Queen (Brotherhood of the Throne)

by Jane Glatt

  Kane wasn’t sure how long Ewart had been standing there but he’d obviously heard at least some of the story.

  “Cousin, you stay out of this,” Brenna said. “Remember, I do much of the cooking around here.”

  “Ah.” Ewart held his hands up. “I heard what happened in Blackwall when you cooked. You’ll hear no more from me.”

  “I know who you are,” Ronan said, sidling up beside Kane.

  Kane shook his head. It seemed the boy had decided he was on his side.

  “You’re the duke. I saw you. There was a procession and the militiamen were all dressed in dark green with their swords all shiny. I saw it from the roof of the library when I was little.”

  Kane smiled. The boy was only seven now, he’d been told. Ewart had become duke two years ago.

  “Duke Ewart of Fallad, at your service.” Ewart crossed the room and bowed low to the boy. “And who might you be?”

  “I’m Ronan. Ronan Linney and that’s my ma, sitting over there.” Ronan pointed to his mother, who seemed to shrink into the sofa.

  “Mistress Linney I welcome you and your son to my home.” Ewart bowed to Ronan’s mother and smiled at her until she shyly returned his smile. “Brenna, have you found a room for our guests yet? I suggest you put Mistress Linney and her son in the room across from you. I think I have a cot somewhere that will do for the lad.”

  “Oh please, my Lord.” There was a tremor in Neemah’s voice when she spoke. “Ronan and I can share a bed, like we’ve done since he was born. And please, a servant’s room will be fine. Mistress Brenna said she’d find a position for me.

  “And so she shall.” Ewart’s voice was gentle and his smile softened. “But for now you are my guests and will be treated as such. As for the cot, I think young Ronan might like to sleep in his own bed, wouldn’t you lad?”

  “Oh, yes please, Master Duke.” Ronan was so excited that he pressed into Kane’s side. “I’d like a bed of my own. A man shouldn’t share with his ma all his life.”

  “No he should not,” Ewart said. He covered his mouth with his hand and coughed.

  Kane ducked his head to hide his own grin.

  “Let’s get you two settled then.” Brenna walked over to the sofa and held out her hand for Neemah. Finally, the woman took it and stood, her small bundle of belongings clutched against her thin body. “Once you clean up, if you want to help, you’ll be welcome in the kitchen,” Brenna she steered Neemah to the door. “But I’ll warn you.” Brenna turned and sent Kane a smile. He nudged Ronan and the boy trotted after his mother. “The men seem to end up there most days too.”

  Kane made room on the bench beside him when Brenna came back into the sitting room. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close - she sighed and leaned in to him, her hand reaching for his.

  “Are they settled?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’ve given them some wash water. I told Neemah that one of you would help bring up bath water later on.”

  “I’ll help her,” Dasid said.

  “Thank you Dasid.” Brenna smiled sadly. “I’ll warn you, she hasn’t been treated well by men - it might take some time before she loses her fear.”

  “I’ll be gentle,” Dasid said. “She deserves some kindness, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Brenna agreed. “She does.” She wished her own mother had been shown such kindness. Perhaps she would still be alive.

  Duke Thorold strolled through the castle, smiling at the many people who bowed low as he passed. He turned and went up a short flight of stairs, his personal guard flanking him. He’d taken over the largest office, of course, as befitted his position as chief advisor and father of the royal heir. Soon he would add regent to his titles.

  In one week Beldyn would be crowned king. All his years of planning would finally bring him the power he deserved. Though Beldyn would wear the crown he would wield very little of the power that went with being king - and only what his father allowed.

  Thorold frowned. There had been no word of the witch or the cursed Brotherhood. He could only hope that they were off licking their wounds, along with Duchess Avery and her militia captain Ravershaw.

  He was still furious that those two had escaped but he would have forgiven his men if they’d been able to hold the witch, Brenna Trewen. To know that she’d been in his hands, locked up in his cell, but had escaped, still enraged him. More than a few of his guards had become acquainted with the High Bishop since that night. The rest would not let her slip through their hands again, not if they hoped to live - or even die a clean death.

