by Glenda Larke
“I wouldn’t bring Sorrel into Ardrone again if I were you.”
“Pardon?”
“After I talked to her on the Chervil Moors that time, when you were nulled, I made some enquiries about her. The name Celandine Marten never led anywhere. Mathilda and I were in Melforn when she took on Celandine as her handmaiden at the Melforn Shrine. Oddly enough, there was a woman who murdered her husband in the area the night before. I found out her name. Sorrel Redwing. There was a witness. She pushed her husband down the stairs. And lo and behold, when I met you in Twite, there’s Celandine suddenly being called Sorrel.”
Oh, blister it.
“No one is taking Piper anywhere,” Ryce continued, “least of all a woman wanted for murder. The child is my niece.”
Saker stood stock still. “I know about Sorrel’s husband’s death. He killed their daughter and was about to murder her. He fell down the stairs when they struggled. She has risked her life to save Piper. I’ve travelled with her for more than two years, most of that time on board ship. You get to know someone really well in those circumstances. I owe my life to her. You owe her as much as you owe me. She was one of those instrumental in lifting the siege of Gromwell.”
“She was responsible for my wife’s death!”
“She rescued her! Princess Bealina died because one of Fox’s men shot her. You heard what Her Reverence said. You heard what Horntail said. He was there.”
“I also heard what Sorrel promised me about my wife and son.” Ryce ran a hand through his hair in a gesture of anguish. “I can’t bear the idea of that woman caring for my niece.”
“She’s the only mother your niece has ever really known!” Saker was at a loss. Would it help Ryce if he knew that Bealina had thought it better to die, and why – or would it make it all worse? He swallowed the temptation. He couldn’t do that to the man.
“I have been thinking about what you said earlier concerning Piper’s existence being an embarrassment to Mathilda,” Ryce said. “I will write to her and ask what she wants to be done. I suspect that Mathilda might be happy to have her daughter under my care in Ardrone. Don’t you?”
Perhaps. But that would mean telling him Piper was Fox’s daughter. Whoever raised her had to to be told that, because she possessed the potential to be a sorcerer. If Ryce did know, what would he do? Order Piper’s killing?
He might.
Rather than find out, Saker said instead, “Right now, Piper needs the woman she thinks of as her mother. The only person who has the right to deny her that is the Regala Mathilda. The Regala placed Piper in Sorrel’s care with the understanding that she was to be taken to the Pontifect, and that Fritillary Reedling be the one to decide her fate because she was a twin and possible devil-kin. No one expected Sorrel would have to flee for her life because she was unjustly blamed for a theft. Perhaps we ought to consult Fritillary on this matter. She does know the entire story.”
“We could do that,” the king said quietly. “Or we could come to some arrangement.”
Saker felt himself go cold. Beggar me speechless, Ryce, you can’t mean what I think you mean…
Ryce looked down at his hands and fiddled with the large ring he wore. Not long ago, it had adorned his father’s hand. “If there is a Prime Saker Rampion, then I will expedite Piper’s removal to Lowmeer, in Sorrel’s care, for Mathilda to decide her fate. Be my Prime, Saker, commencing right now. You owe my family. You bedded my sister, took her virginity, risked her life and her marriage – any marriage – for the sake of your pizzle. You owe the Ardronese Royal House of Betany and I’m claiming our debt.”
He was frozen, held tight in a web of his own making, knowing there was no escape. When he found his tongue, it was to say, “I have to go to Vavala with Fritillary Reedling. I believe that my presence there forms part of your only chance to see Valerian Fox dead.”
“And if I say you can go, will you promise to return with all possible expediency?”
Piper. Sorrel. Mathilda’s rights as a mother. The moment of silence lengthened even after he knew there was no way out.
“Five years,” he said finally, his voice husky. “I’ll be your Prime for five years.”
“Ten.”
