Allystaire surveyed the rest of the room. Ivar, the mercenary captain, in black mail and black leathers, wouldn’t meet his eyes. One set of intense eyes he did meet, to his surprise, were those of Rede. The paladin extended a hand and a finger at the former Urdarite monk.
“I know not why you are here, but if Idgen Marte has not killed you yet, there must be a good reason. I would like to be made aware of it in the next few moments, or I will rectify her mistake.”
“He is the reason we are here,” Audreyn said, cutting him off and stepping between him and Rede, pushing Allystaire’s arm gently down. She extended her other hand to indicate the blond man who’d also risen when Allystaire entered the room, who finally stepped forward to speak.
“Rede came to us, alone, in the depths of Oyrwyn’s winter. On foot. He said you would need our aid,” Garth said slowly. “Convinced us to ride out and seek you on Delondeur’s border.”
“He made it to Highgate? In winter?” Allystaire looked to Rede, still silent, who met his gaze without challenge.
“Coldbourne Hall,” Audreyn said. “The young Baron was convinced to cede possession of it back to me, and thus to Garth.”
“Still impressive to make it that far into Oyrwyn on foot this late in the year,” Allystaire allowed, looking from Rede to Garth, and then back again.
Rede finally spoke, slowly at first, choosing his words carefully and enunciating them as if he had chewed them a little first. “I would not have come back to this place if the Shadow’s curse had not truly haunted me. I need to atone; I know it. I will beg your mercy, Arm. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” His voice sped up as he went, the last words tumbling out in his quiet, tense voice.
“He’s been right helpful since he got here,” Torvul put in. “Hoppin’ to it at every turn.” And then in Allystaire’s head, the dwarf’s voice added, And I trust him only as long as he stays where I can see him and Idgen Marte can kill him. Mind him.
“So the two of you came riding from Coldbourne to Thornhurst in the midst of winter, and you arrived when, exactly?”
“Not the two of us,” Garth said. “Not quite. He said you would need aid, but he did not know in what way.”
Allystaire felt an ache gathering behind his eyes and he reached up to the bridge of his nose. “How many did you bring with you, Garth?”
“As many knights and household guards as I could muster,” the knight answered, with a shrug. “Fifty lances, of which mayhap half a dozen are knights. Two hundred foot.”
“Garth, does the Young Baron know that you have invaded Barony Delondeur?” Allystaire moved to the table where Torvul sat and joined the dwarf on his bench, slumping against the table, feeling the ramifications begin to pile up on his shoulders, interlacing his fingers behind his head.
“Allystaire,” Idgen Marte’s voice snapped. “Worry about the consequences later. There were plenty of the Baron’s men who needed containing. Not to mention Landen and Chaddin, who were ready to set about killing each other as soon as the battle ended. If Audreyn hadn’t shown up and taken them in hand, I don’t know where we’d be right now. None of us were in any position to stop them.”
“I am sorry,” Allystaire allowed. “If someone could please, for the love of the Mother, get me something to drink—and I do not Freezing mean water—then I will speak to everyone, one at a time, and sort out what is to be done.” He lifted his head and found Cerisia eyeing him from across the table, her face slightly shadowed and impossible to read. “Archioness,” he acknowledged, nodding. “Please excuse my manners. What are you doing here?”
“Observing—and acknowledging, formally, on behalf of my Goddess—the foundation of a new faith,” she said, a faint smile playing at her lips.
“Anathemata?”
“Rescinded,” she said. “As far as my authority extends.”
“Which is how far?”
“Delondeur, Oywryn, and Innadan. Telmawr as well I suppose, for all that it matters.”
“Will Braech’s Temple do the same?”
“I doubt it very much,” Cerisia replied. “The Sea Dragon’s representatives fled before the battle even ended. Something about this place terrified them. They were on edge the entire time, and couldn’t wait to be off.”
Gideon, Allystaire thought, but didn’t say. “Halfway is a start. It will do the folk good to hear that, at least.”
