It would take years to learn the language, adapt an alphabet to suit its sounds, and begin to write down the stories and learning of the culture. She said Gwytl was too difficult for anyone who had not grown up with it but surely a Vere-trained clerk could learn enough...or perhaps one could work with a native speaker... Gwynt was part of Elbany. Once I had the Roth’s library established, he might agree to let me spend part of my time in Gwynt. He might be pleased to have its language and history preserved. He might want me to go to Garland and Elbs beyond Rothbury as well, transcribing what could be learned of each province’s history, of stories and poems no longer remembered in Rothbury, and create books about Elbany for his library. I saw myself, horseback, parchment and ink in a pack behind the saddle, crisscrossing Elbany to record its history.
Someone coughed. My attention returned to the room, and I found Mistress Baynor’s gaze upon me, smiling knowingly.
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to clear my head. “Um—Ruth, what was Gwynt like?” Real curiosity edged out polite interest. “How did you meet Oliver?”
“It’s different than Ragonne. Cooler,” she fanned herself with a rueful smile, “and hilly. Mountainous, really. We raise sheep. Gwyntish wool is worn throughout Elbany. From what I’ve heard of Bruster, Gwynt is the part of Elbany most like it.” She went quiet. “How I met Oliver...that’s a long story. I ended up with Belenda and Douglas during the Ricardian war, and met Oliver when he came to Elbany to fight with them.”
I was surprised to hear melancholy in her voice. “Why is this memory sad to you?”
She sighed. “Everyone remembers Edwy. And I am sorry for his death. But I think no one but me recalls that his wife was killed in the ambush as well. She was a friend. We grew up together.”
“How—?” I began, but Ruth was looking at Oliver. I turned. He was leaning back in his chair, one arm hanging at his side. The other was on the table, one finger circling the rim of his cup. Ruth took his free hand. “Oliver?”
Slowly he turned his head to meet her gaze. “I feel very strange.”
Chapter XXIV
“Are you all right?” Ruth asked.
“Yes,” Oliver yawned. “I think so.”
Mistress Baynor moved her chair closer. “Oliver, Ruth was just telling us about growing up in Gwynt. She said they raise sheep.” She paused. “Were there sheep when you were a child?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’d never seen them before I came here. Strange creatures! Clouds with legs. The first time I saw a shearing...! That was very strange. They cut off the animal’s skin, without killing it.”
She laughed. “I suppose it might seem that way. There were many things here, I expect, that you had not seen before.” She was quiet. “What was it like, seeing Ragonne for the first time?”
“We were—” His eyes closed. “We were,” he began again, “coming here. Escaping. There was wind. So much wind, stinging my face, whipping water into my eyes. He told me to go below. The rocks…” His eyes flew open. “We hit the rocks.”
“The Margantes.” Mistress Baynor turned to me. “They must have been blown against the sea mountains.” She looked back at Oliver. “Escaping? From what?”
“They came against us.” His voice was flat. “My lord father had feared they would. There were screams. Outside. Then inside. lady mother—” His voice caught. “Ran into my room. Her hair was down. I’d never seen her hair down. It is a mark of honor among the Egol that women wear their hair braided and coiled around their heads. I had certainly never seen her run. Our persh was with her. They moved my bed. There was a door under it. He picked me up and we ran downstairs into the darkness.”
Ruth gripped his hand, staring into his face, but he seemed not to see her.
“Dark as it was, Skir ran hard, carrying me. We could smell burning. Then there was screaming again. He put me down. He stood still, listening, holding my hand so he wouldn’t lose me in the darkness. I don’t know where lady mother went. She wasn’t with us anymore. They’re burning the boats, he hissed. All the tall ships of Saradena are going to the fire.”
His mouth opened and closed soundlessly. All color had drained from his face. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps.
