by Glenda Larke
Pox on’t, why was she always so logical? “Well, of course there is a risk. What we have to do is weigh up which is the greater peril, and I believe that it is here, in this castle. We don’t have cannon. They do. Once they start firing them, people are going to die.”
“Oh, I agree. But I won’t be one of them, and neither will Garred. If there is one thing we know, it is this: King Edwayn wants his grandson. He’s made that quite clear. Moreover, he’s quite fond of me, and I do not think that he would part me from my son.”
“We can’t be certain of that! He has lost his wits. We don’t know what he might do. Moreover, it’s not the king who controls those monsters beyond our walls; it’s Fox. Oh, he might not be here, but it is his commands these men obey.”
“True. And Fox is in full command of his senses.”
“He’s also a sorcerer.” Mathilda had written to tell him that long before the siege had started. So had the Pontifect, before she’d died.
She tore at a piece of bread, but didn’t eat it. “An ambitious sorcerer who can never be a king needs to control a king. What better way than to kill you and seize Garred while he is still a babe? Fox has already had himself elected Pontifect by the senior clerics, he still maintains his position as Prime of Ardrone, and he acts as King Edwayn’s chancellor. His next step is to have Garred under his care. He doesn’t want our son dead. He wants to be Regent for a child when Edwayn dies. We both know that.” She waved her hand at the narrow arrow slit of a window. “Those men out there with their cannon will never fire it at anything other than the gate, not while Garred is inside. If they did, Prime Fox would have their livers for breakfast. I suspect they will even offer me and Garred free passage before they start the bombardment.”
He was incredulous. “You’d want to accept it?”
“No, of course not. I want to appear on the battlements with our son in my arms, confirming we are still here. Just in case there’s any doubt of that. And then I refuse their offer. After that, everything will continue as before.”
Agitated, he stood up so suddenly that he knocked a plate and sent a round of cheese rolling across the floor. “And what next? Do we stay here all our lives? I have to get out of here. We have to fight Fox, not live behind a barricade.”
She was silent.
“I – forget I said that.” He bent to pick up the cheese, changed his mind and ended up kneeling beside her chair, anguished. “I don’t know what we should do, and nobody can agree on a solution.” He laid a hand on her knee. “True, you may not be in much danger if you stay in Seaward Tower, but the gate will collapse and they’ll enter the castle. Oh, we can fall back to the other bailey, and finally to Seaward Tower. But in the end, we’ll have to surrender. Bealina, love, you are my weakness.”
For a moment their gaze locked and his heart turned over at the hurt in her eyes. He looked away and picked up the cheese and replaced it on the plate.
“It’s true, what you say,” he acknowledged, standing up. “Neither Fox nor the king wants anything at all to happen to Garred, but with you both here, they have the lever they need to make me do anything they want anyway, and sooner or later they will. They’ll threaten you, and make me believe they mean it, and I’ll stride out the main gate to their tune, bringing all my men with me to die. If you leave, though, you have a chance of getting away. And so do the rest of us.” True, or not? He didn’t know, but he knew he had to convince her it was.
She thought long and hard, then said slowly, “Years ago, the journey to Staravale would have been easy. No Grey Lancers. Shrines along the roads… Now? Oh, Ryce, I’m scared. You – you wouldn’t come with me?”
He was appalled. “I can’t ask my soldiers to hold the castle in my stead!”
“I’m – I’m sorry. I should not have asked that. It was wrong of me.”
“We will hold Gromwell as long as we can. Who knows what may happen yet? I won’t give up. We may get aid from outside…” He had even sent to Mathilda for help months before. “But you and Garred have to leave.”
7
Fugitives
Sorrel stood on the deck of Golden Petrel, clasping Saker’s hand far too tightly. Both the pinnace and the dinghy had made it back to the ship without being detected, and Lord Juster had ordered the ship to leave immediately, retracing their route to Port Hornbeam where they had left the two prize ships.
