Donnel's Promise

by Mackenzie, Anna

  Nolan glanced about. ‘We probably are. With the insurrection barely put down, they’ll have no trust of strangers.’

  ‘If they had any to start with.’

  ‘Aye,’ he agreed. ‘The past two decades would leave a toll.’

  At a forge he dismounted to ask directions. The blacksmith’s lad eyed them sideways, his instructions hurried and vague. Nolan swung back into the saddle and led them along streets that should have been busy but were not.

  ‘Feels like the whole place is in mourning,’ Croft said. ‘If it’s always like this, it would be a dour place to live.’

  ‘It’s as if all the spirit has been crushed out of it,’ Risha said, wondering whether returning to this could have felt like a victory for Margetta. But at least the jailor of her childhood had been gone, leaving the girl free to rule in her own name.

  ‘This is the street.’ Nolan’s tone was reserved.

  Cobblers Lane was narrow and littered, many of its workshops closed while others looked not far from the same fate.

  Croft hissed a breath. ‘Business is a bit slow by the look of it.’

  ‘A lot of Fratton’s craftsmen were driven out during Somoran’s time. Hundreds resettled in the Otharn foothills south of Othbridge,’ Risha said.

  ‘You think they’ll come back now Somoran’s gone?’

  ‘Not with Fratton so unsettled,’ Fenn said, and paused. ‘Whatever that is cooking, it smells plenty better than everything else around here.’

  Risha sniffed. ‘Haryam stew. I hadn’t realised I was hungry.’

  ‘You’ve a good nose,’ Croft said. ‘Me, I can tell it’s likely tasty, nothing more.’

  ‘With luck we’ll be able to sample it,’ Nolan said. ‘This is the place.’

  The paintwork on the door was in need of attention, but someone had recently touched up the sign that swung above it.

  Nolan dismounted. ‘I’ll see if they have rooms — without mentioning Bratho. I suggest we drop that charade.’

  ‘Aye, we’d better,’ Croft said. ‘Else you’d have to find somewhere else to stay.’

  Ignoring him, Nolan disappeared inside. He wasn’t long. ‘Two rooms. I’ve asked for a meal as well. Croft, there’s a stable round the back.’ He turned to Risha. ‘I’ll go and scout out the castle. There’ll be news at least, whether or not I find Muir.’

  ‘Or Emett — as far as I know he’s still here. Would you recognise Margetta?’

  Nodding, he swung back into the saddle. ‘Don’t venture out before I get back. We don’t yet know how things stand.’

  ‘We might get news here,’ Fenn said, bending backwards to stretch the kinks from her spine.

  ‘Be discreet,’ Nolan warned.

  Fenn merely looked at him.

  The interior of the inn matched its exterior: ageing but with recent attempts to tidy it up that boded well. A heavily bearded man in his middle years stood behind the bar, a genial smile at the ready.

  ‘You’d be the guests newly booked then?’ He eyed them speculatively. ‘Your man said you’d likely want hot water.’

  ‘If it’s no great trouble,’ Fenn answered. ‘We’ve been on the road for some days.’

  ‘Already heating. Do you want to eat before or after?’

  Risha’s belly rumbled. The smell that wafted through the hatch was delectable.

  ‘We’ll clean up first,’ Fenn said. ‘One of our companions is seeing to the horses and won’t be long; the other has an errand to run. What say we eat in an hour?’

  ‘Whenever you’re ready.’ He turned to the hatch in the wall. ‘Dora!’

  The woman who appeared was slight, her fading hair arranged in plaited coils, her face careworn and careful. From her proprietorial air they took her to be Bratho’s sister. She led them upstairs.

  ‘Your menfolk will be in here,’ she said, waving towards a closed door as she led them to their room. ‘I’ve put you at the rear where it’s quieter. We’ve two other guests in at present, one downstairs, the other in the room across the hall.’

  ‘Is business good?’ Fenn asked.

  ‘We do all right.’ She pushed open a window, letting in warm air that carried the faint scent of flowers. ‘You’re above the garden. It’s not much, but it gives me pleasure. You’re welcome to use it if you wish.’

  ‘Are you Bratho’s sister?’ Risha asked. Fenn shot her a warning glance.

