The last words blew across them all like a winter gale: Kunrad threw himself to the floor, over Alais, dragging Kermorvan down with him. Some of the men were fast enough also, but others reeled, screaming, clawing at their ice-bitten faces and hands, croaking out of frozen throats and beating at frozen eyelids. The sound grew till it was no longer a voice or even a windrush, but a mighty screaming blast that blew the window out of the wall and sent the cold column of mist boiling up and outward behind it. Kunrad and the others saw the shadow within it swell, blur and disperse into the rushing mist, an insubstantial torrent like a mirrored waterfall, pouring its last wisp out of the chamber and into the air. Men cried out and pointed then, as it went spurting across the lake in the tower’s shadow, keeping out of the morning sun. Over the forest they saw it pass, and the trees in its path shivered into momentary whiteness; then, as they thawed again, their drooping, blackened leaves sank slowly into death.
Kunrad clutched Alais in his arms as she shook and sobbed, trying to comfort her. He could say little more than that it was all right now, that the creature had gone, that she was safe now and he was here; but he said it over and over. It was nothing more than has been said in so many terrible times and places since the shaping of the world; but it was something Kunrad had never said to a woman, nor Alais heard from any man. It seemed strange and new-minted to them both, and very precious. For in truth she was giving trust and comfort as much as she took, whatever the outward appearance; and perhaps that also was as old as the world. They clung, and felt one another breathe, and their bodies blend into one expanding warmth that held back the room’s awful chill, and it seemed entirely natural. It was a long, long moment before Kermorvan’s explosive cough called them back to themselves, and their situation, and the awful look on his empurpled face.
Alais tore loose from Kunrad, and flung herself upon her father with tactful enthusiasm. ‘Father, dearest! I knew you’d come for me!’
In the room it felt as if a cloud had lifted, and the lake air that streamed in though the shattered window tasted sweet. Kunrad levered himself upright, finding to his surprise that he was trembling. Around him those who had escaped the last bitter blast were helping their less lucky fellows, whose skin was seared red as if by flame; and there were two who lay as still as the captain. The crossbowman was emerging nervously on all fours from behind his chair, as if astonished to find himself still alive.
‘You there!’ rumbled Kermorvan over his daughter’s back, which he was absent-mindedly patting. ‘Well done, that man! Go find Ferlias, have him scare up a healer for these lads – oh, and tell him you’re a troop-leader as of now! Well, stand up, man, or somebody’ll slap a saddle on you!’
As the soldiers staggered out, he turned to Kunrad. ‘So, sirrah, good of you to unhand my daughter! Eventually!’
Kunrad drew a deep breath. ‘Yes, my lord. We were both a bit …’
‘I know, I know! Just not in front of the troops, that’s all. At least not so enthusiastically. Felt like hugging myself to see nothing’d dropped off.’
‘You were safe enough!’ said Kunrad, light-headedly. ‘Wine’s slower to freeze.’
‘What? Why you impertinent young dog’s arse!’ He considered a moment, then gave an explosive chuckle. ‘Slower, eh? Well, you Northerners’d know about that. Go round all winter with icicles in your pants, I suppose! Still,’ he admitted, rubbing Alais’s back again, ‘sooner have you jawin’ me outright than that little sniveller Merthian being so terribly bloody correct, and sniffin’ behind his hand all the while! Sooner have you all over Alais than him. Not a license, mind!’
She looked up from Kermorvan’s shoulder suddenly, and fixed them both with wild eyes. ‘Daddy – Kunrad – what was she? She—’ She pushed them away, clearly struggling to get a grip on herself.
