The Still

by David Feintuch

  “Let me see.”

  Reluctantly, he opened his fingers, to reveal red and oozing blisters.

  “Persuasion.” I spat the word. “You, soldier, bring ointment and a cloth.” The man looked to Tursel for confirmation, and it enraged me. I snarled. “Who commands here?”

  “Captain Tursel, sir.”

  Tursel said quietly, “The Prince commands overall. Go.”

  I studied Harg. His face drawn and sallow, he looked exhausted.

  “You’ve done wrong.”

  He nodded, but couldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Tell me.”

  The scout stammered in his eagerness to comply. “As I said, sir. They asked to switch places. I know I shouldn’t have ... we saw no harm, at the time.”

  “What reason did they give?”

  “They always drew the lot farthest from camp, and we owed them a change.”

  Tursel shouted, “The truth!”

  Harg cringed. “It’s true.”

  I pondered. His story was too simple, and some sense told me to be wary.

  Though we treated his burns, though I pleaded and Tursel blustered, we could get no more from him.

  For a long while, Varian said likewise. I treated him kindly, even had him brought a bowl of soup. He left it untouched. Despite all our efforts, his story remained the same.

  I thought to sit next to him, and took away the bowl that blocked my place. As I set it upon the trunk, my free hand passed over it, and a great weariness washed over me. For a moment I stood, hands outstretched, over the still liquid.

  Behind me, Tursel snarled, “You try the Prince’s patience. Confess, and be quick!”

  “Varian, the authority is mine to pardon or condemn you. Tell the rest.” Something pulled at my consciousness, and I tried to shake it away.

  “I’ve told—”

  My voice was low, insistent. “I would hear what’s missing from your story.” Why did I speak so? I felt a vague alarm.

  He cried, “I did no treason!”

  That was it. “I know.” As if soothing an unreachable itch, I repeated, “I know.” My eyes fastened on the unfortunate scout. “Tell me.”

  “Sallit—I’m sorry, Captain—he had bottles hid under the supply cart, and his platoon knew. He was afraid they’d steal his drink, unless he was posted near.”

  “Why did you care?”

  Varian’s eyes fell. “He shared with us.”

  Silence.

  Tursel blinked.

  I said, “Take him outside.” When we were alone I added, “Now it’s complete.”

  “You can’t be sure.”

  “As sure as I need be. Pardon the scouts, but don’t trust them again. Send them back to Cumber.”

  “If they’re Tantroth’s men they’ll flee.”

  “And then we’ll know. It’s no matter; they’ve done their harm.” I held his eyes until he assented.

  Back at our campfire, I wolfed down my stew, but Fostrow assaulted me before I’d finished. “What of the two soldiers you brought into our fold? Do we bind them for the night?”

  “Whatever for?” I looked across the fire, where the two wounded boys dozed under a blanket.

  “Do you covet a knife in the ribs, my lord? Hours past, they were bent on killing you.”

  “What would you do?”

  “Send them away, at the least.”

  I raised my voice. “Anavar, come here.”

  Obediently, the younger boy thrust off his blanket, circled the fire. As he came close, he stumbled. “Sorry, sire. I’m dizzy.” He touched his bandage.

  “Will you try to kill me in the night?”

  He looked startled. “No, sire.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “I swore to you, sire.”

  Rustin stirred. “Did you not likewise swear to Tantroth?”

  Anavar’s expression was bleak. “Yes.”

  “So, then?”

  He shrugged. “I did all I could; my loyalty to him is paid. You’d have killed me had I not sworn fealty.”

  Rustin said, “It’s that clear, in your mind?”

  A pause. “No, but it’s all I have.”

  My voice was gruff. “Have you weapons?”

  “I lost my pike, and they took my knife after I fell.”

  “Go to your blanket. I’ll trust your new loyalty, but don’t go prowling in the night.”

  “Aye, my lord.” He retreated.

  I yawned. “See? He said he wouldn’t kill me.”

  Rust snorted. “You risk Elryc as well.”

  I flared, “What, then? Cut his throat, as Herat would?”

  “No. Not that.” For a long while he was silent.

  Later, in the warmth of our bed, Rustin whispered, “I’d not have taken them as bondsmen.”

