Ice Forged (The Ascendant Kingdoms Saga)

by Gail Z. Martin

  Blaine elbowed Kestel as Ifrem and Peters led Connor and Engraham to the front of the gathering. The crowd grew silent, waiting. Ifrem stepped up atop a bench to be seen and heard.

  “You’ve already heard the talk about a shipwreck off the coast last night,” Ifrem said, shouting above the wind. “We’ve still got search teams out along the shore, but it appears that the survivors we found the first night are the only ones. Two of those men are here to tell their story—and it affects all of us.”

  With that, Ifrem stepped down and gestured for Connor and Engraham to take his place. Blaine and Kestel waited in the back of the crowd as Connor told his tale, recounting the last candlemarks in Quillarth Castle before the fall of Donderath. As he told about the king’s death, some of the men shouted in victory and raised fists. Several women collapsed to their knees, wailing, whether out of veneration for the king or grief over loved ones presumed dead, Blaine did not know. Some of the crowd began to cheer and dance.

  “Order! Order!” Peters shouted above the din. “Hold off on your cheering—you haven’t heard all they have to tell.”

  The crowd quieted nervously, and Connor yielded the tale to Engraham. As Engraham recounted the firestorm that left Castle Reach a burning ruin, it seemed as if the entire crowd held its breath. When he spoke of charred bodies, of townspeople fleeing with only the possessions they could carry, of children being thrust into strangers’ arms as boats pulled away from the harbor, the crowd’s mood, celebratory only moments before, grew somber.

  When Engraham finished his tale, the crowd was silent. Peters and Ifrem moved to the front. “What this means for us,” Peters said, raising his voice to carry on the cold autumn air, “is that there won’t be any more supply ships from Donderath. If the rest of the kingdom saw the same damage as Castle Reach, then ‘home’ as we knew it is gone. Without a king, we’re free men and women. Edgeland has become an independent land. We’re no one’s convicts—we are citizens.”

  The crowd buzzed with conversation. From the expressions Blaine could make out in the twilight, most of the colonists were struggling to shift from shock and sorrow to some semblance of jubilation over their newfound freedom. His own feelings were a tangled mess, and he resolutely pushed them aside, unwilling to examine them in public.

  Kestel tugged at his sleeve. “Look there.” She pointed toward the front. Dozens of people had surged forward with questions for Connor and Engraham, leaving Peters and Ifrem struggling to keep order. But as Blaine followed Kestel’s gesture, he could make out one figure that moved through the crowd like a hunting dog intent on its quarry. The figure was dressed in a bulky, nondescript coat, with a woolen shawl over head and shoulders. Whoever it was stood a head shorter than many in the crowd, and the figure often had to zigzag through the press of people to move forward.

  Blaine watched the figure as it got closer to where the two refugees stood. The determined spectator did not push to the front, but instead, slipped into the spaces left when the rest of the crowd shifted. Finally, the figure reached Engraham and waited until he finished answering a question before laying a hand on his arm. Engraham turned, and the figure lowered her shawl. Blaine was close enough to tell that the newcomer was a woman with short, dark hair peppered through with gray. Engraham froze for a moment and then clasped her in an embrace as the woman threw her arms around his neck. Blaine chanced a look at Kestel, who wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

  “I guess Engraham’s mother found him,” Blaine said.

  Kestel nodded. Her smile was wistful. “At least something good came out of all this.”

  The crowd began to disperse, and even the energetic questioners at the front gradually drifted away. Engraham and his mother walked away arm in arm, oblivious to anyone else. Ifrem and Peters were deep in conversation. Connor stood alone for a few minutes, looking around as if unsure what to do. Finally, he began to drift after the last of the crowd.

  Kestel broke away from Blaine and ran to catch up with Connor, forcing Blaine to do the same. “Ho there!” she hailed him. Connor looked up and took a moment before he recognized Kestel from the tavern. “Where are you headed?”

  Connor looked nonplussed. “Not really sure,” he admitted with a self-conscious smile. “Ifrem’s asked Engraham to give him a hand with the tavern.” He shrugged. “I figured I’d see if there’s anyone with a room to trade for work.”

