Donnel's Promise (4 page)

‘Nor do I, Captain, but I should like to. Very much. And to that end perhaps we should keep this incident to ourselves.’

With a sigh he turned to survey his men. ‘Webb, wait with Croft. Lark, ride to the nearest farm for a wagon then get Croft back to Contlaw and wait for us there.’ He turned back to her. ‘If we’re going to do this, Lady, we do it at speed, leaving no time for a second attempt at persuading us from our course.’

Nannet wept. She was frail, her skin speckled by age, bare scalp showing through the wispy strands of her hair.

‘Nonno.’ Risha sank onto the edge of the narrow bed. Her throat clogged as she picked up the woman’s hand. The knuckles were swollen and twisted. ‘It’s good to see you, Nonno,’ she whispered.

The old woman made a small mewing sound as she raised her palm to Risha’s cheek.

‘She speaks very little,’ the hospice marister said.

Risha glanced at the woman. She was a careworn sixty, tall and slightly stooped. ‘She is very thin, Marister.’

The woman made an impatient sound. ‘We cannot force her to eat, Lady Arishara. She is much withdrawn into her own mind.’

Risha studied Nannet’s face. ‘Are you here with us, Nonno?’ she asked gently. The old woman’s hands gripped Risha’s arms as if afraid she might disappear. ‘Could a meal be prepared now, Marister? Perhaps she needs assistance.’

‘Nannet is one of many patients,’ the woman said stiffly. ‘They are all treated equally.’

‘And all as thin?’

‘We do our best.’ The woman’s thin lips had almost disappeared. ‘Havre’s Council has repeatedly declined my requests for additional support. We live largely upon the charity of our neighbours.’

‘When I return to Havreport I will ensure it is reviewed,’ Risha said. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend some time alone with Nannet.’

Nolan hesitated a moment then ushered the marister towards the door.

Risha waited till they were gone. ‘Are they looking after you, Nonno? Are you happy here?’

The woman only gazed at her. Risha sat back,
frustrated
. The room they were in was spartan but tidy. There was nothing individual, nothing to tell her about the woman, both stranger and friend, who resided within it.

‘Do you remember Cattra, Nonno?’

The old woman’s lips trembled and she began to rock.
My little cat
.

Risha almost laughed in relief. She had not heard Nonno’s voice in her mind since the siege; she had even wondered, at times, whether the woman had died.

‘Oh, I’ve missed you so much!’ She hugged the old woman’s shoulders. ‘You were my best friend.’ An
imaginary
friend, according to Pelon, though that hadn’t stopped him from banning the game of exchanged thought pictures that Risha, no more than five or six, had reluctantly described. ‘I’m sorry I closed you out. Pelon—’

Hush.
Nonno’s familiar comfort burst like sunlight in her mind.

‘Nonno, can you teach me how to mindspeak? Properly I mean. Timon and I have never managed it again.
He has no other experience of it. He—’

Disapproval slapped in her mind as the old woman’s body stiffened.

‘Nonno, please. I have no one else to ask.’

The woman closed her eyes. If the silence had not felt so disapproving, Risha might have thought her asleep.

Someone tapped on the door. Nolan hovered behind the serving girl who carried a scantily set tray into the tiny room. ‘Marister Hela said you was wanting food, ma’am.’

‘Thank you.’ Risha eyed the bowl of watery soup. ‘Will you eat something, Nonno?’

There was no reply.

‘She don’t eat much, that one. Sometimes we can force a little soup in ’er, but she don’t want it. Wants to die, I’d say. Sometimes they get like that: just had enough.’

Risha studied the girl. She couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. ‘Does she ever speak?’

‘Used ter. About her daughter. But she was awful confused. Hasn’t said nothin’ in a year now.’

‘Is it you, who cares for her?’

The girl blushed. ‘Oh no. I work in the kitchen. I help feed ’em all sometimes, but I don’t do nothin’ else.’

‘But they’re treated well? With kindness?’ Risha asked.

The girl’s answer seemed genuine enough. ‘I should say so. Marister Hela’s kind to everyone. Right fierce, she is, about respectin’ ’em. Says we could all end up the same way.’ An involuntary shudder rippled through her slight shoulders.

‘Marister Hela is quite right.’ Risha turned back to Nonno.