“Blister it, Sorrel, I am so very sorry. I don’t know what to say.” He knew why she gripped him so hard. Piper was still ashore and there was nothing either of them could do about it.
She groped for words, wanting comfort even when she knew there was none. “When we agreed that Piper go ashore, I – I thought it was just going to be for a short while.”
“I know.”
Anguished, she asked in a whisper, “Is it possible to bear it?”
He didn’t reply.
“I don’t know how!” She was gutted, the emptiness inside swallowing her ability to think. A terrible calm had her clamped in its grip, keeping her still, preventing her thoughts from breaking out of their ghastly circling. She should have been running, screaming, fighting, clawing something to pieces – anything except this: standing, watching the ship preparing to leave Throssel Water in a hurry.
Leaving Piper behind. Her daughter in all ways but one.
But… what else could she have done?
Juster had refused to allow the dinghy into the docks again. By the time they were in sight of the wharf where they’d left the pinnace tied up under the care of the ship’s tars, the entire portside was bustling with armed men carrying torches. Happily the two seamen had quietly poled the pinnace offshore in the dark, and they bumped into the dinghy without being seen by those onshore.
Juster gave the order for them all to return to the ship. When Sorrel protested, he’d simply looked at her, and said quietly, “The rest of us don’t have glamour witcheries, mistress.”
She’d subsided, shamed, knowing he was right. She might have been able to pass unseen on the docks, but none of the others could.
And now, back on Golden Petrel, all she could do was watch the crew winch up the pinnace and the dinghy, wind up the anchor and set the sails.
She endeavoured to distract herself. “Do you think it was Fox who sent the king’s wits wandering?”
“I don’t know. Possibly. We may never know for sure.”
She looked aloft to where the sailors were tugging at the reefs to untie the canvas. Everywhere men were busy, ignoring them where they stood, the only two people who had nothing to do.
“I don’t know how I will survive without her, but what’s worse is how she will cope when she realises I’m not coming back. Oh, Saker, she’s not even three years old!”
“Even if you could’ve gone back for her, it wouldn’t have been right to bring her with us. We’re fugitives now. There will be a price on our heads.”
“I could have remained with her.”
“We have to stay together, the three of us, that’s what the Rani said.”
She bit her lip until it hurt. “You’ve never told me exactly what she did say about that. If it’s important, then I think I should know the precise words.”
“It embarrassed us. She’s a bird, and they – they see things differently.”
“Tell me.”
“You won’t like it.”
“Tell me.”
“All right. She said, ‘You have accomplished much as a ternion. Yet two males and one breeding female rarely works when neither male is subordinate.’ Then she added something that sounded like a proverb: ‘Those who fly alone, die alone.’ She said we should think deeply about that. It sounded like a warning.”
She was speechless. A slow flush started at her neck and its warmth rose into her cheeks where it flamed in the cool night air. She was deeply grateful there were no lights anywhere near.
“Rani Marsyanda is a bird,” he reiterated. “And I assure you, Ardhi and I are not fighting over anyone.”<
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“And I’m not a prize hen for the rooster with the longest spurs.” She gave a mortified laugh. “I can see why you were embarrassed.”
“I – I don’t think we should entirely dismiss what she said though. She thought our strength was in our unity.”
“The ternion.” She sighed. “So you are asking me to dismiss any idea of returning to Piper.”
“I – yes. For the time being. You know I love her too. So does Ardhi. This is tough on us all, but we are also doing this for her. It’s the only way we have of saving her.”
“She has the feather circlet. That’s supposed to keep her safe.” She was trying to convince herself everything would be fine, but in her heart she had to accept she might never know. “I did tell both Barklee and Banstel that her life depended on it never being removed from around her neck, although I didn’t say why.”
Above them, a light breeze puffed at the sails, and the deck trembled underfoot as Golden Petrel stirred in the water. Lord Juster came up to them then, his face a grim mask in the dim light. “Go below,” he said. “We’ll be hugging the far coast, but those cannons of Throssel Castle…” He shrugged. “They are new and we don’t know their capabilities.”
