Malice (22 page)

No one spoke.
Tears of blood
, thought Veradis.
Surely the weeping stones
. . . Until that point, Meical’s reading had reminded Veradis most of old folktales, but those last words had hit him hard. How could that have been written
generations
ago? He suddenly felt a coldness spreading within him, like a fist clenching about his heart.

‘This is madness,’ Mandros declared. ‘I will listen to these faery tales no longer.’ His chair scraped as he stood and marched from the room, a younger man trailing him, his son.

‘What does all of that mean?’ Braster said. ‘Most of it sounded like riddles to me.’

‘That is why I have called you all here,’ Aquilus said. ‘To discuss the meaning of these words, and to decide on a way forward.’

With that they set about debating the meaning of what Meical had read, its reliability, what to do if it was true, back and forth, back and forth until Veradis’ head was spinning. Highsun’s bell came and went, the table filled with food and then cleared, wine cups filled and refilled. The light was dimming, wall sconces were being lit when Braster spoke up.

‘So what would you have us do? We cannot march against an enemy that we cannot see. I know there has been much talk today of this Black Sun, Asroth’s champion, but where is he?
Who
is he?’

‘I do not know,’ Aquilus said. ‘But I propose this. That we agree to aid each other against our enemies, whether they be lawless men, corsairs, giants, or a horde of wyrms and twisted beasts from out of Forn. And that we also agree, when this Black Sun does reveal himself, that we unite and fight against him together.’

‘And who would lead us?’ Rhin asked. ‘You?’

Aquilus shrugged. ‘The Bright Star, when he steps forward.’

‘Or
she
,’ Rhin said.

Aquilus smiled. ‘Until the Bright Star is revealed to us, whomever we choose shall lead us. I am high king, but I will not stand in the way of this alliance. Maybe there will be a clear choice, when a leader is needed.’

He stood and leaned on the table.

‘All has been said that can be said. Now is the time of choosing. If you wish to join me, stand with me now.’

There was the scraping of chairs on stone, as kings and barons stood.

Veradis counted, frowned. Only five had stood: Romar, King of Isiltir, Brenin of Ardan, red-bearded Braster, Temel of the Sirak and Rahim of Tarbesh.

‘I will wait,’ a seated king said. Owain of Narvon. ‘Until Midwinter’s Day. Let me see this sign that you have spoken of, that is foretold. Then I will decide.’

Aquilus nodded.

‘For those of the same mind, this alliance stands open to you. Those that stand with me now, we shall meet again on the morrow. For the rest of you, I thank you for journeying so far from your lands. Elyon speed you home. But not today, I hope. A feast has been prepared for you all. Dine with me this evening, whatever your choices in this room today.’

Soon after this, Veradis was standing in King Aquilus’ chambers. Prince Nathair was sipping from a cup of red wine, a heavy silence on him. Meical stood by a window, staring at the sun sinking behind distant mountains.

‘Why were the Vin Thalun not invited to this council, Father?’ Nathair suddenly asked.

‘Because I do not trust them,’ Aquilus said. ‘We’ve had this conversation.’

‘If trust were the criterion, I would not have invited most that sat in the council chamber today,’ Nathair muttered.

Aquilus sighed and focused on Nathair. ‘What is your point?’

‘I do not trust Mandros, or Rhin, or Braster. Or any of the others. They all have their secrets, their own agendas. And, for all you know, any one of them could be this
Black Sun
, or at least serve him. Mandros seemed set on undermining everything you said.’ Nathair sucked in a long breath, closing his eyes. ‘Your alliance is about who is
useful
, surely, and the Vin Thalun are more useful than most: ships, a fleet even, a network of contacts throughout the Banished Lands, great strength in warriors. They should have been here.’

‘The Vin Thalun have raided, murdered amongst most of those gathered here today. Most likely they still do. Those here would not tolerate such as the Vin Thalun in their company.’

‘Their petty grievances are their own. It is beneath us,’ Nathair said.

