Hardship
Chapter Twelve — Hardship
January–February
The aftermath of the ball was disconcerting. Although the family gained noble precedence only her parents' styles changed—but as Thayet gleefully informed Kel at glaive practice her distaff border should now have a gold rim. Lalasa happily added one to the Mindelan sigil on her dresses and, sceptical of Kel's skills with a needle, promised to do the kimonos if they were sent with the damaged finery; she did however supply enough gold thread for Kel to do her flag at New Hope.
Then there were letters of congratulation. So many poured in that the interesting thing wasn't who had sent one, but who hadn't. Even Lord Burchard, whom no-one had seen since he'd staggered from the Chamber, sent a stiff note, as minimal as his apology, but still; Kel hardly expected one from Tirrsmont or Torhelm but did note without surprise that the conspicuous absentees among senior nobility were Genlith and Runnerspring. Among the letters were also, to Kel's astonishment, a number requesting patronage or money. These she read carefully, but as all were from men she'd never heard of and offered neither reason nor detail she sent polite refusals. More difficult were two from complete strangers proposing marriage, apparently sincerely. They were the only romantic professions she'd ever received save Cleon's, and deranged as they had to be she found herself contemplating them with something twisting in her heart. Several attempts at replies went into the fireplace before she found a brisk military tone to say that, as they'd never met and almost certainly had nothing in common, marriage seemed unwise, adding that if she might take the liberty of assuming the writers moved by patriotic admiration it might be better expressed by supporting the refugees she'd been fortunate enough to rescue. Finishing, she nearly bundled all the letters into the fire but after some thought arranged them by subject and sender and filed them, thinking that if such correspondence continued she'd need a private clerk.
In some ways more disturbing was the apology from Conal. Returning with the children from a visit to Kawit and Kitten on the day after the ball, she found her brother waiting, and when he declined to come in sent Tobe and Irnai inside. Conal was clearly uncomfortable but determined to do right by his own lights.
"My Lord of Cavall informs me it is proven by truthspell Tirrsmont lied about what happened at New Hope. That he perjured himself and was beyond question himself the one to utter threats and obscenities. I apologise for not believing you, Keladry."
Kel considered him. "Thank you, Conal, but you didn't give me a chance to say anything you didn't believe—you assumed I was at fault."
"Tirrsmont swore it was true. I could hardly doubt him."
"I understand your logic but it depends on the person swearing having honour to swear by, and I'm sorry but Tirrsmont has none. Out of interest, did you know Sir Voelden tried to run me through during a tilt? He hit my breastplate and cracked a rib."
"He says it was an accident."
"He told me that too, but refused to swear it by gods' oath. And this isn't for public consumption, Conal, but thought it didn't name Voelden the elemental of the Chamber said Joren
paid at least one knight to try to kill me in the tilting lane."
"The Chamber said?" Conal's voice was incredulous.
"The King will confirm it. We spoke to the elemental together the day after the Queen's
Ball."
Incredulity became bewilderment. "You and the King spoke to the Chamber."
"Yes. I can't tell you what about, I'm afraid, but you must know the Chamber sent me after Blayce, and there was unfinished business."
"I don't understand you at all, Keladry, and talking to the Chamber seems all wrong. But I am sorry I did not have faith in my own sister."
"I'm sorry about that too, but glad to be on better terms. I hate being at odds with family. Do you know where you'll be going when the fighting starts again?"
He accepted the topic gratefully. "Mindelan, so Inness and Tilaine can get away for a bit. There's concern about another attack, though I don't understand why Maggur should target us especially."
"I'm afraid it's my fault—I did burn down his clanhome and as my report undoubtedly made its way to Hamrkeng he knows who to blame. That's why New Hope is so fortified."
"Oh. I see." He frowned. "Well, I hope you don't feel guilty about it—we have to hit Maggur every way we can."
"Yes, we do. I just wish we could do it directly and not have to kill so many other people
first."
"But they're Scanrans."
"Many are forced to fight, Conal—Maggur holds clanchiefs' wives and families hostage. I'm not saying he doesn't have supporters but a lot of people who've died didn't want to fight us. I'm tired of it. Tell me, how many men had you killed at twenty?"
"Twenty? None, I don't think. My first real action was later that year, when the Immortals War began."
"Huh. Well, I lost count this last year. It was a round dozen before I was eighteen, from hillmen to bandits and suchlike I fought with the Own. Then I saw action against Scanrans and by now it's scores. I dream of their faces."
She wasn't sure he understood at all, and not for the first time wondered if his problem wasn't at root simply that the Mindelan brains had skipped over him, leaving his world an often fearsome and puzzling place. But they parted on better terms than for a long time, and if they'd never be as close as she was to Anders and Inness they were no longer enemies. Her mother was pleased to hear of Conal's apology, if as surprised as Kel that he hadn't made the connection between her report and the wolfship threat; but both parents were less happy about her determination to return to New Hope at the first break in the weather.
Of that there was little prospect, however. The cold lingered with increasingly dirty snow, and in the north winter was by all accounts severe. Brodhelm's reports by spellmirror to Vanget, an abstract of which he included in a summary relay to Corus, spoke of deep snow and bitter nights, sentries relieved half-hourly, basilisks helping keep stables safely warm, and retreat to the
caves. Quenuresh and her kin had come in to a side-chamber in Immortals' Row; the centaurs hadn't but Whitelist had requested to use the corral and extra hay. Along the border the picture was the same, deep snow extending from Frasrlund east of Northwatch and south of Bearsford, and everyone hunkered down, preferably close to a fire. Geese and owls relaying information to Daine reported the same across Scanra, except the snow was even deeper, smaller rivers and lakes frozen, though the Vassa, thankfully, was too swift and turbulent for more than icy margins.
Kel had never had real expectation of being able to return before February, and probably March, but found herself fretting all the same—as if there were anything she could do if she were there except shiver with everyone else. It had been the same last year, waiting after her Ordeal to travel north when the roads reopened, but then she'd had the puzzle of Blayce and logistical work with Raoul to keep her occupied. This year she had no distractions, and though she threw herself into glaive work with pages, forced indoors by snow, they had a curriculum Padraig had followed Wyldon in expanding to include more applied military history, tactics, and strategy. With Alanna Kel prosecuted her case for slingwork, demonstrating how effective they could be, and had the satisfaction of seeing the First Company of the Own make a start on basic skills and how slingmen might be deployed behind archers.