  In his office, he sat down and reached for the stack of correspondence that had arrived in the past day. He sorted through it and frowned. There was still no word from Duke Ewart. Was the man on his way to Kingsreach? Thorold had personally invited him to Beldyn’s coronation – not responding to him was an insult. Ewart would attend - he had to. Avery’s absence he could accept, embrace even - the witches had never been part of his plans - but Ewart’s absence would create difficulties for him. His negotiations with Langemore depended on him having control over Fallad – at least the northern part of it.

  Thorold cursed the High Bishop. The man had ordered all his priests to Kingsreach to prepare for the coronation and with Stobert hemmed in on a small pocket of his land by Duke Ewart’s militia - there was very little news out of Fallad. He’d assumed the witch had traveled to Aruntun but he didn’t know for sure. Could Ewart be aligned with her? If he had to take Fallad by force he had to wait until spring to mount a campaign – his army wouldn’t be ready until then. He flipped through the notes and scrolls on his desk, hoping to find some information that would tell him what he needed to know.

  There was a knock on the door - he looked up as Captain Barton entered.

  “My Lord, there is bad news.”

  “Out with it,” Thorold said. He resumed scanning a scroll he’d unrolled.

  “The ferry along the Upper Silverdale River has been taken by a force from Fallad,” Barton said.

  Thorold looked up in shock, the scroll dropping to his desk, forgotten.

  “We had twenty men guarding the two landings but they were quickly overrun. Only two men have made it back to Kingsreach. Both had been stationed on this side of the river and I fear that all the men on the far side have been lost.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Yesterday, my Lord. They struck just after dusk and had control of both sides of the river within an hour. My men say it was a large troop, up to sixty men, and some were wearing Falladian colours.”

  “What are your plans to regain the ferry, Captain?” How dare they attack the ferry? It was in Comackian lands, his lands. They could not be allowed to keep control of it.

  “I am readying a force of over one hundred Kingsguard. We will ride before dawn and should reach the ferry by mid morning. The ferry should be back in our control by tomorrow evening.”

  “See that it is,” Thorold said and sat back in his chair. “We must have this dealt with quickly before the coronation.”

  “Of course my Lord,” Barton said, then turned and left.

  Thorold slammed his hand on his desk, sending papers and scrolls flying. Ewart of Fallad would not be coming to Beldyn’s coronation. So be it. He would retake the ferry and then march on Fallad in the spring. He’d send Langemore’s army in from the north and his own from the south and squeeze Ewart until the Silverdale River ran red with blood.

  He needed to send a note to King Mannel. Beldyn’s marriage to his daughter must happen before winter set in to tie Langemore to Soule. Mannel would have no choice but to supply troops once his daughter was in Thorold’s safe keeping.

  He picked up a clean piece of parchment and pulled a pen and ink pot from his desk drawer. He would need to word the note carefully, very carefully indeed.

  three

  Brenna hummed to herself as she stirred the stew. She added another pinch of rosemary, frowning when she noticed how little she had left
. She was running out of a number of her supplies - a trip to the market was needed in order to search out more herbs. Both for cooking and for healing.

  “Neemah, do you know any good shops for buying herbs?” Brenna turned to the other woman and smiled.

  After almost a week of good food and plenty of rest, Neemah no longer looked gaunt and worn. Once clean, her hair, which Brenna had thought a mousy brown, turned out to be a luxurious mahogany. Her gray eyes looked almost blue in the cornflower-coloured dress she wore.

  Brenna looked ruefully down at her own dark breeches and shirt. Perhaps she should take a little more interest in how she dressed. She’d noticed the light in Dasid’s eyes the first time he’d seen Neemah cleaned up. She shook her head - Kane would probably wonder what was wrong with her if she started wearing dresses.

  “There’s some good shops down in the market,” Neemah said, her head bent over the dough she was kneading. “But I never had much call to go down there. There’s a shop in the poorer section of town.”

  Neemah sent her a worried look and Brenna knew the shop was close to the tavern.

