Days Of Light And Shadow (29 page)

Chapter Forty Five.

Herodan rode into Greenlands somewhat nervously. He was worried by what he would find there. By how he would be received. But mostly he was worried for his sister.

This was a strange land, even to him having spent so many years in the human realm. And while he had grown to like Tendarin and its towering spires of gleaming marble, he had never really thought of it as his home. That was always Leafshade. But no longer for Sophelia. Now Greenlands was her home, and she had never even visited the human realm before.

She was married too. And the very idea of that frightened him. Married not for love, and not after a proper courtship, and not even to someone of one of the great houses. Not even to an elf. Married to a human. Sold by their dark cousin just so that he could keep his skin. It was wrong.

At least Iros was a man of honour. He had been spoken of as such many times by the nobles of King Herrick’s court. Though often they seemed to consider that honour of his as a fault. And he had proven his honour with the last message he had sent to the king before being imprisoned, asking him to respect the code even when he was sorely tested. He had proven it again with the words he had given Sophelia on the day of their marriage. Words of warning that she had passed on to him.

Finell on the other hand had proven his dishonour with every message he had sent. He had proven his disloyalty to the family as well. First by selling Sophelia into marriage. And then by dismissing him from his post without reason. And the way he had gone about it. Sending the message not to him but rather to the king so that he could inform him of his dismissal in front of the entire court, that seemed calculated to cause the greatest possible offence.

At least it would be the last time that he would be heckled and jeered out of Castle Storm.

For now though, he faced a new castle and a new town. One he had passed through before, but never stayed at. And one he would have to visit more often now that his sister resided there. Now that the Lord was his brother in law.

At least Greenlands seemed like a civilised town. Not as refined and elegant as Tendarin. The streets weren’t paved and the people wore less finery and more dirt. The stone of the slab like buildings was dark grey, an unappealing colour, and they were without finesse. Without artistry. Without spires. Greenlands wasn’t nearly as large as the human capital either, though he imagined it could still be called a city in its own right, if the humans weren’t so stubborn about names. But neither was it as rough as he had feared. It was what the humans would call honest. No false pretensions. Buildings were buildings and people were people. They didn’t pretend to be more than they were.

The masons and carpenters were busy. Everywhere he passed there were artisans at work, replacing roofs, putting in new glass in windows, tiling and even rebuilding front porches. And even from a distance as he’d approached the town he’d seen hundreds of workmen digging out the foundations to begin finishing the wall. This was a town under construction.

There was a strong guard presence about too, but maybe that was for the best as things seemed orderly. At least no one yelled curses at him, no one threw rotten fruit at him. He had half expected that, as he’d approached the southern lands and started seeing the signs of the war everywhere. But he knew that as he continued south, leaving the protection of the guards and heading into the regions harder hit by the war, that might still happen. There was a reason that he had acquired a large hooded cloak for his journey home.

The castle, when he finally reached its gates, was an actual working castle. It wasn’t like Castle Storm of Tendarin. It wasn’t pretty with towering spires, a marble façade and massive arched windows. Drake Castle was like the town, rough and honest. It was a fortress built only to house and protect those who called it home. And everything about it said that it would do that job well.

“Identify yourself.” A guard called out to him from just the other side of the portcullis, and while he looked to be relaxed Herodan wasn’t fooled. The man was standing ready.

“Herodan of House Vora.” He pulled back the hood of his cloak so that he could see his hair. “I am here to visit with my sister and Lord Iros.”

Did his words have any impact on the man? Or his blue hair? Not that Herodan could see. The guard simply stared at him briefly, maybe looking for weapons, and then gestured for a boy to come running to take his horse. So was the man being slack? Or had he simply assessed him as posing no threat?

“Lord Iros is indisposed. But I will have word sent to him of your arrival. Bennis here will take your horse, and Alsa by the main entrance will take you to the Lady Sophelia.”