The long wait gave time to do other things. Most importantly Daine agreed to boost Alder's capacity. It took a long morning, with the tension of wild magic filling the air; Tobe found the process fascinating and to Numair's surprise was able to perceive patterns in the magic that swirled into Alder. Irnai was less interested but absorbed by Kawit's stories of life before her long nap—before the rise of the Thanic Empire, from the collapse of which Tortall, Barzun, Galla, Maren, Tusaine, Tyra, and the Bazhir tribes had emerged.
Daine explained to Alder about barding, and once he'd had a few days to settle—"Just imagine, Kel, what it would be like to have one of the gods suddenly inflate your brain to work more like their own"—she saddled him, wrapped his legs against ice-cuts, and led him down Palace Way to Master Randall's. As promised Wyldon came as well as Tobe, concerned with all things horse, and Irnai loved the bustle of the city. They mostly spoke of ordinary matters, Wyldon soliciting the children's opinions of Corus, but when both lagged to watch a mule-train of kitchen supplies Kel thanked him for setting Conal straight.
"He came to me, Keladry. He seems to have swallowed all Tirrsmont said and couldn't make head or tail of whatever Runnerspring said happened. I can't blame Sir Conal for that, I suppose—Mithros knows what he cooked up to avoid saying he'd been shown up as a fool."
"Maybe, but I'm afraid Conal's not the sharpest knife in the box."
"He didn't distinguish himself as a page." Wyldon hesitated. "He seemed very ready to disbelieve you. Or disbelieve in you."
"He got into terrible trouble as a boy for bullying me and he's never forgiven me." "Ah, yes, that can happen. The tower episode?" "You know about that? I didn't think I ever told you."
"You didn't—your mother did, after you rescued Miss Isran, because she was amazed you'd been able to descend the outer stair of the Needle. But I'd guessed there had to be something behind your fear of heights. You were afraid of nothing else."
"I was, though—I just controlled it. But with heights I couldn't, until you made me climb that tree every day."
"Mmm, yes. You might not have realised it but I greatly admired your determination. Heights don't seem to trouble you now."
"The Needle burned it out. I've never been so scared." "But you went on—it's all that matters."
Tobe and Irnai caught them up at the gates of the lower city, the guards all salutes. Seeing the way people nodded and stood aside, smiling, Wyldon looked at her with some irony.
"Is it always like this for you now?"
Kel sighed. "Seems to be. It's embarrassing, but sweet I suppose."
"Sweet?" He shook his head. "You have the oddest ideas."
"Do I? It's nicer being liked by people I've never met for things I have done than hated for things I haven't."
He gave her an old-fashioned look but took Alder and the children to the stables while Kel ducked in to find Master Randall. He greeted her enthusiastically, offering congratulations and asking she relay them to her parents, before summoning an assistant to fetch barding to the stable. He greeted Tobe and Irnai easily but bowed to Wyldon.
"My Lord of Cavall. Is Alder one of yours? I thought he might be."
"Good day to you, Master Randall. Yes, Alder's from my stud. Lady Keladry's horse was badly injured and I didn't want her without a good horse." The assistant came with shaffron and crinet, leaning them against the wall before heading back for the rest, and Wyldon went across to lift the shaffron, turning it.
"It is light." He rapped the armour. "Hmm. Have you done tests to see what it does and doesn't stop, Master Randall?"
"I have, my Lord. If you'd care to step through …"
Of necessity all armourers had a small range, here set between main buildings and stables; snow had been shovelled aside. As well as the usual targets there was a pocked sheet of Carthaki metal, and they stood back as Master Randall took a longbow and selected a broadhead.
"This is just twenty-five yards, and with a full draw, aiming as square-on as I can …" The arrow zinged into the metal, stuck for a moment and fell to the ground. "Some stick and enough point goes through that the horse would feel it, though it shouldn't be a serious injury. You have to be at under twenty yards or using a needlepoint to do better, and if the angle's off even slightly …" He moved to one side, aiming a needlepoint at the other side of the metal sheet, and the arrow screeched off to land in the snow pile. "…they don't stick at all. And I ask you, my Lord, how often d'you get a square shot in battle?"
"Once is enough, though, on the receiving end. What about bolts?"
"Same thing, allowing for range." Master Randall swapped longbow for crossbow. "Straight on a bolt will punch through at up to about thirty yards, though it loses a lot of force— but a good bolt'll go through plate the same way. And at an angle …" He aimed across the target as before, and the bolt clanged off into snow. "You see? If you'll excuse me while I retrieve arrows and bolt …"
He went to do so and Kel looked at Wyldon, eyebrows raised.
"Mmm. I'm half-persuaded—deflections are useful, certainly. Let's see how the barding fits. Alder may not like the shaffron at all—I didn't train him with one and they often dislike anything on their heads."
"Oh it should be alright—Daine's told him about the barding and Tobe's here to interpret." Wyldon blinked. "She told him? And he understood?"
"So she said. She's taught him all the voice commands I used with Peachblossom so I've no need to spur him, ever. And she made him, well, smarter, so he can understand what Peachblossom can tell him about how I fight with the glaive." Kel peered at him. "You did know she magicked Peachblossom when I first had him? He'd been so badly treated his mouth was ruined and he has the rowel scars still."
Master Randall returned and they followed him back to the stable, where the complete barding waited, Alder eyeing it.
"I didn't but I should have guessed. I confess I wondered how you managed him. But you can't have known Daine then, surely."
"Neal introduced us. He had a terrible crush on her." "Huh. Queenscove."
His tone spoke volumes and Kel grinned, but as she'd predicted there wasn't a problem. Alder understood the barding was to protect him and was eager to co -operate. There was a tailored blanket to protect against chafing of which he approved, and the lined shaffron fitted perfectly over head and muzzle. The crinet round his neck was no problem either, but when the peytral was added he snorted.
"He says it hangs too low," Tobe reported. "If you stand back, Master Randall, he'll show
you."
The armourer looked startled but did as asked, and Alder promptly reared, striking out with one hoof and making the peytral jump, scales ringing, then dropped and reared again, striking with the other. The peytral jumped and rang again.
