by Jane Glatt
“That’s a fine use for my wood, takin’ care of families. I like that.” Gwylym grinned. “And I can’t imagine a better home for my animals as well. It would seem fittin’ if each home made from my wood came with one or two of my animals, don’t you think?”
“That would be fitting, Gwylym, yes it would,” Kane replied.
four
Brenna eyed the pot of stew and looked again at the long line up. They’d need another pot soon and they were almost out of bowls, though most of the women had come with their own. Clean ones now that they’d placed pots of hot water for washing beside each stew line. There was no sense feeding them good nourishing food if they were putting it into bowls that were fouled.
Brenna nodded to the woman she’d assigned to serve the stew before she picked her way through the crowds to the next food station. A hand plucked at her arm and she smiled when she recognized the woman she’d given a coin to earlier.
“Thank ye mistress.” The woman balanced her baby on her hip, a clean bowl in her hand. “Ye said ye’d make sure we all got fed and ye did. Thank ye.”
“You’re welcome,” Brenna said. “But I need you to help me out too.” The woman nodded solemnly as did the women around her. “There’s a healer near the front of the line. Let her know if you or your children are feeling ill or if you know of anyone who’s too ill to stand in line. We have a place to treat anyone who’s really unwell. We have to make sure sicknesses don’t spread while you’re all so crowded here,” she said to the group of women and children who now surrounded her. “And you must tell the militia who you are and the name of your man so we can make sure everyone can be found and helped. We’ll move all of you to a better place as soon as we can, I promise, but we need to know who you are first.”
“Thank ye again mistress,” the woman said. “I know ye keep yer promises, I do. If ye don’t mind, will ye tell me yer name?”
“My name’s Brenna Trewen, what’s yours?”
“I’m Mistress Ventris, Brenna Trewen, and I’m right glad to meet you. My man is named Pell, Pell Ventris. If you see him tell him I said he’s to help you any way he can. He’s a farmer mostly, but he has a fair hand at building. Helped raise up over ten barns and houses since I known him.”
“Did he? I’ll make sure Captain Rowse and Duke Ewart know that,” Brenna said. “They’re in need of men who can put up a building - the first task for the new recruits will be building homes for all the families.”
Whispers swirled around Brenna as she walked among the crowd. Maybe one of the women was connected to the Brotherhood - why else did the word queen follow her for the rest of the day? She tried to shrug it off and instead concentrate on getting more stew to two of the lines but the coronet hidden in her pack echoed the whispers. By the time the sky had darkened and the stars were visible she was on edge and restless.
Neemah and Dasid had agreed to take a boy with an infected foot back to Duke Ewart’s house. The boy’s mother gathered up her three other children and Neemah herded them through the crowded streets, trailing after Dasid who carried the boy. Brenna sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She should leave now as well. It was late and everyone had been fed and checked by the healers. The women and children were now settling back onto their small parcels of alley or street.
Brenna visited each of the healers one more time, grateful that Mother Lryan had been able to send so many competent women to her on such short notice. Each of the eight women promised to find her at Duke Ewart’s in the morning. They would be setting up an infirmary wherever Duke Ewart had found them space.
“I know where the best ale in town can be had.”
Brenna turned. Kane smiled at her as he headed towards her. The crowd parted to let him through.
“An ale sounds lovely,” Brenna sighed and reached for his hand. “But I still have a few more things to do.”
“They can wait.”
As Kane pulled her through the crowd the women they passed nodded and smiled. At a cross road Kane stopped in front of an older woman who was crouched on the corner, her shawl thrown around the shoulders of two young girls.
“As you see I found her Mistress, thanks to you,” Kane said.
“You look after her,” the woman said. “She’s the type to wear herself out, that one.”
“I know it,” Kane said. “I’ll do my best to see she gets some rest.” He pulled Brenna past the woman, who smiled and settled in with her children.
“You’ve made quite an impression on these folk today,” Kane said.