  ‘You know Bratho?’ Dora had paused in mid-stride.

  ‘He recommended we try The Red Door.’

  ‘Bless him. He’s my youngest brother, and a good deal younger than me — I suspect that’s obvious.’ Her newly revealed smile faded. ‘My other two brothers were driven out of Fratton. Bratho hasn’t had it easy.’

  ‘Things must be better now.’

  ‘Better than in Somoran’s day, you mean? They are that.’ Her tone was so flat it gave the impression she doubted her own words.

  ‘With Lady Margetta in charge—’

  ‘In charge, is it? Not surrounded by that pack of wolves.’ Waving aside further questions — or indiscretions — Dora hurried to the door. ‘I’ll leave you to settle. Garv will bring the water up as soon as it’s heated.’

  When Risha sank onto the bed it responded with a protesting creak. ‘By wolves, do you suppose she meant my father’s men or Fratton’s courtiers?’

  Fenn shrugged. ‘Hard to know. But they’ve faced more than one uprising, and there was the attempt on Margetta’s life last winter, as well as the bungled abduction shortly after she returned, both engineered by men who claimed themselves her advisors. You can’t blame the woman for feeling chary.’

  Risha sat up. ‘I didn’t know about the attempt on Margetta’s life.’

  ‘I don’t imagine they wanted it widely known. One of her ladies was killed — died defending her I heard — and several guardsmen with her.’

  ‘You’re well informed.’

  ‘Trade shifts gossip as readily as goods.’

  Risha wondered whether there was more to it than that. Fenn had known the truth of Risha’s parentage before she’d learned it herself.

  ‘Every time something like this insurrection occurs, it sets things back. Hard to trust anyone when you’re constantly being shown reasons not to trust at all.’ Fenn glanced out into the corridor before quietly closing the door. ‘At some point LeMarc will have to leave Margetta to manage her own fate. She has the goodwill of the people it seems.’

  ‘Is that enough to protect her from her own advisors and nobles?’ The parallels between their situations were suddenly stark. ‘Fenn, does it have to be this way, with constant scheming and battles? In my grandmother’s day, was it different?’

  ‘In Havre it was. Your grandparents were born into a time of stability. Goltoy saw an end to it.’

  ‘But why? Surely Westlaw should have been enough to satisfy him?’

  ‘There’s a greed in men that can’t be explained. Some have it, others don’t. I’d guess Goltoy won’t be content till he controls the whole of Elgard, and perhaps not even then.’ She poured water from the ewer and bent to splash her face and neck. ‘How’s your chest? You’ve been coughing less these last few days.’

  It was true. ‘I’m fine.’ Risha stared from the window. ‘I hope Nolan isn’t long. Now that we’re here, I wish we could just …’ She trailed off. Beyond the roofs of the neighbouring buildings she could see the ridgeline of what might have been the capped sentry’s walk atop a wall. ‘Are we far from the castle, do you know?’

  ‘I don’t.’ Fenn wiped her face and handed Risha a towel. ‘You might want to look a little less like a traveller’s waif when we go visiting.’

  Risha dipped her hands in the basin, sunlight from the window turning the water to jewels in her cupped palms. ‘I hope Gorth has explained how it is that we’re here while Lyse and Ciaran are not.’

  ‘I don’t doubt Nolan hopes so, too.’

  She looked up, water dripping from her nose and chin. ‘What do you mean?’


  Fenn’s jaw moved as if she was rolling words around inside her mouth. ‘Have you not noticed that he feels it a defeat that you escaped Bray by subterfuge?’ she said at last.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Men tend to prefer glory to discretion.’

  ‘That’s foolishness.’

  ‘There’d be plenty who’d call that truth, but likely none of them men,’ Fenn answered dryly.

  By the time Garv arrived with water for the tub that sat in a curtained corner of the room, Risha had scoured her saddlebags for a comb and tolerably clean, if rumpled, dress. It was months since she’d seen her father — and he was not her only concern. She soaped her hair, thinking about the last time she’d seen Margetta and Emett: it had been the day they departed for Fratton, well over a year ago now. Would they have become strangers to one another? It was longer yet since she’d seen Muir.