Indisposed. The word clutched at Herodan’s innards with ice cold fingers. Such an innocent word. It could mean anything. It could mean nothing. But everything in him was screaming that it meant sick. Turning the handle on death’s door sick. Just as he’d feared.

He’d hoped that it wasn’t true. That the nasty, truly disgraceful whispers that had been given to him were the imagination of his contacts in the other missions. That his cousin couldn’t have stooped so low. But he knew he had. The sprites didn’t miss much, the dwarves despite their seeming crudeness ran a highly effective network of spies, and the gnomes with their cleverly wrought devices could spot a poison or a plot at a thousand paces. And they had all said the same thing. It was fortunate that neither Finell nor Y’aris suspected that the envoys shared information among themselves. The boy was every bit as black blooded as that advisor of his. The one that according to many, had long been orchestrating a poisoning campaign as he advanced himself to stand by Finell.

So the witchbane had been harvested again. The vials prepared. And the evil concoction rubbed into a dying man’s wounds by a watchman dressed as a healer. And all of it done for no other reason than spite. It was unthinkable.

Yet he had to think about it, as he was lead through the castle. And he had to think on what else he had heard before he had been dismissed from Tendarin. That Finell had sold Sophelia for naught. That he had thrown her away without ever intending to honour her sacrifice.

It was the only thought on his mind, until finally the servant knocked on a thick wooden door and he heard Sophelia’s voice ring out. After that he could scarcely think of anything at all, save her crying and tears of joy at seeing him.

Finell didn’t understand it. He never had and maybe he never would, but family and house was everything. As he was finally able to hold his sister in his arms again, Herodan knew that.

With everything that had happened to the two of them, they were still alive. They were lucky. So many others hadn’t been.

Chapter Forty Six.

Dinner was an interesting meal, not least for where it was held. They hadn’t used the dining hall yet, but then since it was obviously meant to seat hundreds, that probably wasn’t to be expected. For once though they weren’t using the smaller family dining chamber behind the kitchen that Iros seemed to favour either. She liked that chamber too. Though it was small, barely large enough to seat half a dozen, it was the one place in this huge stone fortress that was always warm. How could it be summer and yet the castle could still be frozen through? How could people live in this icebox?

But this evening they’d somehow found themselves in a third dining chamber, one that she hadn’t even known existed. But then the castle was huge, and she hadn’t explored a lot of it. It was full of humans, people loud and big and strange to her eyes, and though they treated her politely she still felt unwanted. She was unwanted. It was more difficult for her two attendants of course, as they had to constantly wander the endless hallways of the castle, seeking out everything from meals for them, to materials that she could fashion into wall hangings. Anything to remind her of home and take her thoughts away from the cold dreary castle.

This chamber was somewhere in size between the other two, with a single table and a dozen chairs. But it was still a big table, polished dark oak that had been buffed recently, and the chairs were more formal than the others. High backed and covered in thick green velvet, all of it she noticed, embroidered with the mark of the fire drake in gold thread. Important symbols, important furniture and an important room. A place where formal guests might be entertained.

And at least it was warm. The servants had banked the fire early on so that its warmth filled the room. They’d also laid out expensive silver cutlery, and tablemats of heavily embroidered linen. Again green linen and gold thread stitched in the shape of the firedrake.

Several silver candlesticks adorned the table as well, while yellow light from the lanterns in the ceiling ring made everything seem quite cheery.

Then there was the menu, another unusual choice that she appreciated. Spiced rabbit casserole on a bed of actual rice, with fresh green beans. She hadn’t seen rice in all the time since she’d been in Greenlands. She hadn’t thought it even grew in these parts. But she wasn’t complaining. The cook had done good work in preparing the meal for them. Elsie was a master of the ovens, and Sophelia was tired of the more normal fair of roast game and root vegetables.

But the real blessing for Sophelia was the company. Herodan had arrived a few hours earlier, invited by her husband after he had been so horribly ordered home by Finell, and she was grateful for that. Even if there had been tears shed, she was grateful for seeing at least one member of her family again. She had feared it might not happen. That the disgrace she had brought on herself and them would prevent her family visiting. But she had forgotten that her brother regularly travelled through the human realm. For the moment.

Of course it had not all been easy. There had been a lot of holding each other close and tears being shed as they wept for everything that had been lost. And so much had been lost thanks to Finell. It was as though he was engaged in a war against his own house. Even in Greenlands they received some news through the traders.

House Vora was now deeply shamed, by both her marriage and Finell’s war. House Allel was surely demanding exorbitant compensation for what they considered the insult when her promise to Berris had been broken. They would have to pay it. There had been hope of her younger sister Fidelia being promised in the coming year to Arden of House Tenarri. That hope was likely gone. None of the great houses wanted to be linked, even at one step removed, to a human house. If it could even be called a house and not just a family line of a few short centuries. A house was only as worthy as those it allied itself with. And House Vora had allied itself with a family not even part of a house, let alone a great house. Even House Vora’s traditional allies would be running scared of them.

As if that wasn’t enough, they had been shamed yet more by the unceremonious way in which Herodan had been dismissed from his post. Even in Greenlands they had heard of his dismissal. Traders had brought word days before, after they in turn had heard the gossip in the city streets. Her brother was the subject of ridicule in a thousand taverns and House Vora with him. And even in Leafshade the word from the traders was that he had been dismissed for disloyalty.

In mere months Finell had destroyed House Vora. He had stripped it of every shred of honour and dignity. It would be generations before their pride could be restored.

Yet as unfair as that was, it was what Herodan faced in Leafshade that worried Sophelia. It worried them both. There she feared that he would actually be tried for disloyalty. And even if he wasn’t, if what Iros had told her was true and not the fevered dreams of a sick man, he would be facing some hard questions. And first on that list was why he had not told them of the wheeled cannon.

Worried, she had asked him that question herself soon after he’d arrived. And strangely she’d found that he already knew of the accusation. Her husband had sent him a pigeon on the very day he’d returned home, and not even told her. Apparently the envoys had a long-standing arrangement for privately sharing information. Even former envoys. She wondered if Finell knew. He would probably be upset if he found out.

But that was the least of their worries.

Most worrying was that Herodan’s answer would not be well received by the high lord. It would probably not be believed. Herodan had sent that very information, many times. It was just that somehow it had never made it to the high lord’s eyes.

Finell of course, would not believe him. He trusted few since he had been elevated, save perhaps the pox ridden High Commander Y’aris. And in those two short years since he had been made high lord, all the other long serving advisors to his position had been removed. One by one retired, fallen ill, died in office, been disgraced, or simply vanished. Only Y’aris continued, and if she’d had the coin to wager, she would have bet that he’d had something to do with their departures. If the high lord had troll blood in him, something that seemed more likely with every day that passed, then Y’aris was pure basilisk.

So Herodan was riding into trouble. They both knew that. But for him not to return would have been worse, as in the high lord’s eyes he would have named himself traitor. Even before she had left, Finell had been engaged in a continuing hunt for traitors. Now according to the word reaching them through the few traders that plied the road to Elaris, he was worse. 

Iros had told her also of what the black blood Y’aris had insinuated in the Royal Chamber about their family. Of his questioning of their loyalty. So if Herodan did not return, then not only would he be named a traitor, but so too would the rest of the family, and House Vora would fall completely. There was never just one traitor in the high lord’s thoughts. It was always a group, a cabal, a plot. And Y’aris seemed to know how to use that to play whatever dark game he was playing.

So Herodan had to return, and her family had to be warned. And then maybe, a few prayers should be said. Which was why before they ate she had given her praises to the Mother.

In these difficult times the family could use all the help they could get.

They could also use some cheer, which was why she and Herodan had spent most of the dinner trying to speak of happier times. There was comfort to be found in the past and precious little in the future.