He led them through the streets of Silverdale and after being the one who’d been making decisions, organizing feeding the families and making sure people had what they needed, Brenna was grateful that all she had to do was follow Kane.
“When I asked around after you some of them wondered did I mean the young queen.” Kane’s smile flashed white in the night.
“I heard that too,” Brenna said. “I don’t know where it started because it certainly wasn’t anything I said.”
“No, it wouldn’t be,” Kane said and she heard the humour in his tone. “Ah, here we are.” He stopped in front of a worn, wooden door.
Brenna didn’t see any sign that this was a tavern – the street was quiet and only faintly lit and there was no sign over the door. She hadn’t paid any attention to their path through the city but she could smell that the river was close by. The building in front of them looked like a warehouse of some sort.
“Kane, where are we? This isn’t a tavern.”
“I never said we were going to a tavern,” he replied. He reached for the door. “Just that I knew where to find the best ale in town.” He pushed the door open and gestured for her to enter, following close behind her.
“Well now lass, come in and sit.” An old man carried a lamp toward her and she smiled at his welcoming grin. “It ain’t fancy but yer man said you’d never mind that. I tapped a fresh keg in back.”
Brenna sent Kane a bemused smile as she followed the man along a short hallway into what could only be a workroom. She stopped when she saw the wooden animals. Deer and rabbits and cows and horses and chickens. Every type of animal that she could imagine was here, carved so carefully that they seemed almost alive.
She picked up a small kitten, its tail curled around its tiny wooden body. “These are wonderful,” she said, putting the kitten back down beside a dog that had been caught mid bark.
“I like to carve,” the old man said.
“Brenna, this is Gwylym. He’s offered us lumber for building,” Kane said. “As well as a fine mug of ale. Master Gwylym meet Brenna Trewen, the Caller.”
“I’m right pleased to meet ye, Mistress Brenna. I been hearin’ about the Caller for more’n sixty years. Glad I could wait around for ye.” Gwylym handed her a mug of ale and she took it gratefully.
“And I’m pleased to meet a Brother who has been patient for so long.” Brenna sipped her ale and sighed. It truly was a very fine drink. “And please, call me Brenna. Do you make the ale as well?” she asked and Gwylym laughed loudly.
“Oh no, not me. I traded some wood for it. Folks aren’t sure what I got put by in here so they always offer me their best.”
“Well, it’s very good,” Brenna said.
“I told you it was,” Kane said and took a drink from his mug.
Brenna sat quietly on a wooden stool, content to enjoy her ale and listen as Gwylym and Kane discussed different woods. It was almost as complex as herbs for healing, she thought as the old man compared oak and ash by holding up two carved animals. She drained her mug and closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the small room and the earthy smells of the wood.
“Here Brenna, let me get you home.” She opened her eyes to find Kane standing beside her. He took her mug from her now loose fingers and set it down the table.
“I am tired.” Brenna smiled past him to Gwylym. “But this was lovely. It was nice to meet you Gwylym. Your workshop is very soothing. I can
see why you would want to spend your time in here.” Brenna stood and Kane took her hand.
“And I also thank you, Gwylym,” Kane said. “For the wood and the ale. I’ll send someone over in the morning to sort the wood. You’ll help won’t you?”
“Aye, I’ll help.” Gwylym nodded. “Wouldn’t do to use the wrong type of wood for things. I best make sure it gets done right.”
Brenna followed Kane as he once again led the way through the streets of Silverdale to Ewart’s house. As she headed up the stairs to Ewart’s house she looked across the square to the Church of the One-God. It was dark and looked uninhabited although she knew that there were priests living there. Ewart had suggested it as a possible infirmary. If it became the place where they helped the injured and sick it would be the exact opposite of the church in Kingsreach, where High Bishop Valden dealt pain and death to his and Duke Thorold’s enemies.
