Kentigern started toward them, to be joined a moment later by his first minister. Hagan followed close behind. All of them had sheathed their swords, but when the duke spotted Tavis, he drew his again and kicked at his horse’s flanks.
Glyndwr rode forward to meet him, drawing his blade as well.
“Yield, Kearney!” Aindreas said as he approached. “I’ve no quarrel with you. It’s the boy I want.”
“Stop where you are, Aindreas. Lord Tavis is under my protection now.”
Kentigern halted abruptly, his face contorting with rage and disbelief.
“What?”
“I’ve given him asylum. Until all this is resolved, any harm you do to him will bring vengeance from the House of Glyndwr.”
Aindreas stared at him, his face reddening. Finally, he lifted his sword and raised himself in his saddle. “So be it.”
“Gershon!” Kearney said sharply.
Suddenly there were six archers standing beside the duke of Glyndwr, all of them with arrows nocked and their bows drawn back. Kearney’s swordmaster had done little more than move his hand.
“The House of Kentigern has lost too much already, Aindreas. Don’t make me take its duke as well.”
“Bian throw you to the fires!” the large duke said. “Why would you protect him? After what he did to my daughter—”
“He claims to be innocent.”
“And there are whores is Kentigern who claim to be virgins!”
“You tortured him, and still he wouldn’t confess. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
Shonah looked at her son again, feeling herself wince at the sight of what had been done to the boy’s face. To his credit, her son was not shying from Aindreas’s glare. He sat straight-backed on his mount, his cheeks pale, but his gaze steady. She had once thought of his features as handsome in a boyish way, but the scars Aindreas had given
him changed all that. He still didn’t look old; his skin was smooth and he hadn’t anything resembling a beard. But he would never look young again.
“All it tells me,” Aindreas said, “is that you’re a far greater fool than I ever imagined you could be.”
Kearney’s swordmaster opened his mouth, but the silver-haired duke silenced him with a quick shake of his head.
“Perhaps you’re right, and I am a fool. But I won’t allow you to destroy this kingdom.”
“Do you think you can stand against my army, Kearney? If I choose to take the boy from you, do you honestly believe that you can stop me?”
“He can with Curgh’s men fighting beside him,” Shonah said, drawing a withering look from Aindreas. “If you move against Glyndwr, our two houses will crush you.”
“Lord Kentigern,” Tavis began.
But Aindreas held out his sword, its point aimed straight at the young lord’s heart. “Not a word, boy,” he said, shaking his head. “Not a word, or I swear I’ll cut you down where you sit. Let them kill me if they wish. Better to die with your blood on my blade, than to live knowing that you’re free.”
“Aindreas—”
“How can you do this, Kearney? What of the alliance forged by our fathers? Does that mean nothing to you?”
“On the contrary. It means a great deal to me. But the boy—”
“The boy is a murderer! Damn you, man! Don’t you understand that? He killed my girl. I saw her blood on his hands and his clothes. I saw his dagger in her—” His voice broke, his body heaving with sobs. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his cheeks into his red beard. Shonah could see him gritting his teeth, as if the struggle to regain his composure pained him.
No one said a word. Kearney and the gleaner kept their eyes trained on the ground in front of them. Even Tavis had the good sense to look away. Shonah looked past the duke to Hagan, who shook his head slightly. She understood. More than anything, she wanted to hate this man. He had tortured her son, imprisoned her husband, and brought her to a war she didn’t want. But she had lost a babe herself, and she remembered the grief with a clarity that made her eyes sting. True the child had been a turn short of being born, but that hardly diminished the pain she had felt. She couldn’t
begin to guess how Aindreas and Ioanna had suffered since Brienne’s death.
If it turns out that the boy is guilty,
she told herself,
I’ll have him hanged myself.
“I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Aindreas finally said, his voice ragged.
“Then you would have killed an innocent man,” the gleaner said.
Aindreas regarded him warily, his eyes red. “Who are you?”
“A friend of Lord Tavis’s, and of yours as well, though I doubt you’ll believe that.”
The duke’s eyes widened with recognition. “You’re the one who freed him, aren’t you? You’re the bastard who took him from my prison!”
“I helped him get out of Kentigern, yes.”
A dangerous smile spread across Aindreas’s face. “You I can kill.”
“Enough, Aindreas!” Kearney said. “If I have to I’ll grant him asylum, too. But this talk of vengeance has to end.”
Kentigern shook his head in disbelief. “Now you’re protecting a Qirsi? This is a conspiracy, isn’t it? I’ve heard rumors of such a thing. But I never thought that you’d be party to it, Kearney.”
“The rumors you’ve heard are true,” Grinsa said. “There is a movement growing among some Qirsi in the Forelands whose aim is to wrest control of Braedon and the six kingdoms from the Eandi. And I believe your daughter was a victim of this movement. But the duke of Glyndwr is no more a conspirator than he is a sorcerer, and the same can be said for Lord Tavis. Indeed, I believe that he’s a victim of the movement as well.”
“The boy? Absurd!”
“Is it? What better way to weaken the Eandi courts of Eibithar than to plunge the land into civil war. And what better way to do that than to take the land’s two most powerful houses and turn them into bitter enemies?”
“So you believe that a Qirsi killed Brienne?” Shonah asked. “And then made it seem that Tavis had done it?”
“I believe that Qirsi gold paid the assassin who murdered her. I can’t be certain of anything beyond that.”
Tavis started to say something, but the gleaner stopped him with a hard glare and a shake of his head. Shonah would have liked to know what her son was thinking, but she trusted this Qirsi and if he wanted the boy to keep silent, she wouldn’t pursue the matter. If
there truly was a conspiracy—and at the mere mention of the possibility, an icy fear had settled deep in her bones—there was no telling who among them could be party to it.
