn reflection of their faith. Most likely the mother would return in a day or two, and if the Last God's Book had spared the child it would be taken back into the family and cared for as best they could. This baby's Road had run its course, though.
Theor was carried on in his litter. Care would be needed in pursuing his doubts about Ragnor oc Gyre. Above all, he must carry Nyve and Avenn with him. The Lore was senior and superior to the Battle and the Hunt, but that did not mean they would blindly follow his lead; unity amongst the Inkallim mattered if the Gyre Blood was faltering in the force of its will. At such times - and they had come once or twice before in the century and a half of the Black Road's exile beyond the Tan Dihrin - the Inkallim were the ones who must hold things together.
They had covered two thirds of the way back to the halls of the Lore when his escort slowed. The sound of feet running through the slushy mud came from behind them.
'What
is it?' Theor asked with an air of disinterest.
'A boy is coming,' said one of his litter-bearers. 'A Battle candidate, from the look of him.'
Theor waited, folding his hands into his armpits against the cold.
He recognised the message-bearer at once: it was Lakkan oc Gaven-Gyre's cousin, Calum. The message was straight from Nyve's own chambers, then. The boy was out of breath, his cheeks glowing and his clothes spattered with mud. His excitement was obvious.
'First,' he said, 'First, Master Nyve sent me. He told me to catch you on the path, if I could.'
'You have triumphed then, young man.'
'He said you should be the one to carry the news back to the Lore.'
'Did he?'
'A messenger bird came just as you left. Anduran has fallen, First. Town and castle are in Horin-Gyre hands.'
Theor was meticulous in suppressing any sign of the surprise that he felt.
'And Master Nyve said I should say . . .' Calum frowned, recovering the words, 'I should say that he will think on matters more quickly now.' He seemed pleased to have accurately recalled the phrase. 'It is a great day, is it not, First? The Last God's Book smiles upon us.'
'It does indeed,' Theor replied. 'You may tell your master that I share his delight. See if you can't make the return journey even more swiftly than the outward one.'
Calum gave a shallow bow and sprang away. Theor watched him go. He saw the boy slip and sprawl to the ground. Mud blossomed languidly into the air. Calum leapt up, undeterred, and bounded on down the path, shaking sodden earth from his hair as he went. As he resumed his own progress, Theor puzzled over the unexpected news. Events were moving more quickly, and more dramatically, than he had imagined likely. Nyve was right: there would have to be a decision soon. And he would have to remember to compliment Nyve on his still sharp sense of humour. It was a pleasing touch to have one of the Gaven-Gyre elite rushing through the woods to deliver word of Horin-Gyre glory. Lakkan would be spitting bile into his jewelled goblet if he knew.
*
Dusk was falling on the Glas valley, turning the land to greys and blues. High in Castle Anduran's keep, Kanin nan Horin-Gyre looked out over the day's end. The city lay beneath him, and beyond it the road south cut its way across the farmland. The White Owls had lit their fires and that nest of orange glimmers out in the fields drew his eyes. The continued presence of the Kyrinin on lands that now belonged to the Gyre Bloods was a bitter disappointment to Kanin, but he could not bring himself to send away so many warriors while they remained willing to fight in the interests of the Black Road.
Since his return from the falls on the Snow River, Aeglyss had kept himself hidden in the White Owl camp. One of Kanin's sentries, who saw the halfbreed's band come back across the bridge over the Glas, had reported that Aeglyss was unsteady as he rode, almost as if he had been wounded, though there was no sign of blood. Strange sounds, as of a man in some delirious death-sleep, had spilled from his lips and his head had hung so far forwards that his face was hidden from view.
Kanin had sent messengers to the camp as soon as he heard of Aeglyss' arrival. They returned all but empty-handed, turned away by the White Owls. The only word they brought came from one of the Kyrinin warriors, who barely spoke their tongue. He told them, and they told Kanin, that the na'kyrim from Kolglas was dead but others - three Huanin, two Fox - had passed up into the high mountains. The news had cast Kanin into a brief torment of anger and frustration. He cared nothing for the life or death of a halfbreed; that the Lannis girl, probably the last of her line, should escape his grasp was a different matter. The pledge he had made to his father - to return only when all of that hated family had been cast into the darkness - was a vow given to a man Kanin did not expect to see again this side of the Kall. It was an honourable vow, accepting of whatever fate the Black Road might dictate for one who made such a bold promise. And now the girl was gone. Aeglyss had been interested only in the other na'kyrim, from the very beginning, and he had let the girl slip through his fingers - and thus through Kanin's.
Some unconscious sense made the Bloodheir turn from the window. Shraeve was standing in the doorway. Igris was behind her, looking for some sign from his master. Kanin dismissed his shieldman with a shake of the head. Wordlessly he gestured towards one of the chairs that stood by a long table, but Shraeve ignored the offer.
'Your sister told me you were here,' the Inkallim said.
'Surveying our new domains,' Kanin said with a wry snort. He lowered himself into a chair. His father had always told him that to be seated while another stands was to take the stronger position. Kanin had no illusions that one such as Shraeve would be discomfited.