Brenna dodged the women in glittering dresses and men in fine silk suits as she searched the room for him. She had to talk to him now, before it was too late. She worked her way through the crowd only to find herself facing a blank wall. Whirling, she headed back into the crowd. Her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating fast - she broke into a run. Where was he? He had to be here, he had to. She searched through the crowd for what seemed like hours before she finally spotted the top of his head. Brenna pushed past the last few people in her way and reached out to him. But when he turned towards her, her smile died on her lips.
“I told you she’d try to take everything from you, son.” Duke Thorold stood with his hand on Beldyn’s shoulder, a smug smile on his face.
Beldyn, wearing the crown of Soule, looked from his father to Brenna. Then he laughed - a malevolent, evil laugh that Brenna had never thought to hear from him.
“She’ll get nothing from me, father.” Beldyn’s gaze settled on her for a moment and then contemptuously slid away. “I will not step aside for a deceitful witch. I may have trailed after her when I was young but I don’t need her now.”
Thorold clapped Beldyn on the shoulder and the two of them laughed together.
As Brenna backed away from them a wave of despair engulfed her. Her vision changed from the Kingsreach throne room and the celebration of Beldyn’s coronation to a battlefield.
The sun was just setting and shadows dotted the field. In shock, Brenna realized that the shadows were men lying dead in pools of blood. The carnage stretched out as far as she could see. She turned to run and stumbled. When she looked down she was horrified to see Neemah’s dead face staring up at her and clutched to her side - the small, bloody body of her son Ronan. With a cry of despair Brenna tried to run and found herself clasped in strong arms and held tight against a warm chest.
“Brenna, wake up,” Kane said gently.
Her heart still racing, she clutched at him.
“Can you hear me?”
She opened her eyes and shuddered, struggling to sit up straighter in bed.
“Brenna, are you all right?”
She felt Kane’s hand on her cheek as he brushed away her tears.
“I had a dream, a vision.” She raised her eyes and read the concern in Kane’s. “I must talk to Beldyn as soon as possible. Everything will go wrong if I don’t.”
“Wrong how?”
“I saw Beldyn and Thorold aligned against me. Beldyn was evil, just like his father. And the war.” She closed her eyes seeing again the field of bodies. “The war is more terrible than anything I’ve seen before. So many dead - hundreds, thousands. I must talk to Beldyn.” She leaned over to the side table and searched for the lamp and flint. Her hands were shaking so much that she couldn’t strike the flint to light the lamp.
Gently, Kane took the flint from her and lit the lamp. She leaned back into him, his steady presence helping calm her frayed nerves.
“What do you want to do?” he asked quietly, settling his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. “Who can help?”
“I need to contact Jemma and Marcus Brunger and anyone else who may be able to get close enough to Beldyn in the next few days.” Brenna sighed. “Tonight - right now. I must talk to Beldyn before the coronation, Kane. After that, it will be too late, I know it, I feel it.”
“All right.” Kane slipped out of bed and padded over to the hooks on the wall near the foot of the bed. He took down both of their knives and placed them in the middle of the bed and sat down opposite her. “I want you to promise you’ll use my strength if you need to, Brenna.”
She nodded and reached out and placed her hands on both weapons. With a sigh, Kane did the same.
It had taken a while but they finally had woken Marcus Brunger. Brenna’s hopes had soared when he’d told her that the guild was delivering their gifts to Beldyn the next day and that Jemma was to be one of the bearers. Marcus also promised to have both his daughter Carolie and Colm there. Each of them would try to tell Beldyn to see Jemma.
Jemma had been easier to wake.
“Isn’t it more dangerous to meet somewhere else?” Jemma asked when Brenna told her to make sure she and Beldyn talked somewhere private.
“There’s nowhere safe to talk in the castle. Not even Beldyn’s quarters, assuming you could get there alone with him,” Brenna said. “No. He must come to you. He should be able to get out of the castle unseen and he won’t be hurt if he’s caught. Not when he’s to be crowned King in a few days. Besides, you won’t be allowed to take your knife when you see him and I can’t contact you without it.”
“All right,” Jemma said. “I’ll make sure he knows that you want to talk to him yourself.”