‘Nolys – Nanny – she …’ She swallowed and looked at Kunrad, almost defiantly. ‘I was right! They wouldn’t hurt me. I held them off, I felled at least four of them before somebody hit me in the stomach with a spear-butt– I’ve got a huge bruise, right here, see? Oh, sorry, Father. Well, they didn’t do anything at all even when I bit them all, and I was a bit sorry. They just put me on a horse and brought me to Merthian, and he was all mud and leaves after combing the forest, and he flew into a sort of cold rage. It was funny, really, except it wasn’t. He’s the only man I’ve ever seen who could have a screaming fit without even raising his voice, or speaking less clearly. And he said, well, all sorts of things about me helping enemies of the South and being a whore and well, warped and all that, but he never even stopped knitting his fingers. Then he seemed to go all cool again and said he’d forgive me, but he couldn’t trust me, and we’d have to be wedded at once to stop scandal, and he’d drag me off and lock me up where nobody could get at me. Then he seemed to think better of that, and said he’d have to slap me up here with Nanny to look after me. And she, she was sort of kind at first, and trying to win me back over for him, that was obvious; and I didn’t mind that so much … But then she brought me word that … that you’d been killed, Kunrad! And the whole place seemed to empty! And she turned very strange and grim, but still I c-couldn’t …’
‘You’d better sit down,’ said Kunrad. ‘If the chair’s thawed. If there’s any wine here … oh you’ve found it, my lord.’
Alais took a gulp her father could not have bettered, coughed violently and went red in the face. ‘Then there was all that noise that woke me up – and she was at the door, listening. And then she turned really strange, and said I shouldn’t hope to be rescued, whatever Merthian might want. And then when the noise died down she rounded on me suddenly, tried to slap my face and the air turned so cold … I put a cushion up and she hit that, and I felt it go all solid … What happened to her, Father?’
‘Powers alone know, sweetheart,’ rumbled Kermorvan. ‘Something from the Ice, that’s for sure. I’ve heard of Ice-hags, Ice-witches, in fairytales. Maybe you’d know more of these things up north, youngster!’
‘Not much, mercifully. They do say the Powers that rule the Ice can walk in man’s shape, or woman’s for that matter, at times. And we’ve heard of the hags and the witches, too; there’s all sorts of silly tales about them. They’re usually, well, made out to be seductresses, though. It’s said you can see their inner selves in mirrors at sunset and sunrise, that kind of thing, but no two tales agree. I wouldn’t have credited it, either – until what happened to Olvar back in Saldenborg. You remember I told you, Alais?’
She shuddered. ‘Yes, but … this, here, this wasn’t really Nanny, was it? Just something horrible in her shape – wasn’t it?’
‘’Course, ’course!’ rumbled Kermorvan soothingly, patting her hand. But Kunrad shook his head.
‘My lady, your father’s kind, but I think you’d see through any lie we told you. I think it always was her. She …’
‘What?’ rumbled Kermorvan irritably.
‘She brought Merthian up, didn’t she?’
‘She did,’ agreed Kermorvan. ‘From when he was a child. Knew his parents; decent old family, nice couple. Died young, from some sickness – very suddenly,’ he added, in a strange tone. ‘Like my poor wife, a few years after. So?’
‘I was just thinking that there might be more than one kind of seduction. All in the upbringing, my lord, as you said yourself.’
Kermorvan glared at him. ‘Doesn’t mean a thing—’ Alais cut in. ‘Yes – but, she brought me up as well! Don’t you remember? For years on end! You’re saying poor Merthian was just a creature of the Ice, aren’t you? Trained up from birth to become … what he is? Well, what am I, then? I don’t know it – but then does he?’ Her voice was faltering again, breathless and shaky. ‘Don’t you see it? I’m part of the pattern too. I must be! I was marked from birth to be the ideal wife, the one who could legitimise his claim. And to give them another hold over him. She must have been preparing me too! Oh Powers—’ She clutched her father by the arms. ‘Maybe they started early! Maybe M
other’s death – and you losing your estates—’
‘What was left of them!’ said Kermorvan sternly. ‘Your foolish old father just rounded off what his grandsires began, that was all! So you can put all that out of your—’
‘No!’ she said stridently. ‘You never could lie to me! You believe it, don’t you? We were ruined, and my mother died, and I was broken to bridle like a colt without knowing it! Kunrad, you know it’s true, don’t you? The way I brought you to Merthian, that was my idea, she planted it in my mind! Whatever I say or do, I’m just a puppet, just another tool of the Ice!’
