by Kate Jacoby
“Still,” Finnlay added, “it is a good turnout. We even have some sunshine to go with it. Father Colin believes that it’s the work of the gods. They’re pleased you’ve finally come home, and are showing it.”
Robert inclined his head for the benefit of Valena. “I assume you refrained from adding that they might have thought about showing it a few weeks earlier rather than risk half my people freezing to death.”
Valena laughed prettily, her eyes lighting up. “But you must find so much has changed in your absence. The Guilde spreads its arms across the country. Perhaps one day soon you will find a Guilde Hall somewhere on your own lands?”
“You appear to know a great deal about me, my lady,” Robert replied evenly.
“Nothing more than your reputation, I assure you. Still, I believe you would not welcome a Guilde presence so close.”
Robert began to smile—then stopped. Was she warning him? “If the Guilde wishes to grace my lands with a Hall then I will not stop them. The real question, however, is would they want to come here?”
The dancing light in Valena’s eyes faded and she turned back to Finnlay. “Your brother retains the skills of courtly debate. I wonder where he practised them.”
“Excuse me, my lord.” Micah stood behind Robert, his face dark and angry. “Master Ulric and the archers are awaiting you. The crowd is gathered to watch the competition between you and Lord Finnlay. Will you come?”
Robert frowned. Micah was being almost rude. But why? He would have to sort this out—but not now. “Yes, of course. Finn? Time to display your talents.”
“I’m sorry, my lord, but my opinion has not changed.” Micah stood close to Robert and handed him another arrow. “I just don’t like the lady.”
Robert took the arrow and slotted it into the string of his bow. The crowd watching the competition cheered his next shot—even before he’d taken aim. Keeping his voice low, Robert asked, “Is it possible you’ve met her before?”
“No, my lord. I would have remembered.”
Wouldn’t anyone? Robert spread his feet, straightened up and pulled the arrow back. With a practised eye, he took aim on the target and released the string. There was a faint whoosh and a corresponding thud, and the crowd cheered again.
“Another bullseye for his lordship!” Ulric bellowed. “The score stands all even at twelve shots.”
Robert stepped back to allow Finnlay his next and final shot. He glanced once at Micah, then around at those watching the competition. Daniel was there, cheering him on. Beside him, Valena kept her eyes on Finnlay, almost absorbing his every move. Yes, she was beautiful, and Finn seemed equally taken with her. So what was wrong with Micah?
Finnlay took his shot and the crowd cheered again.
“Thirteen perfect shots for Lord Finnlay!”
Micah handed Robert his last arrow and stood back to give him room. Notching the arrow in the bow, Robert took up position. Again his shoulders tensed for no particular reason. He closed his eyes for a moment and sent his senses out into the crowd. He found nothing in his search and, without thinking, let the arrow loose. He could easily see in his mind where the target was—and instantly cursed himself for a fool. If that arrow should hit its mark—
He felt a push.
The arrow thudded into the target to a disappointed sigh from the audience. Robert opened his eyes to find he’d missed the target by almost a foot—fortunately! However...
“By the gods! I’m such an idiot!”
Finnlay came close, his voice a whisper. “What are you doing, Robert? That shot...”
Robert forced a laugh and said loudly for all to hear, “Well done, brother! I must be getting a little rusty.”
He put his arm around Finn’s shoulder’s and murmured, “I should have seen it before, but it’s too late now. I have to warn you.” But he never got to finish. Instead, Owen pushed his way through the crowd.
“Forgive me, my lord, Deverin has just returned from his patrol. He needs to see you urgently. He’s waiting in the winter parlour.”
Deverin was there, and so was Harold. The big man was sitting by the fire and lurched to his feet almost guiltily when Robert entered. Finnlay and Micah stayed by the door. Robert waved Harold back to his seat and turned to his master at arms. Deverin was almost swaying on his feet, his clothes covered in mud, his face lined with exhaustion.