  Blaine could guess what Kestel was going to say before the words escaped her lips. “Why don’t you come with us? We’ve got room for one more and plenty of work to be done. We could use an extra hand with the farm. You’d at least have a roof over your head while you got your bearings.”

  Connor glanced nervously at Blaine, seeking confirmation, and looked relieved as Blaine nodded. “There are five of us, but we can fit you in,” he said, and guessed that Kestel’s offer had been as calculated as it was generous. He had no doubt that Kestel wanted time and privacy to pump Connor for all the gossip she had missed about the now-destroyed Donderath court.

  “I daresay the herring fleet will go out again, despite the dark, now that we know there won’t be boats from home,” Blaine continued. “We could use another pair of hands for the nets. Gods know, we’ll need the fish more than ever.”

  “Sure,” Connor said after a moment. “That would be great. Thank you.” He had the look of someone struggling to make sense of utter chaos, and Blaine felt a stab of pity. The poor fellow’s seen his world go up in flames, made the passage to Edgeland under conditions that were probably even worse than what the convicts faced, and survived a shipwreck. It’s a wonder he’s not barking mad.

  “Come on,” Kestel said, linking arms with Connor and steering him toward the road. “Let’s round up the rest of our crew and hire a wagon to get us home.”

  They found the others back in the Crooked House. Verran was tending bar to allow Ifrem the chance to attend the meeting in the commons. Dawe and Piran seemed to be taking advantage of the temporary lull in business to grab a good table near the fireplace and line up several glasses of ale.

  “Connor’s going to be staying with us for a while, until he gets his bearings at least,” Blaine announced.

  Kestel shot Connor a glance. “Until we know what’s what, I figured it was a good idea to keep you—and your map—somewhere safe.”

  “Much obliged, m’lady,” Connor replied, still looking a little dazed.

  Piran guffawed. “Need to have a healer take a second look at the man’s head. He’s callin’ our Kestel a lady.”

  Kestel gave Piran a good-natured backhand. “As if an oaf like you would know a lady from a lark.”

  Connor glanced at Blaine. “Are they always like this?”

  Despite the somber revelations of the evening, Blaine chuckled. “Most of the time, they’re worse.”

  Piran waved Connor to an empty chair in between himself and Dawe. “Have a seat, my good man. If anyone needs a drink this night, it’s you.” He pushed one of Dawe’s tankards of ale toward the empty chair.

  “Thief,” Dawe accused, grinning. “Share one of your own tankards, thank you!” He took back the ale and then slid it right back into place and met Connor’s gaze. “Here you go, Connor. This one’s on me.”

  “By Torven! You’re mad.” Piran shook his head with exaggerated frustration, and pushed one of his tankards to Connor as well. “Drink up, young man. You look like you could use the whole cask.”

  Patrons began trickling back into the tavern, and Kestel quickly went to help Verran at the bar. Ifrem and Peters trailed several dozen of their fellow townsmen into the Crooked House, and Ifrem caught Blaine’s eye.

  “That went fairly well, considering,”

  Blaine shrugged. “For now. Tonight, they’ll drink. What about tomorrow? I think the Council needs to spend some time thinking about what this means for the colony. Once everything sinks in, we could have some new problems.”

  Ifrem frowned. “Like?”

  Blaine sighed. “
I’ll wager that the fear of a ship full of new soldiers showing up at any time has kept some of the troublemakers in line. Now that we know that’s not going to happen, we probably need to take a second look at our patrols and recruit some new officers.” He paused, realizing, now that the evening’s adrenaline had ebbed, just how tired he was. “And now that we can be pretty certain there won’t be any supply ships, we’ve got to be doubly sure that we’ve got enough food to get us through the winter.”

  Ifrem nodded. “And here’s something else to chew on. Our new friends could only speak about Donderath’s fate and what happened to the Lesser Kingdoms. What if Meroven didn’t get hit as badly? Or Vellanaj? They could send ships our way to lay claim to Edgeland. By Raka, that might even occur to the Cross-Sea Kingdoms, if anyone remembers that we’re up here.” He met Blaine’s gaze. “We’d best rebuild some sea-facing defenses, and fast.”