‘You must be ’er granddaughter,’ the girl said. ‘She used ter talk about you. Said you lived in the
mountains
, up north somewhere. I guessed that’s why you didn’t visit.’

Risha cleared her throat. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s why.’

‘She’ll be pleased ter see you now then. I think there’s more goes on inside than we know, half the time.’ The girl cocked her head. ‘Well, not all of ’em, but with this one, there is. I’ll fetch the tray later.’ She bobbed a little curtsey and was gone.

Nolan lingered in the doorway. ‘Is all well, my lady?’

Risha nodded bleakly.

My lady.
The voice crooned in an approving singsong.

Risha stared into the wrinkled face.
Nonno?

Soothing warmth wrapped around her as the old woman began to hum and rock. The tune was a lullaby she’d sung in Risha’s mind years ago, to soothe away her childhood hurts. Tears welled in Risha’s eyes.

With the song’s end Nonno reverted once more to silence.

Nolan cleared his throat. ‘We’ve a long ride ahead of us.’

Nonno?

No reply. ‘Nonno, I have to leave soon.’

The woman gave no sign of having heard either physical or mental voice. Risha sighed, her eyes drifting around the small room.

‘My lady?’

She squeezed Nonno’s fingers. ‘I’ll come again,’ she promised. ‘Or you could come home, back to the castle in Havre.’

Still nothing.

‘All right, Captain.’ She stood up.

My kitten
.

Risha stilled.
Will you help me, Nonno?

Their eyes met, the old woman’s rheumy and vague. The effortlessness of their mental communication was in stark contrast to the exhausting exercises she and Timon had tried. Yet when she had reached for both of them it had been as easy as this.
You made it possible, didn’t you?
It was more a realisation than a question.
I need you, Nonno. I need to learn
.

For a moment she thought the woman would speak, but her grip on Risha’s fingers faded, her gaze drifting into the middle distance, somewhere beyond the walls of the room.

Risha sighed. As she leant to kiss the old woman’s cheek, Nonno’s bony hand touched her hair.
Ask Ciaran
.

Ciaran? Why?

But Nonno had resumed rocking, her fingers plucking at the coverlet as if she was unaware of their presence; as if, once again, she was lost in the tangled folds of her mind.

4

Proofs and promises

R
isha sat back in her chair, clenching her toes inside her soft shoes to disperse her annoyance lest it show in her face. ‘All I am suggesting, gentlemen, is that we divert a small proportion of funds from building works to hospices. Both are important, are they not? But the new jetty at Whitelaw could wait six months while our old and infirm cannot.’

It was the first concrete proposal she’d made. Whether the councillors’ disapproval was due to that or to an inbuilt resistance to change, she couldn’t tell.

Athan spoke. ‘The new jetty will allow speedier unloading. It represents a saving of time and—’

‘Money. Yes. But not a better quality of life where it is needed. Having undertaken to provide care for our most needy, must we be mean with our support?’

Several councillors looked uncomfortable. Risha pressed her point. ‘Perhaps we can find a way to achieve both goals. The outbound goods tax was not increased with the inbound — perhaps there is room for adjustment there?’

Which would affect the burghers’ private pockets,
and as such they would be loath to agree. Still, the debate proved useful in showing her where her councillors’ hearts lay.

Athan, meeting her eye, drew the discussion to a close and called for a vote. Despite arguing against her proposal he voted for it, tipping several waverers and thereby securing additional funds for the duchy’s hospices. She should have felt satisfied, but instead ended the meeting less sure of her allies than ever.

Timon was prosaic. ‘Best you take your successes where you can,’ he told her.

‘But why didn’t he simply support my proposal at the outset?’

‘Athan will argue as he believes during debate, then vote as he judges best for the duchy. He sees his role as one of managing conflicting desires.’

Though she could accept such a distinction, she still felt at odds with the process. ‘I can’t imagine my father tolerating such a cumbersome system. Every decision is so drawn out.’

‘The structure is modelled on the Sitting — as it was established, rather than as it currently functions, which is with Goltoy holding the balance of power and determining all decisions.’

Distracted, she turned. ‘Goltoy controls the Sitting even without Fratton’s support?’

‘With Quilec as his puppet he has Caledon’s vote as well as Westlaw’s. Donnel could wield the deciding vote if he did not choose to boycott the Sitting.’