She glanced around the room. Great pale rectangles were visible on the walls where hangings had once protected the stone, and she lingered upon them for an instant.
'The tapestries were unsuitable,' Kanin muttered. 'I had them burned.'
The Inkallim walked by him and stood where he had been moments before, looking out over the ever-darkening scene. The swords crossed on her back made a stark silhouette.
'A veritable army by Kyrinin standards,' she murmured. 'I had the spears counted...'
'Three hundred and a few,' Kanin interrupted her. 'I had the same thing done. What of it? An army by their lights is little more than a raiding party by ours.'
'Or by Kilkry's. Or Haig's,' she said, turning to look at him.
Kanin raised an eyebrow. His mood had already been foul before Shraeve intruded upon his reverie.
'You fear the strength of our enemies?' he asked. His unworthy hope that he might cause some offence was disappointed.
'Only children and unbelievers fear. There is no fear in falling asleep...'
'... when you know you shall wake again. I know, Shraeve.'
You counted the White Owl spears,' she said. 'Have you also looked into the matter of the Lannis girl's companions?'
The question caught Kanin off guard. This was evidently what she had come here to ask him, and it was far from anything he might have expected.
'Five escaped, climbing up into the mountains,' Shraeve continued. 'The girl and two other humans, and two Kyrinin. A strange combination, do you not think?'
Kanin shrugged, irritated. 'These are strange times. I have more pressing puzzles to set my mind to. I would be curious to know how you came by the information, though. I heard it myself only yesterday. You have good ears, or many eyes.'
Shraeve swung back to the window and spoke to the evening air. 'Fine trackers, the woodwights; almost as good as the Hunt. Cannek asked one of them about the trail.'
Kanin grunted. 'And did the one he asked survive the experience? If the Hunt is going to turn the woodwights against us, I'd like to know in advance.'
Shraeve ignored the question. 'Two Kyrinin: a man and a woman, the man taller and heavier than average for his kind. Three humans. One, of course, the girl you wanted. Another - a man -very heavy, very powerful. A warrior, perhaps. But the third was a much smaller man. Younger, not many years out of childhood, and favouring one side as he ran.'
Kanin saw her meaning an instant before she spoke the words: 'Kennet's son escaped from Kolglas with one of our knives in his side, and a shieldman bearing him up.'
'I see,' Kanin said through gritted teeth. He could feel the anger rising up in him again, surging even as he strove to hold it back. He wondered if Shraeve would see the heat it put into his face. 'It is time I spoke with the na'kyrim, then, whether he wishes to have visitors or not.'
'I thought the same,' the Inkallim said quietly. 'In the morning?'
Kanin rode out from the castle with Igris upon one side, Shraeve on the other, and ten of his Shield behind. Dogs snapped at the heels of the horses. The packs of abandoned, half-wild mongrels, that now populated the city had become an irritant to its occupants. They scavenged through the emptied and burned areas, drawing more brazenly close to the watchfires of the warriors with each passing night; they stole precious food,
and had mauled a sick man in his sleep. Kanin had issued orders for the animals to be killed on sight, but he forbade his escort to act on that command now. He was not in the mood for distractions this morning.
They passed by the gaol. Above its gate half a dozen heads were displayed. The birds had been working on them. These were the Tarbains whose drunken intervention had made the Lannis-Haig girl's escape possible. Most of the tribesmen he had brought south were scattered across the valley now, and he did not care what havoc they wrought so long as they did not interfere with his own foraging and scouting parties. Within Anduran the rules were different, and since Anyara's escape the few Tarbains left in the city had learned that indiscipline would no longer be tolerated.
The little company of riders crossed the great square. The smithy that survived there was the focus of furious industry. Horses were gathered about it in tightly marshalled groups. Every animal fit for war duty had been brought in from the countryside and many of them needed new shoes. Some huge Lannis workhorses were there, too. They were useless for riding or battle - they would not tolerate a man upon their back - but they would be worked harder than any, hauling material to the city walls for the repair works.
They rode on, weaving through a section of the city that had been ravaged by fire. Kanin glimpsed a rat scurrying amongst the blackened timbers. Whatever else might come to pass, he thought with small satisfaction, the Lannis-Haig Blood was humbled. Rats picked over the corpse of its pride. Still, it was not enough. He had promised his father, and himself, more.
At the city's edge a gang of dishevelled workers - townsfolk pressed into the service of their conquerors -- was labouring on a section of the wall, overseen by Horin-Gyre guards. All around Anduran's perimeter, similar groups were toiling to make good the neglect of many years. It might make a difference, should Kanin find himself beset here by the Haig Bloods; it might even buy enough time for aid to come to him. Within hours of the castle's fall, he had sent word north to Hakkan. He knew that Shraeve had sent both birds and riders bearing the same news to the precincts of the Inkallim in Kan Dredar. By one route or another, Ragnor oc Gyre would know that the Horin-Gyre Blood had achieved the impossible. It must surely be enough to stir the High Thane from his sloth.
Godless World 1 - Winterbirth Page 37