"It's blocking his kicks. He can't aim as high as he'd like and says he'd be lucky to get a tall man in the chest. The head would be out of reach and he thinks that's the best shot against someone in armour."
"Ah." Master Randall was evidently bemused but nodded. "May I approach him again, Tobeis?"
"Yes of course. He was only showing you."
The armourer cautiously studied the bottom of the peytral and the ruffled hair on Alder's forelegs. "Mmm, I see. I need to take off one row of scales? Or two? Does Alder, ah, have an opinion?"
Tobe looked at Alder, holding up his hands with a slight gap and then widening them. "More like two, I think, Master Randall."
"Right." He scratched his head plaintively. "Can we try flanchards?"
The side-pieces were unproblematical, fitting perfectly around the saddle, but the crupper nestling round hips and croup had the same problem as the peytral. With due warning from Tobe, Alder again demonstrated, kicking out and the crupper jumped and rang.
"About the same to come off then—two rows. I'm sorry, my Lady, I hadn't allowed sufficiently for kicking out. Do you, ah, find you need to do that often? I only fought on foot."
Kel considered. "Not that frequently, Master Randall, but quite often in some kinds of combat. It's not just on the battlefield, when sword- or axemen try to get in behind to hamstring, but if you encounter foot soldiers on a narrow trail."
Wyldon harrumphed. "Not that you should be leading patrols any more. It can happen on any journey but you shouldn't be on point."
She gave him an old-fashioned look of her own. "I don't, my Lord, but we've only four knights at New Hope—three until Seaver returns—and I can't not be available if knights are needed. It's not just being antsy behind a desk."
"I suppose not." He frowned. "Do you need more knights? Vanget, Goldenlake, and I are still arguing what to do with this year's crop."
Kel thought. "One might be useful—Prosper, maybe, as he has some Gift. But without knowing the force mix against us it's hard to argue I'll need more. This year it was light stuff, except for the tauroses—the same old hit-and -run. But with the losses we handed them with slings and arrows I don't think they'll keep on with that. If they're serious about New Hope they'll need to put a real army in the field and then the knights are only useful to cover the initial retreat. The problem with the defences being so strong is we can't sally."
Wyldon nodded. "Yes, alright—good analysis. Knights will be more use with a relieving force but I'll put it to the others about Tameran." He smiled. "I don't imagine Goldenlake will oppose you and you've already twisted an entire company out of Vanget."
"Will I keep them once I'm back, though?"
"Unless there's good reason they're needed elsewhere."
"Mmm. War's full of good reasons, though."
They became aware of Master Randall's interested audience and he hastily held up a hand.
"I'll not say a word, my Lord, my Lady. But forgive my fascination—having served in the Tusaine and Immortals Wars I've some idea of the problems you face. I'll say also, my Lady, that I knew about your mission of course, and it was plain you must be a leader to follow, but I'd not realised you were the kind of commander you've just shown yourself."
To Kel's surprise Wyldon smiled. "Your discretion would be appreciated, Master Randall. And never underestimate the Lady Knight. I did for years but learned in the end, and now she keeps us all on our toes, from His Majesty down."
Kel glared but Master Randall smiled. "I bet she does, my Lord. Now, young Tobeis, is the total weight alright for Alder, or does it need to be reduced? There's not much I can do but there are a few places scaling could be stretched and some removed."
Tobe consulted. "He says it's alright, Ma, but his top speed will be down and his daily range limited."
"It's not for travelling, Tobe—only combat near New Hope. But lighter is always better, Master Randall, so if there is anywhere scales could be thinned without leaving real vulnerability I'd prefer that."
"Right you are, my Lady. It'll be ready day after tomorrow."
She gave him a letter instructing her goldsmith-banker to pay his bill and they headed back, stopping for Irnai to buy ribbons and a book about pre-Thanic history that raised Wyldon's eyebrows.
"Kawit's been telling me about it," Irnai explained, "but she was mostly in Carthak and didn't see much of the north. She didn't pay a lot of attention to mortals either, so I wanted to fill in some gaps."
"Ah. I see." They returned to the street, where Tobe was holding Alder. "Or rather I don't. That dragon remembers pre-Thanic history?"
Kel nodded solemnly. "Kitten woke her from a two-thousand year nap, Wyldon. When she, um, nodded off, the Thanic empire hadn't even started. You got into it discussing the timeway, didn't you, Irnai?"
"Yes. Kawit didn't see it create any of the present but did watch it quite closely then because the Carthaki empire was becoming inevitable. I know what Diamondflame said but weaving's the image that works for me—all threads pulled together, but what you get depends what's on the shuttle."
"That makes sense, except for the threads moving about and the loom thinking for itself. Is Tkaa going to ask her to help teach pages?"
"We didn't talk about that. We're coming to that pastry shop."
"So we are." Kel ruffled Irnai's hair, and they stopped at the shop with a sign that said Maranie's Pastries & Rebekah's Preserves and underneath Protector's Maids. Kel purchased an assortment of gooey delights and forced an apple tart on Wyldon, having everything packed in boxes so she could fit them in panniers and save Maranie's boy a slog to the Palace. As they went on Wyldon was thoughtful.
"Does Protector's Maids refer to you?"
She explained and he studied her with a look she couldn't fathom.
"Astonishing. I've been thinking about what you do, Keladry, and it's not radical innovation—you put together what we have in new ways. You did it with the Chamber, in building New Hope, this metal for barding, getting Daine to explain to Alder, and with these women."
Tobe had been listening. "And griffin-bands and slings, my Lord. Ma's got a good head on her shoulders." His tone was sagacious and Kel laughed despite her embarrassment.
"Have I, you little ruffian? Alder's down to you as much as Daine."
"He's right, Keladry. Your thinking is fresh. I believe it's what's made you effective against Maggur—he's an innovator too, however horribly, and old ways won't do against him. It explains something about how challenging—and rewarding—people like myself and Vanget have —"
Kel felt a sliding blow on her back and staggered as Wyldon broke off, whirling. "Stop that man! In the blue jacket—stop him now!"
His voice cracked command and heads snapped round. The man trying to dodge sideways into an alleyway found his way blocked by a burly fellow and turned but slipped. By the time he'd scrambled up Wyldon had a dagger at his throat and people converged, the burly man and another seizing his arms.