  I stirred. “Was I wrong?”

  “No.” A time passed. “Such gestures suit a king.”

  “I’m weary.” I settled my head on his shoulder, and slept.

  We crossed endless hills, and never saw Tantroth’s troops.

  Two days dragged past. Soushire was near, and Hester was determined to turn to Verein when the road split.

  Garst plodded alongside the cart. At first Anavar did the same, but within a day Genard had wangled a place for him on Hester’s wagon, where he himself rode.

  Elryc, after the attack, fastened himself to me and followed wherever Rustin and I roamed. He was full of questions, and brimmed with energy. I began to suspect his fear, but for his sake, made no mention of it.

  Where the road was wide enough we rode four abreast: Fostrow, Elryc, Rustin, and I. Tursel cantered his mare up and down the line, closing gaps, urging the guards to greater vigilance.

  At a pause, Anavar brought me water in a bucket. He set it down, offered me the scoop.

  “Thank you.” I drank, without dismounting. “Whose thought was this?”

  He colored. “The old woman’s.”

  “Dame Hester, to you.”

  “Aye, sire. Dame Hester. Sire, what will my duties be?”

  “I haven’t decided.” I scowled. “You would work?”

  His head came up proudly. “I ask no man’s charity.”

  “You ask not mine? Would you rather I let you starve, while you heal?”

  He flushed. “No, sire.”

  “Then hold your tongue. Back to the wagon.”

  When he was gone Rustin said mildly, “He only asked how he could serve you.”

  “Let him stay out of sight until I need him.”

  A sigh. “I’m glad the old Roddy hasn’t vanished entirely. I’d feel useless.”

  Elryc hid a smile, but not before I saw.

  I spurred Ebon, rode ahead.

  I needed two young bondsmen like I needed ... extra teeth. They were in the way. A nuisance. I brooded for much of the afternoon.

  When at last we stopped for the night I sent Garst to get fodder, and took Anavar aside. He was to fetch and carry, I told him, to help light fires, stir our soup, set our tents. Make himself useful round the camp.

  His manner was subdued but resentful. “My father is Duke of Kalb.”

  “And you’re bound as page to Treak, Tantroth’s cousin. So?”

  “Can you not find more fit work—”

  This, after saving his life? Where was the gratitude I deserved? “Do as I command, or flee and prove the worth of Eiber’s oath. I won’t chase you.”

  The boy sucked in breath, but his eyes never left mine. Perhaps I’d said enough. I let him be.

  Late at night, in the tent, Rustin barely listened to my tale. “We’ve more to worry about, Roddy. By morrow’s end we should reach Soushire’s realm. Best you send envoys.”

  “To say what?”

  “That you come peaceably, and would confer with her.”

  “If she refuses?”

  “As I told you days ago, leave without a quarrel, and try Groenfil.”

  Outside, wind howled, and I shivered. “If Soushire knows Uncle
Raeth’s contempt for her, she won’t join us for all the gold in the realm.”

  “She may not know. Send word we’re arriving, and we’ll decide how best to confront her when she’s in our sight.”

  I grumbled, “Easy for you to say. It’s not your crown we seek, or your Power that’s stolen.”

  We made ready for our last day’s ride. Genard raced up to me, stopped just short of knocking me down. “He’s gone, m’lord! I’ve looked everywhere.”

  I snorted. “Anavar? I figured as much.”

  “Var is helping Hester load. It’s Garst!”

  “Tell Captain Tursel.”

  He ran off, and I mounted, pondering.

  We rode in the middle of the column, guards at the ready, whether for Tantroth or Soushire, I couldn’t tell.

  When I caught sight of Hester’s wagon I beckoned Anavar to approach. He trotted to Ebon’s bridle, trotted between me and Rustin as we rode. “Did Garst tell you he was leaving?”

  He hesitated. “No.”

  “If he had, would you have warned me?”

  “My lord, I—no.”

  Rustin sucked in his breath at the boy’s audacity, but I approved of his spirit. Nonetheless, I glowered. “What shall I do with you?”

  Anavar panted from the exertion of keeping pace. “I did no wrong, sir.”

  “But you would have.” Knowing I sounded childish, I let it be. After a time, when he was well winded, I sent him back to the wagon.

  We wound our way from the hills onto a broad flat plain: the flats of Soushire. Only there, amid the well-tended fields did Tursel relax his guard, and join us on the wide dusty road to Castle Town.

  I looked for a discreet way to mention Garst’s disappearance, but Tursel saved me the trouble. “So your prisoner’s on the loose, sire. An oath lightly given, to escape his fate.”

  I slapped my saddle with a flash of irritation. “Tursel, what would you have done, in his place?”

  “Not let myself be taken.”

  “Say you were clubbed from behind, and woke in enemy hands.”

  “I’d expect death, and wouldn’t beg mercy.”

  Rustin intervened. “Is it not done, in war?”

  Tursel’s words were clipped. “Perhaps by others.”

  “But not by one so honorable as yourself.”

  The captain snapped, “At least I know what honor is. It’s not surprising the son of a traitor does not.”

  Rustin’s hand flew to his sword. “You dare—Sir, accept my chall—”

  “Enough!” Ebon startled at my raw scream. I soothed him. “Captain, leave us. Rust, be silent. No! I said to be still, and I meant it!” It was the first time ever I spoke to him so.

  In the afternoon couriers approached from Soushire’s Castle Town. To my surprise, the Duchess responded to our envoys with a note of welcome, bidding our escort to camp in her fields, and offering my personal party the hospitality of her citadel.

  Reading the scroll, Tursel frowned. “We shouldn’t be divided.”

  “She gives the usual assurances of safe passage.”

  “Words mean nothing.”

  I shrugged. “You can’t expect her to invite us all into her keep; she hasn’t the room.”

  “Then camp among us. Treat with her elsewhere.”

  Rustin. “She’d take it as insult.”

  “Roddy! Look!” Elryc rushed from the wagon, pointing down the road.

  I peered. Soldiers, our own. Wagons. And Garst.

  His walk was awkward, almost a limp, but purposeful. At last, travel-worn, his bandage awry, he came to a stop before me. From Hester’s wagon, Anavar watched wide-eyed.

  “Well.” It was all I could think to say. It brought no response. “Explain yourself.”

  “I ... came back.”

  “From?”

  “I crept off before dawn, to find my people. It wasn’t fair I should be your bondsman all my life, for answering my duke’s call.” His eyes darted about, as if seeking escape, then fastened reluctantly on mine. “But ... I gave my oath. Imps and demons would pursue me evermore, if I failed it. So ... I turned around, chased after you.”

  “After he reported our position to his regiment.” Tursel’s tone was cynical. “They set him to spy on us.”

  “I never found them. I gave up looking after a league, when I realized—”

  I cleared my throat. “Captain, your scouts searched and found no foes. How could Garst wander from camp and make contact, not knowing even where to look? I believe him.”

  “He’s not worth the risk.”

  “Garst, your return doesn’t excuse your flight. In future, recall your oath before you violate it. Rust, take him to Fostrow, have him thrashed. Hurry back; we have to decide about Soushire.”

  Rustin grabbed the youth’s arm.

  Garst cried, “Sir, I beg thy grace. I returned on my own, and—”

  With a sweeping blow, Rustin knocked him to the ground. “Now!” He hauled Garst to his feet, gave him a shove.

  The boy went, protesting loudly. Tursel watched their retreating backs. “You’ll be sorry.”

  “If so, it’s my concern.”

  We pressed on, eager to reach Castle Town before dark.

  Not long after, Anavar trotted over from our cart, summoning me to Hester.

  The old woman favored me with a cross look. “There’s a road a league hence, that will lead me west to Verein. No, don’t argue; I must see to Pytor. The question is, what of Elryc, and where will the girl ride?” She glanced back at Chela, who, as usual, seemed sullen.

  “Are you well enough for a horse?” It was the first time in days I’d addressed Chela directly.

  “Have you spare, for one lowly as me?” Her sarcasm dripped.

  “Answer!”

  “Yes!”

  I turned to Hester. “She’ll ride with us. As for Elryc, it’s not safe to take him to Margenthar’s lair.”

  I expected fierce argument, but all she said was, “I know.”

  “It’s not safe for you either.”

