by Susan Murray
“I’ll hold them here, you go.” Weaver shouldered the freemerchant aside. Knocked off balance, Marten staggered towards the window and Weaver planted himself squarely in front of the doorway.
“Weaver, no!” Alwenna shouted without ever meaning to.
“Just go,” he shouted back.
The tapestry beside Alwenna collapsed in a burst of sparks and flying embers and she had to jump away from the window, landing on the cobbles outside. A sword clattered down nearby as Marten dived through after her, his sleeve in flames. He rolled on the ground and Alwenna wrapped her hands in her cloak and beat at the burning fabric. Smoke billowed from the window now, and shouts were going up around the palace.
Marten sat up, coughing. He pushed himself to his feet and retrieved the sword, his eyes on the window.
With a clatter of hooves three horses charged into the yard. Erin rode the middle one and was leading the other two by halters. “These were all I could get. There’re soldiers everywhere.”
Alwenna grabbed the halter Erin tossed to her. Marten sheathed his sword and legged her up onto the horse’s bare back, then looped the end of the halter round to form makeshift reins.
“What about Weaver? We can’t leave him.”
“He knows how to look after himself.” Marten looped the halter of his own horse round and vaulted on, but he waited, his eyes on the broken window. Thick black smoke poured from the room. From inside there was a sharp cracking sound and a fresh shower of sparks issued from the window, followed by a burst of flames. All three horses spun away from it. Alwenna had to grab the mane to stay seated. Marten brought his horse round in a circle, but now flames roared from the window as the timber dais must have caught alight. He shook his head and turned his horse away. The horses needed no urging to break into a canter and they dashed out through the stable yard.
Everyone there was scrambling for buckets and water. In the confusion no one challenged them. The gates to the palace stood wide open to admit a group of farmers’ wagons. They galloped for the gates, their horses’ hooves clattering over the cobbles. A single guard at the gateway stepped forward but Marten rode straight for him. Sunlight glanced off the freemerchant’s sword and the man fell aside.
A moment later they were free and galloping along the road that led north.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO
They didn’t stop and didn’t speak until the road had climbed off the plain where the summer palace was situated. There was a cluster of trees by a small stream and they halted there. Alwenna slid from her horse’s back, legs almost buckling beneath her as her feet touched the ground. Her face was tight and gritty where tears had been whipped dry by the wind. Erin took her horse’s halter and tied it to the tree with the other two. Finally Alwenna turned and looked back along the empty road. A haze hung over the plain, but rising through it was a dark column of smoke, sluggish, belying the intensity of the flames that were devouring the summer palace.
Alwenna’s eyes stung. The stench of smoke filled her nostrils again and tickled at her lungs, making her cough. She pushed the vision away, only to find it left her mind, like her heart, desperately empty. She made no objection as Erin led her to the small stream and sat unresisting on the bank as the girl bathed her blistered hands and cleansed the cut on her throat, then tore her own voluminous headscarf in two so Alwenna might also be protected from the sun.
Alwenna sank her hands into the shallow water. It was clean and pure. It brought her comfort, but showed her nothing of Weaver’s fate.
Blisters were forming on Marten’s arm where his sleeve had caught fire. Erin helped him remove his tunic so they could bathe his arm in the cold stream. As she did so the dagger slipped from his belt, falling on the ground between him and Alwenna. The stones were dull and lifeless now, the runes barely visible.
“We should leave that thing behind.” Alwenna’s voice was as dry and cracked as she felt. “Bury it where no one will find it.”
Marten winced as the water splashed over his burned skin. “Your instinct is good, but there may be safer places.” He straightened up, cautiously rolling his tattered shirt sleeve down over the blisters. “And there is the possibility we may need it again.”
“Hasn’t it done enough damage?” Alwenna glared at it. Was it her imagination or did the gemstones deepen in colour? Some trick of the sunlight through the trees?
“That’s the problem, sister. We may need to draw upon it to undo such damage as we can.”