It was as near as Timon had ever come to a criticism of her father. Setting the information aside to consider
later, Risha changed the subject. ‘Timon, what does court gossip have to say about Athan’s marriage?’

Timon’s eyebrows danced. ‘Verony would be the one to answer that. Why do you ask?’

She shrugged. ‘It seems an unlikely match, somehow.’

‘Court alliances often are.’

She had no wish to think about court alliances. Cantrel had once jested about her own future marriage, and that had been enough. ‘Can I trust Ciaran, do you think?’

‘In the first instance, yes. But if you’re asking whether she would keep a confidence from her husband: marriage being a strange thing, I wouldn’t rely on it.’

‘It’s not that. It’s more a favour, quite a large one.’

He looked intrigued. ‘Her response will rely on both the nature of the request and on what Athan thinks. But you risk little in asking.’

When Risha found the woman and laid out her request a frown settled around Ciaran’s eyes. ‘Lady Arishara, I am flattered that you should request my company, but I fear you overestimate my enthusiasm for the saddle.’

‘But you grew up in the northern marches: surely you ride?’

The older woman reluctantly agreed. Risha hurried on. ‘As my nearest relative after my father, I should like to get to know you. Your brother, too — perhaps we might visit him? I regret that he left the city before I chanced to meet with him again.’

Ciaran was already shaking her head. ‘It would not be safe for you to travel so far north, my lady. Talben lives just south of our border with Westlaw.’

‘Does Goltoy make trouble?’

‘Not directly. There are skirmishes, which he claims are brought about by “unruly troublemakers” on both sides of the border. My brother says it is not so — though according to some he is one of the troublemakers. Most assuredly he is unruly.’ A smile flickered across her mouth. ‘Have you spoken with my husband about your proposed journey, Lady Arishara?’

‘Not yet. I wanted to discuss it with you first. None of the councillors seem much inclined to travel, but I should like to see Havre and assess the mood of its people.’

The woman hesitated briefly before answering. ‘It is true that the business interests of our councillors keep them largely in the capital, but it would be a mistake to assume they are not kept well informed. The Council has seen Havre through difficult times.’

‘I meant no criticism.’

‘No?’ Ciaran paused. ‘Your grandmother relied on a council of advisors, arguing them essential to good governance. Havre has always been thus.’ She twitched the embroidery that lay in her lap. ‘I realise it is different in LeMarc.’

There was a beat of silence. ‘Do you suggest my father is not a good leader?’

‘Not at all, my lady. But his style of governance is not Havre’s. Donnel is an autocrat, used to getting his own way. He was always so. It was your grandparents’ chief objection to the match.’

Risha felt winded by the abrupt swing in the
conversation’s
direction.

Ciaran touched Risha’s hand with her fingertips. ‘Don’t take my words the wrong way. Your mother loved
Donnel, and for good reason. He can be extremely charming, and he adored her.’ She waved a hand as if to push the conversation aside. ‘I have spoken out of turn: I am sorry. You have only recently come to know him, which makes any criticism all the harder to hear. I meant only that, like each of us, he is not without fault.’

Risha was not ready to be so quickly placated. ‘I am aware of it. What fault do you claim for yourself?’

The answer surprised her as much as the woman’s warm smile. ‘Oh, I am impatient and selfish and
lacking
in tact, so my husband assures me — and I have just displayed the last.’ She set her needlework aside. ‘If you still wish it, I will join you on your journey, and perhaps we might visit Ben if he will agree to meet us in the southern marches. When shall we embark upon this progress?’

Risha felt unbalanced. ‘As soon as we may. Nolan will provide an escort and attend to provisions.’

‘The charming Captain Nolan: excellent. And as we travel, if you like, we will speak of your mother.’

Athan scowled. ‘How you enticed my wife into this rash venture, I cannot comprehend.’

Risha regarded him steadily. ‘Athan, I don’t believe that my mother and grandmother spent their lives sitting in their apartments stitching samplers. You might like to think of the benefits of having me out from under your feet; I don’t doubt you’ve taken advantage each time I’ve gone riding.’

Guilt flickered briefly across his face, confirming her supposition, and Risha found herself longing with an intensity that seared through her chest for Cantrel
and his steady, even-handed guidance. She cleared her throat. ‘I am not just a figurehead to put on display,’ she added. ‘I’d like to make my own judgements about the strengths and weaknesses of our duchy, and then to discuss with you my thoughts on these things. Need this really be a problem?’

