Queen (Brotherhood of the Throne)

by Jane Glatt

  As the third day at sea dawned, Brenna woke refreshed and content. The rolling of the ship was less pronounced than usual and she made her way up to the deck without one fall, a minor miracle in her view. Once she was steadily clutching the railing, she looked out across the calm sea and smiled as the sun edged up on the horizon into view.

  “I haven’t seen one of those on yer face in a good long time lass,” Pater said as he handed her a steaming mug of tea.

  “It’s been a long time since I felt like smiling,” she replied. She took the mug from him. “Thanks for the tea. Between you and Wils I’ve barely set foot in the galley.” The two men had taken pity on her and had brought every meal to her rather than watch her struggle to navigate the deck.

  “Glad to help, Brenna. The Quarter takes care if it’s own.”

  “But we’re a long way from Thieves Quarter,” Brenna said.

  “Oh, I dunno about that. To me it’s here.” He touched his head. “And here.” Pater’s hand rested on his heart. “That don’t seem too far away to me.”

  “No, not when you put it that way.” Brenna smiled.

  “All right. Now this weren’t just a social call. When yer finished yer tea Dasid and Captain Filbee want to see ye fer breakfast,” Pater said and turned and left. She watched him head to the cabin area and duck through the doorway and down the stairs, no doubt in search of his own breakfast.

  “Brothers,” Brenna rubbed her elbow where she’d slid into the wall. Why couldn’t she just get used to the rolling movement, why did walking from the deck to the captain’s cabin mean she would be covered in bruises? She knocked on the door in front of her and half fell through it when it was opened.

  “Sorry,” she said to Dasid. He steadied her and helped her over to a chair. She sat down, nodding to Captain Filbee while Dasid closed the door and returned to his own seat.

  “Brenna, thank you for joining us,” Filbee said. “Help yourself to some breakfast. We’re on the last of the fresh food today, so enjoy it.”

  “Thank you,” Brenna said. She wasted no time piling a plate high with thick slices of black bread, roast venison and slices of apple the ship had picked up in the village. “What do we eat after this?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid it’s a diet of salt fish, journey bread and cheese from now on. The cook assures me there are enough apples for a nice applesauce for supper tonight, though not enough for one apple per man.”

  “We should be in Whitehaven in two more days,” Brenna said. “Hardly enough time to get tired of anything.”

  “That’s something we need to talk about Brenna,” Dasid said, refilling the mugs with tea.

  “We hope to be in Whitehaven in two days,” Filbee said. “But I’m worried about the weather. It’s been calmer than usual since we set sail and this time of the year that means a big blow is on its way.” Filbee leaned across the table. “Chaffer told me that you’re able to control the weather some.” Brenna nodded. “Does that include making the wind stop?” Another nod. “Good. Brenna, with your help, we’ll make port on time.”

  The storm hit them early in the afternoon of the fourth day. Up until then Brenna had been able to guide a steady wind and fill the sails. Suddenly the sky darkened and a rush of wind and rain swept in off the open sea. Brenna was buffeted as she clung to the railing. Teeth clenched, she reached into the storm and gentled the wind. She had to concentrate so much on managing the wild power of the storm that she didn’t notice Wils until he looked down into her face. He grinned as he gripped her arm tight.

  “Do you need to be out here to do this?” he asked.

  Brenna shook head. “No, but it will be fine in a moment.” The churning wind died down to a stiff breeze and once again the sails billowed out purposefully. The cold rain fell straight down and she wiped it away from her eyes. “There,” Brenna said looking around in satisfaction.

  “By Jik,” Wils swore. He stared past her shoulder. “We’re in the middle of the storm but the ship is calm.” Brenna followed his gaze to the swirling rain and rough seas that were just beyond the barrier she was maintaining.

  “Very impressive,” Captain Filbee said as he joined them at the rail. “I’ll have a fine tale to share with that scoundrel Chaffer when I run into him next. How long can you hold this course Brenna?”