“Forgive me, my lord, but there’s been another raid. Last night.”
“By the gods,” Robert swore, “where?”
“Nyrac, by Trappers Pond. We came upon them just as they were leaving. Half the village was ablaze, four dead and countless others wounded. The raiders struck just before midnight, killed some cattle and took whatever gold and silver they could find. My men got two of them but they died fighting so I couldn’t even ask them any questions.” Deverin paused and ran his knuckles through his muddied beard. “This is a bad business, my lord.”
“Aye,” Robert nodded. “And it’s getting ridiculous. They’re within the borders of my lands but I can’t do anything to stop them. I should have been with you last night.”
Finnlay came across the room. “Do you know how many there were?”
“At least twenty, perhaps more. It was hard to see them in the dark, even with the fires lighting up the sky.”
“Damn it, Robert,” Harold growled, “what are we supposed to do? They hit all of us and Selar refuses to lift a finger to help! What are you going to do?”
“Do?” Robert paused, glancing at Finnlay before framing a response. “Deverin, after the festivities are over tomorrow, you and I will make plans for recruiting more men. I know Owen’s objections, but we can’t fight this threat with such a small force and it’ll get worse once the weather improves. I won’t have them attacking my people like this.”
Harold came to his feet again, his face clouded with anger. “But what about...”
Robert stopped him. “In the meantime, we need to talk, Harold. Tonight, after the banquet. With Daniel, too. We need to co-ordinate our patrols. Perhaps if we work together we can get some results. Will you ask Daniel to join us here tonight?”
“Very well,” Harold grunted. He drew himself in and Robert was in no doubt that Harold planned to have his say later. “I’ll tell him.”
The door slammed shut behind him and Robert turned to Deverin. “You did well to get so close to them. It’s the first time we’ve so much as seen them. Any other casualties?”
Deverin shrugged. “A few cuts and scratches. Nothing serious.”
“Good. You go and get some rest. We’ve a lot of work to do.”
“Yes, my lord.” Deverin turned to go, then paused. His grim face creased into a crooked smile. “It’s good to have you back, my lord.”
As Deverin disappeared, Robert turned back to the fire, staring at the harsh orange glow. How many more people would die before he caught these raiders? And how was he to catch them in the first place? The best way was to go out with every patrol. Then, the next time he got close, he could use his powers to trace them, perhaps even ...
“Robert?” Finnlay interrupted his thoughts. “What’s going on? What was that business before?”
Instantly Robert snapped back to the present. “Not here. Let’s go up to my study. We don’t have much time.”
Robert closed the door to his study and raised his hand to set the warning seal. He would have sufficient notice should anyone come up those stairs.
“Well? What’s wrong?” Finnlay demanded. “What were you going to warn me about?”
“Valena.”
“What?” Finnlay stared at him a moment, then turned to pour himself some ale from the table by the window. A little stiffly, he added, “What about her?”
“She’s Malachi.”
The cup slipped from Finnlay’s hand and clattered to the ground. He gazed down at it absently then turned back to Robert. “Are you sure? How did you know?”
“Actually, I didn’t—Micah did. I don’t supp
ose I ever told you, Finn, but when I set Micah’s Seal, I made sure there was an additional warning frame which would make him very uncomfortable if he were ever in the presence of Malachi. Unfortunately, I was too overcome by the lady’s beauty to take much notice of what he said. I admit I felt a little uncomfortable talking to her, but the final straw was that last arrow I fired. Sure I had my eyes closed, but you and I both know I’ve done that a hundred times and never missed.”
Finnlay was speechless, so it was Micah who asked the important questions.
“So what do we do now? What kind of danger is she? Do you think she knows anything?”
“Not unless Finn’s been indiscreet.”