  The dress she wore had once been Lyse’s best. She smoothed the skirt ineffectually and ran her fingers through her short hair.

  ‘Why so jumpy?’ Fenn asked.

  ‘I’m not sure what it will be like, seeing them all again. So much has happened since.’

  ‘To you as much as them. Most likely it’ll seem as if no time at all has passed.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Though she envied the woman’s prosaic calm, Risha could not find it in herself.

  Croft, damp-haired and wearing a clean shirt, was waiting downstairs. Nolan had not yet returned.

  ‘Give him a chance, lass,’ Croft murmured, answering the look on her face.

  ‘Will you take your meal now or wait for your friend?’ Garv asked.

  Hunger won out, and they were not disappointed.

  ‘That was delicious,’ Risha told Dora as she cleared their emptied bowls. ‘I haven’t tasted a proper haryam stew for too long.’

  The little woman cocked her head. ‘I didn’t take you for a northerner, but you won’t find that dish in the south.’

  ‘It’s a taste never forgotten. Do you ever add whole wild onions to the sauce?’

  ‘Not here. I’ve heard Westlarns add onions and all manner of things. Where are you from?’

  Risha hedged. ‘Near Polton, but I left years ago.’

  ‘And whatever made you do that?’

  Risha shrugged. ‘I found work with the traders who visited each year. When they went south, I went with them.’

  ‘I bet that broke your mammy’s heart,’ Dora said.

  ‘She’d died years before,’ Risha said truthfully. ‘But there was a woman who looked out for me; I suspect I broke hers a little.’ Doubly so, in that her own departure had led to Emett’s soon after. ‘I hope to see her again before too long,’ Risha added.

  Dora’s frown eased. ‘Is that what brings you this way? You’re going home?’

  The question drew an answer more truthful than Risha had intended. ‘I’m not sure I know where my home is.’

  ‘I don’t understand all this travelling folk do,’ Dora said. ‘Well, I suppose I do. Enough decent folk packed up and left Fratton.’

  ‘During Somoran’s time? Are many returning?’

  ‘Not enough.’ Dora balanced their empty plates on her forearm. ‘Can I offer you cake to finish?’

  ‘I never say no to cake,’ Croft assured her.

  ‘Be careful what you say,’ Fenn muttered, once Dora had retreated to the kitchen. ‘All information has a buyer, especially here.’

  Risha glanced around. At the bar Garv was drying tankards while one of their fellow guests ate quietly in the corner. She shrugged. ‘Maybe so, but the best subterfuge is based on truth.’

  Croft gave an appreciative grunt.

  Fenn frowned. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Barc, I think. Or Timon.’

  When Dora set slabs of seed cake and a jug of creamy custard before them, Croft didn’t hesitate.

  It was delicious, but after two bites Risha pushed her plate toward Croft. ‘I can’t manage it. You can have mine if you want.’

  ‘Wouldn’t say no,’ he mumbled through a mouthful.

  She caught Fenn’s eye. ‘Do you suppose Nolan’s all right? We’d have no way of knowing if he got into difficulty.’

  ‘He’s big enough to take care of himself.’

  Risha lapsed into silence, her eyes following Garv as he lit the lamps that hung at either end of the bar. The long northern twilight was beginning to fade.

  Croft finished the cake, burped and leant back in his chair. ‘That was one fine meal. If that woman wasn’t already married, I’d offer on the spot.’

  ‘Ignoring the small matter of whether she’d have you,’ Fenn said.

  Dora returned soon after, smiling an acknowledgement to Croft’s effusive praise. ‘Your friend had best be back soon,’ she said as she gathered their plates. ‘You know there’s a curfew after dark?’

  ‘We didn’t,’ Fenn answered, ‘but someone will likely tell him.’

  Risha glanced toward the window. The sky beyond had turned a deep shade of lilac.

  ‘You’d best hope it’s not the city guard. A night in the cells wouldn’t be the best introduction to Fratton. Though they’re not as bad as they were, or so they say.’

  She was halfway across the room when the door opened. ‘There you are then, just in time. I’ll fetch your meal, shall I?’

  Nolan thanked her and sauntered toward them.

  ‘You took your time.’ Risha’s questions overflowed. ‘Did you see them? Are they well? And Gorth’s news: did they mention it?’