  “I’m not sure. At least for the rest of the day and likely much of the night.”

  “Longer if you allow me to help,” Dasid said, joining the group.

  Brenna shook her head, frowning. She wouldn’t use him the way she’d used Gaskain. That was one thing she would never do again. Her own strength would have to be enough.

  “We’ll see how the storm runs her course,” Filbee said. “But this time of year it’s not unusual for them to last a few days.

  “I’ll see if I can push back out to sea,” Brenna said. “Or maybe south of us.”

  “Out to sea would be best,” Filbee said. “There’d be more ships south. I’d not like to think we’d sent a dangerous storm where it wasn’t expected.”

  Brenna spent the rest of the day keeping the storm away from the Swiftsure. She found that if she worked with the storm’s power and subtly nudged it away from the ship, she used less of her own energy. Once she was confident that she would be able to keep the ship in the centre of a calm patch of sea, she spent some time trying to shift the storm back onto itself and push it out to sea. That proved beyond her skills and strength - when she tried to force the storm and control its direction, the power slammed into her senses with an intensity that almost overwhelmed her.

  Sitting quietly in the captain’s cabin, Brenna nursed her aching head. After more than ten hours her energy was flagging. She loosened her control just slightly and the deck pitched violently. She clung to the edges of the hammock she was in and concentrated on the storm.

  “Are you all right?” Dasid asked from across the room.

  “Yes.” She tightened her control of the ship. “It was the equivalent of stretching, that’s all. Sorry.”

  “If you’re getting tired, please draw from me.”

  “No,” she shouted and she saw him wince. “I told you I will never do that again.”

  “You’d rather everyone on this ship die,” he said quietly. “I for one would rather die knowing that everyone else on board would live because of me.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Brenna stood up and headed for the door. "I’ll figure something out.” She left the room and hurried along the hall towards the stairs.

  Once on deck Brenna found a dry spot under a dinghy. She’d find a way to get the power, she had to, she thought as she huddled against a coil of rope. Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by the crack of thunder and Brenna stared out at the dark swirling clouds. The storm had too much force for her to manage, yet her own power was waning. She could feel herself weakening as she sat in the center of her spell. Tentatively, she reached out to the storm again, this time, not with the intention to master it, but with a caress. And she felt the power swirling around her own depleted stores. Gently, as though she was sipping a hot drink, she gathered some of the storms power to her.

  And instantly felt wild and raw, elemental, as the storms energy coursed through her. She siphoned the raw power into her spell, strengthening it. Eventually she became aware that her heart beat was slowing back to normal and her blood settled back to a steady passage through her body.

  By dawn the storm had abated and Brenna was drenched with sweat. The wildness of the storms power stayed with her and when Pater found her, she scuttled away from him. It was almost half an hour before she understood his words. Finally she let him lead her away to a warm blanket and a bowl of soup.

  Kane leaned back against the wall and ran his hand through his hair. It was growing and was no longer military short. He smiled when he thought about what Brenna would say. Then his smile turned into a worried frown. He hadn’t heard from her last night. They hadn’t planned any long discussions but for
the past few nights she’d sent him a quick good night and he’d missed hearing from her.

  For three days he’d been stuck inside this small room with only Eryl for company. And thank Jik that Eryl had spent the last two nights prowling around his old haunts - it would have been so much worse with two of them cooped up inside this little room. At least there was food and water. And news from Marcus Brunger. Kane reached for the folded notes Marcus had sent to them. He’d already read them over and over and could recite the contents by heart.

  “Guild Master please inform our mutual acquaintance that all is well in the river town. Our harvest proceeds at a faster pace than expected and will be ready when needed.” The note was signed simply with a G. It was from Gaskain, telling him that the troops were almost ready, written when he had still been alive. He stared at the signature.

  Gaskain’s death had hit Brenna hard, and while Kane could mourn his loss he was grateful for his sacrifice.