"Keladry, are you alright?"
"I think so." Kel felt her back and found a long slice in her jerkin, feeling scored metal within. Automatically her eyes searched for the children, wide-eyed but sheltered by Alder. "Yes —the jerkin turned his blade. I'm fine, Tobe. Stay there for now."
"You tried to kill the Protector?" The burly man's face was red and Kel saw anger on many faces. "You piece of scummer." A large fist drew back and Kel's own voice cracked.
"Hold! We need information, not revenge. I want Guards here now." She pointed. "Fetch the Lord Provost, please. And you, ask the gate sergeant to send five men with a shackle. Go."
They went, and Kel walked forward to see the man who'd tried to kill her. He was dark-haired and swarthy, with a look of the south-east, and Kel's heart sank. Before she could say anything he spat at her feet and people at the front of the growing crowd shouted rage.
"Hold!" Her mind churned. "He failed and we have him—his manners don't hurt me. Does anyone know him? Hold him up so everyone can see."
Cursing, the man found himself roughly lifted and turned back and forth, but no-one claimed knowledge of him.
"Take a good look, please—details as well—and start asking around. Who is he? Where's he been living? What's his story? If anyone learns anything, tell a Dog or send to the Lord Provost."
Some people obeyed and those that remained quieted, though their eyes were unforgiving. While she was speaking Wyldon had examined the slice in her jerkin and his face was dark with anger.
"He's got a blade somewhere. Hold him tight, you two, and someone hold his legs." Two men came forward and Wyldon searched carefully, removing two thin daggers from concealed belt-sheaths and another from a boot. "Thank you. You can let his feet go." He looked at the weapons. "The boot-knife is Pearlmouth work—Gull Armoury. The others are assassin's weapons without marking." He glanced up. "It's a good thing you were wearing that jerkin, Keladry. Were you expecting this?"
"No—I just believe in being prepared." Resting a hand on his arm she lowered her voice. "Not here, Wyldon—there's obvious possibilities and only one is Maggur."
He looked sick. "Yes, I see."
Men from the guard came jogging up, one carrying a shackle, and by the time the man was chained, hands behind back, the Lord Provost arrived with an escort, looking alarmed. Gorwin of Coas Wood had held the post some years, but Kel had only met him properly at the Queen's Ball; Wyldon tersely explained, showing the slice on Kel's jerkin and giving him the daggers.
"An assassin. Huh. Who wants you dead, Lady Keladry?"
The crowd had stood back from the guards but Kel kept her voice low. "Maggur, if we're lucky. If not, Tirrsmont, Torhelm, Runnerspring, Marti's Hill. Genlith, maybe. That's why I sent for guards as well as you, my Lord. You'll need Sir Myles also."
He stared. "You really think …"
"I know who's threatened me with death and worse, my Lord."
"I'm afraid she's right, Coas Wood. We should adjourn somewhere private, and that man belongs in the King's dungeons, not your kennels."
"I need to take the children home, Wyldon. Can you—"
"You should have an escort."
"I'll come with you myself. The guards can bring him to the Palace."
They assembled themselves, Kel taking a moment to thank the crowd and ask them again to share the man's description and find where he'd been staying. She gave the children hugs, assuring them she was alright and letting them look at the jerkin.
"It makes the precautions worthwhile, doesn't it?"
"Why, Ma?" Tobe's voice was wavery. "Do you know that man?"
"No. He's probably hired. It could be Maggur, or someone I've offended here, like Tirrsmont."
"But he's in prison, isn't he?"
"He has a son and friends. We'll find out. Now, let's get back—we've those pastries, remember."
The food was a good bribe but they stuck close, looking anxiously around even after they'd left the crowds behind, and Kel silently cursed whoever had hired the assassin.
The flood of letters didn't stop and Kel decided she really was going to need a private clerk. Whether people would send such letters to New Hope she wasn't sure, but even there she'd be receiving more reports from Lalasa and her new maids, and fitting in private paperwork between training and command staffwork wasn't her idea of what to do with her little free time. Whoever she chose had to be discreet as well as efficient and willing to come north, and after racking her brains she consulted her father. He rolled his eyes in sympathy, indicating piles of correspondence on his own desk and clerks scratching away in the room beyond, and did know someone who might suit—a young woman at Mindelan whose parents had died in a shipwreck, and who'd been raised as a baron's ward. She was clerking for Anders, more as something to do than because there was real need. Kel accepted gratefully, but refused his offer to pay her wage—ducal promotion didn't translate to any immediate increase in revenues and did bring extra expenses.
"It's alright, Papa. My purses would cover it easily, and Lalasa tithes far more than I use. The new shops seem to be doing well too—that might slow down, when the fuss dies, but it's fine."
That he didn't press the point told her she was right about drained finances, and she had a quiet word with her mother about accessing her funds at need. Ilane was distracted by the attack, furious and fretting, but as she took in what Kel was saying she frowned. "Kel, sweeting, that's all the wrong way round. We're supposed to support you."
"You do, Mama, and have for ages. I'm happy to pay something back, and I've plenty. I've not used up the money paid after Joren's trial."
"But it's yours, sweeting. It shouldn't be for setting up Mindelan as a duchy. With Alanna and Raoul giving you armour and horses you've cost us nothing next to your sisters. It wouldn't be right to take your money."
Kel knew her sisters' and Avinar's educations at the City of the Gods had been expensive, and the need to provide three dowries in rapid succession very difficult indeed, but she didn't want to go there.
"Actually, Mama, I think it's Lalasa's but I've argued till I'm blue and she won't budge, so it might as well do something useful. Treat it as a free loan—the goldsmith has instructions to let you draw whatever you ask and tithes will build up. Have you seen how busy they are?"
The conversation was steered away from difficult territory, and Kel left with the double satisfaction of having procured a clerk and done unexpected good. Her meeting with the King and Lord Provost two days after the attack was less satisfactory.
