Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary (9 page)

     Malkrin’s hand went straight to
Palerin’s hilt, ‘
how many? Are they near?’

     ‘
Relax Sire, Bulwan says it was a day
ago and they will be well ahead of us now.’

     ‘Find out how many of them and who
they were. Get as much detail as you can.’

     Bulwan’s birdsong started before
Malkrin had finished. The rapport was becoming fine-tuned, as if Bulwan was
listening through Halle.

     ‘He says there were three. They were
dressed in strange cloaks and ritual masks that changed their faces with
reflecting light. They spoke quietly, but their words demanded obedience and
truth from all the Skatheln that greeted them.

     ‘And they seek us?’ Malkrin rasped.

     ‘They spoke of one who was outcast, and
gave your description. Then they asked about his companions as if we were
strangers to them.’

     Halle paused and swallowed. He
hesitated, then looked at Malkrin intently, ‘are you ready for a shock Sire.’

     ‘
Tell me – get on with it
.’ Malkrin
responded instantly, his hunters instinct honed to bursting.

     ‘Each of the searchers had three gold
suns on their cloak clasps.’

CHAPTER NINE

C
abryce felt a guards’ fetid breath on her
neck as her wrists were bound together. Rough hands shoved her to the open door;
they burst from her comfy fire-lit home into a gale which blew leaves and straw
up the muddy street. A Brenna soldier was ordered to guard her cottage and she
was led past the dense hovels at speed. Her mind was racing fit to burst as she
glimpsed Nardin retreat into a shadowed doorway. Old Ned came out of his cottage
wide-eyed and quickly slammed his door when he saw her being dragged along.
Strangely, she was pleased two friends had witnessed her arrest. At least the Brenna
could not spread any stories about her leaving Edentown after her husband.

For a moment she hoped Nardin would rescue
her then just as quickly realised the futility of any such bravado. Nardin had
been lucky to be late or the Brenna would have had him as well. Then a terrible
thought crossed her mind. Had Nardin known she would have a visitor? Had he
informed the Brenna? Immediately she dismissed the idea, her life-long friend
would not ever consider betraying her and Malkrin.

But surely someone had. And who was the
brave rebel she had met so briefly? Had one of his brethren set up her arrest
or was it all a terrible coincidence?

She had no way of answering the hammering
questions, so she put them to the back of her mind and resolved to escape at
the first opportunity.

Five horses awaited them outside the
twisting alleys. Horses were a rare form of transport reserved by the Brenna solely
for their use and Cabryce realised she would be forced to trot alongside like a
common criminal. It will be less humiliating on foot; she thought as she contemplated
falling from a horse. A commoner was never taught to ride.

The Brenna Officer climbed onto a large dappled
grey stallion. His men mounted four chestnut mares, using the saddle pommels to
heave themselves up. The Officer issued an order and the horses trotted
forward, forcing Cabryce to run and stumble in front of them. They all took
great pleasure in Cabryce’s every wrong footing, one kept prodding her back
with the butt of his lance. Then he howled each time with cruel laughter.

Shadowed figures looked out of yellow
fire-lit windows and open doors at the commotion. They quickly darted away,
silently closing doors in case they were the next to be arrested.

The uneven cobbles and occasional ruts of
the town’s streets gave way to a hard surface known as crete. This firm road
gave her feet grip so she no longer stumbled in the blackness. She ran in
rhythm to the horses shod hooves. The Brenna guard gave up prodding her, bored
with the lack of response. Before the lights of the town had faded her heart was
racing fit to burst and her legs felt like dead sticks. Soon she fell for the
first time. Eventually her legs would not go many steps without folding. A
gruff order sounded, her hands were untied and she was hoisted behind one of
the mounted soldiers. She had to grab his unwashed cloak to keep astride the
horse. The smell of the rancid cape, his sweat and the odour of horse made her
stomach churn. She tried to keep facing toward the breeze, but that, combined
with the jogging motion of the horse made her neck ache. So she resigned
herself to breathing the combination of unpleasant odours.

After some time the moon emerged from the
clouds and gave faint colour to the rock-face and ferns on her left. To her
right the cliff fell sharply below and all she could make out were the lights
of crofter’s cottages beneath. As they travelled higher the air grew colder but
fresher. They were far above the town now. She had only been to the Brenna’s
fortress homesteads once before, when they had endowed her with her highsense sun.
But this journey would hardly end in honour and reward. With a sense of
foreboding she wondered what trial she was to endure.