“Me?” Finnlay looked up, shock still pasting his face white. “I’ve told her nothing of importance, Robert! How can you even suggest...” Robert laughed. “Don’t get all excited, brother. It wasn’t a serious suggestion. As far as I’m concerned, she’s done no harm being here and she leaves tomorrow. I suggest you continue your attentions, Finn, so she doesn’t realize we know the truth. Actually, I doubt she’s found out anything important. If she’d thought either of us were sorcerers, she wouldn’t have tried anything herself. As it was, I think she only did it out of mischief. That is, after all, what Malachi means. What concerns me more is what she’s doing here in the first place.”
“Well, do any Malachi know who you are?” Finnlay asked, finally getting his mind to tackle the problem.
“Not that I know of. The last time I met a Malachi, I killed him. I didn’t give him the opportunity to talk. What about you?”
“Hah! I’ve never even met a Malachi.”
“That you know of—and let’s face it, you didn’t know it this time, did you? I think you and I need to do a bit of revision over the next few weeks. In the meantime, while she’s still here, see if you can find out a bit more about her. Where she comes from, who her friends are, that kind of thing. I shouldn’t need to tell you how dangerous it is for both of us to have her here under this roof. If she should discover anything ...”
“You wouldn’t kill her?” Finnlay demanded, faintly.
Robert paused, but knew what his answer was. With Malachi there was no middle ground, no room for exceptions. “She’s Malachi, Finn, and you know what that means. Let’s just make sure she leaves here in perfect ignorance. Keep her away from this room. I’ve got too many illicit books in here. She’d recognize most of them and know the truth immediately. Tonight, during our meeting, Micah will keep an eye on her. If she does anything, anything at all, I’ll trust you to fetch me immediately.”
“Aye, my lord,” Micah smiled grimly. “It’ll be a pleasure.”
Owen had built the fire up in the winter parlour in preparation for the meeting, but in such a small room Robert found the heat stifling and he loosened the throat of his black tunic. Through the closed door he could hear laughter and occasional melodies coming from the hall. All of his people were in there, enjoying the dying hours of the banquet, Valena and her guard, Micah, among them. Silently Robert prayed the Malachi would not provoke him. In these close confines, he would have only one response—and in that moment, he would reveal the secret he’d kept close all these years. His people would desert him, his name would be anathema and his life would be in danger from both Guilde and Church. Not even Selar would protect him—should he want to.
And sorcery would once again become a reality for everyone for the first time in almost a century.
Robert leaned back in his chair and fingered the silver goblet before him. It had been given to his father by King Edward on the day of his ascension. The lip was inlaid with turquoise and on the bowl lay an eagle, its wings spread wide. This same eagle appeared on the Douglas arms, on the ring Robert wore and on the hilt of the sword resting on the table before him. Around the throat of the eagle was inscribed one word: Fideli. Faithful.
But faithful to what?
He took in a deep breath and tried to relax. This first winter at home was proving difficult. Yes, there were days when he was glad to be back, but there were many more days when he felt restless and unsettled, unable to concentrate. There was too much unresolved, too many questions he was never likely to find answers to. And now that he was here—and everybody knew it—he was confined within his own castle once more, trapped in a prison of his own making. The rewards of fidelity.
And now Daniel sat at the table opposite him, putting the finishing touches to a schedule of patrols they’d planned together with Harold. Patrols that would hopefully find these raiders, even as they drew Selar’s attention with their size. Owen had cautioned him against increasing his army, but in truth, Robert was more concerned with the risk to his people from these raiders than from the King.
“Well,” Daniel placed his pen down and glanced up at Robert, “I think that should cover us for the next few months. When they get more active with the spring thaws we’ll have a better chance of catching them.”
“And if that doesn’t work,” Finnlay added, “then we should return to the idea of setting up a few garrisons. If we can’t catch them, then at the very least, we can inhibit their movements.”
Harold slammed his hand down on the table. “Damn you, you’re deliberately missing the point! You must have heard those rumours yourself. There are people who really believe these raids are the work of Tirone. He plans to wreak havoc on us. Why can’t you see that?”