"The assassin was a Pearlmouth man, Keladry, hired in Torhelm by someone who sounds like Lord Angors's steward, two days after his return. Who the orders came from we don't know yet but Guisant has to be doing the talking—ha!—and the fool seems to have put out a story that you attacked his father. The fief is very tense, apparently. I've sent Lord Imrah with five squads of the Own to arrest the steward and both Torhelms. He'll make an announcement backed by gods' oath of what happened to Torhelm." He scowled. "Odds are it'll mean another noble trial and you'll be back at New Hope long before that can happen, so you'll need to leave statements with my Lord Provost. Meantime, I'm thankful you wore that jerkin. Did you expect an attack ?"
"I wondered if Maggur might think an assassin cheaper than assault so I got jerkins. Numair warded my rooms and gave us bracelets to detect poison, but there's been nothing like that."
The scowl became ferocious. "I should hope not. But I can't fault your caution when it's proven so wise. You're far-sighted, Keladry, and devising your own answers again without fussing—it's commendable."
The Lord Provost nodded. "Indeed. I'll send a man to take statements, my Lady. We've already taken one from Cavall."
"Of course, my Lord. May I ask if you've learned anything about where he'd been staying?"
"Yes, thanks to your request of the crowd—good thinking, that. News went through the lower city like wildfire and the sun hadn't set before an innkeep in Cherry Street came forward to say he had a guest matching the description, and another staying with him. By the time we got there the friend had fled—he used South Gate, heading west." The roads to Torhelm and
Runnerspring lay that way. "We searched the rooms but there wasn't much beyond spare clothes. The assassin did have the gold he'd been paid on him, though."
Kel wondered what her life was worth. "How much?"
"Ten gold nobles, and two for expenses." The Lord Provost winced at her expression. "I know, my Lady, but it's a lot to a man like that."
"Yes. Still, a man like that … um, I realise this might be awkward, my Lord, but have you asked the Rogue if he knows anything? I've been given to understand he supports the women's self-defence classes so he might take an interest in this."
"Hmm, yes. I heard about that, too. Interesting. Enquiries are being made. The Whisper Man deals with that side of things, though."
Kel nodded, wondering again if Sir Myles's anonymous deputy really was Alanna's husband, as Neal intimated. "Good. Is there anything else you wish me to do, sire?"
"Keep being careful, Keladry. And head back to New Hope as soon as there's a break in the weather. It's absurd that you'll probably be safer in a warzone than here, but at least there the threat's open. And if we do end up trying one or both Torhelms as well as this steward and the assassin on what will be capital charges there's going to be high feeling. Against the lot of them, mostly, but it's going to be messy all the same. Who'll be travelling with you and the children?"
"I hadn't got that far, sire. No-one else is scheduled to return to New Hope except Seaver, when Tasride can spare him, and some soldiers I gave leave for family business, but they're all at their homes away east and as I didn't know what the weather would be doing they won't be overdue until April."
"Well that won't do. I'll put a Rider Group on standby."
"Thank you, sire—that's a boon. I'll have hired packhorses so we'll not be moving fast and support will be helpful."
"Packhorses? What for?"
"The barding I've bought Alder, mostly, but the children have new clothes and things as
well."
"Oh, yes. Lord Wyldon mentioned that barding—sounds useful. Well, take what you need from the Palace pool and ask Stefan Groomsman to detail an ostler. He can come back with the Riders. And get these statements done as soon as you can."
"I can send a man today."
So Kel and the children spent the afternoon telling an efficient Provost's Dog what each had seen, and showing the mended jerkin, followed by anxious days confining themselves to the Palace enclosure before Imrah returned with only two squads. He had Torhelm in custody but the steward and Sir Guisant hadn't been found, and he'd put the fief into royal administration pending resolution—not easy as Torhelm couldn't speak. Imrah came to see Kel after the King and sat brooding by her fire, pocked face set in a scowl.
"Torhelm's a mess, my Lady—Angors doesn't seem to have any proper administration and Guisant or that steward deputised for him with a rod of iron. When I announced there were warrants out for both there was dead silence, then wild cheering, and when I told 'em what actually happened to Angors half of 'em went straight to the nearest temple to give thanks. I
arrested him as much to get him out of there and keep him safe as anything. It's a bad business."
"Do you think the fief's been maladministered, my Lord?"
"Undoubtedly. But two enquiries of noble competence would be very awkward, and if Angors or Guisant did order the assassination, which I don't doubt, treason has precedence. Even Carolan can't dispute that."
"Will he try, my Lord?"
"Just Imrah, if you will. You'll be on the Council shortly and all those vocatives take too much time. And yes, he probably will. He didn't use to be this stupid but he's always hated Thayet and Yamani alliance, and his idiot son being banished has backed him into a corner. But he won't get anywhere—the logjam on the council's well broken, thanks to you, Vanget, and Cavall, and with the gods fresh in everyone's mind there'll be no mercy if charges are proven."
Kel found the prospect disturbing. "It's Kel, then, Imrah. And gods know, I didn't want any of this. Did the King tell you what the elemental said about Joren's death?"
"Yes. It's the same, isn't it? Paying others to attack you. Filthy business. Do you think Burchard's involved?"
"I doubt it—he's trying to be civil, despite his obsessive grief—but I get the impression he's … withdrawn. But I don't know about Genlith—especially if he did order the attack that freed Vinson. That's treason already, and so's sheltering him, if he's back home."
"Mithros, yes—I'd forgotten that. Anyone else?"
"Voelden, maybe. Both Grotens and Heathercove loathe me. And Marti's Hill, perhaps. I've never met the lord—saw him a few times as a page—but Quinden knows I was responsible for the report that got him dismissed. Vanget says he swore vengeance."
"Does he? Hmm. The Grotens and Heathercove are stupid enough for anything. Marti's Hill's no fool, but he is narrow, and Quinden's his only son. There's bad blood between him and Ferghal haMinch, so he'll take Vanget dismissing his son as more of that though he must know the boy's a lazy fool."
"Vanget never mentioned that."
"Why should he? It wasn't his quarrel and he takes people as he finds 'em. Always has. It's Quinden who'll have seen it as victimisation."
That fitted what Kel knew of her incompetent yearmate, and she sighed. "Yes, he will. He never thought anything was his fault. And the elemental said he has a streak of treachery but scraped by as a fighter because with a war on we need knights."
"I didn't know that. Treachery?"