“I could barely hear him,” he finally spoke again. “He sounded as if someone had died. He picked me up and ran a different way. We came at last to the small harbor, the one north of the city. The crowds were not there yet. He chose a ship. We sailed west. No one had been west for many years, but we knew there were other lands across the wide water. He thought it safer to try our luck there than in Celedor or Carlomond.”
His gaze darted sightlessly around the room. Ruth clutched his hand in both of hers, her brow wrinkling as she watched him. He turned to her, his eyes finding and settling upon her, and slowly recognition and thought returned to them. No one spoke. Oliver’s eyes held his wife’s, and gradually his chest stopped heaving.
“Could I have water, please?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
Mistress Baynor filled his cup and handed it to him. He raised it left-handed, his right still held tight in his wife’s, and gulped.
“Well done, Baynor,” he said, somewhat later.
“Is there any more?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know that was rattling around in my head.” He drew breath, almost steadily. “But no, I don’t think so.” He was quiet again. “So I am from Saradena.”
Mistress Baynor lifted one shoulder. “As we guessed. But it is good to know for certain.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “But I don’t think we learned much helpful to Ragonne.”
“No.” I said. “We did.”
They looked at me as if they’d forgotten I was there. “It confirms several suspicions,” I went on. “You remember at least two harbors and many ships, which means Saradena is indeed a formidable sea-faring power.” I held up one finger. “We suspected there are other countries in the east, not just Saradena. Now we know. You named two of them. Carlomond and Celedor. ‘Carlomond’ was also mentioned in a book.” I raised a second finger. “We learned other things, things we hadn’t suspected yet. Saradena has its own language. You spoke two of the words: ‘persh’ and ‘Egol’.” I ticked off a third finger.
“Given the situation,” Mistress Baynor said, “I would guess ‘persh’ means something like ‘steward’ or ‘head servant.’”
“I agree.” I lifted another finger. “They’ve remembered Valenian. Their letter was in that language. We will be at a disadvantage there. They know our language but we do not know theirs.”
Mistress Baynor scowled. “If wonder if Oliver...?”
He laughed unsteadily. “There might be a word or two more we could shake loose but not a whole language.”
“But—”
“He’s right,” I said. “It’s unlikely he’d remember enough. He hasn’t heard it for twenty years.” I let my thumb slide out. “The last and most important thing we learned is,” I pulled my fingers into a fist, “Saradena has a weakness.”
I let the moment draw out, pleased to at last have found something to grasp.
“Well?” Mistress Baynor demanded. “What is it?”
“Internal strife.”
Ruth’s brows drew together. “How do you get that?”
But Oliver and Mistress Baynor were nodding. She tapped his arm. “She’s right. Your memory. That was an uprising. ”
“A successful one, I’d say,” he answered.
“All the better. The losing side will want revenge. I had guessed a household struggle but a wider conflict maks more sense.” She gestured at me, a sort of ironic salute. “Trust a Brusterian to see it first.” Her smile took any sting from the remark.
“Such things rarely happen once,” I said. “One ambitious lordling succeeds, and the others take note.”
“How does this help us?” Ruth asked.
I opened my mouth but Mistress Baynor spoke first. “It’s likely they’re not unified in their t
hreat against us, or are only superficially so.” She rose, going to the window, her fingers drumming the open shutters. “If we can learn more about the factions...perhaps make contact with the disgruntled nobility...”
“We weaken their hand, and strengthen ours,” Ruth said.
“You realize, of course, Oliver’s family most likely—” I halted at the bleak look on Ruth’s face. Oliver’s was gray. “...lost their holdings,” I amended hastily, and pointlessly. My first thought was clearly in Oliver’s mind already. “They surely would have come looking for you if they could.”
“If they lived but were banished, they would have been too impoverished to send a ship.” He looked into my eyes. “Is it your experience an overthrown lord or his supporters would be allowed to live?”
“No,” I answered. “Not if they can be found.”