“What could we possibly hope to undo?” The smoke, the flames? Weaver? Tresilian’s dead stare? Or Goddess forbid, his father’s? Alwenna shivered.
“You saved my life today, sister. Now I would save your soul.”
Alwenna’s eyes turned to the knife again. The gemstones glinted now. Such a pretty thing.
“We should wrap it up. Bind it up so no one can touch it.” Erin’s voice startled Alwenna, who looked up guiltily.
Erin hitched her skirt up and took her eating knife to her underskirts, tearing off a long strip which she dropped over the knife, then folded around it. Alwenna followed suit, handing the fabric to Erin, who wrapped the bundle a second time. Marten held out his ragged sleeve and she took the lower portion of that and added it, tying it securely with another strip of petticoat. Then she went to the horses and plucked three hairs from each of their tails, plaiting them and knotting them over the bundle.
“My da always said it was lucky.”
As if anything they did now could change what had happened.
They sat there on the riverbank with the innocuous bundle between them. Alwenna’s baby wriggled and she finally tore her eyes away from the package, pressing her hand to her abdomen.
“My soul, Marten? Does it need saving?”
“You became kinslayer when you saved me – and you used a cursed blade tainted with your family’s blood.”
“Is it kinslaying to kill one who has already died?”
Marten shrugged. “In truth, I do not know. The blade already draws you.”
Alwenna drew in a deep breath, then spoke carefully. “I’m carrying his child. From… before. Before I was sent from Highkell. Might this curse harm the child?”
Marten’s face was grave. “I… It… Our elders will know.”
“How will we find them?” How did freemerchants find one another? They could be anywhere across the Peninsula.
“At Scarrow’s Deep.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s the place we freemerchants call home, sister.”
“But you’re not allowed to hold land.”
“You’ll not find Scarrow’s Deep on any map of the Peninsular Kingdoms.” With a tight smile, Marten picked up the bundle containing the dagger and stowed it inside his tunic.
Alwenna fought the urge to snatch it from him.
“And we don’t hold Scarrow’s Deep by any royal decree. We scratched it from the bowels of the earth with our bare hands, in a remote corner where no king holds sway.”
“Weaver said you had many secrets to hide.” She spoke his name without thinking. He might have survived. Maybe if she spoke his name often enough…
“Our people have learned to hide our secrets well, sister. Now we must ride. The sooner we reach Scarrow’s Deep, the sooner we can answer your questions.”
Alwenna twisted round to look back towards the summer palace before they rode over the crest of the ridge. The column of smoke rose still, high and higher, dark and bold, climbing through the cloudless sky. Her work this time. She couldn’t blame groundwater, or poor foundations. She’d kindled the fire, set the flames, done everything just as Weaver had taught her.
Her monstrous work.
She turned her back and rode after the others.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE
At Highkell Vasic rose from his sickbed. The room was rank with the stench of stale sweat and vomit. And something else. Smoke? He pushed back the curtains, peering out over the courtyard. He could see no sign of a
nything burning, no sign of smoke. But the daylight felt good on his face.
He opened the casement, gulping in the fresh air with a vigour he hadn’t known in days. He stretched, braced for the pain that would shoot through his limbs and settle beneath his ribs, gnawing at his innards.
Except… The pain had gone. He prodded the area gingerly, again braced for the stabbing sensation, but there was no trace of it. He felt nothing more than the residual stiffness of one who had lain in bed too long.
He summoned a servant. “Bring me hot water. I will bathe. Summon the healer. And my steward after that. And I want food, proper food. Meat. None of that pap you’ve been bringing me of late.” Vasic turned to look out of the window again, out over the gorge across the valley to the wooded hills that were so often shrouded in rain, but now basked in sunshine.
He drew in a long breath, filling his lungs to capacity. He smiled. Life was good.
Table of Contents
THE WATERBORNE BLADE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
CHAPTER NINETY
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE
CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN
CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT
CHAPTER NINETY-NINE
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE