Bloodheir (34 page)

And that return could not come soon enough for Tara. There was no one else in whose company she could set aside all pretence and be wholly herself.

She could hear the singer’s voice, an ethereal shiver through the halls. The girl really was very good, Tara thought. In all likelihood, Abeh would steal her away and have her singing in the Moon Palace within the month. And then, inevitably, her beauty would sooner or later catch the eye of Aewult or Stravan, the High Thane’s sons. Whatever happened after she had drawn such attention, it was unlikely to end well for her.

Tara paused outside the music chamber. A single upraised finger was enough to tell the servant there to wait before opening the door. Tara took a moment to run a careful hand over her hair, to settle into place the required bright smile. Then she made her entry.

The narrow strip of fields that skirted Kolglas – fragments of land gnawed out of the vast forests of Anlane – had disappeared beneath the boots and tents and hoofs and creaking wheels of Aewult nan Haig’s host. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of his men were yet to reach the town, but enough had arrived to transform the landscape. The earth was churned into a great lagoon of mud that curved around the town’s landward flanks. It made for a slippery, sodden camping ground; one that would sap the spirits and vigour of the Bloodheir’s men. Aewult nan Haig himself, to no one’s surprise, found it not to his liking. He claimed finer quarters, in the centre of the town.

That was where Taim went seeking him, but the guards on the gate told him the Bloodheir was not within. Aewult, it transpired, had gone to the sea, to view Castle Kolglas. Taim hastened down through the crowds towards the harbour. The thought of Aewult nan Haig observing the empty shell of the castle in the sea was irrationally distasteful to him. For Taim and everyone else of his Blood, what had happened within those walls on the night of Winterbirth was a bitter memory: painful, but also, in an ill-defined way, shameful. It was all too easy to imagine the Haig Bloodheir having a very different response. It felt rather like having to watch an enemy gloating over the corpse of a fallen friend.

The night before, there had been no opportunity to speak with Aewult at any length. When Taim had greeted him outside the town, their reunion was, if not exactly hostile, certainly cold. The Bloodheir had made it plain that his only interest was in finding himself a warm bed and hot food. Taim had found himself dismissed and all but ignored. Unexpectedly, he slept well that night.

Now, the morning after, he had no difficulty in finding Aewult. The Bloodheir’s Palace Shield had cleared a stretch of the quayside and stood like an array of metal-clad statues in a wide half-circle.

Protected from the common folk by that barrier, Aewult was gazing out over the choppy water towards the castle. A woman was by his side, wearing a heavy but intricately decorated coat with a thick fur collar. It took Taim a moment or two to recall her name: Ishbel, the companion Aewult had brought with him all the way from Anduran.

Taim slipped between a pair of the silent shieldmen. He was relieved that neither made any move to obstruct him; he was, at least, saved that minor humiliation. He came up to the Bloodheir’s side with a small bow. Aewult did not acknowledge his arrival .

“It’s a fine castle,” Aewult said. He turned to Ishbel, gesturing at the lifeless mass of Castle Kolglas.

“Don’t you think, my lady? It’s a noble setting.”

Ishbel gave no sign of any genuine interest. “I suppose it is. If you can call anywhere this cold noble.”

Aewult smiled at her.

“It
was
a fine castle,” Taim said. “The roof’s half gone now. Most that wasn’t stone has been burned out.”

“You can build it back,” Aewult said. The smile vanished from his face as soon as he turned his attention to Taim. “It’s nothing that can’t be mended, once your young Thane’s back on his throne. Where is he, by the way?”

His voice had a powerful edge of threat, of aggression, in it. Where his father Gryvan, in Taim’s experience, spoke with subtle daggers concealed behind each word, Aewult flailed around with cudgels.

“I don’t know, sire. I have not seen or heard from him since we marched from Kolkyre. We expect his arrival any day, though.”

Aewult grunted. The answer clearly did not satisfy him. “You can expect whatever you like. Where did he go? Was it Highfast? That’s what Mordyn thought.”

Taim had to take a moment to consider his answer. The Bloodheir was unlikely to believe him if he feigned complete ignorance of Orisian’s plans. Even so, Taim had no intention of reporting to the Haig Blood on the detail of his own Thane’s intentions.