Cerisia laughed very lightly and leaned forward so that her features were no longer concealed by the edge of the lantern’s light. “Barely awake after convalescing from from injuries that would have killed any three normal men, and you are already thinking ahead, planning, trying to understand where this will move next, and what it means for the people under your guard.”
“What are you saying, Archioness?” Mol, who’d slipped away, returned to Allystaire’s side with a bottle in hand, pulled the cork from it, and set it next to his elbow. He felt the cool glass of it through his sleeve. Meanwhile, the young priestess slipped onto the bench next to him, on the very edge of it, and leaned against his shoulder.
“That you, Allystaire Stillbright, are truly as much a paladin as has ever walked this world. Mayhap more so.”
“Stillbright?” An echo of two voices, Garth’s and Audreyn’s. Allystaire was shocked, momentarily, to hear himself called that, then he found himself nodding his thanks to Cerisia and turning to his sister and brother-in-law.
“Aye. That is what they were calling me.” He turned to eye Torvul, who simply grinned around his pipe, maddeningly. “That is what I called myself,” he added absently, remembering the moment he’d done so, facing down the ensorcelled Lionel Delondeur, his enemy given a grim and terrible strength, armed and armored by the very bones of his own men. “That is who I am. If you had any thought that your coming here would result in me returning to Oyrwyn, or to Coldbourne, I will disappoint you.”
Audreyn frowned. Garth sighed and looked away. His sister said, “Have your drink. I brought as much of the better part of Coldbourne’s cellar with me as I could,” she said. “And the lass fetched your favorite.”
Allystaire finally looked to the bottle at his elbow, already open, and without bothering to look or ask for a flagon, raised it to his lips. His intended quaff became a sip as soon as the red passed his lips.
“That is old Innadan stuff. From before the Strife,” he said, lifting the bottle and staring at it in wonder. “I never thought to see its like again.” He looked to Audreyn, and said, “How much did you bring?”
“As much as they could pack. All told, it is better than six score bottles,” she said, beaming.
“It was a mighty pain to pack and carry along with the supplies for the men in the midst of winter, let me tell you,” Garth added.
He took another careful sip, and said, “Good that there is so much. The people of Thornhurst will enjoy the celebration all the more,” as he set the bottle down.
Mol laughed next to him, then beamed a smile up at Audreyn’s shocked face, and for once, Allystaire saw his sister at a loss for words.
“It is time we retired, Garth,” she said. “It is late and my brother is going to insist on being foolish,” she finally muttered. The blond knight looked over her shoulder apologetically at Allystaire, but was swept out in her wake, a burst of cold air billowing into the Inn as they left.
“They’ve got Freezin’ huge pavilions set up just outside the wall,” Torvul put in. “And they brought half a bog’s worth of those little moss bricks your folk like for fuel with them. They’ll manage in the weather.” The dwarf set down his pipe, knocking the dottle out onto a tiny bowl set on the table with the heel of his hand.
“What of our people? Enough buildings standing?”
“Most sleep in the Temple,” Mol said. “It stays warm through the night. Thanks to Gideon,” she added. The boy shrugged dismissively.
Allystaire l
ooked to the opposite table, to Cerisia and Rede, and said, “I mean no offense to either of you, but I will be straightforward. I will speak with you both when I have the time. Yet I think it is time that we five, and we alone, speak of what has happened.”
Cerisia stood gracefully, her mantle of silver fox fur flowing around her as she moved. “As you once told me, you are not a subtle man. No offense taken.”
For his part, Rede simply left the Inn wordlessly, without a backward glance.
“Where does he sleep,” Allystaire asked as he watched the door shut.
“Not sure he does,” Torvul replied. “Got a lot of energy, that one. I’d start worryin’ about where I’d sleep, were I you, if she finds out there’s no bars on the doors,” he added, pointing a thumb towards the stairs Cerisia had recently ascended.
“I think the Archioness has got competition even she can’t live up to,” Idgen Marte said, dragging a stool to the edge of their table and plopping on it. She stuck one boot atop the table, grabbed the wine bottle, and took a pull.