  “An old healer as always said her herbs were picked at just the right time to make them more potent. And they always worked when I needed to bring down a fever or such.”

  “Do you know some healing Neemah?” Brenna asked in surprise. She’d assumed that Neemah’s only skills were serving and cooking - she’d never thought to ask if she had other skills. How could she have not asked? She should know better than to make assumptions about others.

  “Some,” Neemah’s hands stilled in the dough and she twisted them nervously. “More when I was younger. I worked at a tavern, doing healing, mostly. That’s where I met Ronan’s father. Later, when they knew I was with child, they made me leave. Said I was loose and they didn’t encourage that. That’s when I ended up at the Black Swan.”

  Neemah’s shoulders hunched and Brenna wrapped an arm around her.

  Neemah took a shuddering breath and then continued. “When I did some healing at the Swan they started calling me a witch, so I stopped - except for me and my boy, of course. But the name stuck anyway.”

  Brenna gently turned Neemah around and lifted her chin until their eyes met. “Healing is a great skill to have, Neemah. In Aruntun a healer is given more respect than the duchess.”

  Gray eyes widened and Brenna smiled and nodded. “An innkeep moved a paying guest and gave me one of his best rooms in exchange for a few hours a day treating folk in his inn. I’m a healer too. Trained by my mother, who was trained by her mother.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Do you want to see what it was in the pack that Ronan took? What I needed to get back so badly?” At Neemah’s nod Brenna walked over to the table and her pack. She pulled the mortar and pestle from it and handed them to Neemah, who had come up beside her, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “They feel warm, almost like they’re alive,” Neemah breathed, her eyes held by the old steel in her hands.

  “They’re magic,” Brenna said.

  Neemah started and the pestle rattled in the mortar.

  “Real magic,” Brenna continued. “Not like healing, although to folk who don’t know any better that seems like magic. And I’m a real witch, although I’ve only become one recently despite being named one most of my life. Here.” She took the mortar and pestle from the other woman’s hands. “I’ll show you something.” Brenna held the mortar and pestle up and let their song flow through her. They started glowing, a clear white light. “See? I can make them light up.” She dampened the light and put the now dull mortar and pestle back on the table. “And here, look at my eyes,” Brenna let her spell of concealment drop and Neemah gasped.

  “You’re eyes, they’re two different colors.”

  “Yes. I was born with one green eye and one brown eye. We think it best to keep them hidden for now.” Brenna grinned. “Though Kane makes me drop the spell sometimes. Claims he feels like he’s sleeping with a different woman when I have two brown eyes.”

  “Oh,” Neemah said and blushed.

  “My eyes are magic too,” Brenna said. “Another gift passed down through my mother’s family. I’m a Seer. That means I can sometimes see the future. Or what the future will hold if nothing is done to change it. I have a cousin who is also a Seer. She has one brown eye and one blue.”

  “Is she in Aruntun?” Neemah asked.

  “Yes, she lives in Aruntun. She’s the only child of Duchess Avery but she wasn’t chosen as her mother’s heir - her role as a Seer is considered more important.”

  “Seers and healers are more important than the duchess? Maybe I should live in Aruntun.”

  “Maybe you should.” Brenna whispered the spell that made her green eye brown again. “That’s up to you. I could probably arrange for you and Ronan to travel to the coast and have a ship pick you up and take you south to Smithin.” Rian Chaffer could send a ship, Brenna thought, and the Red Anchor would welcome a healer. “But now that I know you’re healer trained, I have another idea.”

  “Could we stay here with you?”

  “I don’t see why not. Duke Ewart has a big house and you and Ronan don’t take up much room.”

  “What would you want me to do?” Neemah asked.

  “To start, I’d like to go with you to get some healing supplies - mine are running low. Then I’d like to spend some time learning what you know about healing. The last time I was in Silverdale a book about Falladian plants caught my attention.” She laughed at the look Neemah sent her. “Yes, I was going to the library to look at a book on plants. Truly. If you enter by the door you have to talk to the scholar who runs the library for half an hour.”