In the distance the roar of water grew
steadily louder. They rounded a corner and the grey sparkling mass of the
Shimmerrath waterfall appeared far above her where it emerged from high in the
steep mountain slopes. It fell in seemingly endless cascades behind the plateau
occupied by the Brenna’s homesteads. Then fell further in a series of still
massive falls into the dark Fethwerth
Pool. This deep
lake fed the river Kryway flowing to the lower valleys she knew so well.

A mist from the falls swirled around the
party. Soon the whole troop was wet, even the horses glistened and steamed. As
they left the roaring falls behind, her legs, arms and back began aching with the
lurching motion of the horse.

The road ran in tight turns past the first fortress.
The high walls were steep, featureless and foreboding. She could just see
lights in the encircling walls and in the grim outlines of lookout turrets.

Another fortified home emerged from the
blue-black night. A sun yellow pennant decorated with white doves fluttered in
the breeze – the emblem of the Gamlyn family. Flickering torches lit more
windows in larger turrets. A great studded door was opened to let the entourage
through.

Erich Gamlyn was second in command of the Brenna,
with Bredon the Fox his only master. Cabryce recalled people saying; no more
pompous and conceited a man had ever lived up the mountain. Cabryce realised
she was about to find out if the rumours were true.

She shook her hair and ran her fingers
through the matted strands then straightened her back and held her head high.

The inner courtyard was lit with fish-oil
lamps on iron poles giving a cloying aroma to the enclosed space. The
flickering light gave an intermittent view of a lush space planted with
flowering shrubs which masked the outlines of stables, barracks and servants
quarters. She was taken to a bare room in a thatched lean-to against the
homesteads high inner wall. Without any conversation she was pushed in. The
door slammed shut behind her. Cabryce surveyed the room; it contained a clean
hearth with a smouldering log fire for heat and two old and worn padded leather
stools. A tapestry containing many letters filled one wall, she was too tired
to work out the words so ignored it and added a couple of logs to the fire. She
drew up a stool and sat warming her weary legs.

She waited expectantly. Her head drooped in
the warmth. Nothing happened, so she rested with her head in her folded arms.

A voice interrupted her dreams, and she
woke with a start, still seated before the hearth. The fire had burnt down to a
dull glow.

‘Come’, the voice ordered again.

Cabryce turned sharply, blinking to clear
the sleep from her eyes and mind. A Brenna guard waited for her just inside the
room. He wore the same nondescript soldier’s clothes as the ones who’d arrested
her. But over this drab uniform he wore the ornate crimson cloak of trusted Brenna
servants. On the left shoulder was a bright yellow slash with the same dove
decoration that fluttered on the castle walls. He was a high ranking inner-guard;
she knew, sworn to protect his master with his life.

Meekly she followed him out into the
courtyard and looked up. By the position of the sun it was midmorning. Her
stomach rumbled and her legs felt weak reminding her of last night’s strenuous
journey.

The guard led the way up a long flight of
steps then along a cold stone corridor. Another flight led ever upward. The Gamlyn
family’s living areas in timber framed rooms were situated high up and
overlooked the view to the distant town and valleys below. As they climbed she
peered quickly out of slit windows. The view took her breath away, each
fortified home was set into the slopes of the higher plateau in a random but
somehow designed manner. Each building had its living accommodation high in the
walls, and set to overlook the town and valley exactly as this Gamlyn family
residence did. Behind the buildings the Upper Shimmerrath waterfalls thundered.
A light breeze carried spray from the torrent and threw it against the cliff
walls creating rainbows which floated down to the sparkling Fethwerth
pool. She had fond memories of swimming the pool, but
from below the rainbows had never been visible. She stopped; it was one of the
most beautiful sights she’d ever seen. Even Jadde had no better view unless she
was flying astride her bird servant, she thought in awe.

‘Come on,’ the guard shouted gruffly,
oblivious to surroundings he had known all his life.