His silence was thoughtful. ‘You’ll need a larger guard, and the entourage should include a standard bearer and perhaps a pavilion.’ He raised a hand to forestall her interruption. ‘You may be more than a figurehead, but you are one nonetheless, and we would be remiss if we did not take advantage of it. If the people are going to see you, then see you they shall.’

For the first time, inexplicably, Risha found herself liking the man.

‘I was rather dreading another travelling circus,’ she confided to Nolan as they prepared to depart. ‘It’s not as bad as I’d feared.’

‘I did my best to rein him in. Though I can see the man’s point: it will be good for morale for the people to see you, and with you a return to the grandeur of the past.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I was not raised with grandeur.’

‘Nor in either of the duchies to which you are heir. I wonder whether Goltoy knows that all the time he searched for you, you were safely tucked away in his own lands.’

‘If he does it will annoy him.’ She paused, her thoughts drifting north. ‘I mean to go back to Torfell one day. It is
where Pelon — the man who helped my mother escape, and raised me after her death — is buried.’

‘Pelonius? Your grandmother’s secretary? I had not heard that part of your story.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Is my story so much discussed?’

‘Inevitably. How not?’ He offered his most charming smile and Risha couldn’t help but return it. ‘Though I’ve also heard that you were raised by wolves in the Othgard Mountains, and were able even as a youngster to defeat the scourge of bandits who dwell there. Perhaps Pelonius assisted?’

‘The scourge of my youth were village bullies and I never managed to defeat them. Pelon did foil Goltoy’s tithemen, who were certainly bandits.’ With the memory her mood darkened.

Nolan leant past her to check Mica’s girth. ‘We never quite leave our childhoods behind us. But they are also what keep us steady in who we are.’

She was reminded suddenly of Muir — he’d once said as much of his own childhood. She missed him, she realised. She’d not seen him since just after the siege of LeMarc’s citadel, nearly two years ago now. ‘Has there been any word from Gorth?’ she asked, abruptly shifting topic.

‘Not since the bird from Elion saying he’d concluded the first part of his business.’

‘He had another task to complete before returning to Havreport, but how will he find us on the road?’

Nolan swept his eyes around the cluttered courtyard. ‘To be honest, my lady, I do not think anyone could miss us.’

They rode west at a leisurely pace, winding through rolling farmland and orchards that reminded Risha of LeMarc, though the climate was more temperate. In the villages they gathered a retinue of wide-eyed children. Risha solemnly shook each offered hand.

Ciaran had been truthful when she claimed she was out of the habit of riding, and complained that no part of her anatomy was exempt from discomfort. Lyse suffered similarly.

‘The more you ride, the sooner it will pass,’ Nolan assured the two women.

‘True as that may be, I would be obliged if you kept our days short, Captain Nolan, else I fear I shall be crippled before we reach the marches,’ Ciaran answered.

The weather remained fair, with a freshening wind greeting them on the fourth day of their journey. ‘Sea wind,’ Nolan told Risha, reining back to ride beside her. ‘We’ll reach the coast midmorning.’

It was not as she had expected. High cliffs of dark basalt, turfed to the lip of the drop, fell to the shore as if the land had been sliced through by a blade. The wind, blowing from the west, smelled of salt and dried kelp.

‘The edge is unstable,’ Nolan warned, as she craned to see down to the narrow strip of beach far below.

‘How do farmers stop their stock from wandering over?’

‘Not very well, I imagine, especially in the thick fog that sweeps in from the sea during autumn and winter. Sheep do well on the salt-grass, which perhaps makes up for any losses.’

‘Is it possible to get down to the shore?’

‘There are places where the bays are more sheltered and paths or steps have been cut, and further north a
few fishing villages are tucked into larger coves, but it’s mostly as you see here.’

The cliffs reminded her of the mountains of her childhood, steep and unforgiving. She said as much to Nolan.

‘I should like to see your mountains. I’ve never been north of Caledon.’ He gave her a slow smile. ‘I thought myself well travelled, lady, until I met you.’

That evening they reached a town large enough to boast a choice of inns, and Ciaran argued vehemently for whichever offered the best bath-house. ‘I shall never again take a cushion for granted,’ she groaned, as she and Lyse helped one another up the steps.