He was locked in the prince’s gaze. The breathless silence felt as sharp as the honed edge of an axe about to fall. He wanted to bargain still further, but Ryce’s watchful narrowed eyes stopped the words.
He bowed his head. “Very well. Ten.”
Ryce breathed out, and the tension eased. “You are lucky I call you a friend, witan. You may think this blackmail if you like; I call it justice. Don’t hate me for it. I do need you, and you will be well-recompensed. Ten years.” He smiled, all charm. “Agreed.”
He bowed his capitulation.
“Thank you, sire.” Fig on you! “Thank you, Saker. I appreciate your sacrifice.” He paused. “Tell me one more thing. Is Piper yours?”
A loaded question if ever there was one, with its obvious corollary. Is the next Regal your son?
“I don’t believe so.”
“Pity.” His lips curled up. “I would have found that… amusing.”
“Pox on you, Ryce.”
The king grinned.
He was beaten and he knew it, and all he could do was grin back at him, shaking his head.
Curdle me sour, the royal whelp is going to be a fobbing remarkable monarch. Who would have thought it?
34
The Eve of Battle
Saker returned along the timeless paths to Vavala with Fritillary, followed by a long line of clerics, healers and artisans with witcheries. When they emerged into the Water Purifiers Guild building, the first person he saw was Gerelda Brantheld. He paused, watching her talking to a lad, surprising himself with the depth of the joy he felt at seeing her again. She was leaner than he remembered and her bare arms were all muscle. Spittle damn, but she was beautiful.
When he crossed over to her, she greeted him with a huge smile. “Saker Rampion! Fritillary told me she’d been in contact with you. By the oak, it’s good to see you!” Grabbing his hands, she looked him up and down, then gave him a bear hug, which he reciprocated.
“It’s been too long,” he said, and meant it.
“You haven’t met Peregrine, have you?” She released him and indicated the lad hovering at her side, a lanky, dark-haired Shenat youth. “Perie, this is Witan Saker Rampion. He’s a hedge-born Shenat hayseed, but not a bad fellow for all that.”
“Take him over to Proctor House, Gerelda,” Fritillary said. “We’ve got a couple of hundred witchery folk following us in. This place is going to be crowded. Fill him in on the latest news on the way, if there is any.”
“Yes, Your Reverence.” She grabbed him by the arm and headed for the exit. “Proctor House is where your friends are. Sorrel and Ardhi. Perie and I were on our way out, anyway. We have to buy some supplies.”
As they stepped out of the building, he wondered at the casualness of their exit into the streets of Valerian Fox’s city. “Isn’t this a little dangerous?” he asked. “Strolling around, wearing a sword openly?”
She grinned at him again, and he remembered her love of tight spots. “We’ve had some narrow escapes, but Perie has a wonderful witchery. He can sense the black smutch of Grey Lancers and sorcerers a mile off, and identify one from the other. Anyway, most of them left the city this morning for the north. You could almost hear the collective sigh of relief…”
“Where were they going?”
“To battle Deremer’s army, who are, by all reports, about to cross the River Ard from Staravale. Perie and I are supposed to be joining them soon.”
“And Valerian?”
“Still holed up in the palace. We think he’s going to join the army to lead the battle, but soldiers move slowly, and he’d rather stay a few extra days in palace luxury and follow them later.”
“And what about Sorrel and Ardhi?”
“Ardhi’s fine. That man has to be the most phlegmatic fel
low I’ve ever met. If you dumped me down in Chenderawasi and said, ‘Survive as best you can, Gerelda,’ I’d be insane in a month. He just grins and sees through us as though we were made of glass. Sorrel? I like her a lot. But go gently with her. She took the princess’s death very badly. Ah, I think I had better warn you: she thinks you’re bringing that girl with you. Piper. Who is she? Is she yours?” She appeared more intrigued than worried by the thought.
“No. We’re responsible for her, though. And… we grew very fond of her. King Ryce wouldn’t allow us to take her out of Ardrone. Long story.”
“King Ryce?”
