The waiting wouldn’t have bothered her so much, if not for the cold. The sharp cliff-faces on either side conspired with the wall ahead to cast the road into a shadow darker even than the surrounding night, but somehow the chill wind found its way past every blockade to reach her skin. Shona shivered. She’d been colder in the Swamp, even without the wind, but it was harder to bear now that warmth and shelter were so close.
The longer it takes, the better, she reminded herself. As long as they’re looking at us, they aren’t watching the cliffs. If Rudol wanted to keep her waiting, she was glad for it, no matter how tired and uncomfortable she was.
“Lady Shona?” the captain’s voice called down from the top of the wall. That was all he was to her—a voice, and a spot of torchlight against the darkness overhead. She’d yet to see his face.
She looked up. The Mad Duke’s Gate was not near as tall as the Greenwall, but it was high enough, some forty feet of grey stone and iron bars and solid oaken doors. Shouting back and forth up that height was a frustrating way to hold a conversation. “You’ve heard—” Her voice came out hoarse from yelling, and not nearly loud enough; she cleared her throat and tried again. “You’ve heard from Prince Rudol?”
“I have. Will you please ask your escort to move away from the gate?”
Shona understood what that meant. He’s here. She nodded at Cer Falyn.
Falyn made a sharp gesture over her shoulder, and her knights retreated until there was some thirty yards between them and the gate. Shona stepped back too, but only a few paces, and then she clasped her hands behind her back, and waited.
Metal grated on metal somewhere behind the wall, and the iron portcullis began to lift. When the sharp teeth at the bottom of the grating were perhaps a foot above Shona’s head—not even half the full height of the gate—it stopped. The great oaken double doors didn’t move, but she heard wood shifting, and then a smaller portal set into the right side of the gate swung open.
A man in the sky-blue tabard of the Royal Swords came through first, and then another followed, and soon there were more than a hundred of them. More men than Falyn had, which Shona knew was no accident. The Swords arranged themselves into precise ranks with a small aisle between, quickly surrounding her on either side. At the front of each rank was a man with a lantern, shedding more light than Shona had seen up close in near a turn in the Swamp. For a moment, the brightness hurt her eyes, and she squinted until she could bear it.
When all of his men stood at attention in their proper place, Rudol stepped through the door. He was dressed plainly, with a greatcoat over his unadorned blue tunic. His wife walked behind him, bundled in furs against the night’s chill.
Shona moved to bow, but before she could she saw something that froze her where she stood. Another man came through the door behind Carissa, and even before he stepped into the light of the Swords’ lanterns, she knew him.
He wore a robe of eagle feathers, and a silver crown adorned with many golden eyes.
She’d already retreated a step before she caught herself. “What is he doing here?”
Ulman Benedern answered before anyone else could. “I believe what you mean to ask is what I am doing alive.” His voice was flat; there was no anger in it. “Given how you left me, it must come as a surprise.”
“The high chastor arrived several days ago, with tidings from Goldstone and Duke Castar,” said Rudol. “When he heard you’d arrived, he insisted on being here. Considering the accusations he’s made against you, I thought he had some right.”
Shona couldn’t look away from Benedern, and he met her gaze, utterly impassive. He wore a bandage about his throat, but no bandage would have patched the wound she’d seen. He was dead. I know he was. She brushed her fingers over the dried blood that stained her tunic, to reassure herself that she hadn’t imagined it. If he’s alive, it changes everything. Castar still has the Convocation, and Eian… God Above, I let him go. His surrender had bought a truce with the swamplings, and maybe there had been no other way, but all of the reasons seemed small now beside the looming fact that Benedern was there and Eian wasn’t.
“By the look on her face, I think we can assume some of what we’ve heard is true,” said Carissa. A slight smirk played over her lips. “You are surprised to see him breathing, aren’t you?”
Shona hated to admit it, even only to herself, but Carissa was right. I’m gaping like a halfwit. I can’t let this distract me now. There will be time for guilt later. “More glad than surprised,” she said, and forced herself to stop staring at the high chastor. “I never wanted anyone to come to harm.”