Blue fire sparked, the first real hope since his fragment of memory had surfaced. “We were fleeing. I’m here. Some of us might have escaped.”
Ruth squeezed his hand. “If they’re alive, we’ll find them.”
***
“What did you give him?” I asked as we walked back to the palais.
Mistress Baynor turned her head. “Valern.”
“Not just valern.”
Her gait hitched. “No.”
“My herb knowledge is limited,” I said. “We know some things, but not as much as you Valenians. But I’ve seen valern used before.”
She hesitated. “Meroner.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“As far as I know it doesn’t grow outside Ragonne, not even in the other Valenian kingdoms. It’s helpful for improving memory. I haven’t heard of it being used to recover forgotten experiences. But it was harmless to try.” She nodded thoughtfully. “And worth it. I dared not hope he might remember so much.”
“Why didn’t you tell Oliver?”
“I can’t. Valern is one thing.” She raised a shoulder apologetically. “You know of it. You could recognize it growing?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Meroner is another matter. It is one of the most closely guarded of the ladies’ herbs.”
“Why?”
“It has other effects.”
“Such as?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.” Her gaze stayed firmly forward. “I trust you. But I can’t. Some vows are absolute.”
I stopped dead. “I told you about the Saradenian letter.”
She came back to me. “That’s different. I’d already guessed most of it.”
“I take my oaths as seriously as you do,” I hissed.
“Of course!” she hissed back, her nose close to mine. “But there is no benefit to anyone to breaking this one.”
“What about Oliver? You told them there would be no result except weariness.”
“That’s true. Meroner’s other effect does not work on men.”
“What effect?”
She glanced down the road. I braced like a stubborn horse. She tapped one foot. “It’s related to child-bearing,” she said, making an exasperated noise. “I won’t say anything more.”
“Oh.”
“Oliver will be fine. Now can we go back to the palais? I have been away longer than is advisable for a market trip.”
I scowled but began walking again, wondering if she’d lied, knowing I’d shy from that topic. “Will he?”
One corner of her mouth rose. “Bodily, yes. I promise.”
“I wasn’t thinking of that.”
“I know.” Her hands spread. “I’m not sure.”
“His family is probably dead.”
“Yes.”
We walked on. “If they’re not...”
She sighed. “They may not have come for him because they’ve thrown in their lot with the victors. He may find his people only to have to fight them.”
“Would he?”
Her eyes kindled. “You’ve already impugned his valor. Do not question his loyalty as well.”
I pressed on. “I know you want to believe so. But would he?”
Flames roared. Then she blinked, and they were gone. “I hope so. But who can say what they would do in his place?” She gave me a long stare. “What would you do, if the alliance between Bruster and Elbany failed?”
I shuddered and did not answer.
Chapter XXV
Mistress Baynor caught my arm before we parted on the stairwell. “Come to the kitchen later. We need to consider what we’ve learned. And what to do.”
“Very well.”
“I’ll cook something special.”
I mopped my brow in mock relief. “That will be a mercy. I’ve choked down my meals thus far from mere courtesy.”
Her fingers flashed a moderately rude Ragoni gesture, so fast I scarcely had time to recognize what I was seeing before it was gone, her smile letting me know how it was meant.
My lips were still curved in answer as I opened the library door.
***
I returned to the filthy books. Or tried to. As afternoon unwound I found it more and more difficult to keep my thoughts on the manuscript.
Why should I? I had searched for weeks, wasting precious time, and found almost nothing. Certainly nothing worth the time I had spent in Ragonne. I’d learned more about Saradena in one day from Oliver than I had in all my weeks of desperate reading, steeped in obscure Ragoni history and, worse, lurid imaginings. At least I hoped most of the lewd books were fancy rather than memory.
Wading through the muck would have been worth it if I’d found anything. I’d imagined myself saving Elbany. Fool. The lords were right to value swords above books. When an enemy came, you wanted a sword in your hand. Not a book. Certainly not a book about the energetic and improbable activities a man might perform if he found himself in the company of a woman, a goat, and a pot of honey.