  Blaine sighed. “Yeah. But not tonight.” He paused and looked toward where Dawe and Piran plied Connor with ale and he knew that in their own jovial way, they were as adept at pumping the newcomer for information as Kestel. “I heard you’ve taken Engraham under your wing.”

  Ifrem snorted. “Damn straight. Wanted to get him before Adger did. I’m likely to offer him a better deal, that’s for certain. Besides, I remember the Rooster and Pig quite fondly. Excellent bitterbeer. If he and I could re-create something like that here…”

  Blaine shook his head, chuckling. “You’d beat out every other tavern in Edgeland.”

  Ifrem clapped him on the shoulder. “Now you’re thinking like a businessman.”

  “Connor’s going to be living with us. That’ll keep him and his map away from prying eyes.”

  Ifrem nodded. “Good thinking.” He looked thoughtful. “After the dust has settled, now that we know Merrill and the heir are dead, do you think anyone will want to go home?”

  “I don’t know, Ifrem. Your guess is as good as mine.”

  The next morning, Blaine roused Connor from sound sleep by shaking his shoulder. “Come on, mate. We’ve hired a wagon to take us back to the farm. Wake up and get moving.”

  Connor sat up and blinked, as if trying to take in his new surroundings. “I thought you said we’d go in the morning,” he said, looking at the darkness outside the windows.

  “And morning it is, ninth bells even,” Blaine replied. “You’re at the top of the world and it’s the long night. Sun won’t rise much above the horizon until spring.”

  Connor groaned. “I thought you were kidding about that.”

  “I wish I were,” Blaine said as Connor hurriedly dressed. Blaine pushed a piece of bread with jam and a cup of fet into Connor’s hands. “Here. Eat something. Helps ward off the cold.”

  Blaine waited as Connor downed the bread and swallowed the bitter drink. “Ifrem found you a cloak among the clothing that’s gotten left at the tavern. Should do until you can get settled and do some shopping.”

  Connor wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and set aside his empty cup. “I can’t believe how good you and your friends have been to Engraham and me. I don’t know how to repay you.”

  Blaine slapped him on the back. “Well, in the short run, information will do. I don’t think Kestel’s through with you, and I’ve got some questions of my own. And in the long run, you’ll find where you fit here and make your own way, like the rest of us.”

  The rest of Blaine’s housemates were waiting in the semidarkness when Blaine and Connor reached the street. Connor looked up and down Bay-town’s main road in amazement. The streets were as busy as one might expect mid-morning, except that it was dark as twilight.

  “Climb in,” Piran said as their wagon arrived. Blaine and the others scrambled into the back of the wagon, grateful for the thick straw strewn in the wagon’s bed and for the coarse, scratchy blankets the wagon master had thrown in for them. They huddled together, wrapping the blankets around themselves with their backs to the wind.

  “Do you ever get used to the cold?” Connor asked between chattering teeth.

  “Not really,” Piran replied. “But it all depends what you compare it to. After you’ve spent time in the mines, or out on the herring boats, where you’re frozen to the bone, this feels like a summer breeze.”

  Kestel slugged Piran in the shoulder. “Don’t lie to him. By comparison, summer gets quite tolerable, though it’s never as warm as in Donderath.”

  “Once you learn to dress for it, it’s not so bad,” Dawe said. His eyes were all that were visible beneath his fur-lined woolen cap and a heavy scarf that muffled his voice.

  “Speak for yourself,” Verran muttered. “The only time I’ve been warm since I’ve been here is when I’m practically sitting in the fireplace.”

  Blaine was quiet as they rode, taking the measure of their new companion. Connor had held up well, given his ordeal, though he looked haggard. He bantered carefully with Piran and the others, as if he were not yet sure how to take them. Kestel had clearly taken him under her wing, and Connor had reacted gratefully, but had not read any sexual invitation into her actions. Good so far, Blaine thought. Once we thaw him out, let’s see what else he knows about doings at court before the Great Fire. Old news to him is still fresh to us. More importantly, let’s see if he’s heard anything about Aunt Judith or Carensa. By the gods! What I’d give for word from home.