  Neemah giggled. “Ronan says the same thing. That’s why he goes in secret too.”

  “I knew he was a smart lad,” Brenna said. “Come sit down with me by the window. I have more serious things to discuss with you.” They sat and Neemah looked at her with solemn eyes.

  “Do you know where Dasid is right now?” Brenna asked. A slow blush crept across Neemah’s cheeks and Brenna had to fight a smile. Neemah had definitely taken a liking to Dasid. It was nice that he seemed to feel the same about her.

  “All he told me is that he would be back in a few days.”

  “He’s leading a group of soldiers. They’re taking control of the ferry that’s on the road between here and Kingsreach.” Brenna took Neemah’s hands in her own. “There will be some fighting but I have full confidence that Dasid will be successful and come back safe. But this means Duke Ewart will not support Duke Thorold’s son Beldyn as king. You’re a healer, you understand what that means.”

  “Fighting,” Neemah said flatly. “Like we’ve not seen in lifetimes.”

  “Yes, so we’ll need healers, as many as we can find or train.”

  “How do you, Kane and Dasid fit in with this?” Neemah asked. “And how come you’re so close with Duke Ewart?”

  “Duke Ewart, like us, believes that having Beldyn on the throne will be terrible for the country,” Brenna said. “Not because of Beldyn, who I grew up with, but because of Duke Thorold. He’s many, many times meaner and more powerful than the men at the Black Swan.” Neemah paled and Brenna squeezed her hands.

  “Dasid is a soldier. He spent more than half his life in the Kingsguard, first under Kane’s uncle and then under Kane when he was captain.” Brenna smiled when – through old steel - she felt Kane move to the doorway of the kitchen. “But the two of them, as well as me, are part of an older story. I think you should hear that tale from Dasid, but trust that we all want what’s best for Soule.”

  “But what matter to folk like me who sits on the throne?” Neemah asked. “Do they help me raise my boy? Do they care if I’m mistreated? No, they just stay in Kingsreach and eat their fine food and wear their fine clothes.”

  “Do you think the same of Duke Ewart?” Brenna asked softly. She only had to close her eyes to See the throngs of regular folk - like Neemah - whos
e lives would be so much worse with Thorold in control.

  “Duke Ewart has been kind to me and my boy,” Neemah said softly. “But it weren’t him that saved me from my life. Oh, he took me in when you asked him to and he’s been generous about it too, but he didn’t see how mean my life was.”

  “What about Brenna? Would you follow her?” Kane asked softly.

  Neemah turned around to face him – she met Kane’s gaze and lifted her chin.

  “Aye, I’d follow Mistress Brenna,” she said. “She’s lived some and knows how it is for plain folk.”

  “Has Brenna shown you what she carries in her pack?” Kane moved closer to them. “The pack that never leaves her sight?”

  “I showed her the mortar and pestle,” Brenna said.

  “Show her the other item, Brenna. Let’s see what Neemah thinks of it.”

  Brenna reached back into her pack and pulled out the coronet and gently peeled back the old, cracked leather wrapping. As always, when she finally touched it, the old steel lit up. She laid the coronet down on the scarred wooden table.

  “Where’d you get that?” whispered Neemah.

  “It made itself known to me when I was in Kingsreach,” Brenna reached out and idly traced the crest set on the band and the coronet glowed even brighter. “It’s mine, meant for me if Soule is to be saved.” Brenna shrugged. “At least so says the old tale.”

  “And do you believe it?” Neemah asked.

  Brenna let her hand drop from the old steel. “Some days I do and some days I don’t. But I do know that life will be a lot harsher under Duke Thorold than you can imagine,” Brenna said and her smile turned grim. “I grew up in his household - I know what he’s capable of. If he gets a true grip on Soule regular folk will pray for the days when king and council ignored them - because Thorold ignores no one. He thought me his bastard daughter yet he twisted the laws to enslave me and killed my mother when she dared to confront him. He will squeeze the people and the land for his own ends and punish any who dare challenge him. Some of this I have Seen in visions but some of it I know in my heart because I know the man.”