‘This alliance is
everything
.’ Aquilus growled. ‘I will not put it at risk by inviting corsairs to the table.’

‘Even if that means making an oath-breaker of me? I made a treaty with them.’ Nathair scowled at Aquilus, but his father did not answer. ‘And what is the point of making an alliance with those gathered here. Most of them could not agree to
anything
. Better an empire than an alliance. At least if you ruled them you would not have to tolerate their squabbles, their whining.’

Aquilus passed a hand over his eyes. ‘The closer to rule you come Nathair, the more you witness squabbles and whining. At least I am in a position where I can influence them, to a degree. As for the Vin Thalun, they will betray us.’

‘And if you are wrong?’ Nathair asked.

‘Enough,’ Meical grunted, turning from the window. ‘Your father has spoken.’

‘I do not recall addressing
you
.’ For a moment the Prince and Meical stared at each other, a sudden tension in the room. Instinctively, Veradis’ palm strayed to his sword. Then Nathair turned and left the room, Veradis close behind him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CYWEN

Cywen was loitering with her brother in the courtyard outside the feast-hall, engrossed in picking dirt from under her fingernails with one of her knives. It had been hard to get a clear story from anybody, but what
was
definite was that the wounded man on the litter was the last survivor of the outlaws in the Baglun Forest. Two riders cantered into the courtyard, drawing up sharply before the hall’s steps.

A tall warrior dismounted and held the other horse.

‘I can manage,’ the other rider snapped. Brina, the healer. Despite her age, she swung nimbly down, silvery hair spilling over a black shawl.

Her gaze swept imperiously around the courtyard, then she took a bag that was hanging from the pommel of her saddle and bustled up to the feast-hall’s doors, the two warriors on guard quickly opening them for her.

Cywen darted forward to look inside and caught Princess Edana’s eye. She hurried over to them.

‘Hello,’ she said, smiling at Cywen and Corban. She glanced over her shoulder back inside the hall. ‘I can’t stay out here, I don’t want to miss anything.’

‘What’s happening in there?’ whispered Cywen, Corban hovering near her shoulder.

‘Walk with me,’ Edana muttered, striding quickly out of the courtyard, shadowing the eastern rim of the hall and keep. ‘You will have to be very quiet; if Mother finds out she’ll skin me.’

‘Finds out what?’ Corban asked.

‘That I’ve let you into the fortress to listen.’ She stopped, opened a narrow door and guided her two companions through a series of wide corridors.

‘Wait here,’ she whispered, one hand on the iron ring of a large oak door. ‘The feast-hall is on the other side. I’ll leave the door open a little so that you can hear what is said.’

Cywen grabbed the Princess’ hand.

‘Thank you.’

‘Well, what are friends for?’ Then she slipped into the hall.

‘. . . are sure they are all dead?’ Cywen heard Queen Alona’s voice.

‘Aye,’ Pendathran grunted. ‘All but this one. And he may not see the morning.’

‘Are you sure there were no others?’ Evnis this time.

‘Aye. My huntsmen have covered every handspan of that cursed forest. Not only my nephew Marrock, but also the newcomer Halion. It was he that found their trail.’

‘Well, brother, congratulations are in order, although my husband will be unhappy if no one survives to serve his justice to.’

Pendathran muttered something, but Alona spoke over him.

‘You have done what you had to do. You and your men must need food and rest. Brina, will he live?’

‘Would you recover from a hole between your ribs in this cold draughty room?’ the healer snapped. ‘I have herbs for a poultice, and hazel bark to dim the pain and draw out the fever, but it may be too late.’ She shrugged. ‘We will know better in the morning.’

‘But Pendathran said he may be dead by morning,’ Evnis said.

‘Aye. Then you will know, will you not?’

Silence.

‘Do all that you can, Brina. Come, Pendathran, escort me to my chamber, I would talk more with you. Evnis, see to Brina’s requests and arrange some food for the warriors.’

‘Yes my Queen.’

Pendathran’s gruff voice spoke out. ‘Tarben, Conall. First guard. Watch him well; Darol had many friends.’