  “Welcome to the farm,” Verran said with a grandiose sweep of his arm when the wagon stopped. They climbed down from the wagon’s bed and Blaine paid the wagon master. As the wagon pulled away, Connor took in his new lodgings.

  “Once the wind dies down and we’ve got blood in our fingers and toes again, we’ll take you out around the back and show you the rest,” Dawe said, slinging an arm around Connor’s shoulders. “You’ll notice the garden here where Kestel keeps the gods happy,” he said with a nod toward the shrines to Charrot, Yadin, and the household gods. “If there are any you want to add, I don’t imagine she’d mind.”

  Piran and Kestel were the first inside. Piran went immediately to set a fire in the fireplace, while Kestel lit lanterns. The inside of the house was almost as cold as the outdoors, but the building sheltered them from the wind. They watched, fidgeting with cold, as Piran got the fire going and then hovered near the fireplace as flames licked at the logs.

  Kestel sighed and heaved a kettle toward the fireplace. “Water’s frozen solid,” she said. “Be a while before I can make tea—or dinner.”

  “I’d best go feed the livestock,” Blaine said once he’d warmed enough to have feeling in his hands. “They’ll be hungry and I’ll need to chip a hole in the ice for them to drink.”

  Kestel gave him an odd look but said nothing as he slipped out the back, leaving Connor and the others inside. Blaine hurried across the open ground to the barn, where the bleating of goats and sheep greeted him. Chickens clucked at the cold wind that gusted through the small building as he hurriedly entered and shoved the door closed behind him.

  The animals’ body heat kept the small barn well above freezing. Blaine got to work, glad that the activity would keep him warm, and relieved to have a few moments to himself. He went through the routine of the chores out of habit, free to let his mind wander.

  Connor said messengers were arriving at the castle when he left, with word that the manor houses had been hit first. Would Meroven have possibly thought to strike Glenreith? After father’s death and the scandal, I can’t imagine Glenreith being important enough to attract notice.

  Blaine was glad to see that the barn had stayed warm enough to keep the water trough from freezing, though a skin of ice had formed. He used a stick to break up the ice, making it easier for the animals to drink. Kestel had left plenty of feed, knowing that it would be a day before they could return, but Blaine checked to assure himself that the manger and feeding bins were filled. He put his back into mucking out the worst of the pens for the sheep and goats, promising them outdoor time at the warmest hours of the day. Despite the outside cold,
he was sweating, and he brushed a lock of hair out of his face with the back of his sleeve.

  The work warmed him, but did little to distract his thoughts. Carr would be nearly grown by now, Blaine thought, though he had difficulty picturing his younger brother as more than a child. Mari, the sister for whom he’d given up his freedom and his fortune, would be a woman of twenty-two now and he wondered, with a pang, whether she had managed to rise above his father’s actions to make a life for herself. Aunt Judith would be approaching her fifth decade, if fever and heartbreak had not claimed her.

  What about Carensa? he wondered. I begged her to forget me. Did she? Or did my shame ruin her life, too? None of the questions were new. Usually, Blaine struggled to put them from his mind at the edge of sleep or wakefulness, when he could not completely banish dreams of home. The appearance of the Donderan refugees made the old loss ache, like a badly healed wound that had never closed.

  Blaine washed his hands in cold water from a bucket and dried them on a rag, still lost in thought. He knew the odds were slim that Connor had heard any recent news about his family, but he couldn’t help hoping that there would be some tidbit. In the years since his exile, there had been a few letters from his aunt, but it was difficult—and expensive—to get such things delivered to Edgeland. All mail and packages for convicts or colonists had to be screened by Commander Prokief, and rumors abounded that he was as capricious as he was greedy when it came to censoring the incoming items.

  After the first year, the letters from Aunt Judith stopped coming altogether. By the time Blaine made a handfasting with Selane, Judith’s letters had not come for a long time. But as fond as Blaine had been of Selane, he suspected that he would not have mentioned the marriage to Judith, just as he was grateful not to know for certain whether Carensa had found someone else.

  The outside door opened and Blaine turned to see Kestel’s hooded form in the doorway. “Did you forget your way back to the house?” she asked. She closed the door behind her as the animals squawked their protest at the cold rush of air.