“We can discuss the fine details at the Keep,” said Rudol. If he noticed Carissa’s annoyed glance, he ignored it. He looked Shona over, and frowned when he saw the red stains that covered her from chest to knee. “I want to resolve this quickly, and you… look like you need rest.” He glanced over her shoulder at Cer Falyn and her knights. “Where are the others? Gryston, the boy. I’m told they were with you when you left Greenwall.” No mention of Josen, but that told her nothing. Castar wouldn’t have admitted to Rudol that Josen is alive, even if he knows. Not unless he absolutely had to.
“For now, they are where no one will find them.” The boy was an advantage, and she needed as strong a position as she could muster. Castar’s accusations meant that she was subject to the king’s judgement, and right now Rudol spoke for the crown. Shona had watched her father in council before—he’d never let himself be cowed, never given an inch that wasn’t earned. Not even to the king. She met Rudol’s eyes, and tried her best to capture something of that authority. “If the high chastor has already spoken for Castar, you must let me speak for myself and those who offered me aid. Whatever accusations have been made, I can answer.”
“You’ll be allowed your say,” said Rudol. “But at the Keep, not here. Have your men surrender their weapons.”
“Cer Falyn and her men have done nothing but follow the lord general’s orders. They will give up their arms if you give your word that they will be quartered at the Stormhall, not thrown in a cell.”
Rudol didn’t hesitate. “You have my word.”
“Highness, I must—” Benedern began.
“It’s done,” Rudol said, and raised his hand to forestall any further protest.
Shona smiled at him, and let herself sway on her feet. It wasn’t an act, really—she was tired, and it was convenient now to stop hiding it.
Rudol leapt forward and grabbed her by the arm to steady her. “Let’s get you to the carriage.” He turned to the nearest Sword. “Escort Cer Falyn and the rest to the Stormhall. With dignity. They are not prisoners.”
“Wait,” said Shona. She turned, and beckoned to Cer Falyn.
Morne approached, and stopped to bow when she was near enough. “Prince Rudol,” she said, with less respect than she might have.
“Falyn, send me word when everyone”—Shona stressed the word as much as she dared—“is settled at the Stormhall. I want to be certain the agreement stands.”
“Of course, Lady Shona,” Cer Falyn said. “Is that all?”
“It is. And thank you, for seeing me safely here.”
Morne returned to her men, and Shona allowed Rudol to lead her toward the gate. That part went as well as it could have, at least. Now I just need to put him off until Josen gets to the Stormhall. They had to be past the Mad Duke’s Gate by now, but it could be hours before Josen and the swamplings reached the farming flats. But if I know Rudol, it shouldn’t be terribly hard to buy time. Behind his gruffness, there had always been a certain gallantry. She could use that.
She leaned on him as they walked, just enough to emphasize her exhaustion. “I promise I can explain everything,” she said. “But would it be too much to ask for some time to… refresh myself before we talk? It has been a very long journey. I need to wash and change my clothes, and I fear I am in no condition to give you a very reliable account of anything if I don’t rest first.”
&nb
sp; Carissa gave her a cold look. “Don’t you think this is too important to wait, dear?” she said, and ran her fingers over Rudol’s arm. “Duke Castar’s claims are serious, and the high chastor…” She gestured at Benedern.
“She was part of an attack that very nearly took my life, Your Highness,” Benedern said. “She must answer for it.” He was watching Shona, but his eyes were empty—she couldn’t read anything in them.
She looked away. It was hard to meet those eyes and not remember the terror she’d seen there once; hard not to imagine him lying in a puddle of his own blood, struggling for air. How can he be here? And what does he want?
Rudol didn’t answer the high chastor immediately. He looked at Shona silently for a time, and then he said, “An hour or so will not change her answer, Your Eminence. We can give her time to wash, I think.”
“Thank you, Rudol,” said Shona, and meant it. Her request had been calculated, but the weariness behind it was genuine, and he was under no obligation to give her what she asked for. She didn’t know if she could forgive what he’d done to Josen, but it was good to know that some part of her old friend was still there. That he still cared enough to give her this small concession.