“That’s right.”
“Interesting times. You’ll have to tell me all, later.”
They reached the open street and conversation halted as she walked purposefully at a brisk pace and Perie indicated he wanted to concentrate on hunting down any trace of smutch. Five minutes later, she knocked on the door of an ornate building on a quiet backwater of a street.
“No smutch anywhere?” he asked Peregrine.
“Well, there’s Valerian and his remaining guard of Grey Lancers. And there’s another sorcerer son with him.”
“Nasty fellow called Ruthgar, by all reports,” Gerelda added.
Saker glanced up at the facade. “I remember this building. I was here once on the Pontifect’s business.”
“Remember the rhythm of the knock,” she said. “And keep your lock picks handy in case no one is home. Perie and I will be off now.” As the door was opened by Ardhi, she and Perie hurried away.
Sorrel came running up when she saw who was on the doorstep. She looked over Saker’s shoulder in expectation, her face lighting up. “Piper?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I had to leave her with the Barklees.”
The bitter grief on her face as she turned to Ardhi cut him to the core.
The rest of the morning was spent in exchanging information, pretending the three of them could be content without Piper as long as she was safe. Their conversation became strained after Saker said he might accept the post of Ardronese Prime. He didn’t say why, and the possibility unsettled them. “It’s what I want,” he lied. “It’s my best chance of influencing Ardronese policy towards Chenderawasi.”
“But what about the ternion?” Sorrel asked. She sounded hurt.
“Being Prime won’t make any difference,” he assured her, even though he wasn’t certain that was true.
At lunchtime, Fritillary sent around a messenger with a note asking Saker to check on an East Denvian army that was supposed to be approaching the city.
He sent the bird up, nudging it gently to follow the main road from Vavala to the east, and indeed there was an army a day’s march away, pitifully few ill-equipped men carrying the colours of both Valance and East Denva.
Ryce, your Ardronese army will be missed.
He sent a note to Fritillary, telling her what the eagle had seen.
“One man,” he muttered to Ardhi and Sorrel, “and he has done so much damage. How was it possible?”
“Not one man; one sorcerer,” Ardhi said.
“He was clever,” Saker said. “For years he used the Dire Sweepers to clean up his own sorcerous wreckage. He exploited our weaknesses. He divided Va-faith. He turned a king against his heir. He made people fear one another. He set things in motion and then watched people dance to his music of misery.”
“The ternion will defeat him,” Sorrel said, “because we listen to a different tune.”
“That’s true,” Ardhi agreed. “Sakti, the Ways of the Oak and Flow give us the agency to bring things back into balance.”
“Us,” said Sorrel. “Us.”
They exchanged glances and he knew they were all thinking the same thing. Why us? We’re so ordinary. It’s the things we have that count: the kris, pieces of a plume, a connection to birds, a glamour, an ability to climb.
Was that enough?
It felt… puny.
“Fritillary has made it quite clear that we have to find a cure for the twins,” he warned. “Just killing Valerian and his sons is not enough.”
Ardhi smiled at Sorrel as she picked up the lamp to light their way upstairs. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said when they reached the first floor. “I’m sleeping up on the roof, under the stars.”
She felt a sharp stab of fear. “Don’t roll off!” Stupid, he never falls…
“There’s a sort of wooden parapet with a balustrade on the far side, overlooking the river.”
“Sounds like a widow’s walk.”
“What’s that?”
“A sailor’s wife would have it built so she could watch for her husband’s ship to come into port. Sometimes she’d not know she was already widowed.”
“Ah. Well, I can think of a happier use to put it to. I’ve placed a couple of quilts up there.”
Desire gripped her so strongly she couldn’t move.
“Careful.” Gently, he took the lamp from her hand and put it down on a side table.
“No,” she said, suddenly vehement. “I don’t want to be careful. Tomorrow I could die. Or you could. I’m done with being careful, or proper, or any of those things. Tonight I want to lie naked in your arms under the stars and be totally wanton…”
He blinked, startled, and then started to laugh. He grabbed her hand and together they ran to the spiral staircase that led up to the roof.
