Queen (Brotherhood of the Throne) (5 page)

Thorold frowned. There had
been no word of the witch or the cursed Brotherhood. He could only hope that
they were off licking their wounds, along with Duchess Avery and her militia
captain Ravershaw.

He was still furious that
those two had escaped but he would have forgiven his men if they’d been able to
hold the witch, Brenna Trewen. To know that she’d been in his hands, locked up
in his cell, but had escaped, still enraged him. More than a few of his guards
had become acquainted with the High Bishop since that night. The rest would not
let her slip through their hands again, not if they hoped to live - or even die
a clean death.

In his office, he sat down
and reached for the stack of correspondence that had arrived in the past day.
He sorted through it and frowned. There was still no word from Duke Ewart. Was
the man on his way to Kingsreach? Thorold had personally invited him to
Beldyn’s coronation – not responding to him was an insult. Ewart would attend -
he had to. Avery’s absence he could accept, embrace even - the witches had
never been part of his plans - but Ewart’s absence would create difficulties
for him. His negotiations with Langemore depended on him having control over
Fallad – at least the northern part of it.

Thorold
cursed the High Bishop. The man had
ordered all his priests to Kingsreach to prepare for the coronation and with
Stobert hemmed in on a small pocket of his land by Duke Ewart’s militia - there
was very little news out of Fallad. He’d assumed the witch had traveled to
Aruntun but he didn’t know for sure. Could Ewart be aligned with her? If he had
to take Fallad by force he had to wait until spring to mount a campaign – his
army wouldn’t be ready until then. He flipped through the notes and scrolls on
his desk, hoping to find some information that would tell him what he needed to
know.

There was a knock on the door
- he looked up as Captain Barton entered.

“My Lord, there is bad news.”

“Out with it,” Thorold said. He resumed scanning a scroll he’d unrolled.

“The ferry along the Upper
Silverdale River has been taken by a force from Fallad,” Barton said.

Thorold looked up in shock,
the scroll dropping to his desk, forgotten.

 “We had twenty men
guarding the two landings but they were quickly overrun. Only two men have made
it back to Kingsreach. Both had been stationed on this side of the river and I
fear that all the men on the far side have been lost.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Yesterday, my Lord. They
struck just after dusk and had control of both sides of the river within an
hour. My men say it was a large troop, up to sixty men, and some were wearing Falladian
colours.”

“What are your plans to
regain the ferry, Captain?” How dare they attack the ferry? It was in Comackian
lands,
his
lands. They could not be allowed to keep control of it.

“I am readying a force of over
one hundred Kingsguard. We will ride before dawn and should reach the ferry by
mid morning. The ferry should be back in our control by tomorrow evening.”

“See that it is,” Thorold said and sat back in his chair. “We must have this dealt with quickly before the
coronation.”

“Of course my Lord,”
Barton said, then turned and left.

Thorold slammed his hand
on his desk, sending papers and scrolls flying. Ewart of Fallad would not be
coming to Beldyn’s coronation. So be it. He would retake the ferry and then march
on Fallad in the spring. He’d send Langemore’s army in from the north and his
own from the south and squeeze Ewart until the Silverdale River ran red with
blood.

He needed to send a note
to King Mannel. Beldyn’s marriage to his daughter must happen before winter set
in to tie Langemore to Soule. Mannel would have no choice but to supply troops
once his daughter was in Thorold’s safe keeping.

He picked up a clean piece
of parchment and pulled a pen and ink pot from his desk drawer. He would need
to word the note carefully, very carefully indeed.

three

Brenna hummed to herself
as she stirred the stew. She added another pinch of rosemary, frowning when she
noticed how little she had left. She was running out of a number of her
supplies - a trip to the market was needed in order to search out more herbs.
Both for cooking and for healing.

“Neemah, do you know any
good shops for buying herbs?” Brenna turned to the other woman and smiled.