“Thank you,” Brenna replied. “Don’t worry about the time of day or night. As soon as you and Beldyn are together you need to contact me.”
Brenna lifted her hands from the old steel weapons and slumped down in bed. Very lightly she’d drawn on Kane’s strength, just enough to let her complete her conversation. He put their weapons away and came back to bed, frowning.
“You need to take the help that’s offered,” he said as he sat back down pulled her to him.
She sighed. “But you have your own work to do.”
“Yes, but none of it matters if you exhaust yourself.” Kane leaned over and blew out the lamp. “There’s still a few hours before dawn, try to get some sleep.”
Duke Thorold eyed the line of merchants, noting the fine silks and wools. He reached out a hand to caress a bolt of wool in a rich shade of green, deciding it would make a very fine cloak for him. The young woman who carried the wool stopped in front of him, her eyes on the floor as he enjoyed feeling the fine texture beneath his fingers.
“Who made this cloth, girl?” he asked. When she lifted her eyes to him a flicker of fear crossed her face. Thorold smiled.
“My father made it my Lord Duke,” the girl stammered. “It’s made from the fall shearing far north in Fallad.”
“Hmm, it’s very fine quality. Does your father have more?” Thorold decided he rather liked the way the girl’s long brown hair fell into her eyes when she ducked her head. She wasn’t a traditional beauty but she had a certain fresh quality that he could appreciate.
“We’ve a little of the wool left, my Lord, but shipments have been unreliable this summer.”
Thorold looked at the girl through narrowed eyes for a moment before waving her on. He doubted she was bright enough to understand that the trade routes were disrupted because of the church of the One-God. Idly, he wondered if she was bright enough to see the advantage of a dalliance with him.
The procession of goods continued and Thorold smiled with approval at the delicate glass and finely worked silver that came next. It was good to have proof that the guilds understood the situation. He’d counted on it of course - after all they were only ever looking to make a profit. Why would they care who sat on the throne as long as they benefited? He smiled at Guild Master Brunger, who had followed the last of the goods into the hall.
“Guild Master you have outdon
e yourself, I think,” Thorold said.
Brunger stopped and bowed low before him. The man’s daughter, a pretty young woman, curtsied before she rose and met his gaze. She was prettier thatn the weaver but he remembered that she’d danced with his son a few times. Had Beldyn been doing more than dancing with the wench? Ah well, soon enough Beldyn would be betrothed and he’d have to put aside any mistresses. Which reminded him - he must make sure his son hadn’t left a trail of bastards that could cause trouble later.
“It’s a momentous occasion,” Brunger said, smiling grandly. “The guilds are honoured to play our own small part. You will let me know if there is anything you’d like for your own personal use, won’t you?”
Thorold smiled and his eyes flicked to the young woman with the wool. She was approaching Beldyn now, her head bent over her burden.
“I’ll be sure to, Guild Master,” Thorold said letting his gaze rest on the man’s daughter before he met the other man’s eyes.
Thorold scanned the room as Brunger went over a detailed list of every item the guilds had gifted him. Once Beldyn was formally crowned he would have anything he wanted, including the Guild Master’s daughter. But the other girl, the weaver, he saw no need to wait for her.
When the Guild Master finished speaking Thorold waved him off and went to join his son. He frowned - Beldyn was pale. He supposed it could be from being forced to stay inside for fittings of formal clothing. A new king needed a fine wardrobe, after all, but he did look a little wan and tired. It would not do to have him faint during his coronation. Perhaps he’d release the boy from his duties for the rest of the day. Yes, that was it. A little rest would ensure that his son was ready for the strain of the next few days.
Brenna looked around and smiled. It was perfect. She could already see where the infirmary would be set up and there were some excellent spaces for teaching. She’d spoken to the highest ranking priest, Cleric Azel, a practical man older even than Gwylym. He’d been more than a little relieved when she’d outlined her proposal. There were less than half a dozen priests living here, he’d said, and they were too old and frail to properly look after themselves.