by Jane Glatt
“Our contacts in the Kingsguard report no unusual orders or training,” Brunger said.
“Good. Let me know if that changes. We hope to postpone any battles until spring. Is there anything else?”
“News for Brenna,” Marcus said. “From Eryl. The seamstress’ shop has been ransacked by the Thorold’s men. The seamstress has been taken.”
“Mistress Dudding?” Brenna asked. “Is she all right?”
“Eryl thinks not. He’s had his gang out looking for her but there’s no news. He assumes she’s dead.”
“Dead,” Brenna said. “Because of me?” Brenna’s heart sank and she frowned. “I haven’t even seen her since the night the church killed Sabine Werrett instead of me.”
“Thorold found out you used to live there,” Marcus replied. “At least that’s what Eryl’s hearing from the Quarter. The men who took the seamstress were asking about you. They were also asking about Eryl.”
“But he’s safe?” Kane asked.
“Yes.”
“Why now?” Brenna asked.
“Because Mattias is gone,” Kane said. “Thorold can do what he wants without opposition.”
“Yes,” Marcus agreed. “I’d say he’s flaunting his power.”
“But Mistress Dudding was no threat,” Brenna said.
“No but she can be a lesson,” Kane replied. “A warning to the rest of the Quarter that helping you is dangerous.”
Brenna clutched her knife and Kane’s grip tightened around her hand. Mistress Dudding was dead because of her. Someone she’d barely thought about in all the months since she’d been taken in by the Brotherhood was dead because she’d known Brenna, had been kind to Brenna.
“Tell Eryl to stay safe,” Kane said. Gently he peeled her hand from her knife and folded her into his arms, gently resting his head on top of hers.
“It’s my fault,” Brenna said. Her voice caught in her throat and she leaned into Kane.
“No,” he said firmly. “It’s Thorold’s fault.”
Kane’s head lifted off of hers. “Someone who helped Brenna before the prophecy started has been taken by Thorold’s men,” Kane explained to the others in the room. “Now they’re looking for Eryl.”
“Can he get out of Kingsreach?” Dasid asked.
“He won’t leave,” Brenna said. “Not Eryl.” She wiped a hand across her eyes and sat up. “He always says that the Quarter will look after its own. I hope it does.”
“Is Thorold targeting people Brenna knows?” Dasid asked.
“It seems so.” Kane sighed. “Brenna, who else would be at risk?”
“Who else?” Brenna shook her head. “Half the people in the Quarter have been customers. I never turned away anyone who was ill. Other than that there’s Pater, his nephew Martyn and Mistress Mundy over at the Wheat Sheaf.”
“Where the healer from Aruntun was killed,” Kane said. “We’ll ask Eryl to keep an eye on her. Pater and Martyn are Brotherhood - you can’t keep them safe.”
“But I’ll feel responsible if anything happens to them,” Brenna said.
“They’re helping you save Soule from Thorold. That’s their choice,” Kane replied.
“I don’t want any more of my friends to die,” Brenna said.
She got up to pace the room. Kane was right - Mistress Dudding’s death wasn’t her fault, not really, but it felt like it. And it didn’t change the fact that people were in danger - and dying - because of her. She had to put it out of her mind - she had more to do tonight, more people to contact. She sighed heavily and sat back down. Kane clasped her hand and she sighed again. Time to get back to work.
Brenna stretched, wincing when her muscles protested. She always tried to relax when contacting others through old steel but when she was done, she invariably found that she’d been tensing her muscles and clenching her hands. Tonight was worse - finding out about Mistress Dudding had put her even more on edge than usual. She leaned against the hearth and rubbed her hands in front of the flames, trying to warm them up.
“Here, drink this.”
Kane handed her a mug of tea and she wrapped one stiff hand around it. She took a small sip and sighed.
“Just one more tonight,” he said.
“Two,” Brenna replied. “I want to talk to Jemma.”
“Do you need to?”