Later that night Saker was still awake in the darkness of his bedroom when someone knocked at the door.
“Come in!” he called.
He sat up in bed and turned to look. There was little light but he recognised the silhouette in the doorway. “How did you get in downstairs? Oh, right. I once taught you to pick locks.”
“You also gave me a set of lock picks,” Gerelda said, closing the door behind her. “You don’t mind me dropping in, do you?”
“Curdled hells no!”
He stood up to light a candle beside his bed. “I’ve been lying here awake. Thinking about you, actually.”
“Really? It’s been a while and I wasn’t sure—”
“It was another world then,” he replied quietly. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin to tell you what I’ve seen, and heard, and felt.” He looked up when the wick caught and flared. Their shadows danced and merged on the walls, even though they themselves had not touched. “Rot it, Gerelda, what about you? You’ve spent a couple of years killing sorcerers for a living?” His voice shook as he thought of it. “I wish that weren’t true. That it hadn’t needed to happen.”
“So? I gather you’ve been flying around inside a bird’s head! Pox on’t, how do you deal with that?”
“Not very well sometimes. Probably about as badly as you deal with helping a lad as young as Perie kill sorcerers.”
Her hands shook. “It hasn’t been easy. Seeing you again is good, though. A reminder of better times.”
“I was thinking of them. Those university days. We had something good then.”
“We didn’t appreciate it! One never does at that age.” She sighed and crossed the room towards him. “The intervening years have not always been kind to either of us, I think.”
“Not to us, not to our world, either. Although there was one very memorable night in the Shenat Hills before I was nulled!”
“Ah, yes. That reminded me how much I’d missed talking to you.”
“Do you want to start over?”
She walked into his arms as if she had never been away. “Very much. Hold me, Saker. Just hold me. I need to weep on the shoulder of a friend.”
Saker woke in the morning with Gerelda’s naked body snuggled into his side, her hand resting on his chest. He stroked her back, enjoyed for a moment longer the sensuous curve of her muscled body, and revelled in the wonder that for a time it had been his. She had indeed cried. He’d held her and listened. He’d heard her grief and shared his own, stripping his soul bare in a way he could not have done to even Ardhi or Sorrel.
“We had
such hopes for happiness. What happened?” she’d asked, but he knew she neither wanted nor expected an answer. Certainly, he had none to give. Life had left a darker mark on their souls since their student days, and the depths were deeper and less certain.
He said, “Look forward. Not back. Ahead lies victory.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s the only destination that will allow me to live.” Win or die. There was nothing else.
As they’d talked, they both knew how the night would end.
Now, while she still slept, he dressed and went to stand at the window, casting about for the touch of the eagle. It was perched nearby waiting for the warmth of the sun, restless as it began to feel the first pangs of hunger. Gerelda rolled over sleepily. He looked at her and smiled, affection flooding through him.
“You are beautiful,” he said.
She opened one eye. “You must like muscular women.”
“This one, certainly.”
“I have a few more scars.”
“Not scars. Badges of courage.”
“No matter what happens today,” she murmured, “last night was spectacular. Were we so good when we were younger?”
“We thought we were. We thought we knew all sorts of things that no one else did.”
“Ah, yes, I remember. The arrogance of youth.”
He laughed. “We are fully, what, ten years older and wiser now?”
“I really don’t know why we don’t do this more often.”
He smiled at her. “Maybe because we don’t meet up enough? Perhaps we ought to work on that. Although I’m not sure being a companion to a witan is much fun.”
“That sounds halfway to a marriage proposal!” she said, laughing.
He sobered suddenly and said, “I can’t imagine ever wanting to marry anyone else.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Beggar me speechless, Saker, we haven’t seen each other for what, over two years? No, wait. Well over three! And you come up with a declaration like that?”