"Mmm. If Wyldon ever put him under my command during exercises I had to put him somewhere harmless. He'd let the opposition sneak up without raising the alarm—that sort of thing. Only against me—he was a crony of Joren's and Vinson's and used to say a woman's place was on her back. He despises commoners too—even the refugees were hiding money, according to him, and ought to have it shaken out of them."
"Gods, what a picture. Alright, Kel—noted. And don't look so glum—it's not your fault though I bet it seems like it. Half this stuff goes back to Duke Roger—everyone you've mentioned
backed him and didn't like Alanna killing him one bit. Either time." He grinned. "They also backed that mad Rittevon princess as Jonathan's bride, a proper—what's that word? Luarin, I think—someone fair-skinned, anyway, of what they call the 'right stock', so they've always been against Thayet as a foreigner, and Shinkokami. You've just become the focus for everything."
"I know. Even the gods, apparently. It's … irritating, actually."
He laughed. "I bet. But I'm glad it's you. Gives me hope. We depended on Alanna twenty-five years ago and it's done us a power of good. Seems right we should depend on you now, but it has to be hard as old oak for you. So don't worry about what happens here—we'll sort it one way or another. And if there's anything I can do, shout. Is there?"
As taken aback as embarrassed, Kel forced her mind to work. "Thank you, Imrah. Um. Maybe. I'm trying to get New Hope trade, so we can be less of a burden, and there's a merchant who'll be sending a man to see our stuff—Master Orman?"
"I know him. Good man. What kind of stuff?"
"Fine basilisk stoneware, to start. And maybe old webbing." She laughed at his expression and explained. "Sea routes make sense for stoneware, and if we shipped Mindelan to Legann …"
"With breaks on duty at both ends—I can do that. Makes for profit too, in the long run— set you up and if trade flourishes we'll do well anyway. Gods—spidren web to Carthak. Whatever next?" He chuckled. "Tell Orman to contact my port factor—he knows him—and we'll better anyone else's deal on goods from New Hope."
"I'll do that. Thank you." His generosity made her think. "May I ask something? Why did the Council think I wasn't trying to claim New Hope for myself? Duke Gareth seemed to find it very odd."
"Gary would—he's a cynic at heart. But I understood your argument. I'm not sure you'd do the same if you were twenty years older, mind, and I'm inclined to agree with Alanna and Cavall you're the outstanding candidate and would help secure that border once we're rid of Maggur. But you're young yet and very good-hearted, and you don't want to think about fighting for gain. Why d'you ask?"
"Because I think of it as my command but I realise I'm treating it like a town and a fief, not a refugee camp. It's … confusing."
"Mmm. It's what good commanders do, same as a fighting squad becomes family. But other people have put you on top of a political moment. Your actions, too—you've struck the most telling blow of the war so far, and by answering Tirrsmont so decisively, never mind Angors, you've shown yourself far more than a commander, invaluable as those are. And then there's your, what, touch? Whatever it is that's had the New Hopers writing those depositions, and immortals trusting you, and enabled you to set up all these shops. You're just doing what you do, I know, but it's all working and echoing, so it builds. If you survive you'll be ennobled in your own right—face that squarely—and New Hope'll be the obvious fief for twenty excellent reasons. So what it adds up to is your reluctance does you credit and the King ignoring it'll do him credit."
Kel blinked. "That makes my head hurt. I'm right to resist and he's right to overrule me?"
"Yes. Welcome to the places where honour and politics meet. Make yourself comfortable —you'll be here as long as you live. Now, can I see this barding? I've had three good horses killed under me, and anything that saves me a fourth has my vote."
Kel blinked again, appreciating Imrah's candour and priorities, and took him to Alder's
stable.
The cold lingered through January, so Kel and the children spent Imbolc with Daine, Numair, Kitten, and Kawit, dragging parents and sisters to the heated stable to see the opal dragon light scores of candles with a waved paw, and hear her start the traditional tale-telling of Imbolcs past with a memory no-one was going to match by tens of centuries. But when the weather did finally break, mid-February, it broke dramatically, a great wave of warm air thick with desert dust and grit billowing over Corus and far north, leaving everything a dull ochrous yellow. Rising as usual before dawn and hearing drips, Kel dressed swiftly and went to the Riders' quarters and stables before returning to pack and gentle the children awake. Before most people were up they were on their way with the riders of Group Askew, no less than four pack horses, load well distributed so they wouldn't slow the party, and two ostlers Stefan said needed the exercise.
The journey was without incident but strange and in differing ways difficult. As far as Queensgrace they were under the dust storm, and came to hate the slushy, abrasive mess it made of the thaw. At the first Royal wayhouse Kel requisitioned a bolt of rough cloth, and they wrapped the horses' fetlocks and cannons. Thereafter they spent time each night drying wraps while Tobe did his best to ease the chafing sodden cloth caused even as it protected. He didn't have Zerhalm's skill, let alone Daine's, but had developed enough healing talent to do a world of good and worked conscientiously. Irnai had no such outlet, but made herself useful helping rub down horses and care for tack.
Though Rider Groups often joined the Own and Kel was half-familiar with many this was the first time she'd ridden with a single group, or in a military party evenly divided between men and women. Amid the misery of the dust she found herself fascinated by the easy mutual joshing of the Riders, sometimes blue and often funny. It made her think about the pages she'd been teaching, especially the present first year, with three girls out of seven. There would be no comparison between their experiences and her eight years as the only female page or squire, and while she wouldn't go back for the world she did feel wistful at the difference even one female companion would have made.
In Queensgrace Kel considered avoiding Alvik's inn but there wasn't much choice and Tobe reluctantly agreed to put a brave face on it. The fat innkeep's face grew sour when he saw who it was, but he'd heard enough stories about the Protector that when Kel, consciously in command mode, required stabling, food, and lodging for twenty on the King's business he jumped. As they were removing cloth wraps and rubbing down the leader of Group Askew, Miri Fisher, sidled up to her.
"I take it you don't care for Alvik, Lady Kel. Any particular reason? He's been odd this year but I've never seen the old goat jump like that."
Brushing Alder more vigorously than was needed Kel told Miri how she'd come by Tobe, and (carefully not naming Neal) what an offended mage who'd seen his brutality had done to him. Miri stared.
"Like the Chamber did to that Vinson fellow?"