“What d’ya mean by that,” Torvul said, eyeing Allystaire.
“Not my place t’say,” Idgen Marte said, handing the bottle off to Mol and wiping the back of her hand.
Allystaire felt his cheeks betraying him as he plucked the bottle from Mol’s hands, earning an indignant stare from the priestess. Torvul’s scrutiny was like a physical weight. Finally, the dwarf slapped the table lightly.
“You dog,” the dwarf exclaimed. “You sly dog.”
“Enough,” Allystaire said, setting the bottle down. “That is between me and…and Her. Where do we stand?”
“Landen and Chaddin are hostages. Garth and Audreyn disarmed all their remaining men. We’re keeping them warm and fed and clothed,” Idgen Marte said. “I know Chaddin was on our side in the battle, but he was ready to start pressing his claim the instant you fell. I don’t know how long Gideon could’ve kept them in check had Oyrwyn arms not suddenly arrived.”
“I could’ve stopped them from fighting,” the boy said quietly.
“Aye, I think just by showing up and walking around you’d keep them quiet during the day,” Torvul allowed. “But I’m not sure that would’ve kept them from going at it with daggers in the night. We’ve got them separated, opposite ends of the town. They’re looked after, I promise you.”
“I will want to speak to…” Allystaire stopped himself in mid-sentence, and lowered his head. An image of Renard, the reliable old soldier who’d followed him out of Bend so many months ago, charging to his aid to the last, torn apart by Battle-Wights. “Dammit,” he muttered, feeling, for the first time in more years than he cared to count, hot tears gather at the corner of his eyes.
Silence reigned a moment, all of them with their heads bowed.
“He died a hero, Allystaire,” Idgen Marte finally said, breaking the quiet.
“He still died. I asked him to leave, to take Leah and go…”Allystaire trailed off with a sigh.
“And he refused,” Idgen Marte replied. “He knew what we faced, and he chose to face it. Honor that choice,” she said.
Allystaire nodded, blinked away the tears gathering in his eyes. “One more thing to do. The list grows by the minute.” Struck by a sudden thought, he looked to Mol. “What of Ardent? The other horses?”
She looked up at him, her eyes distant for just a moment. “Fine. Beyond the northern gate, in the valley.”
He sighed. “Good. I know where I am headed in the morning, then.” He felt weariness suddenly spring upon him, as the list of tasks began to draw itself up in his mind. “And I must sleep. So should all of you.”
He stood, looking at the four of them as they stood with him, Mol finally snatching the bottle and helping herself to a swig, then setting it down. “We made it,” he said. “Past the Longest Night. I do not know what the world will have in store for us next. I know we can meet it together. Aye?”
“Don’t go gettin’ all teary on us now, boy,” Torvul said gruffly. “You’re not suited to it.”
“I mean it,” Allystaire said solemnly. “How could I not? We have only just begun our work,” he said. “And I pity those who will align to impede us.”
CHAPTER 2
Horseflesh and Attachment
“The brother I remember would not go to so much trouble for a particular horse.”
Audreyn picked her way along the frozen track, keeping pace with Allystaire, Garth, Gideon, Mol, and Idgen Marte despite being the only one in a dress, and wearing boots finer than the day called for. She seemed to take three steps for every one of Allystaire’s, but they were short, contained, determined, and she never looked likely to fall or slow. All of their breath steamed in the air, billowing in clouds. Thankfully the wind was low, but dead grass crunched underfoot, frozen even under the risen sun.
“Not just any horse,” Allystaire replied, trying to watch both Garth and Gideon as they walked to either side of him. The latter seemed unwilling to go too far from Allystaire’s side this morning, but hadn’t spoken, and had mostly avoided looking him in the eye. The former maintained a wary distance, constantly, Allystaire thought, trying to stand between him and Audreyn.