After almost a week of
good food and plenty of rest, Neemah no longer looked gaunt and worn. Once
clean, her hair, which Brenna had thought a mousy brown, turned out to be a
luxurious mahogany. Her gray eyes looked almost blue in the cornflower-coloured
dress she wore.

Brenna looked ruefully
down at her own dark breeches and shirt. Perhaps she should take a little more
interest in how she dressed. She’d noticed the light in Dasid’s eyes the first
time he’d seen Neemah cleaned up. She shook her head - Kane would probably
wonder what was wrong with her if she started wearing dresses.

“There’s some good shops
down in the market,” Neemah said, her head bent over the dough she was
kneading. “But I never had much call to go down there. There’s a shop in the
poorer section of town.”

Neemah sent her a worried
look and Brenna knew the shop was close to the tavern.

“An old healer as always
said her herbs were picked at just the right time to make them more potent. And
they always worked when I needed to bring down a fever or such.”

“Do you know some healing
Neemah?” Brenna asked in surprise. She’d assumed that Neemah’s only skills were
serving and cooking - she’d never thought to ask if she had other skills. How
could she have not asked? She should know better than to make assumptions about
others.

“Some,” Neemah’s hands
stilled in the dough and she twisted them nervously. “More when I was younger. I
worked at a tavern, doing healing, mostly. That’s where I met Ronan’s father. Later,
when they knew I was with child, they made me leave. Said I was loose and they
didn’t encourage that. That’s when I ended up at the Black Swan.”

Neemah’s shoulders hunched
and Brenna wrapped an arm around her.

Neemah took a shuddering
breath and then continued. “When I did some healing at the Swan they started
calling me a witch, so I stopped - except for me and my boy, of course. But the
name stuck anyway.”

Brenna gently turned
Neemah around and lifted her chin until their eyes met. “Healing is a great
skill to have, Neemah. In Aruntun a healer is given more respect than the
duchess.”

Gray eyes widened and
Brenna smiled and nodded. “An innkeep moved a paying guest and gave me one of his
best rooms in exchange for a few hours a day treating folk in his inn. I’m a
healer too. Trained by my mother, who was trained by her mother.”

“Really?”

“Really. Do you want to
see what it was in the pack that Ronan took? What I needed to get back so
badly?” At Neemah’s nod Brenna walked over to the table and her pack. She
pulled the mortar and pestle from it and handed them to Neemah, who had come up
beside her, wiping her hands on her apron.

“They feel warm, almost
like they’re alive,” Neemah breathed, her eyes held by the old steel in her
hands.

“They’re magic,” Brenna
said.

Neemah started and the
pestle rattled in the mortar.

“Real magic,” Brenna
continued. “Not like healing, although to folk who don’t know any better that
seems like magic. And I’m a real witch, although I’ve only become one recently despite
being named one most of my life. Here.” She took the mortar and pestle from the
other woman’s hands. “I’ll show you something.” Brenna held the mortar and
pestle up and let their song flow through her. They started glowing, a clear
white light. “See? I can make them light up.” She dampened the light and put
the now dull mortar and pestle back on the table. “And here, look at my eyes,”
Brenna let her spell of concealment drop and Neemah gasped.

“You’re eyes, they’re two
different colors.”

“Yes. I was born with one
green eye and one brown eye. We think it best to keep them hidden for now.”
Brenna grinned. “Though Kane makes me drop the spell sometimes. Claims he feels
like he’s sleeping with a different woman when I have two brown eyes.”

“Oh,” Neemah said and blushed.

 “My eyes are magic too,”
Brenna said. “Another gift passed down through my mother’s family. I’m a Seer.
That means I can sometimes see the future. Or what the future will hold if
nothing is done to change it. I have a cousin who is also a Seer. She has one
brown eye and one blue.”

“Is she in Aruntun?”
Neemah asked.

“Yes, she lives in
Aruntun. She’s the only child of Duchess Avery but she wasn’t chosen as her
mother’s heir - her role as a Seer is considered more important.”