“Yes. I must have had a Seeing when I was asleep. I keep hearing Jemma’s name in my head.” She sipped her tea and shook her head. “She’s our best connection to Beldyn right now. She needs to see him.”
Kane looped an arm around her shoulder and simply waited, silent, as she finished her tea.
“Jemma first then,” Kane said. He took her mug from her and steered her back to her seat.
The others all settled in as she picked up her knife once more.
“Jemma, are you there?” Despite her fatigue Brenna found Jemma easily.
“Brenna?” Jemma replied.
“It’s me,” Brenna said. “You need to see Beldyn.”
After a quick conversation Brenna broke the link to the younger girl.
“I asked her to try to see Beldyn as soon as possible,” Brenna said. “She said that all the guilds are putting forth their best goods for the coronation so I told her to talk to Marcus Brunger. He can make sure she’s part of any delegation. We’ll need to let Marcus know next time we contact him.” Brenna stood and stretched her arms overhead before sitting down again.
“Jemma confirmed what Marcus said,” she continued. “The church of the One-God is housing many, many priests in the neighbourhood around the church. They’ve mostly been welcomed into homes but Jemma has heard of a few families who were forced out. The families haven’t been seen since and the rumour is they were sent to the High Bishop for being uncharitable.” Brenna couldn’t stop her shudder. So many people hurt - or worse - in the name of the One-God - Kane’s uncle Feiren, Neal Ravershaw, Mistress Dudding and now innocent families. Thorold and the High Bishop had to be stopped.
Brenna took a shaky breath and handed her second empty mug to Kane. She’d protested the delay when he’d first insisted that she take a break between each contact through old steel but now she was grateful for each short respite. Especially tonight. She couldn’t stop thinking about poor Mistress Dudding and it was sapping her energy. She kept picturing the seamstress confused and shaken, wondering why the church or Kingsguard or whoever had taken her kept asking about a tenant who had died a year ago.
Brenna shrugged her shoulders, trying to work out the kinks. Kane’s fingers massaged her tight muscles and she leaned back into him.
“Ready for Yowan?” he asked.
She nodded. She usually left her grandfather for last. Not only was he the easiest for her to contact, being both a Brother and her close relative, but somehow he projected love and care across the old steel. Tonight she needed to feel that more than ever.
Kane sat down beside her and again they both reached for the knives.
“Yowan, grandfather,” she sent outward.
“Brenna love. Good to hear from you.” The response was immediate and Brenna smiled at the warmth in her grandfather’s tone.
“We made it to Silverdale and Duke Ewart’s safely. The Brotherhood training facility will be moved here as soon as possible. Dasid thinks in the next few weeks.”
“That’s good news,” Yowan paused. “What’s wrong? You’re upset about something. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Brenna said. “It’s just …” Brenna squeezed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. She felt Kane’s hand on her shoulder and she sighed.
“We’ve had bad news from Kingsreach,” she said. “An old friend was taken by Thorold’s men. Someone who was kind to me a long time ago.”
“Ah, so he’s trying to hurt you through those you care about.”
“We think so,” Brenna said.
“You can’t let him weaken you,” Yowan said. “You’re at war now - casualties are going to happen.”
“But she died because of me!”
“And you’re trying to put things right for everyone, including her family,” Yowan said firmly. “You’re almost queen now. People will die for you - you’ll need to accept that.”
“I don’t want to accept it,” Brenna said. “I don’t want people to die for me.”
“That’s not your choice,” Yowan said. “And it’s not about you; it’s about what you represent. People have a right to decide what they believe is worth dying for. Your part in this is to not let their deaths be wasted.”
“But I’m a healer. I’m should be able to help,” Brenna said. “I don’t like that people are dead because of me.”
“And that’s a good thing,” Yowan said. “Others might not be so concerned. My guess is Thorold wouldn’t be. Now you make sure you get some enough sleep. Tell Kane I said so.”
“I heard. I’ve already made her miss one meal for sleep,” Kane replied.
Her grandfather chuckled. “Good lad. She’ll argue but you know what she needs. Just make sure she does what you say.”