She feared it wouldn’t last, when he learned why she’d really come.
Before they passed under the wall, she glanced up at the cliff one last time. Climb quickly, Josen. I don’t know how much time I have.
39. Reunion
Rudol
“It’s been hours!” Carissa stamped her foot, and continued to pace across the receiving chamber outside their bedroom. “She’s taking advantage of your friendship, can’t you see that?”
Rudol slouched in his chair near the fire, and rubbed a hand over his scalp. He was tired of this. It was late, and Carissa had been in a mood since they’d brought Shona back. “What does it matter? She’s ready to talk now.”
“In her own time. It isn’t right. You are her king. She should—”
“I’m not anyone’s king, Carissa. My father still lives.”
For now, little brother. But not for long. Josen’s voice said exactly what Rudol was trying hardest not to think. He’s going to die, and you’re going to be left with a broken kingdom you don’t know how to fix.
“Of course, dear,” said Carissa, and clasped his arm. “I only meant—”
A knock sounded at the door.
Rudol was glad for the interruption—it spared him a reiteration of the same argument he’d heard a dozen times already. “Enter,” he said, and gestured for Carissa to sit. She obliged, taking the seat beside him.
The Sword at the door poked his head in. “The high chastor is here, Your Highness.”
Rudol nodded. “Let him in. And send Shona through directly when she arrives. No need to announce her.” It had been near three hours since they’d returned to the Keep, and Shona had only recently sent word that she was ready to meet. Carissa could have been right, he supposed—she might have been stalling. Waiting for Cer Falyn’s message that her knights were settled at the Stormhall, which had only just come. But Rudol wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d simply nodded off. She’d looked tired enough to sleep for days.
In either case, she was coming now, and so Rudol had sent for Ulman Benedern. The man had levelled serious charges against Shona, both his own and Duke Castar’s; it was time he said them to her face. That was the only way Rudol could judge the truth of the accusations. Trials and judgements could come later. Right then, he just needed to see the look in her eyes. If she lies to me, I’ll see it. I’ve known her too long not to.
Benedern strode into the room. “Your Highness. Lady Carissa.”
“Your Eminence,” said Rudol. “Please, sit.”
The high chastor bowed, and then lowered his weight into a high-backed chair across from Rudol and Carissa, arranging the feathers of his robe beneath him. Once seated, he said nothing more.
Prior to the last few days, Rudol had only spoken to the high chastor in passing pleasantries at one gathering or another—his father had long kept Benedern at a distance, for whatever reason. Now that they’d spent more time together, he found that Benedern’s company made him deeply uncomfortable. Despite a reputation for gregariousness, the man spoke very little in close company, and while Rudol wasn’t in any place to judge anyone for being taciturn, Benedern’s silences felt strange. There was something empty about them, as if he just wasn’t there anymore in those moments.
He keeps to himself, at least. Since he’d arrived, Benedern had rarely left his chambers without prompting except to say a nightly blessing over the king in his sickbed. Rudol knew his father wouldn’t approve of that, but King Gerod was in no position to turn away the Sky God’s good will.
Carissa shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and then broke the silence. “Shona should be here very soon, Your Eminence.”
Benedern just sat quietly, watching the door.
No one spoke again until Shona arrived, which didn’t take long. When he heard the door open, Rudol gave silent thanks to the Wind of Grace. He couldn’t have borne the awkward quiet much longer.
“Shona,” he greeted her. “Sit, please.”
“I’d rather stand,” said Shona. She didn’t take her eyes off Benedern; she’d stared at him for a long time at the gate, too. What is she looking for?
Rudol shrugged. “Have it your way. Your Eminence, if you would remind me of the allegations against her?”