“I think so,” he said, endeavouring to sound like a man accustomed to ignorance of his master’s dealings. “He meant to make his way here with some speed, though.”

“Did he?”

The simple phrase was bloated with self-satisfaction and affected lack of interest. Evidently, Aewult knew – or thought he knew – something that Taim did not.

Ishbel made a disgruntled sound, faint but pointed. “I’m getting cold here. It’s bitter.”

“There’s snow coming in off the sea,” Taim said. He nodded out towards the banks of clouds to the west. They hung like a dismal roof over the grey sea. “Any west wind can bring snow at this time of year.

This one’s likely to be heavy-laden. Tonight, or tomorrow maybe, there’ll be a big fall.”

Ishbel grimaced – it was no small achievement to render her exquisite features so unattractive – and pulled that exuberant collar of fox fur tighter about her neck. A pair of women, bent beneath the baskets full of shellfish they carried on their backs, were scrambling up onto the harbour wall. They must have been out along the rocky shore to the south since early morning, Taim knew. The tide had been at its lowest before dawn. Ishbel watched them walking slowly along the quayside.

“I don’t how anyone gets anything done in this weather,” she muttered. “You should all move south for the winter. Like geese.”

“It’ll be some time yet before the deepest winter,” Taim said.

“Why don’t you go back to our chambers?” Aewult said to his lover, and then beckoned one of his shieldmen. “Send an escort back with the lady Ishbel. And have them prepare my horse. I will be needing it soon, and thirty men to ride with me.”

“Are you planning to go somewhere?” Taim asked the Bloodheir as Ishbel and a pair of the armoured shieldmen disappeared up the road.

“I am.” Aewult turned back towards Castle Kolglas. “I’ll be surveying my army this afternoon. I want them to be ready for tomorrow.”

Taim hung his head and regarded the cobblestones. Events were already setting off down the very path he had hoped to avoid. Had Orisian been here, there might have been some way out of the trap that Taim could feel closing about him; but Orisian was not here, and Aewult was. Now, Taim knew, a great deal – for him and for his Blood – depended upon what passed between him and the Bloodheir; upon what accommodation, if any, he could find with this turbulent man.

“You mean to offer battle tomorrow,” he said, making it a statement rather than a question.

“Not offer. Force. I’ll march, and I’ll keep marching until the Black Road face me. Either we’ll have ourselves a battle or they’ll run away back over the Stone Vale. I’d prefer the battle. Not as much glory in chasing sheep as there is in slaughtering wolves.”

“You think battle a glorious thing?”

“You do not?” The retort was sharp, angry. A battle with the Black Road was not the only kind of conflict the Bloodheir might be eager to court, Taim thought gloomily.

“I’ve seen too much of it to think it anything more than a necessity to be endured,” he said.

“And you think, therefore, I have not seen enough of it? You think me inexperienced in war, Taim Narran. A child, too callow to lead an army. Is that it?”

“No, Bloodheir. That was not what I meant. I am tired, and I am not as young as I used to be. That is all.” It was a lie, but a necessary one. He could hardly tell the Bloodheir that he thought a hothead with a desire to prove himself as quickly as possible made a poor leader for any army.

Aewult kicked a loose pebble into the water. He followed it to the edge of the quay and peered down at the waves.

“Tired and old, indeed,” he said without lifting his gaze. “You needn’t worry. You can stay here tomorrow, while we carve a path back to Anduran for your Thane. If he ever sees fit to grace us with his presence. Perhaps his duty has called him elsewhere.”

The Bloodheir swung about and set off up the road towards the market square. His Shield clattered into loose ranks before and behind him. Taim had to hurry to keep up. He was tempted to ask Aewult what it was he thought he knew about Orisian’s whereabouts, but was not inclined to feed the Bloodheir’s sense of his own importance.

“The Black Road seems more numerous than we thought,” he said as they strode along. “All the reports suggest the Horin-Gyre Blood is no longer the only foe we face. And Inkallim—”

Aewult cut him short with a flourish of his gloved hand. “You and your Thane shouldn’t have been in such haste to leave Kolkyre, if you’ve not the stomach for a fight. I’ve got enough men here to give me the stomach for anything.” He came to an abrupt halt and jabbed a finger at Taim. “You are the rearguard now. Haig’ll do the killing that’s needed to win this war.”