I moved the book aside and let my head drop to the table. Not sleeping. Doing nothing. Which seemed consistent with my ability to help my new home in her need.
***
I heard the outer door open but didn’t raise my head.
“You didn’t come.” Footsteps approached. “What’s wrong?”
Mistress Baynor. I sat up, rubbing my cheek where it had pressed against the wood. “Why should I?”
Her brows shot up. “Why? We agreed to meet. To make plans. I cooked beef.”
“No. This.” I waved a hand at the room. “These.”
“The...books?” She sounded baffled.
I pulled the open manuscript closer. “Not just any books. Look. I’m reading...this...and what for?”
She leaned closer, her eyebrows climbing higher as she scanned the leaf. One finger tapped the picture. “Is that a goat?”
“I think so.”
“What’s that man...oh.” She closed the book. “Come along.”
“What?”
She grabbed my elbow. “With me. To the kitchen. Now.”
“But—”
She levered my arm up until I could either follow it or risk having my shoulder pulled out of joint.
***
“Now,” Mistress Baynor dropped me into a chair in the empty kitchen, “what’s the problem?”
“Me.”
She stepped to the table. “What do you mean?”
“I thought it would matter. I thought I could help.”
Her fingers drummed the wooden surface. “What have you done?”
“Done?” I laughed. “Nothing. Weeks gone. Nothing.” My elbows pressed down on the table until they hurt. “What I’ve been doing. It’s worthless. The Roth and Lady Elsbeth thought of Oliver. Orlo did. What did I do? Forgot him. So intent upon books. I should have visited him the day after I got here. And then left.”
“If you had, you would have learned nothing from him.” She lowered her head, her eyes level with mine. “Did you not hear me before? Oliver has been questioned. Many times. By the old king. By Philip. By me. Wit
h valern. Without it. He couldn’t remember. I only thought of using meroner last week. That’s not its usual service. Not even close. Nor am I persuaded meroner was the key.” Her gaze flicked upward. “The ship, the rumors, the churning of his worry did as much to unearth those remembrances as my herbs, although the herbs gave him a way to accept their return.”
“We learned more about Saradena from Oliver in two hours than I have found in two months. Two months.” I pressed my eyes into my palms. “Foolishness.”
“I completely agree.” When I looked up, her hands slapped hard on the table. “Comport yourself. We have work that will not wait.”
“You’re right.” I stood. “I need to leave.”
She caught my arm. “And go where?”
“I need a boat.” I tugged but she didn’t let go.
“Why?”
“To sail east.” The idea had come to me as we’d walked from library to kitchen. “I can’t find Saradena in books. Maybe I can find it in person.”
Her grip tightened as her head tipped back, a full-bodied laugh braying out. “Do you really believe the Roth, Logan—not Philip, I grant you, but Orlo—have not sent men to search?”
I stared. “Do you guess or do you know?”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
She waved an impatient hand. “Gathering information is part of my effort to advise Philip.”
“But...how? Boats?” My shocked mind stumbled from despondent shadows towards real thought.
“Logan stole one.” She ticked off one finger. “The Roth paid a Brusterian merchant to claim his boat had been damaged beyond repair. Orlo could not secure a Brusterian longboat but his man volunteered to set out in a coracle.”
“No.” My hands clapped to my ears and I barely resisted the urge to pull on them. “No. No. No one could be so foolhardily brave.” Brusterians were the only inhabitants of the Three Lands who sailed properly, but some folk made small skin-covered craft for river fishing. Four feet wide and barely a foot deep, a coracle had no hope of crossing from Elbany to Bruster, let alone taking to the open sea in search of Saradena.
“All the men who went volunteered.” She shook her head at my unspoken question. “None have returned.”
Homegoing (The Tall Ships of Saradena Book 1) Page 17