“Well, that’s just it,” Audreyn countered. “Most Oyrwyn men are mad for horseflesh. They can discuss the bloodlines and books of lineage with a precision that would wear well on an Urdaran monk arguing points of theology. You, on the other hand, cursed the expense of the stables and said you’d prefer to save the weight and fight on foot if the rest of them would just be sensible and do the same.”
“She isn’t wrong, Allystaire,” Garth put in mildly. “You practiced riding with the same devotion you practiced all the rest of the craft, but you never seemed to enjoy it much. And as I recall, when you bought the grey in question, all you wanted to know was about his training.”
Allystaire stopped on a small rise on the road, hitching at one side of his belt, tugging at an empty loop. “The horse’s name is Ardent,” he said.
“So you said,” Audreyn replied warily.
“Never known you to name a horse. Always said it was no use to get attached, all that mattered was that they were healthy and trained,” Garth said.
“Well, in the first place, I did not name him,” Allystaire said. “She did,” he added, gesturing to Mol.
Despite the cold, the girl priestess who ambled along beside them wore only her blue robe, and no shoes. Allystaire had frowned at her bare feet when they set off, and opened his mouth, ready to deliver a lecture, until the girl had smiled at him, reached up to pat his hand, and walked away. As they walked, Mol occasionally wandered a few paces away, knelt to the ground and pressed her hand to it, cocking her head as if listening for something.
When Allystaire waved a hand at her, she quickly shook her head. “I didn’t name him. I only told ya what his name was.”
“That sounds like a lot of rot,” Garth replied.
“You should be used to hearing a lot of rot, Garth. Goddess knows I talked enough of it in my time,” Allystaire replied. He took in a deep breath, relishing the way the air seared his lungs. There’s something sweet in it, being out of doors again under a clear sky, under the sun, with no Battle-Wights, sorcerers, or Delondeur spears trying to kill me, he thought.
“Still do,” Idgen Marte added.
Allystaire ignored her as he went on. “Still, I know now why I said the things I did when I was training you, and all the others.” He set off again, sparing a glance to Gideon. Unused to the cold, the boy held his cloak tightly around him, huddled miserably under it as if he could make himself disappear beneath the fur collar. “And that is what is wrong with the whole business.”
“What business?” Puzzled, Garth stepped closer to Allystaire. The blond knight was taller, rangier, his strides eating up more ground, so he had to rein himself in to keep from passing the shorter but heavier Ally
staire.
“War,” Allystaire replied. “And knighthood.”
“Am I going t’have t’hear about how knighthood is an idea again,” Idgen Marte asked. “Because if so I’d just as soon turn around. I like my horse as much as I like anyone, but I’m not getting lectured and freezing my tits off at the same time. One or the other,” she declared, to Audreyn’s laughter and Garth’s shock.
“No. Because I do not know just how to say what I mean yet,” Allystaire replied. “About knighthood, anyway. As to becoming attached?” The road took them up a small hillock. As they crested it, the small herd of horses that had escaped Thornhurst a week prior, sent away by the Voice of the Mother, came into view. Most of them nosed among the grass, but one stood apart, staring straight at them.
“The reason I spoke that way, the reason I taught you not to become attached to your mount, the reason I turned boys into hard men while calling them knights, Garth, is because the more a man is attached to the world—the more of it he loves—the harder it is to tear it to pieces,” Allystaire said.
He turned away from the rest of them then and strode forward, letting out a piercing whistle as he went. The destrier broke into a light trot; while the rest stood and watched, man and horse met each other.
Allystaire wrapped his arms around Ardent’s thickly muscled neck, lowering his head into the horse’s shoulder. Ardent lowered his head, pressing so hard into Allystaire that he was nearly knocked from his feet. He stepped away then, rubbing one gloved hand along the horse’s neck. Mol, meanwhile, had raced forward to meet the herd, such as it was, and simply waved a hand at them.
“Come on, then,” the girl yelled. “It’s safe now.”
To the gasping astonishment of Audreyn and Garth, the two dozen or so animals turned as one and began walking in the direction the girl indicated. All of them but Ardent, who stood by Allystaire’s side and only began walking when he did.
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