And now Benedern spoke without hesitation. “Treason, abduction, and murder,” he said. “She instigated a rebellion in Greenwall when she learned that arrangements had been made for her to wed Duke Castar. With the help of Eian Gryston and Falyn Morne, she gathered a group of knights and sent them to assault the wall, leaving a number of loyal men dead and the duchy vulnerable to attack. She used the distraction to steal away the last Windwalker and escape by basket. When I tried to stop them, she had Eian Gryston draw his blade across my throat.” He pulled down the bandage at his throat to reveal a long, ugly scab across his neck.
“Lord of Eagles,” Carissa gasped, and put a hand to her mouth.
Rudol wasn’t so shocked. Benedern had shown him the wound once already, and he’d seen as bad and worse in the Swamp. If it had gone particularly deep, the high chastor wouldn’t be speaking, or even standing, and if it had severed an artery he’d be dead. I would have thought Eian Gryston knew how to kill a man better than that. But what other explanation is there? If Benedern wanted to hurt himself for the lie, there are a hundred less dangerous ways. He glanced at Shona’s face; she was staring at Benedern’s throat, and the lines on her brow read like confusion to Rudol. But what about? Where the mark came from, or how he survived? God Above, why can’t anything be simple?
“They left me bleeding on the basket launch.” There might have been a hint of anger in Benedern’s tone, but if so it was barely there. The man either had iron self-control, or he didn’t value his own life very highly. “I live only because they did not stop to make sure that the wound was deep enough, and Duke Castar arrived shortly after to help. This cannot be forgiven. An attack on my person is an attack against the Sky God. She and her conspirators must face the consequences.”
“Lies. You and Castar are the traitors.” Anger flashed in Shona’s eyes. She took a breath, and in a more controlled voice, she said, “And I can prove it.”
“Do you deny attacking the high chastor, then?” Carissa asked. “Where else did he get that wound?”
“I don’t deny that it was by Eian’s hand,” said Shona. “But he is no traitor to the Peaks, and neither am I.”
Rudol studied her face, trying to find a lie, but he couldn’t. “Speak your piece,” he said.
“I was there in Skysreach when Castar and Benedern first revealed the Windwalker boy, and I saw something that… that made me wonder. Afterwards, I was able to get the boy alone briefly.” Shona hesitated there, gave Rudol a searching look. He didn’t know what she hoped to see, but after a moment
, she swallowed and said, “He’s a swampling, Rudol. His face and hair were colored to hide it. Castar means to take the throne, and he’s going to use the last Windwalker to do it. He lied to you. To everyone.”
Carissa laughed. “That’s the best excuse you could come up with? The last Windwalker is a swampling? You might as well say Aryllia herself told you to do it. We aren’t idiots, Shona.” She glanced at Rudol. Waiting for him to agree with her.
Rudol said nothing. He clenched his fingers against the arms of his chair, watched Shona, and waited.
Shona didn’t flinch under Rudol’s eyes, didn’t look away. “It was real enough for Castar to stop me leaving Skysreach. He took my parents and Eian hostage to ensure my good behavior, and brought us to Goldstone. When you spoke to me there, I could only say what he wanted me to say. He gave me no choice.
“Even then, he wasn’t satisfied he’d fooled you. He wanted Greenwall’s fields so that he’d be ready if you decided to declare war, and he came for them under the guise of fixing the wall. It’s true he planned for us to wed, but my father never would have agreed to it. The arrangements were Castar’s alone. He had the men to crush whatever force I could raise to fight him, and he made it clear he would use them if I didn’t do as he said. So I let it happen, thinking that I was protecting my people. But I was wrong. The only way to protect anyone now is to stop Lenoden Castar from taking what he wants. My mother and father made me see that. Everything Benedern has accused me of doing, I did so that I could escape. So that I could tell you the truth.”
Rudol tightened his grip on the chair until his knuckles cracked, but he didn’t let himself raise his voice. “You… you say you have proof of this?” he asked through clenched teeth. He’d thought that he would know the truth when he heard her speak, but he didn’t. He didn’t know who to believe. He trusted Duke Castar with his life, and he’d known Shona since he was a boy—but one of them had to be lying to him.
The Swampling King (The Windwalker Legacy Book 1) Page 66