Her hand clutched Kunrad’s wrist strongly enough to cut off the blood; but it was her pain that made him wince. He clasped the cold fingers in his, and stared into her wild eyes. ‘Really, truly, my princess, I do not believe that’s true at all. You are nothing of theirs – or why would the nurse have felt the need to harm you?’ Beside him he was acutely aware of a slight sigh, no more; but knew it was Kermorvan relaxing, lowering the barriers against his own dark suspicions. ‘No! Whatever they did to Merthian, you’re free of it, that I know. And even he’s not completely in their power, I’ll wager. It’s just that they know how to feed his worst instincts and make use of his higher ones.’ He laughed a little, although he had seldom felt less like it. ‘A good man going wrong would always suit them better than an outright villain. For one thing, he’s harder to unmask!’
The vice about his wrist relaxed, slowly, and Alais sank back in the chair, and put her hands up to her face. Then she looked up, quite suddenly. ‘You said – what happened in Saldenborg? Was that where what you told me about – Olvar nearly getting frozen?’
‘After we were set on by a band of cutthroats, yes!’ said Kunrad, puzzled. ‘They had somebody or something with them—’
Alais flushed excitedly. ‘Saldenborg! That was where Merthian took ship back from the North – he told me! And Nanny was there with him!’
‘In Saldenborg?’
‘All the time he was in the North!’
Kunrad sat down hard on the bed. ‘I assumed he’d gone by land. Took ship? It makes sense. With the corsairs, I’ll be bound! Powers, what sense! They must have informers there, spying out which ships are departing, sending word to their raiders. Poor Ceinor! He never had a chance! And they must have spotted us, through him, maybe; and Merthian sent them to attack the ship and waylay us … or she did. She came to watch. Powers, she could have killed us all …’
‘Didn’t want to give herself away,’ shrugged Kermorvan. ‘With so many folk about.’
Kunrad shook his head. ‘Maybe she wasn’t worried about giving herself away to men. Maybe it was somebody else – somebody who came looking. And found us …’ He shook his head. ‘She was with Merthian all the time? Not at the Athalby fair. But maybe where he headed afterwards, where we chased him, Haldin and I … Sense, indeed. All too much sense, now.’
Kermorvan was still flushed with anger. ‘No doubt you’ll explain eventually. But speakin’ of which, where is the little bastard? He hopped off, they said – where to?’
Kunrad looked at him, surprised. ‘No mystery about that. To the corsairs, of course! He hadn’t any choice, had he? The moment he was sure I’d escaped, his plan was in terrible danger. As long as there was even a chance I’d got word out, there’d be only one way for him to save it – advance it! Hearing we’d been killed might have eased his mind a little, but he still couldn’t be sure we hadn’t already blown the gaff. He’s got to bring the corsairs out now, ready or not, and march south to stake his claim – or risk meeting an army coming the other way! That’s why he took so many men. He’ll need all the trained soldiers he can muster to keep that pack of cutthroats under his thumb!’
‘Yes!’ said Alais, surfacing. ‘Yes, you’re right! That’s why he didn’t want to take me! He thought of it, then realised he didn’t dare!’
‘Or the nurse told him,’ Kunrad said. ‘Pointed out you’re far too precious. I can just imagine that jewel-encrusted chieftain of theirs slavering to get his paws on you. He’d have a deadly hold over Merthian then!’
‘He might want hold of a few other things, as well!’ said Alais, with a wan smile. ‘At the least I might cause quarrels. And you know, Merthian still has hopes of me! He was going on about it when he left – how he’d show me he was right. He must be desperate now. Maybe he’s already on the march!’
‘No!’ said Kermorvan grimly. He’s got to do one more thing first.’ He twitched his moustache impatiently as they looked at him. ‘Come on, infants, let’s get out of this garret. I need some air. That’s the trouble with this thick-walled place, no decent draughts! Not healthy, not having a few good whistlin’ draughts. Air gets stagnant. Sling some clothes on, girl, and come down!’
The old man lumbered cheerfully down the stairwell, his sheathed sword clanking on every step as his short legs rolled him from side to side. He threw open doors as he went, exposing what seemed to be mostly storerooms full of sacks, and muttered to himself. ‘That’s it, that’s it. Makes sense, the little prick!’
