by John Donlan
Luscard had never heard his father speak this way before, and it gave him pause. There was glory to be had in self-sacrifice, just as there was in distinguishing ones self in war. Perhaps even more. It was something worth considering. He nodded.
“I understand, father,” he said. “And we will speak no more of it. We Crows must stand together.”
Gadmar smiled broadly. “I am glad to hear you say it, Luscard. The days ahead will be difficult, and we must count on one another if we are to get through it. Now, you really should get some sleep, as must I.”
Luscard reached over the table briefly to clasp his father's hand, then turned and strode from the tent. He paused outside for a moment and let the rain wash down against him. He thought about what his father had said, about the sacrifice they must make for the betterment of the kingdom. It was a worthy goal, perhaps, but a naïve decision when it came down to it. War was inevitable – he was certain of that - and what worth would their sacrifice be when the kingdom would be plunged into strife eventually anyway? Would it not be better to stand tall now, when they still could?
His thoughts collided, fought with one another as he made his way back to his own tent.
Fourteen
Needra waited until the door had closed then opened her eyes slowly. The old woman that had come in to leave food had spent longer than expected, pottering around the room, muttering to herself. Needra had been forced to keep her body still and her breathing deep and even to feign sleep until the woman had left. It had not been easy. She was still exhausted, despite having spent almost two full days sleeping and a further two days pretending to sleep. It had been the only way to avoid the questions that would inevitably come from her new captors.
That was how she saw them. No matter their apparent kindness and concern for her well being, they were not going to let her go. She was the enemy, a Tho'reen, at least as far as these people were concerned.
So she had made herself unavailable, waiting for her chance to make her escape.
She was alone now. The old woman had left and even her footsteps in the hall outside the room had faded away, leaving just silence. Needra climbed from her bed and let her bare feet touch the floor. She glanced around the room briefly, but there was no sign of her shoes. It did not matter. She would find shoes once she was away from this place and free once more. Now that she’d had a taste of freedom again, no matter how dreary it had been, she wanted it more fiercely than she had ever wanted anything before.
The door was unlocked. That came as a surprise to Needra, but when she really thought about it, it made sense. They thought she was asleep, unconscious, recovering from her ordeal in the swamp. Why lock the door against a person who had no real chance of escaping? And besides, they were not really worried about her getting out of the room, not when she was in the heart of the castle, with guards patrolling the halls and the courtyards. She smiled grimly to herself. They had underestimated her.
She turned the handle and stepped out into the dim hall beyond. The stone was cold on her bare feet, but she paid it no mind. She was used to much worse. There was a door to her right and another at the far end. A window on her left looked down over the grounds of the castle. She went to it and peered out, and found herself staring not down, but out over the turrets and sloping roofs of the castle, past the wall that surrounded it, beyond the tops of the houses in the huge city and out to where the trees could be seen in the distance. Freedom. It seemed so far away. But Needra was determined to make it. If she could get out of this prison first.
She ignored the door on the right, believing it to be a storeroom or another bedroom, and instead made her way to the far end of the hall. She smiled to herself when she saw that she was right. Another passage lay beyond, this one leading to a set of spiral stairs that wound down to the lower levels of the castle. And hopefully to the way out.
She had never been inside a building like this before. Most of the buildings in the cities in Tho'reen were built over a single storey, spread out to make use of the vast space available. The rooms were all huge and open, with windows everywhere so that the eternally bright sun could stream in and fill the rooms with light. They were often decorated with flowers and plants, too. In the desert, nothing grew in the endless sands away from the rivers, and so the Tho’reen liked to take advantage of the green whenever they could. This place was very different; it was gloomy, cold, draughty, and the windows were filled with glass. The thick walls were made of heavy grey stone; for defence, she assumed. It all made her realise just how far from home she really was.
Though she had been barely awake when the man and his sister had brought her into the castle, she still remembered the route they had taken. Mostly. They had brought her here, up these winding stairs. To the servants quarters, she had heard one of them say. There were no servants in Tho'reen; those who served did so unwillingly as slaves.
She began to descend, keeping herself as close to the outer wall as she could so that she had a wide view of the space below. Not that it made much difference because she would be able to hear anyone climbing up long before she saw them. It made her feel safer though, and she did it unconsciously, an ingrained survival instinct that had always served her well in the past.
At the bottom of the stairs was another door. This, too, was very different from the place she had lived in Tho'reen. There, doors were rare. Most of the rooms in the villa of her master had been linked by decorative arches. Only the treasury and private bedrooms of the family had doors. Her own room did not have one. It was open to all.
Beyond the door was a fairly short passage, and several other doors. One of them, she knew, opened into a large hall. The heart of the castle. She needed to go through that to reach the outer walls. She opened the door and passed beyond.