“And that works with Madelay does it?” Brenna asked.
“At times,” Yowan drawled and Brenna smiled. “Sometimes she just needs me to remind her she that shouldn’t feel guilty for taking care of herself.”
“And how is my grandmother?”
“She’s holding her own. After we crossed the border we met up with others fleeing Kingsreach. Now we’ve found Laurel and Clift at an encampment of some sort.” Yowan paused briefly and Brenna knew he was talking to someone else. “Laurel says you’ll know the place, Brenna. On your say so Avery had lowered the magical barrier and posted healers with supplies and wagons to help move people further into Aruntun.”
Brenna’s closed her eyes and her shoulders sagged. She’d been able to change her vision from the spring. It was a relief to know it was possible. “And Neal and the Brothers who were hurt during the rescue?” she asked. “Are they still doing well?”
“Madelay says Neal is still mending as well as can be expected and those who were wounded are all on their feet today. Avery is furious with Duke Thorold. And she blames herself for letting Thorold have a free hand for so many years.”
“He fooled us all,” Kane said. “She should not waste her energy blaming herself.”
“Eventually she will accept that.” Yowan’s voice was sad. “But she feels that Neal suffered because of her poor judgment. Neal feels differently - he blames Duke Thorold and High Bishop Valden.”
“As he should,” Brenna said, angry. Only the High Bishop had ordered Neal’s body to be cut and mutilated – and Thorold had handed him over to Valden knowing exactly what would be done to him.
“Aye, but we’ll stop them,” Yowan said. “We’ll head to Smithin after a few days rest. Contact me whenever you need to, I’ll keep my knife close.” Yowan broke the connection.
Brenna pulled her stiff fingers back from the knives and rubbed them together, stifling a yawn. She picked up her knife and slipped it back into its sheath at her waist while Kane did the same with his.
“Neal and the five injured Brothers are still recovering well,” she said to the rest of the room. “They’re safe at a camp with Avery’s daughter Laurel, just past the border in Aruntun.” She rubbed her eyes with the back of one hand.
She had to get used to people dying for her, Yowan had said. But her mother had trained her to help people, to save lives. The thought of even one more person dying because of her seemed like a betrayal of everything her mother had taught her. And yet Wynne Trewen had created poisons for Duke Thorold - one of those poisons had certainly killed the king - and Brenna and Madelay had both used their healing skills to sicken men - Brenna in Godswall and Madelay when they had been captured by Stobert’s men. She was certain that at least one of Stobert’s men had died and that didn’t bother her way Mistress Dudding’s death did.
Brenna shook her head. But that was different - they’d had to save themselves from their enemies. She was too tired to think it through right now. She looked up to find Kane’s worried gaze on her.
“How long do you think it will take them to get Smithin?” she asked him.
“At least two weeks, maybe three. They’ll still need the wagons. I doubt Neal will be ready to ride yet.”
“No, he won’t. Nor will Madelay let him.”
“It’s true then,” Duke Ewart said. “Neal Ravershaw was tortured.”
“Yes,” Brenna replied. “We rescued him from the church of the One-God. The High Bishop had him for weeks and we’re lucky he was more interested in causing pain than doing permanent damage. As it is Neal is missing his thumbs and he will always bear the scars, but his body will heal.”
“How can the church condone this?” Ewart stood and paced the room.
“The High Bishop would say he was offering Neal Ravershaw salvation and the chance to convert to the One-God,” Kane said. “And the priests of the One-God not only believe him, they participate. They have recruited One-God followers in Kingsreach to be salvation marchers. The townsfolk call them witch hunters - they find those who believe in the old gods and send them to the High Bishop for conversion.”
Ewart’s face paled, then his mouth set in a grim line.
“Now I understand why there have been so many fleeing Kingsreach,” he said. “Even though it’s in Comack I want to send my militia to take and hold the ferry.” Ewart looked at Kane - a long slow look. “We need to keep the road clear so refugees can escape that.”