As Golden Petrel slid past the walls of Throssel and its castle in the dark, the wind dropped and a pre-dawn mist began to wisp along the surface of the estuary. If it hadn’t been for a strong outgoing tide, they would have been in trouble. As it was, the ship slipped on its way in ghostly silence. If there was a flotilla of ships looking for them, or just the three sloops, none came close.
By the time the mist lifted several hours after dawn, Throssel was far behind them and the only vessels to be seen were on the horizon.
“Sluggards,” Juster said with a laugh when he joined Saker and Sorrel in the wardroom for breakfast. “Not a match for my lady of the sea.”
“So what’s next?” Saker asked. “Where are we going?”
“I want to see what we can salvage from our prize ships, then sell them before the king seizes them. And I hope you and I have some spice money to collect in Hornbeam, Witan Saker. I trust you sent the message.”
“As soon as I could persuade the eagle to leave its perch. He wasn’t happy taking off until the mist had lifted, but he’s on his way now with your instructions tied to his foot.” The look he gave Juster dared him to complain. Wisely, the captain said nothing. Saker relented and added, “I will join the bird when it flies into Hornbeam, just to make sure the letter is delivered.”
Sorrel frowned, worried. “It will be a long way ahead of us by then. Can you twin with it from such a distance?”
“We’ll find out, won’t we? I think it’s less dangerous for me that way than it would be to stay inside its head for too long. Juster, I think what we have to discuss now, though, is what do we do after Hornbeam?”
“We’ll have a full complement of men then.”
“Men who’ve been away for over two years and want to go home. And home is Throssel.”
“Some, perhaps. Mostly, though, I choose men I think will regard this as home.” He gestured with his hand to indicate the ship. “We have a war to fight. I rather think we are going to put Prince Ryce on the throne, don’t you? So the first thing we must accomplish is to break the siege of Gromwell.”
“Deposing a seriously ill king is all very well,” Sorrel remarked later when the three of them – Saker, Ardhi and herself – were alone on a corner of the deck, “but we are one ship, a few sailors, and us, this so-called ternion. We have three witcheries between us, plus a dagger and pieces of a feather. Where do we even begin?”
“You forgot the bird,” Saker said. “Don’t underestimate him.”
“All right. We also have a bird.” She looked at him curiously. “Are you ever going to give him a name?”
“No. Never. I don’t ever want him to be thought of as a sort of – of pet. He’s wild and magnificent. Unfortunately for him, he’s not really free. To give him a name seems to add to the – the loss of dignity he has to endure because of our link. As for where we begin? We need to find out as much as we possibly can about the state of the kingdom. If Hornbeam is the first port of call, then that’s where we’ll start by asking questions. Let’s hope that port is not overrun by Fox’s spies.”
“We have to find out some way of delivering the Rani’s second circlet to the prince-regal,” she said. “I gathered from Barklee’s wife that his name is Karel.”
“That’s got to be a priority,” Saker agreed. “Right now, let’s start with what we have. Ardhi, do you know anything you haven’t already told us about these wisps of feathers given to us?”
He looked unhappily at them both. “Most of what I know is legend.”
“Rani Marsyanda did say you knew more. What did she mean about there often being a sting in the tail?”
“I’m not sure. That might have been Chenderawasi humour,” Ardhi said, “because the pieces came from the Raja’s tail and a tail feather is not as powerful as breast plumes, so sometimes things don’t work out the way you think they will.”
“As when I used a piece,” Saker said, not trying to hide his bitterness. “With the result that I now have a permanent connection to a bird.”
Ever since he’d swallowed part of the feather, there had been an expression lurking in his eyes, a look of deep-seated pain, almost of horror. Sorrel tried – and failed – to imagine what it was like to have an alien mind always edging into one’s thoughts. Ardhi had told her that Saker often cried out in his sleep, begging to be left alone.