The hall was huge, with a ceiling that stretched up to the very top of the castle; one of the few rooms in the entire structure that occupied both storeys. In the middle of the room was a wide space that was filled only with four thick columns to support the roof. There were two fireplaces here, one on the left side of the room and another on the right. She had never seen a fireplace before. The Tho’reen had no need to artificially heat their buildings. The desert was hot enough as it was, and the sandstone walls of the structures retained the heat during the night, when the air grew colder. At the end nearest to the door she had entered through was a small, raised wooden platform, on top of which was a long wooden table. Several high-backed seats sat behind the table.
She did not know for sure what the room was used for, but she had a good idea. This was where the lord of the castle would come to hold audiences. She pictured him in one of those grand seats, looking down over his subjects, lording over their lives as though they belonged to him. Her lips curled up in disgust. She knew first hand how the noble classes viewed the common people. Like animals, or worse, like insects that they could crush underfoot. She had no reason to believe that the lord of this place would be any different. Men, she felt, were much the same the world over.
Needra scurried forward as silently as a mouse and made for the door on the far side of the room. She vaguely remembered passing through there on the way in. A short cut, the man who caught her had said. She assumed that meant there were other ways in and out, but she was not willing to risk trying to find one of them. So far, she had been lucky to avoid any guards; if she started to wander the place she was increasing her chance of being caught again.
She was almost to the door when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching on the other side. She froze, heart suddenly pounding in her chest. If they caught her now, they would lock her up for sure. She would never have another chance to escape. She had to hide, but where?
She glanced around frantically, eyes searching for a means to keep herself out of view. But there were precious few such places in the room. It was large, barren, empty... except for the table. It was a poor hiding place, but it was the only place available. Needra darted for it, and barely mad
e it below before the door opened, skirting beneath the draping cloth and out of sight.
She had no idea who had entered. The only thing that she was certain of, was that it was more than one person. She had heard multiple sets of footsteps, and now, as the strangers spoke, her suspicion was confirmed.
“She is gone, my lord. The room was searched, but... her door was open. She may be far from here by now.”
“No, no, she has not left the castle. There was not enough time. Mother Renton went to feed her less than an hour ago.”
Needra recognised that voice. It was the voice of the man from the swamp, the one who had brought her here. She held her breath, listening. She understood the words. Her master had insisted she learn the language of this land if she was to accompany him. He feared she may be needed to serve some of the foreigners, and would not have the stain of a misunderstanding when she failed to comprehend a command. She had understood him back in the swamp, too, but she had been wary, as she was now. She regretted her moment of weakness, when he had pleaded with her. If she had stayed strong and not surrendered, she would still be free now.
“I will have the men search the walls from top to bottom, my lord. If she is still here, she will not escape.”
“Do not harm her!” The words were a command, sternly given. “She is scared, terrified even. She probably believes us the same as those who held her as a slave. Those who removed her tongue. She is important, and I need to speak to her urgently, so do no harm, is that understood?”
“It is, my lord.”
The first speaker hurried away. Needra heard his footsteps vanish through one of the doors.
She was confused. For a moment, she had thought she heard sympathy in the voice of her captor. Compassion, even. Almost as though he was worried over her safety. She shook her head and curled her lips up in derision at her own foolishness. He was not concerned for her, he was concerned about losing a source of information. He wanted something from her, that was all.
She waited in silence for him to leave and was rewarded a few moments later when she heard his footsteps cross the floor back towards the door he had entered through. When she was sure he was gone, Needra crawled out of her hiding place and pattered quietly across the hall. She pressed her ear to the door but could hear nothing on the other side. Just to be sure, she waited for a few moments then inched the door open and stepped through.
The woman she had met in the swamp was standing in the passage beyond the door, staring through a window. She was alone, which was some small relief. As the door opened and Needra appeared, the woman turned and gave a gasp of surprise.
Needra would have screamed if she had not suddenly felt her heart lurch painfully into her throat. She was found, caught again like a rat in a trap. Without thinking, she turned, yanked open the door once more and rushed through it.
“Wait, please... Wait!” The woman was coming after her. Needra could hear the soft patter of footsteps. She didn't wait, she hurried back the way she had come, desperate to find another way out. She made for a door on the far side, not caring where it led, only that it was away from here.
“I am not going to hurt you.” The woman stepped into the great hall. Needra glanced back at her, saw her hitching her dress up above her ankles so that it did not hamper her progress. She was running, but not nearly fast enough. Needra was quick and agile, and not burdened by heavy clothes like the strange woman was.
Needra turned away again and put on a burst of speed, but it was already too late. The door she was running towards swung open and two guards stepped through, both armed with drawn swords. Needra swerved, made for the door she had initially entered through, but that one was blocked now, too, as fresh soldiers emerged from it. She was surrounded.