Cywen and Corban hugged the wall, hearing footsteps approach. They looked up and down the corridor. Too far to run, no cover to hide behind. A moment’s panic seized them both – to be caught eavesdropping on the Queen. Then Princess Edana appeared in the doorway.

‘Quickly,’ she hissed as she ran down the hall. The corridors twisted and turned, tapestries rippling in the wake of their passing. They rushed up a wide stone staircase, Edana shoved a door open and they ran inside, the Princess pulling the door closed behind them.

A huge bed of oak dominated the room, clothes strewn about the floor.

‘This is my chamber,’ Edana whispered. ‘This way.’ She walked to a large window, opened its shutters, stepped over a stone sill and crouched on the balcony beyond. ‘My mother and father’s room is next door. This is where she’ll bring Pendathran.’ They shuffled along, crouching under another window.

It was only moments before they heard the door open and shut in the room beyond. Drink was poured from a jug, chairs scraped.

‘Did you have to kill all of them?’ Alona asked.

‘Aye, sister. They fought well. Tried not to kill them all, that’s why we lost so many men. It’s harder than you’d think, you know, trying to take men alive.’

Queen Alona snorted.

‘It was a hard fight. The new lads, Halion and Conall, turned it, though I don’t think they thought much about taking anyone alive. They are two to watch, I think.’

‘How so?’

‘Well, I’d be happy for either one to be my shieldman. If I trusted them.’

‘That good?’

‘Aye. Halion, the older one, he’s a thinker. And he’s led men before, that’s obvious. My lads took straight to him.’

‘What about the other one?’

‘Conall. He’s the complete opposite. No thought at all, fights like a summer storm. But he’s deadly. May even be a match for Tull.’

Alona sucked in a breath.

‘Who are they, sister?’

‘Brenin would not say,’ she sighed. ‘When I asked him, he told me little. Said he’d given an oath. You know how he is.’

‘Aye. So he’ll take whatever they told him across the bridge of swords with him. Ah well. There’s something about them – both used to giving orders, not so used to taking them. And little trust in either one.’ There was a pause, the sound of gulping, a cup slammed down hard. A chair creaked. ‘Well, sister, I am for some food and ale now.’

‘Thank you, Pen. Brenin will be grateful, as am I –’ she paused – ‘and Rhagor would be proud of you.’

The footsteps to the door stopped.

‘Not a day passes that I do not think of him,’ Pendathran muttered. ‘I pray that brigand survives. My heart tells me they were Braith’s men, but it would be good to know for sure.’

‘I think, if this man survives and proves you true, then our King will deal with Braith and his brigands once and for all,’ said Alona.

Pendathran chuckled. ‘The thought of that, dear sister, brings joy to an old man’s heart.’

‘
Old
, get out of here, you bear, there are many more years left in you yet, I think.’

Still chuckling, Pendathran left the room.

Cywen and Corban followed Edana back through her chamber, and without a word slipped down deserted corridors and a steep stairway until they were back at the door where they had entered the fortress.

Cywen and Corban whispered their thanks, knowing the risk Edana had taken sneaking them in. She just grinned.

‘I can trust you to tell no one, can’t I?’

They nodded solemnly.

‘Where are you going now?’ Edana suddenly asked. Corban looked up at the sun, well past its zenith, but there was still plenty of daylight left.

‘Let’s go and see my new colt,’ he said.

‘All right,’ said Cywen, ‘but we won’t be able to stay long.’

‘What colt?’ Edana asked, and Corban quickly explained his gift. It was not long before the three of them were hurrying down the path that led from the fortress to Havan, Edana with the hood of her cloak pulled up.

‘I’m not supposed to leave the fortress without Ronan, my shieldman,’ she explained.

Children were playing in groups around the main street of the village, dogs running and barking at their feet. A familiar figure was sitting forlornly on a large stone by the roadside.

‘Dath, what are you doing?’ Corban called. ‘What’s happened to you?’