  Nolan pulled out a chair and sank into it. ‘It’s never so simple.’ He took the tankard of ale Croft offered.

  ‘You know there’s a curfew?’ Fenn asked.

  ‘The guards at the castle gate were quite informative on the topic, if no other. You’ve eaten?’

  ‘Aye, and worth the wait,’ Croft assured him.

  Risha’s impatience got the better of her. ‘How is it not simple?’

  He met her eyes. ‘I didn’t see them. Ah, that does smell good.’

  ‘Believe it,’ Croft said, as Dora placed a laden plate in front of Nolan.

  ‘There’s seconds if you want and cake to follow,’ Dora said. ‘You met no trouble? We were concerned you might not be aware of the curfew.’

  ‘If I’d been caught on the wrong side of it, the worst would surely have been missing out on such a meal as this.’

  Dora dimpled in response to his smile. Fenn rolled her eyes.

  ‘Where have you been then?’ Risha demanded, as soon as the woman was out of earshot. ‘You’ve been gone hours. I thought you must have found my father at least.’

  ‘The sergeant I spoke to was quite specific: no one gets into the Keep without a pass. In other circumstances I’d applaud them — they’ve had enough trouble of late. But it doesn’t help our situation.’

  Risha slumped back in her chair. Her father had no idea she was here. She felt like a spring unwound.

  ‘Can we get a message in somehow?’ Fenn asked.

  ‘If we knew who to trust.’

  Dora returned in the midst of a thoughtful silence.

  ‘Don’t hurry yourself, but it’s the last slice and Garv was threatening to eat it himself.’ She set a plate in front of Nolan.

  Risha drew a breath. Straws were all they had to clutch at. ‘Have you ever met a trader called Marit?’

  Dora turned, her head cocked to one side. ‘Big man, with a beard?’

  Risha nodded.

  ‘They’ve stayed here once or twice. Was it him you worked for?’

  ‘A few years ago now.’ She could feel Nolan’s disapproval, though his expression remained bland. Dora’s eyes were bright and intent as a bird’s.

  ‘One of the other traders came from FrattonSeat; last time they came through he stayed on here, I heard.’

  ‘That could be. What’s his name?’

  ‘Sulba,’ Risha lied.

  Dora’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Not a name I know. It doesn’t sound Frattonese.’


  Risha endeavoured to look disappointed. ‘Perhaps he’s moved on again. There’s a saying among traders — once a traveller, always a traveller.’

  ‘I believe it. You might ask Garv about your friend. He gets about more than me.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Risha said.

  ‘And some people go by more than one name, of course. It can make them hard to find.’

  As soon as she disappeared within the kitchen Nolan turned a cool glare on Risha. ‘We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile.’

  ‘We’re also supposed to be finding a way to get a message to Donnel or Margetta. And she knows Barc, that much is clear.’

  ‘Indeed. And is that good or bad? We can’t afford to take risks.’

  She raised her brows. ‘I’d say we can’t afford not to.’

  ‘Risk or not, it’s clear Dora knows something,’ Fenn said.

  ‘So do we,’ Risha said. ‘The Red Door is an inn that Marit believes safe. And that is information worth having.’

  Fratton’s keepers

  Though it was barely past dawn when they made their way to the outer gates of the Keep a line of petitioners was already waiting. Most seemed to carry passes, but at least half were turned away regardless.

  ‘Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourselves,’ Nolan said.

  Over breakfast Risha had argued that she and Fenn might stand a better chance of talking their way through the gates, but she was beginning to doubt it would prove true.

  When they inched their way to the front, the guard didn’t hesitate. ‘No pass, no entry. Step aside.’

  ‘How do we get a pass?’ she asked.

  ‘Not my problem. Next.’

  As they were jostled aside an elderly man spoke softly. ‘Castilian is your best option. Are you traders or looking for work?’

  ‘Neither,’ she said. ‘I’m trying to find a friend who used to work here.’

  He looked doubtful. ‘Long ago? The dungeons were cleared when our lady returned.’

  ‘No, since then.’

  ‘Then you’ll need to get your friend to secure a pass from within.’

  ‘Is there work in the kitchens, do you know?’ Fenn asked.