“The Rani also said that each piece could only be used once,” said Saker.
“And we have no idea of how to use them,” she said.
“Well, I wouldn’t advise swallowing one,” Saker said wryly.
“Legends are variations of the same story that goes something like this,” Ardhi began. “A poor villager finds a wisp of a tail feather. He picks it up and keeps it safe, thinking it might be useful in the future. One day, something awful happens. Perhaps his prau sinks out at sea in a storm. He clasps the piece tight in his hand and calls upon its sakti to help him. He’s expecting something miraculous. He thinks maybe an Avian will appear, seize him in its claws and fly him safely to land. Or perhaps dolphins will come to his rescue. Instead, a huge wave picks him up and carries him safely to shore. Unhappily, that same wave destroys his village and drowns his family.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Saker said.
“Use a piece of feather and you get what you want, but you pay too high a price.”
“Avian tales to prevent people exploiting the sakti in any Chenderawasi feathers that they find?” Sorrel asked. “After all, birds do moult, and Avians might worry about the sakti in feathers being misused.”
“That’s a quite likely explanation,” Ardhi agreed. “There are other tales, though, that might be of more use. Stories of how the sorcerers were defeated. They were difficult to ambush because of their powers. The Avians could rip them with their talons and beaks and dewclaws and spurs; our warriors could wound them, but the sorcery healed all but the most horrendous of injuries. Eventually Avian and human warriors forged weapons using a combination of Avian blood and plumes and the sky iron found in the mountains. Our finest empu, our blademakers, made weapons like my kris. Even that wasn’t successful unless it was wielded by an Avian warrior.”
“Like those we saw guarding your Raja?” she asked.
He nodded.
“We don’t have an Avian warrior,” Saker said. “And only three pieces of feather.” They had agreed to reserve the other two just in case the children ever removed their necklets and became sorcerers. “Let’s be honest here. We haven’t the slightest idea of how to defeat Fox.”
“Maybe there’s a clue in those old stories,” Ardhi said. “When the time comes to deal with your sorcerer and his power, we need to think about a combination of sakti and witchery. I believe that’s why our ternion is important. Where is this sorcerer of yours
now?”
“Barklee’s brother thought he might be in Vavala,” she said. “He also said he’s heard Fox commands the Grey Lancers, and they’re the ones who are besieging Prince Ryce’s stronghold outside of Twite.”
“I thought Valerian was recruiting men for his own purposes even before we left for the Summer Seas,” Saker said. “He had a ledger labelled ‘lances’.”
“In other words, he has an army of sorts, and we don’t,” Ardhi said.
“Fritillary Reedling once told me not to listen to any reports of her death,” Saker said. “Which means she was already preparing for the worst back then. She’s not dead.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” Sorrel said, “because she’s the one who has the best chance of getting the circlet to Princess Mathilda and persuading her to put it on her son.”
“If the Pontifect didn’t die, where would she be?” Ardhi asked.
“No idea,” he replied. “A shrine keeper might know more. I’m intrigued by the hints you had from the Barklee family, and that Juster had from his agent, about all shrines and witchery folk disappearing at the same time as Vavala fell and Fritillary supposedly died. Marvellous coordination. Makes me think of powerful sorcery – or powerful witchery.”
“Barklee’s family said some people think the shrine keepers ran away and the oaks shrivelled because Va was angry with them for leaning more to Shenat ways than to Va-worship. He said there was talk of Primordials being responsible—”
Saker was indignant. “What codswallop! Primordials are as mad as hares in spring, but they would be the last folk to destroy a shrine!”
“Barklee thought the talk was poppycock too. He thought it more likely to be people turning on the shrines because they associate them with Primordials. Clerics in cities have been preaching against shrines, calling them hotbeds of superstition and ignorance led by elderly keepers who are all unbelievers refusing to worship Va.”