Kane nodded. “When we take the ferry we must make sure we keep it. Dasid, work with Ewart to field a force that’s made up of Brothers and Fallad militia. We might as well start working the men together.” He turned back to Ewart. “You realize that Thorold will see this is a declaration of war?”
“Yes,” Ewart replied. “And he’d be right to. After word that Avery and Neal had been detained I wasn’t planning on attending Beldyn’s coronation anyway. Do you think this could cause Thorold to attack before winter?”
“Not if we time it right. We can take the crossing a few days before the coronation,” Kane said. “We’ll do it close to when Thorold would have expected you to arrive in Kingsreach.”
“Yes,” Ewart said. His smile thinned his lips and he nodded. “It will be an emphatic rejection to his invitation to attend his son’s coronation.”
two
For the better part of a week Brenna stayed close to Duke Ewart’s house. She spent her time on small domestic tasks like cleaning and mending her worn and stained clothing and cooking nourishing soups and stews. Ewart’s cook, a competent woman with a no-nonsense air, was grateful for the help. She confided to Brenna that feeding the many men staying in the house would have been overwhelming without the neighbours and Brenna’s help.
“Did you know that your neighbours have been feeding us?” Brenna asked Ewart after he’d come into the kitchen for a slice of pie.
“Is this from them?” Ewart asked. He held up a plate with a slice of blueberry pie.
Brenna nodded.
“I knew. We’ve done the same for many of them, when it’s been needed.” He grinned. “We don’t help the church though. Once you give them a gift they try to turn it into a duty.”
“Would they die for you?” Brenna asked. “Not the church, but your neighbours, your subjects.”
Ewart set the pie down on the counter and faced her, his gaze serious. “Some of them, yes,” he said. “For every man or woman in my employ, be it my militia or my household, there is a possibility that they could die in my service.” He sent her a rueful smile. “Up until now that looked very unlikely.”
“How do you accept that?” Brenna asked. “That people will die for you?”
“You never take it lightly,” Ewart said. “You treat them as well as you can and you make sure that if anything does happen to them that their families are provided for.” He looked away for a moment. “Kane has some experience with this,” Ewart said
. “He’s led men and no doubt some of them have died. What does he say?”
“Basically what you’ve said,” Brenna replied. “But he led men on behalf of King Mattias. It’s different. Innocent people will die, have died, because of me.”
“Yes,” Ewart said. “And nothing you do can stop that. You have to make sure that their sacrifice was worth something.”
“That’s what Yowan told me,” Brenna said.
“He’s a smart man,” Ewart said. “And so is Kane. You should listen to them.” He picked up the pie and left her alone in the kitchen.
Brenna leaned against the work table. The kitchen was fragrant with the smells of the rosemary, thyme and onions she’d added to the stew she was cooking. Everyone seemed to think it normal, expected even, that people would die for her and her cause but it wasn’t what she wanted. But she couldn’t run away, not from this. If she didn’t become queen there would be no one to oppose Thorold - and then even more people would die.
Brenna spent so much time in the kitchen that eventually Kane, Ewart and Dasid converged on it in order to include Brenna in their planning. The four of them would spread their maps on the big oak work table and lean across it, heads propped up by their elbows, as they discussed where to place troops once they’d taken the ferry crossing. They knew that Thorold would try to retake the ferry – it was in Comack, he wouldn’t just leave it in their hands - so they needed a large enough force to withstand him.
After each planning session Brenna tried not to think about who wouldn’t be coming back from this fight - which soldiers would die for her cause – but it was impossible. Like the hum of the coronet, it was always there, at the back of her mind.
She was restless. She’d brushed both Blaze and Runner, her clothing was patched and clean and there was no real need for her to cook. It had been five days since Brenna had arrived and she felt rested and recovered. Kane, Dasid and Ewart were meeting with the men they’d assigned to capture the ferry and didn’t need her. After a few moments of wandering aimlessly through the house, she grabbed her pack and left by the back door.