At last he came to one which opened out on to the wall, and trundled out into the open with a roaring sigh of relief. After that dingy chamber and its horrors, the light seemed very clear and the air fresh and clean. It was still early morning, and a track of unexpected gold glittered across the deep blue waters. The forest beyond gleamed with dew against the tumbled clouds. A heron flashed brilliantly in the air, catching the sun on its white underwings as it came in to land. The unceasing wind ruffled Kunrad’s hair, and it seemed to him again that this place was some enamelled jewel, impossibly bright and perfect; only now he was a part of it.
He felt very strange, giddy almost; and why not? He had lived hard now and on short commons for longer than he cared to think. But it was more than that. Something had changed, something within him. That he knew; but he was not willing to seek it out. He was almost afraid of it. It was not the armour. That nagged at him more than ever now, if anything, because it was part of the greater problem. It was not his worries about his future, or the prentices; he had others more immediate. Yet now something made them both more urgent and less important. Something, somewhere, had sapped some of the grim determination that had driven him so far, and put in its place a painful gift. Its name was hope.
On the bridge, the troopers Kermorvan had left on shore were dragging off the bodies they had shot down. The old man gave them a merry wave. One of them waggled a corpse’s arm back at him, and he bellowed at the joke.
‘See here?’ he said, turning to Kunrad and Alais as she caught them up. ‘Magnificent view, ain’t it? Mountains back there, hills there, woodland through to the margins of the Marshlands.’
‘Wonderful,’ said Kunrad, ‘I love it – but you were saying—’
‘I still am! Knew what he was about, old Badger-beard, when he built this place. Not much leeway for good roads, is there? Nothing a full-scale army can get along, for sure, ’cept through this lake country. Now d’you see it? Eh?’
Kermorvan laughed at their blank looks, and waved a hand southward. ‘You’re thinking of him seizing the southern half of Bryhaine – but what good’ll that do him unless the north is firm at his back? That’s his biggest threat against the south. And where’s the heart of it all?’ His fat finger stabbed downwards. ‘Here! The Castle of the Winds! Right here!’
The old man thumped the massive stonework. ‘All the armies of the South could batter themselves senseless against this fortress, if a good garrison holds it! That’s well known, and that’s the foundation of his power. This castle commands the land ways south. It’s the only safe place for his food stores, if they try the scorched-earth retreat against him. All his supply lines, his tactical retreats – all his careful strategies will rest on having this castle at his back. As much or more as having that precious armour of yours upon it! The principle’s the same. It makes him untouchable, not worth the resisting!’
The old lord grinned evilly. ‘A
nd equally, if the little bugger doesn’t have it – or worse, if it’s held by his enemies – then, by the Raven banner, he’s dipped deep in the dungheap!’ He slapped his fat palms joyously. ‘Classic problem in the art, see? Horns of the Ram, they called it when I was a squire studyin’ at my father’s stirrup. Even a small garrison here could harry his advance. And if even a small force was on its way northward, he’d be caught between them. And then? Then he’s just another rootless brigand with no fortifications, no supplies, nothing at his back but the Marshes!’
He leaned on the crenellations, and stared out at the bright sky. ‘No, this – this here beneath your feet! – is the heart of his whole device! He’s always assumed it’s impregnable. Don’t I know that, listening to him! He could never have dreamed he might lose it so easily – with his own co-operation, as you might say! So before he can make a move south, he’s going to have to come back here to the Castle of the Winds – and get it back again!’
Alais and Kunrad were struck silent; but Kermorvan, full of his own idea, was strutting up and down the parapet, chuckling to himself. It was Kunrad who spoke, finally. ‘You’re very sure of this, aren’t you, my lord? You’ve thought it through long since.’
Kermorvan stopped suddenly and wheeled about. ‘Oh! So, clever bugger, eh?’ He laughed. ‘You’re right, by Saithana’s round pink – well, you’re right, anyway. All those long wasted years, first here as castellan, then out there in the hills, trailing back here to bend the knee and take my orders from goody-goody little Master Merthian – yes, and see my little princess!’ His face softened a moment, and he put a hand on Alais’s shoulder. ‘Oh yes, Northerner, I’ve thought of it all right. How it might be managed. If I only had this place, the revenues, the men – but I’d never have stooped to using outlaws! Let alone encouraging them, raising them a fortress – ach! It doesn’t bear thinking of, the little—’ He suddenly gave a great whoop of laughter.
The Castle of the Winds Page 31