Taim was uncomfortably aware that they were attracting attention. A whole family huddled on the doorstep of a bakery had turned their heads at the sound of Aewult’s voice. Half a dozen men carrying firewood down towards the harbour had stopped to watch. Above, an old woman was peering curiously out from a window.

“We should march with you,” Taim suggested as evenly as he could. “You’ve still got hundreds of warriors strung out on the road, not even here yet. My men can kill for you as well as your own.”

“I’ll tell you what you should do, Captain of Anduran: you should do as I command. I am here, your Thane is not. Unless you can produce him, and have him command you otherwise, you’re bound to do as I tell you. Are you not?”

“Yes, sire.”

Aewult grunted, a satisfied smirk briefly stretching his mouth, and set off once more. Taim followed with a heavy heart. The Bloodheir was right: in Orisian’s absence, he had no choice but to obey whatever instruction Aewult saw fit to give him. Any other course would lead to an open breach with Haig.

However appealing that prospect might be in some respects, here and now it would be a disaster.

Up ahead, Aewult’s shieldmen were like the prow of a boat, ploughing a path through the thickening mass of people as they drew closer to the square.

“It might be worth delaying your advance a little while, sire,” Taim tried again. “Anyone here could tell you there’s going to be foul weather the next day or two. Heavy snow’ll blunt any advantage you have in numbers, or in horsemen. Wait until your stragglers have caught up. If it’s true that the Black Road’s stronger than we—”

“If it’s true, if it’s true. Enough. I will not wait here for your Thane to arrive, if that’s what you hope. I have an army, and an enemy within reach of it. If I wait for good weather in this miserable corner of the world, I’ll still be here come the spring thaw. Whatever you hoped for when you snuck out of Kolkyre, this is not your battle to fight. Not your victory to win, do you understand?”

“I do,” Taim sighed.

“Then bite your tongue. Tomorrow, you’ll see what the men of Haig can do. It might be a valuable lesson for you and your boy-Thane.”

Aewult nan Haig’s army was a lethargic thing. It woke out of a cold night slowly, discouraged by the gloomy sky and the sharp-edged wind that was gusting off the sea and carrying tiny, hard flakes of snow.

Long after dawn, when they should have been formed into columns or already on the move, men were still clustered around fires, arguing over trifles or silently eating gruel. The whole army stank of resentment and reluctance.

The invisible sun climbed higher. The snow grew heavier and cast a white dusting over the town, the army’s camp and the road north. At last, with abundant ill humour, the host began to move. They trudged in their thousands around and through Kolglas, choking every street and farmland path, spilling into the fringes of the forest.

Taim Narran was posted a little way north of the town, five hundred of his men flanking the road. He sat astride his horse and watched Aewult’s army pass. He saw some companies he would count as ready for battle: straight-backed spearmen who marched behind a Vaymouth banner; Taral-Haig riders, their mounts clad in stiff hide bards; a loose crowd of skirmishers from the Nar Vay shore, exuding a murderous enthusiasm. Most, though, appeared short on both vigour and spirit. Heads hung low, feet dragged. Few had clothing fit for the wintry conditions. Taim could see canvas wrapped around boots that were too thin now that snow was falling. Many men had removed their helmets and replaced them with warmer, softer caps. The warriors of the Kilkry Blood would have done much to strengthen and fortify this host, Taim reflected, if Aewult had permitted them to gather and march.

Aewult nan Haig and his Palace Shield were like a glittering precious stone set in the tawdry sludge of his army. The shieldmen had evidently been polishing their breastplates. Aewult’s magnificent horse – a huge beast – had its mane plaited, and its head encased with moulded, hinged silver armour. Some of the shieldmen were beating their drums, though the snow and wind conspired to thin out the sound and rob it of its force.

The Bloodheir peeled away from the column and came cantering up to Taim’s position. His Shield followed and drew to a halt in a long, bright line.

“Enough to do what needs to be done,” Aewult said with a flourish of his arm. It was not a question.

“I hope so, lord,” Taim said.

“You’re not to move from this position, whatever happens. I’ll send word to you if your company is needed. If my messengers do not find you here, it will count against you when all this is done.”

“Of course,” Taim said tightly. “I will be here until I am commanded otherwise. Or until night falls.”