“Seers and healers are
more important than the duchess? Maybe I should live in Aruntun.”

“Maybe you should.” Brenna
whispered the spell that made her green eye brown again. “That’s up to you. I
could probably arrange for you and Ronan to travel to the coast and have a ship
pick you up and take you south to Smithin.” Rian Chaffer could send a ship,
Brenna thought, and the Red Anchor would welcome a healer. “But now that I know
you’re healer trained, I have another idea.”

 “Could we stay here with
you?”

“I don’t see why not. Duke
Ewart has a big house and you and Ronan don’t take up much room.”

“What would you want me to
do?” Neemah asked.

“To start, I’d like to go
with you to get some healing supplies - mine are running low. Then I’d like to
spend some time learning what you know about healing. The last time I was in
Silverdale a book about Falladian plants caught my attention.” She laughed at
the look Neemah sent her. “Yes, I was going to the library to look at a book on
plants. Truly. If you enter by the door you have to talk to the scholar who
runs the library for half an hour.”

Neemah giggled. “Ronan
says the same thing. That’s why he goes in secret too.”

“I knew he was a smart lad,”
Brenna said. “Come sit down with me by the window.  I have more serious things
to discuss with you.” They sat and Neemah looked at her with solemn eyes.

“Do you know where Dasid
is right now?” Brenna asked. A slow blush crept across Neemah’s cheeks and Brenna
had to fight a smile. Neemah had definitely taken a liking to Dasid. It was
nice that he seemed to feel the same about her.

“All he told me is that he
would be back in a few days.”

“He’s leading a group of
soldiers. They’re taking control of the ferry that’s on the road between here
and Kingsreach.” Brenna took Neemah’s hands in her own. “There will be some
fighting but I have full confidence that Dasid will be successful and come back
safe. But this means Duke Ewart will not support Duke Thorold’s son Beldyn as
king. You’re a healer, you understand what that means.”

“Fighting,” Neemah said
flatly. “Like we’ve not seen in lifetimes.”

“Yes, so we’ll need
healers, as many as we can find or train.”

“How do you, Kane and
Dasid fit in with this?” Neemah asked. “And how come you’re so close with Duke
Ewart?”

“Duke Ewart, like us,
believes that having Beldyn on the throne will be terrible for the country,”
Brenna said. “Not because of Beldyn, who I grew up with, but because of Duke
Thorold. He’s many, many times meaner and more powerful than the men at the
Black Swan.” Neemah paled and Brenna squeezed her hands.

“Dasid is a soldier. He spent
more than half his life in the Kingsguard, first under Kane’s uncle and then
under Kane when he was captain.” Brenna smiled when – through old steel - she
felt Kane move to the doorway of the kitchen. “But the two of them, as well as
me, are part of an older story. I think you should hear that tale from Dasid,
but trust that we all want what’s best for Soule.”

“But what matter to folk
like me who sits on the throne?” Neemah asked. “Do they help me raise my boy? Do
they care if I’m mistreated? No, they just stay in Kingsreach and eat their
fine food and wear their fine clothes.”

“Do you think the same of
Duke Ewart?” Brenna asked softly. She only had to close her eyes to See the
throngs of regular folk - like Neemah - whose lives would be so much worse with
Thorold in control.

“Duke Ewart has been kind
to me and my boy,” Neemah said softly. “But it weren’t him that saved me from
my life. Oh, he took me in when you asked him to and he’s been generous about
it too, but he didn’t see how mean my life was.”

“What about Brenna? Would
you follow her?” Kane asked softly.

 Neemah turned around to
face him – she met Kane’s gaze and lifted her chin.

“Aye, I’d follow Mistress
Brenna,” she said. “She’s lived some and knows how it is for plain folk.”

“Has Brenna shown you what
she carries in her pack?” Kane moved closer to them. “The pack that never
leaves her sight?”