Robert shook his head. “You have no proof of that. Let’s face it, these raiders are not so different from the usual bands of robbers Lusara has always suffered from. Yes, they seem more organized, but that doesn’t mean they work to a specific plan. Nor do they choose their targets with war in mind. They stay away from towns and hit isolated farms, small villages. There is little to compare with the Troubles and you know it.”
Harold sighed and leaned back in his chair. He scratched his beard then reached out for more wine. “I suppose these patrols will help. If nothing else, when you go back to court, you will be in a good position to insist Selar does something to aid us.” He grinned. “Of course, I don’t think Vaughn’s going to be exactly delighted to see you again. I’d love to see the smirk wiped off his greedy face. I’ll see what I can do about arranging a visit to court to coincide with yours, Robert.”
“Don’t go making any plans. I won’t be going back to court.”
“But how can you do anything from here? You’re too far away to exert any real influence! Selar will never take you seriously.”
“I don’t intend to exert any influence. I’ve retired from all that. I told you that when I first came back. I’ve been away three years and I’ve decided that what I most want is some peace and quiet. You’ll have to look to someone else for help. I don’t care any more.”
Harold launched out of his seat, toppling the chair over in the process. “I don’t believe that! Not you, Robert! Not a Douglas, of all people! Hell, your father would turn in his grave to hear you talk like that. You must do something. People depend on you!”
Robert finally turned his gaze on the other man. “If you feel so strongly about it, why don’t you do something yourself? I have no power any more, no position, and despite what you say, no support from the other Houses. I gave all that up when I left. I knew what I was doing, Harold.”
There was a brief knock at the door and Finnlay rose to answer it. It was Deverin, and he whispered something to Finnlay, who frowned and followed him out, closing the door behind him.
Robert tensed. Was it Valena? No, it couldn’t be. Micah would have come, not Deverin. Then what was it? Where had Finnlay gone—and why?
Finnlay stood in the corridor and took in a deep breath. It had been so difficult not to voice his agreement with Harold, but he had promised himself and he would keep to that vow no matter what. Finnlay cared, even if Robert didn’t. There must be some other way to change Robert’s mind.
But: Deverin waited, so Finnlay left the argument behind and took off down the corridor. He avoided the hall
completely and arrived at the guard room unseen by any of the guests. It was dark in here, with only a single candle to light the face of the man who greeted him. Finnlay took a few steps forward.
“Is he here?” the man whispered hoarsely. His face was haggard and there were dark lines of exhaustion around his eyes. Mud caked his clothing and his fair hair and he walked with the gait of a man who had spent days in the saddle.
“Please, Finnlay, tell me if he’s really here.”
Slowly, Finnlay nodded. “Robert’s here. I’ll take you to him.”
He turned back into the corridor, knowing the man would follow him. What was going on? What would Robert say?
Not that it mattered. After his ... discussion with Harold, Robert was unlikely to be moved by anything this man said. By the gods, how could his brother be so intractable?
There were raised voices coming from within the winter parlour, but Finnlay didn’t pause. He pushed the door open and stepped aside to let the other man enter. Robert looked up—then shot to his feet.
“Payne—In the name of the gods, what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry, Robert,” the young man murmured, his voice weak, “I had to come ...”
Fearing Payne would collapse, Finnlay took his arm and led him to a chair, then poured him some wine. Payne drank greedily as Robert pulled up a seat opposite him. The others gathered around, exchanging frowns.
“I can’t believe you’d risk something like this,” Robert hissed, pulling a plate of bread and cheese across the table. “How long have you ridden?”
Payne drained his cup, then put it slowly down on the table. He ignored the food, instead reaching out to touch Robert’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Days. It doesn’t matter. I had to come. I had to be sure it was true. By the gods, Robert, I’m so glad you’re back.”
Robert frowned then glanced up at Finnlay. “Did anyone see him arrive?”