“What do you think of all this?” Aindreas asked, his eyes fixed on his first minister.
The man gave a small shrug. “We’ve all heard the rumors. There’s nothing new in that. But I’ve seen no evidence of this movement in Kentigern, and I can’t believe that a band of Qirsi could defeat our defenses so thoroughly as to murder the Lady Brienne and implicate the boy.”
The duke nodded. “I’m inclined to agree.”
“I’m sure you are,” said the one named Keziah. “And two turns ago you would have said the same if asked whether a man could escape your dungeon.”
Aindreas’s face reddened.
“Both our houses have suffered, Aindreas,” Shonah said, keeping her tone so gentle that she might have been speaking to a frightened child, “though I’d never deny that Kentigern has lost far more than we have. But if there’s even a chance that this conspiracy exists, don’t we owe it to the land to learn more before we try to destroy each other?”
“You all just expect me to let the boy go, to forget what I saw the morning after she died?” Aindreas shook his head. “You’re all mad.”
“There’s little else you can do, Aindreas,” Kearney said. “Unless you’re willing to risk war with both my house and Javan’s.”
“The dukes of Kentigern will never forget this, Glyndwr. Long after I’m gone, my people will curse your name, just as they do Curgh, all because of what you do here today.”
“That saddens me, Aindreas. I gave the boy my word that I would protect him. I certainly intended no offense to you or your people.”
“You chose Curgh over Kentigern!”
“I chose peace over war, and would do so again without hesitation! But know this.” He paused, looking at Shonah as well. “If I learn that Tavis is guilty in this matter, I’ll return him to the prison in Kentigern myself. Glyndwr does not knowingly harbor murderers.”
The duchess glanced at Tavis, who met her gaze and gave a single nod.
“I understand, my Lord Duke,” she said. “I thank you for the consideration you’ve given my son and I accept those terms.”
Kearney inclined his head slightly, acknowledging what she had said. Then he turned to Aindreas. “Lord Kentigern?”
“As you say, Kearney,” the duke muttered, refusing to look at any of them, “my only choice is to make war on both your houses.” After a few seconds he raised his eyes, glowering at Tavis. “If you want that demon in your castle, you can have him. If you’ve any sense at all, you’ll lock him away until he rots.”
“Does that mean we can end this war?” Shonah demanded. “Will you let my husband go?”
Aindreas hesitated, the hand gripping his sword tightening until his knuckles were the color of Qirsi hair. “Yes,” he finally said. “I’ll let him go. But I will not allow his ascension to the throne.”
Hagan drew his sword. “Then there’s a war to be fought after all.”
The duke turned his horse to face the swordmaster. “So be it, MarCullet. But I will not allow a house of liars and butchers to rule this land.”
“And I won’t allow one man’s blind need for vengeance undermine the Rules of Ascension!”
“This war is over!” Kearney said, spurring his mount forward until he was between the two men. “If I have to I’ll place my army between the two of you. But I will not allow you to destroy this kingdom.” He pointed at the gleaner. “Didn’t you hear what he said? Don’t you understand that this weakens us?”
Before either of them could answer, a cry went up from the battle plain. Shonah spun around, expecting to see the armies fighting again. Instead, however, she saw several men running in their direction, some from Curgh and some from Kentigern. Ahead of them rode Villyd, Aindreas’s swordmaster. All of them were pointing to the south toward Kentigern Wood.
Looking that way herself, Shonah saw immediately what had alarmed them. The low heavy clouds that had darkened the past several days had lifted with the morning. The clouds that remained continued to cover the sky, blocking the sun. But the threat of rain had passed, and one could see clear to the horizon where there were no trees blocking the view. To the south, however, the sky remained murky, and the light mist that had hung over the wood the night before had been replaced by a sooty grey haze. Somewhere beyond the wood, something was burning.
“I can smell it.”
The duchess didn’t realize she had spoken aloud until Hagan looked at her and nodded.
“It might just be the wood,” Kearney said.
“Or it might be my castle,” Aindreas said, staring grimly at the sky. He looked at Hagan again. “Is this your doing?”
“I swear to you in the sight of all the gods, it’s not. All the Curgh army is either here or back at the castle.”
Aindreas turned to Glyndwr. “Kearney?”
“I have no reason to attack the tor, Aindreas. I think you know that.”
By this time Villyd had reached them, breathless and wide-eyed. “It’s the Aneirans, my lord. Mertesse, probably. I’d wager all the qinde I have to my name.”
“Their spies must have seen you leave,” Hagan said.
Aindreas nodded. “So it seems.”
“We mustn’t rush to conclusions, my lord,” said Kentigern’s first minister. “As Lord Glyndwr said, it could just be the wood, or a fire on the grasses east of the tor.”
“After three days of rain?” Hagan asked. “I find that hard to believe.”
The sky was darkening with each moment that passed, the smell of smoke growing increasingly pungent.
“He’s right, Shurik,” Aindreas said. “That’s no grass fire. I have to get my men back to the castle.”
“Would you allow me to ride with you, my Lord Duke?” Kearney asked. “We’ve a long way to ride and the Aneirans may have the castle when we get there. Another army might give you the advantage you need.”
Kentigern took a breath, then nodded. “My thanks.”
“We’d ride with you as well, my lord,” Shonah said, “if you’ll have us. I know that when this day dawned we were adversaries, but we’re all subjects of this kingdom, and we’d be honored to stand beside you against the Aneirans.”
And my husband is a prisoner in your tower.
The duke’s mouth twitched, as if he found the very idea of riding with the men of Curgh distasteful. But after a moment he nodded again. He turned toward Tavis, his expression hardening.
“I suppose you’ll be riding with us as well.”
The boy’s eyes flew to Shonah’s face, then to Grinsa’s. Neither of them moved or said anything.