  As Captain of the Kingsguard he’d sent men to their deaths. Not deliberately, but every time he issued orders he knew that there was a chance that men could die while carrying them out. And when he’d been in the ranks following orders he’d always been aware that he might not come back from a mission. That was a part of life as a soldier, as a leader of soldiers. Brenna would need to come to terms with that part of being a leader. They were preparing for war in the spring - she had to stop thinking like a healer and start thinking like a queen.

  Kane folded the note up and placed it in his vest pocket. He took out his knife and wiped the blade down with a rag. Sighing, he put his knife away. His weapons were in the best condition they’d ever been in. He’d cleaned and sharpened and oiled them multiple times in the last three days. He’d even asked Eryl to get some leather and tools from Marcus. The next task would be to replace the grip on the knife. Not that it needed it - the grip on there now had years of use left, but he needed something to do.

  He heard a scuffling from outside and Kane tensed until the signal was tapped out on the wall. Seconds later he had a brief glimpse of a dull sky as Eryl slipped through the door.

  “Here’s the goods from Marcus.” Eryl tossed a wrapped bundle to him and Kane caught it, his hand sinking into the soft leather covering. “Hope its all right.”

  “It should be,” Kane said, untying the bundle to let the awl and knife drop out. “It will keep me occupied for a few hours, anyway. Did Marcus have more news?”

  “No.” Eryl shook his head and placed a second package on the table. He unwrapped a small loaf of bread and tossed it to Kane. “It’s hot, so be careful.”

  “It’s fresh,” Kane said. “Eryl, you are a good man.” He tore a small bit of bread off and popped it into his mouth. He sighed as he chewed.

  “As I said, Marcus didn’t have news,” Eryl looked at him expectantly.

  “But there is news?”

  “It’s all over town. King Beldyn is about to name his heir.”

  Kane nodded. “Who’s it to be?”

  “No one knows for sure but Thorold’s youngest son, a lad of about ten, just arrived in town today. He’s staying with Thorold at his estate.”

  “So he’ll name his brother as heir. I suppose it’s expected, but knowing Thorold I have to wonder,” Kane said “Have any of your men seen Beldyn?” He was worried about the youth. The night of the fire something had taken place between Beldyn and his father, something that Thorold would want to punish his son for. Could naming his brother as heir be part of that punishment?

  “He’s been seen by the High Bishop at least twice, according to my sources,” Eryl said and Kane looked up to meet the other man’s serious gaze. “Each visit lasted a few hours and he had to be helped into the carriage for the trip back to the castle. No marks were seen on him though.”

  “There wouldn’t be,” Kane said. “Neither Thorold nor the High Bishop would dare leave proof that they are hurting the king. We need to find a way to help Beldyn. If Thorold’s younger son is to be the heir, I fear that makes the king expendable.”

  “His own son?” Eryl said in disgust. “Would he do that?”

  “He’s already killed one king. And sending Beldyn to the High Bishop is not the act of a loving father.”

  “No, you’re right. I’ll try to find out more about the younger boy,” Eryl said. “The ceremony to name an heir is to be public, four days from now in the square in front of the church of the One-God. Right now I need some sleep.” Eryl dropped down onto the pallet and pulled his cloak over him. “It’s good to back to normal - sleeping in the day and working at night,” he said before he rolled over.

  Kane finished his bread as well as half of the chunk of cheese he found in the cloth on the table. Then he sat down to rewrap his knife hilt. As he worked the leather he mulled over the problem of Beldyn. Was it time to get him to safety? The more he thought about it the more likely it seemed that Thorold was threatening the lad in order to make him compliant. But if Beldyn underestimated his father and rebelled too much, he’d be dead. He was safe only until his brother was named his heir. Four days, that was the window they had, four days. Not enough time to get their troops in place, not even enough time to get word to them, since Brenna wasn’t able to contact anyone else in Silverdale.

  That was a strategic error, on his part. He knew communications were the key so he should have made sure they had more than one contact in place. But he’d thought that Brenna would be in Silverdale. He hadn’t anticipated that she would leave to help the slaves and then head off to talk to King Mannel. But still, it was his error - he’d agreed to both of Brenna’s missions and yet he hadn’t arranged to secure the lines of communication.