“I showed her the mortar
and pestle,” Brenna said.

“Show her the other item,
Brenna. Let’s see what Neemah thinks of it.”

Brenna reached back into
her pack and pulled out the coronet and gently peeled back the old, cracked
leather wrapping. As always, when she finally touched it, the old steel lit up.
She laid the coronet down on the scarred wooden table.

“Where’d you get that?”
whispered Neemah.

“It made itself known to
me when I was in Kingsreach,” Brenna reached out and idly traced the crest set
on the band and the coronet glowed even brighter. “It’s mine, meant for me if
Soule is to be saved.” Brenna shrugged. “At least so says the old tale.”

“And do you believe it?”
Neemah asked.

Brenna let her hand drop
from the old steel. “Some days I do and some days I don’t. But I do know that life
will be a lot harsher under Duke Thorold than you can imagine,” Brenna said and
her smile turned grim. “I grew up in his household - I know what he’s capable
of. If he gets a true grip on Soule regular folk will pray for the days when
king and council ignored them - because Thorold ignores no one. He thought me
his bastard daughter yet he twisted the laws to enslave me and killed my mother
when she dared to confront him. He will squeeze the people and the land for his
own ends and punish any who dare challenge him. Some of this I have Seen in
visions but some of it I know in my heart because I know the man.”

Neemah had paled slightly
at Brenna’s words, but she nodded. “As I said before, I will follow you.”

“Thank you Neemah. It will
not be an easy road. Now,” Brenna wrapped the coronet back in its old leather
and put it back in her pack, “I must make a list of supplies to get from this
healer you know. We’ll ask her for the names of any other healers as well. We
should start an infirmary and maybe a school for training.”

Kane’s hand squeezed her
shoulder briefly and then he was gone from the room. She followed him through
old steel, needing to know that he was there, that he would be with her on this
difficult journey. She hadn’t even declared herself queen, but Dasid’s taking
of the ferry was the first battle in the war for the throne of Soule.

Kane studied Dasid’s face
as he told Neemah the story of the Brotherhood. Brenna sat by his side and when
she squeezed his hand he turned to smile at her. For once Ronan sat quiet and
still by the foot of his mother’s chair, his young face turned up to Dasid’s as
he spun the tale.

Dasid rubbed his hand over
his bristled hair. It was just starting to grow back. He’d shaved it to
disguise himself as a priest of the One-God when they’d rescued Neal Ravershaw
from the High Bishop. Dasid’s had been the most dangerous role - he’d walked
openly into the High Bishops most secret rooms. And despite the success of gaining
control of the ferry Kane knew that had been dangerous as well. Dasid had lost
a few men defending the ferry against the sizeable force Thorold had sent to
try to retake it.

Kane studied at Neemah.
When he’d first met her she hadn’t struck him as particularly strong but she’d
grown in the time since Brenna had saved her from her old life. He glanced back
at Dasid. He hoped Neemah knew what was in store for her, he thought, because
there was no doubt about the way she looked at Dasid. Or the way he looked at
her.

“So the four bloodlines,
Brenna has them all?” Neemah asked when Dasid finished.

“Yes, Brenna has all four
bloodlines,” Dasid said.

“Not legitimate, of
course,” Brenna said. “And it’s all a little complicated. My grandmother is the
sister of Duchess Avery and King Bodan is my grandfather’s father. Duke Ewart
is a cousin - his aunt was my father’s mother. My father’s father is of course,
Duke Thorold.”

Neemah’s gaze flicked from
Brenna to her son before it settled on Dasid.

“And you follow Brenna
even though she’s bastard born?”

“Yes. That’s not important
to me,” Dasid said gently. “I’ve served with many men and what matters is his
heart and mind, not the circumstances of his birth. And as for their mothers,
well, there’s always a man involved at some point in time so to blame only the
woman seems unfair.” Dasid looked down at Ronan and smiled. “And to blame the
child is ridiculous.”