Glancing behind her she entered a warm room.
The guard stayed outside. She smelt the scent of fresh bread and goat’s milk with
honey. Her mouth watered, reminding her of how well the Brenna lived. She
hesitated, and then walked ahead past a rich blue velvet curtain and into a
large living area. All around her were vast padded seats and ornate cabinets. Paintings
in frames hung around the colour washed walls and many woven tapestries covered
the floors. She stared, awed at the opulence of the ruling sect. She touched a
gold frame containing the image of Jadde magically creating her holy altar, and
looked in awe at the image of the majestic Goddess.

‘Seen enough Cabryce Otterpaw?’ a smooth
voice asked.

She spun round to view a large corner desk
set at an angle before glass windows overlooking the lower valley. A large
rounded figure sat with a faint smile set within a carefully trimmed beard. She
could barely see him through the glare of blazing sunlight bursting in through
the window. It was a magnificent view, suitable for one of the rulers of the Seconchane.
She felt the building was floating in the clouds above the simple town she knew.
Cabryce composed herself ready to meet the expected interrogation.

‘Take a seat dear Cabryce. Oh . . . and
welcome; my name’s Sire Gamlyn.’

She sat on the edge of the padded chair
expecting some magic to lock her wrists to the wooden arms. Nothing untoward
happened so she squinted and shielded her eyes to see the silhouetted figure before
the bright sunlight. The well dressed Gamlyn sat legs crossed and lounging in a
leather-upholstered swivel chair behind a polished desk the size of her kitchen
area. He held up loosely linked hands to his chin, but succeeded in looking as
if he was about to swat something.

‘I don’t expect you’ve eaten yet. Can I
offer you breakfast?’ He reached across to a table and removed a cloth from a silver
tray full of goat butter, honey and choice cuts of cold meat neatly laid beside
slices of bread. A jug of lemon water stood next to a cut glass goblet. She
stared, not daring to touch the delicious food.

‘Help yourself. I must apologise for your
treatment before you arrived last night. Think of this small meal as some
recompense for your ordeal.’

Gingerly she took a piece of bread and
spread it with butter and honey. Erich Gamlyn doesn’t match the tales, she
thought as she poured herself a glass of lemon water.

She was on her second piece of sliced pork
and third piece of bread when the man asked quietly.

‘Who was the man with you last night Cabryce?’

Her mouth was full of meat so she just
shook her head.

‘I’ll ask again, who was the man with you
last night?’

Swallowing quickly, she spluttered ‘I don’t
know, he just turned up and I let him in.’

‘I know you would not dishonour your
husband. You are not a fallen woman – try again.’

‘I don’t know who he was.’ Cabryce was
suddenly aware of the gold sun the rebel had given her. It still sat like an
incriminating weight in her skirts pocket. She thought quickly, and realised a
plausible story may satisfy her inquisitor. ‘He asked to speak to my husband,
said Malkrin had promised to hunt a fox that’s been killing his hens.’

Gamlyn rose suddenly from his seat and bent
toward her over the desk. His hands slammed the top. ‘
Enough, you expect me
to believe such a feeble excuse?
’

‘It’s the only one I have. I’ve never seen
the man before.’ She was getting heated now and her fiery side that Malkrin
dreaded seeped through. ‘You’ll have to ask Malkrin who the man was.’ She stood
in spite of knowing it was the wrong thing to do. ‘Oh, I forgot, you exiled
him, didn’t you.’ She felt like a defiant child before its teacher.

Gamlyn calmed and sat rigidly. ‘Sit down,
you know more than you’re saying, and I
will
extract it from you. Or
you’ll rot in the lowest, dampest, rat infested dungeon at the very bottom of
my castle-home. A week in there and you’ll be ready to admit to anything.’ He
glared and Cabryce glared back and said nothing.

‘Who was he?’

Cabryce stared out the window. ‘I don’t
know.’

‘Come clean and you’ll be free to start
your life afresh. You are a high-person with a registered highsense.’ He raised
his eyebrows expecting the truth.

‘I know nothing. I’ve never set eyes on the
man before.’

‘You are still a high person – for now.
Tell me.’

Cabryce wondered whether ‘for now’ meant
she could be discredited, and sent on her way from Cyprusnia. It would be her
chance to follow Malkrin.

‘I don’t know the man. He wanted my
husband.’

 ‘You need not want for anything, you can
still have children, help develop their highsenses and live a fruitful life.
Yet still you defy me.’