  Slipping his hand to his sword hilt, he tried to contact Brenna. When there was no answer he wasn’t alarmed, he wouldn’t allow himself to be. One-sided contact by him didn’t always work when she wasn’t expecting him. She had to be touching her knife or thinking about him and there were a thousand other things she should be thinking about right now. Sighing, Kane told himself to be patient, Brenna would contact him. Meanwhile he would have Marcus send a note to Duke Ewart in Silverdale. The troops should be ready to move.

  The cold wind whipped her hair about her face as Brenna stood on deck. It was a crisp day and the sun glinted off the ice that had formed on the bowsprit in front of her. For the first time this trip she felt the chill of winter and she reveled in it, her blood still singing with the power of the storm. The feeling was fading, as was the energy. When Pater had asked how she was she’d calmly told him that she would be back to normal in a few hours. But she felt far from calm with the wild power of the storm still coursing through her.

  Right now, with Captain Filbee’s approval, she’d gathered a strong wind and the ship was slicing through the water with a purpose. They’d reach Whitehaven the next day, the captain had said, shaking his head. They were still on schedule despite the storm.

  “Here Brenna.” She turned to see Pater standing beside her, a steaming mug in his hand. “It seems the only thing I do these days is bring you food and drink.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true,” Brenna said, taking the mug from him. “But I appreciate it. Otherwise I’d need to get to the galley and back and that would only add to my collection of bruises.”

  “Glad to see yer not worryin’ so much about it.”

  “I’ve spent enough time being humiliated,” she said. “Besides, there are a lot of things I can do that others can’t. So what if I can’t walk upright on a ship at sea?”

  “Good lass,” Pater said and paused. “Are ye goin’ to talk to Kane tonight? He’s like to be worried about ye.”

  “Yes, I’ll talk to him. I didn’t want to scare him, not when he couldn’t do anything about it.”

  Since she’d handled the storm’s power she’d had to fight to stay in control. Using the power of the elements to manage the elements was easy, using it to do anything else had proved very difficult, as she’d found.

  I
nstead of lurching and fumbling her way to the captain’s cabin she’d tried to contact Dasid - he’d come running, thinking that she was in pain or dying. He’d described her contact as a wild, tortured howl and she’d decided not to force this on anyone else, especially not Kane, not when he was so far way.

  She finished her tea and Pater took the mug back to the galley. Brenna continued to stare out at sea. It really was too bad that she couldn’t walk on the deck of a ship - she loved the feeling of flying across the waves.

  fifteen

  At supper Brenna sat comfortably as Pater told stories about his family. She’d been late and had decided it would be better to eat in the galley with the men rather than interrupt the captain’s meal. Half a dozen men remained at the long table, telling stories over pots of tea. Brenna took the plate of fish stew the cook handed her and squeezed in beside Pater. She was preoccupied with her planned meeting with the king of Langemore but a familiar name caught her attention.

  Pater was talking about Martyn, his nephew, and Brenna thought back to when she’d met the lad, during her early days at Feiren Rowse’s house. She idly wondered how all the young Brothers were, last she’d heard both Carolie and Colm were spying on Beldyn, and Jemma …

  “Jemma, of course.” Brenna jumped up, almost dumping her stew into her lap. “Pater, Jemma’s in Silverdale.” Finally, some good news.

  “Aye, she is. That’s one of the youngsters Martyn knows,” Pater said to the group. “A merchant she is and a fine girl.”

  “But Pater, she’s in Silverdale.” Brenna grabbed his head and placed a kiss on it. “I can contact her. I’ve always been able to. I need to find Dasid.” She slid out from the table and lurched to her feet. Why hadn’t she thought of Jemma before this? She had a contact in Silverdale. She’d let Dasid know and then get in touch with Jemma immediately. Kane would be happy to hear the news too.