  Hester sighed. “I have no choice. I go, for my lady, and my boy.”

  My voice was strained. “Hester, my business is here.”

  For the first time in months, her voice was gentle. “You must seek the crown. My lady approves. With all her heart, she wished you to have it.”

  She leaned forward, gripped my wrist. “I leave Elryc in your charge. Swear by the True of Caledon that you will protect him and tend his needs.”

  “I’ve already sworn—”

  “To him, perhaps, but not to me!” Her visage brooked no refusal.

  I gave the oath, sitting on Ebon alongside the wagon.

  “Elryc wants affection, as well as food and drink. Will you give him that?” Her tone was wistful.

  I swallowed. “It’s not much in my nature. I’ll try.”

  “Be kind to Genard also. There’s good in him.”

  My lips were dry. “Is this farewell?”

  “For a time. I’ll be back, with Pytor.” She beckoned me close. “Take care to don clean clothes.” Her fingers tidied my hair as if I were a child. “And listen to Rustin. He has sense, for a boy. Now, that Tursel ...” Her glance flickered, to make sure we weren’t overheard. “Trust his loyalty, but not his wit.”

  “Is he Raeth’s man, or mine?”

  “He doesn’t know himself, I think. For now, it’s the same.”

  Anavar was near, so I changed the subject. “Will you ride alone?”

  “I’ve spoken to Tursel; he’ll lend a few soldiers to help speed my way. When we near Verein they’ll turn back.”

  I nodded.

  “Take care for Elryc!” It was a plea from her heart.

  Dismounting, I tied Ebon to the rail, swung aboard the cart. “Nurse ...” For a moment, I yearned to put my head in her lap.

  “Oh, Roddy.” Her hand darted out, pulled back. She cleared her throat. “You’re a babe no longer.” She busied herself with bags and boxes. “Go. Make yours
elf King.”

  Chapter 28

  THE CASTLE WAS SET on a hill, as strong places usually are. Its walls were immensely thick and well fortified for so small a place. I’d never been to Soushire before, and had expected greater.

  From the hill opposite, I scrutinized the fluttering banners, trying to remember from my heraldry whether the Lady of Soushire hinted, in her displays, of her alliances.

  In Council she had acquiesced to Margenthar’s regency once Uncle Mar proved he had the votes. I wasn’t sure what Mar had given her for a sop, but, knowing Uncle, it was something she coveted.

  On the other hand, Uncle Mar was on the verge of losing Stryx. Would she keep faith in his promises?

  I sighed. Politics were too complex.

  Rust and I—and Elryc, who kept tugging at my arm, demanding to take part—chose an honor guard large enough to put up a show of defense if need be.

  As we rode down to Soushire, Garst crouched on the supply cart, his shuddering breaths still relapsing into occasional sobs. Whatever beating Fostrow had given him was less than he deserved. Why be merciful, if the beneficiary felt naught but resentment? At least Anavar seemed cool to Garst’s distress.

  Our approach to the castle was somewhat less than orderly; the stateliness of our column was marred by the carts overflowing with our wounded, and the few prisoners of Tantroth I’d prevented Tursel from murdering.

  Rustin muttered, “Wave, Roddy. She’s in front, in the green cloak.” Obediently I waved to the plump Duchess, surrounded by her retinue.

  Soushire’s speech of welcome and my gracious reply were as short as ritual allowed. Her chamberlain indicated which fallow fields our military was to occupy, and our honored few trooped inside.

  I presumed her invitation to the castle included my entire personal party, and brought Elryc, Rust, Chela, Genard, and Fostrow into the keep. For good measure I included my two new bondsmen, who’d at least be useful as message runners. If bedchambers were lacking, they could sleep on benches in the hall.

  In our small and dingy chambers Rustin and I bathed, scrubbing each other’s backs in an intimacy I was beginning to find agreeable. One needed to be touched, from time to time. To live otherwise was too lonely, too remote. After, we dressed in our better regalia, and awaited a summons to dinner.

  Rust sat on the bed next to me, his lips at my ear. “Assume we are overheard in anything we say.”

  “Of course.” I raised my voice. “If you can hear us, tell the Lady we’re grateful for her hospitality.”