"That's where the idea came from, I think."
"Ouch. I knew the man was an old lecher but I didn't know he was like that. D'you want me to pass word?"
Kel shook her head. "Not unless he tries anything with Tobe. And if he does he's mine, and mincemeat. Tobe doesn't want to make anything of it—just to forget, I think—but I'll not stand any nonsense."
"Got it, Lady Kel."
Either bully's cowardice ran true or Alvik simply knew which side his bread was buttered, and was as obsequious in manner as his eyes were spitting dislike the while. He also had the sense not to try anything with Tobe, fawning or bullying, and kept himself out of sight as much as possible. Even so Kel and Tobe were glad to be away at dawn, but thereafter the cold and unmelted snow increased remorselessly, and by the time they reached Bearsford March was only a day away and the problem no longer dust but slogging through snowdrifts in the teeth of a constant, lazy wind. After they'd settled themselves in the Drunken Carter with much needed stew, Kel called everyone together and asked Ranarl, the former bowyer who ran the inn, to attend too.
"Tomorrow's going to be brutal, people. It's thirty-some miles from here to New Hope, so we'll probably camp out tomorrow night. And I'm guessing that while the Great North Road won't be too bad the Greenwoods trail will have deep snow."
Ranarl nodded. "We've seen folk from Mastiff, Lady Kel, but none from New Hope since the snows."
"Thank you. So we'll be breaking trail. Alder can do a lot but are there horses we can hire? Big ones? The Riders will bring them back."
"I've a couple of plough horses and some heavy horseblankets. No tents though, and it'll be bad cold in the Greenwoods."
"Thank you, Ranarl—that'll help. There'll be plenty of deadwood but we'll need kindling and oil, and we'll have to pack food with something to heat them in. Milk and water too, and grain. Everyone dress double, even treble tomorrow—I'll be wearing everything warm I have, even if it makes me waddle—and we'll aim to be gone an hour before dawn. Ranarl, can you do big breakfasts for half-an-hour before that?"
"No problem, Lady Kel."
There were groans from the Riders and Miri stood. "You heard Lady Kel, boys and girls —sound advice all. We're in a warzone, in case you'd forgotten, so deal with weapons now. Make sure bowstrings are good, blades clean and dry. Then get some sleep—and no canoodling. Save it for peacetime because you'll need the energy."
Remembering what Raoul had told her about problems when men and women in the same Rider Group became lovers, Kel was surprised and quietly asked Miri if it was an issue.
"Not really, Lady Kel—it used to be, before the men were used to women who fight and don't have families watching them like hawks, and it can be with new recruits who've never been in mixed groups. But they've learned to keep bed and battle separate. I only mentioned it because Marna and Forlan are at that will-we–won't-we stage, and getting close to we-will—but not tonight."
Kel supposed she and Cleon had been at that stage for a while before it had become we-
won't. "My understanding was out-of-date. Raoul warned me when I was a squire that a woman getting involved with a man they had to command tended to work badly."
"He's right, but that's command. And it's changed fast—I've been a Rider thirteen years now, and everyone was jumpier when I started. More so for you, I imagine, as a knight."
"You could say that. As a page, if a boy was in my room the door had to be open, and vice versa, on pain of dismissal. And though Raoul was nicer it wasn't that different in the Own, but I was the only woman."
"Gods. Wouldn't have suited me, Lady Kel." Miri flashed a grin. "But that was before Evin and I got together."
Kel went to bed envious of Miri's ease. She knew Riders didn't train in the same way because they didn't wear full armour or joust, and the older woman was smaller and curvier, but it wasn't only her own body-shape that was the problem, or even the malevolent desire she seemed to rouse in men like Torhelm; there was her awkward self-consciousness about her difference from what the men she'd been attracted to had wanted. Yuki's peppery plumpness had sent signals to Neal her muscular stoicism never had, and Dom was all for slim ankles and well-filled gowns. Drifting off, she wondered how he was and realised she'd not seen Duke Baird since the King's Ball; perhaps he'd gone to Masbolle.
She woke to breakfast smells and they were on their way within the hour, finding the Great North Road better than hoped. A mule train had been somewhere recently—Mastiff, she presumed—and the snow in the centre of the roadway was packed down. In the pre-dawn dark it was slippery with ice, but as the sun rose the going became easier and they made excellent time through the morning. The halt for lunch was brief but even so it was mid-afternoon when they came to the southern end of the Greenwoods valley. The sun had disappeared and the wind was picking up; they were in for a bad night—worse if a blizzard got going. The snow in the valley lay deep and undisturbed, only the lie of the land telling her they were in the right place. Without the river, swift even this close to its source, following the trail would have been guesswork.
They reorganised themselves, Alder taking point, the two plough horses behind to widen the trail he blazed. Nowhere was the snow less than three feet deep, with drifts twice that, coming well up his chest. Even this late in winter it was powdery and the horses were able to thrust it aside, but progress was slow. Each half-hour Kel rotated them, letting the plough horses take point in turn, but as the light began to fail the distant bulk of the fin told her they were still five miles from New Hope. The wind was gusting unpleasantly, and it was clear they'd have to push on in the dark, guided by the noise of the river—but the horses needed rest and food did no good until it was in their bellies. Alder had broken through a deep drift into an area of shallower snow, and woodeaves were close, so with the ostlers and Tobe she got the horses and ponies standing together for mutual shelter and fed them oats while Miri took ten Riders to collect deadwood.
This far from New Hope there was plenty and they made smaller cooking fires and a large one for warmth. Group Askew had a mage, Anya, to start them, but without dry kindling and oil she'd have had a hard time of it; sheltered from the wind by people and horses, Irnai emptied tubs of stew into one cauldron and melted snow in the other before adding soup balls and vegetables, courtesy of the innkeep. Hot food cheered everyone. They'd packed loaves that careful turning by the fires warmed into pliability, and ragged slices mopped bowls nicely.
"I know we're tired, people—horses too—but I think we have to push on. I don't like this wind and if it's going to blizzard we need to be as close as possible before it gets bad. Anya, can you cast light?"
"Some, Lady Kel, but not much nor long. Emergencies or obstacles, yes; continuously as
we ride, no."