“There is no need to run,” the woman told her. She had stopped in the middle of the room, hand held out palm first in a gesture of placation. “We mean you no harm, truly. We only want to speak.”
Needra was panting, casting her gaze from side to side in search of a way out, any way out. But there was none. She was trapped again, a rat cornered by the cat with nowhere left to run.
She felt a tear course down her cheek as she dropped to the ground and wrapped her hands around her knees. She could sense the guards closing in on her, ready to restrain her once more, but she didn't care. She was thinking about how close she had come to blessed freedom, only to have it torn away from her once more.
“Hold!” The woman's command was obeyed instantly, the guards coming to a stop several feet away from Needra.
She looked up as the woman approached. She shrank back nervously, but there was no hint of malice in the woman's movements and voice. Nothing to suggest that she meant any harm. Yet Needra had suffered for too many years for her to truly trust anyone's motives. Especially here, where the lords ruled supreme. She cowered back fearfully.
The woman knelt at her side. “You poor thing,” she said softly. “I cannot imagine what you must have endured for the fear to clutch at you so strongly. But you must understand, we are not like your former masters. We do not seek to enslave you, or keep you prisoner...” The woman paused in her speech as though suddenly realising what Needra was feeling.
“That is it, isn't it? You are afraid that it is all going to begin again. Your life of slavery. But that is not so. You are not a prisoner here. Your door was open, it is how you were able to leave. And you can do so again any time you wish it. Even now, if you desire it. I will not stop you. The guards will not stop you. But I ask you – no, I plead with you – stay. Listen to what my brother and I have to say. We need your help, but we will not demand it. If you wish to go after hearing us out, then you can do so. Please.”
Needra stared at the woman with suspicion. Was it all true? Could she simply get up and walk out right now?
She glanced at the guards, but they had not moved. Their swords were lowered and they were standing to the side placidly, unmoving. Watching, but giving no indication that they would make any attempts to stop Needra from leaving.
She got up slowly and took several deep breaths before turning to the woman. She gave one slow, uneasy nod of her head. She was still as wary as a newborn lamb, but there was something comforting about the stranger. Needra believed her. Why would she lie? If Needra was to be made a captive again, the guards could have restrained her with ease.
The woman smiled and got to her feet. She looked to the guards. “Leave us. I will escort her back to her room.”
The guards hesitated, worried about leaving their lady alone with what they obviously considered a wild and dangerous animal. Needra could not resist giving them a thin, twisted smile.
“That is a command,” the woman insisted. “Leave us.”
Finally the guards obeyed. They bowed stiffly, turned on their heels and left.
The woman beckoned to Needra. “Please. Come with me back to your room and eat. You must be hungry. All those days alone, in the swamp. They took their toll. You are far too thin and wasted, and even though I can see how pretty you are now that the mud is gone, you will look far better once you have a little more meat on your bones. Afterwards, I will explain to you why your aid is so important. When I am done, you can decide what you wish to do for your future. You can stay or leave, the choice is all yours.”
Needra made no complaint as the woman led her away from the hall and back up to her room.
Fifteen
Darius stood in the corner of the small room, frowning as his sister spoke to the girl quietly and tenderly. Torelle was sitting at the table with their guest, watching as the girl devoured a plate of food – meat, potatoes and a generous heaping of vegetables - and gulped at the wine they had provided. Though the stranger still seemed ill at ease and nervous, ready to bolt at any moment, he had to admit that his sister seemed to be winning the girl over. But it was going to take time to set the girl fully at ease.
And that was the reason for his frown. He feared that whoever had committed the massacre in
the swamp would get away, or worse, do the same thing again. He had a strong suspicion that the former worry had already happened; it had been days, after all, and whatever trail there might have been had gone cold. But there was still a chance, if this young ex-slave could tell them what they needed to know.
That alone was going to be difficult. The girl could not speak, and though he was now convinced that she understood their words, he doubted she had the ability to write them, too. So what options were left? If they were reduced to her communicating via hand gestures as he had done before, it was going to be a long, time-consuming process to discover what she had witnessed.
Torelle seemed to have a connection with the girl though, and that was a good start. He would have to put his impatience aside, and see what his sister could accomplish. As the young woman continued to eat, Darius beckoned to Torelle and then slipped out of the room into the hall.
His sister joined him a moment later, closing the door quietly behind her.
“She seems a little more at ease now, thanks to you,” Darius said softly, not wanting their visitor to hear the conversation.
“Perhaps. But I believe it will take some time for her to fully trust us.” Torelle sighed and looked at the door as though she could see through it to the girl beyond. A tender look crossed her face, but was replaced only a moment later by a look of worry.