"Fair enough. Let's take brands then, and light those lamps. Miri, can you see to that? Tobe, tell the horses there's shelter in five miles. Everyone else, get packed and sorted."
It didn't take long with the wind to encourage them and after kicking snow over the embers they set off again. The area of shallower snow wasn't bad, and the next two drifts wide but not too deep, Alder forcing through without difficulty, but the third, a mile and some on, was higher than his head and only lessened perilously close to the river. With Miri holding an almost exhausted brand and Anya casting light Kel led Alder carefully off the trail until the drift was low enough for him to see over the top. He peered, gave her a long-suffering look and set to. Kel made the others wait, stamping feet and swinging arms, and when he'd made it half way through she backed him out, taking one of the ploughhorses in to break the rest of the way.
Eventually they were able to regain the trail, and for a long stretch going was better though the wind gusted with unpleasant strength. As she clomped along Kel realised the snowscape must be an effect of the fin, channelling wind from the long fetch up the valley to heap what fell beyond into drifts and troughs. There were still two miles to go and she feared there would be at least one more drift, bigger still—a foreboding confirmed as a great white slope reared ahead, spicules streaming from its top. It was tall and steep enough to make going over impossible but did create a sizeable lee. When they were all within it, huddling, Kel and Miri made sure everyone could still feel toes and fingers, while Tobe and the shivering ostlers gave the horses the last oats.
"If we stop at all we stop here—there's no better shelter. But if we tunnel through this one we should be within a mile or so of the bridge."
Tired as they were no-one wanted to stop, so Kel used Alder to break a trail into the drift until it reached head height, and then with the Riders' trenching shovels they took turns scooping and chopping. It was exhausting in thick clothing and they rotated every five minutes, those not at the front helping pack down snow shovelled back. As the tunnel lengthened and the lantern became a necessity, Anya used tiny bursts of power to ice walls and roof, inhibiting collapse. Near the centre of the drift the overburden made for harder, compacted snow, safer but more tiring to dig. Miri was taking a turn when she called for silence. Everyone stopped, but faint noise continued.
"Lady Kel, I think someone's digging through from the other side."
Kel's mind kicked into gear. "I've no idea who or what but no-one at New Hope could see us on this side of the fin, so assume hostiles. Back out everyone. Blades loose, bows strung. Miri, stay until you think they're close so we have warning."
Horses and children went to one side, and Riders arrayed themselves to cover the tunnel, Kel crouching with the lantern to give Miri light. Tension rose but it was only minutes before she came back.
"They're close enough I could hear voices, but I couldn't make out the language."
Kel left the lamp where it would show whatever came out. "Miri, have five Riders turn their backs. If we're watching that lantern we'll be blind to anything that comes any other way."
"Right." She gave orders, and Kel set herself in the middle of the semi-circle. She didn't have her bow but Griffin was loose in its sheath and her glaive in hand. It seemed a long time before they heard snow fall and a voice exclaim in a language Kel didn't know but recognised.
"Who is there?"
"Protector? Is that you?"
This time the call was in Common and Kel relaxed slightly as Whitelist came into view, a bow in his hands with an arrow nocked but pointing down. He wore a heavy jacket over his human parts.
"Yes, with the children and a Rider Group. Bows down, everyone."
"We are sheltering herds in your corral and saw fires up the valley." He came to the mouth of the tunnel and scanned them before calling. "All's well—it's the Protector with a small party. Clear the tunnel."
"We owe you a debt, Whitelist—it's been harder going than I expected with these drifts."
"It is a small return for food and shelter that has kept our herds alive. As we did not know who was coming we preferred to find out. Come, the way is clear."
The horses weren't keen on the tunnel but with Alder leading and Tobe to persuade they passed through. The centaurs' tunnel was more impressive than their own—higher and wider, snow packed hard and flat at the sides—and as Kel emerged she saw why. The centaurs on the far side had boards strapped to jacketed arms, and could tackle snow with horse legs and bulk and human dexterity. The end of the fin loomed to their right, and white water gleamed in the rapids; the wind was fierce.
"We will return to our mates, Protector. The way is clear to the stone bridge, and while there is drifting on the way to the moatbridge it is not bad—the wind is too strong there for much to accumulate. Your people have kept the way to the gate clear, when the wind does not do it for them, so you should not have trouble."
"Thank you, Whitelist. You're doing alright yourself?"
"We are. The cold does not bother us though snow is a nuisance."
"Alright. Thank you again. If you come up in the next day or two I have news about possible trade you might like."
"I will do so. Farewell, Protector."
They cantered downtrail, scoured almost clear of snow, evidently heading for the stone bridge themselves. Wearily everyone remounted, the ostlers tying the plough horses on the string with the pack animals, and they set off, Kel and Miri leading with the children behind them. Wind aside, it was the easiest part of the journey since they'd left the Great North Road and once they crossed the Greenwoods and were close to New Hope's glacis they moved out of the gusts funnelling past the fin. Kel was glad to see that despite conditions sentries were alert, and as they crossed the moat mage light flared above the gate.
"Who goes there?" Mikal's voice was a stentorian bellow and Kel grinned, raising her own to the pitch that cut across a battlefield.
"Lady Kel and Group Askew, Mikal, back from sunny Corus."
He was waiting in the gateway, sword drawn until he could see them clearly and be sure there was no illusion. Then he ordered the gates opened properly, light spilling out.
"You must be frozen, my Lady. We weren't expecting you for a month at least."
"Long story, Mikal, that can wait. But get food for twenty cooking, please and have someone sort barracks for the Riders."
He gave crisp orders and soldiers went running. Seeing the Honesty Gate Kel fought a quick battle and took the only proper option, halting under the lintel to state her name and benevolence to New Hope. As the children followed her cue curiosity outweighed any resentment and Group Askew passed through quickly enough with the ostlers, all looking around with astonishment at the vista before them. Snow lay thickly and was heaped on the green, but paths and shelf had been shovelled clear and crystal magelights glowed softly along the inner wall and wherever main paths met. In the innermost corner an odd light gleamed against the cliff, and though Kel knew it was from a hidden magelight outside the cave entrance it looked beautiful but eerie. Miri came up beside her.
"This is an amazing place, Lady Kel."
"It's home."
Kel spoke without thinking, but saying it she knew it to be true.