The Exile and the Sorcerer (4 page)

The Queen’s sleeping area had its own hearth, though the fire was unlit on the warm spring morning. A bed of straw took up a third of the space. Two low stools were the only furniture. The Queen sat on one; her chief adviser, Lizard, on the other. Their heads were close as they spoke in low voices, discussing the envoy’s message.

War had taken both of the Queen’s sisters long ago, depriving her of close family support. Lizard had filled the gap. Together, the two women had dominated island politics for decades. The current situation was the latest in a series of crises they had averted or overcome.

Lizard was scathing in her appraisal of the Queen of Rathshorn. “Silly young fool.”

“She’ll learn—if she lives long enough.”

“Do you think she’ll attack Storenseg?”

“I think she’d like to. Control of the two biggest islands is a logical first step in conquering all the Western Isles.” The Queen sighed. “She won’t be able to take Storenseg, but a lot of women will die while she finds that out.”

“The traditional claims to rule all the islands create a lot of wild dreams.”

“I know. I’d drop my own claim if I could do it without losing face. I worry about Red trying once I’m gone.”

“She won’t,” Lizard said confidently.

“Can you be sure?”

“I agree she lacks political sense, but she knows enough about war to spot a lost cause.”

“And Fearless doesn’t,” the Queen said firmly. “We need her to learn, and quickly. If I read things right, she’s heading for war but can’t make her mind up on the target. We need Fearless to go for Argenseg. She’ll take it—it’s a lot smaller than Storenseg, but she’ll still lose a fifth of her war band in the fighting. It’ll give her a better grasp of the practicalities of war, and she certainly won’t be in a fit state to bother us afterwards.”

“I’m worried about this nonsense over the swords. It sounds as if she’s trying to create a pretext for war with us. There was nothing subtle about the threat at the end.”

“I noticed. But I don’t think it’s reached that point. This parley is just an excuse to scout things out. You saw the envoy’s eyes light up at the sight of Red limping.”

Lizard pursed her lips. “So what will you do about selling swords to Argenseg?”

“That’s a hard one. To agree might be taken as a sign of weakness. To refuse would give an excuse to attack. But if I’m right, she’s not serious about the swords, and she can always find another excuse.” The Queen looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I could send Fearless’s brother back as a meaningless gesture.”

“That won’t please Hilo. She’s taken rather a liking to him.”

“There’s no shortage of men.”

“We can’t afford bickering among our families.”

The two women sat in silence for a while with identical frowns on their faces.

Lizard was the first to speak. “We might be able to manoeuvre Argenseg into provoking Fearless—suggest to some of their hotheads that it might be funny to take another of her brothers captive.”

The Queen nodded. “That would be good if it worked, and I think I know the right hothead to suggest it to. We could also send Red to visit folk on Varseg.”

“With what purpose?”

“We’d say she merely wants to see the site of her greatest victory again.”

“Who’s going to believe that?”

“No one, probably.”

“So what’s the real reason?”

“To make Fearless wonder why I sent Red to Varseg.”

Lizard froze for a second and then yelped with laughter. “Her spies and councillors will tie themselves in knots looking for a reason that doesn’t exist. With your reputation for being a conniving old fox, they’ll end up convincing themselves that you’re hatching a plot so clever it’s beyond them.”

“And if Red goes to Varseg, it will remind people of all her victories with the invincible Storenseg war band. A good reputation can be the best weapon of all. My family has a lot of prestige, and I’ll use it to bluff a way through this. I want to make sure everyone remembers that the royal family of Storenseg is a very dangerous enemy.”

“I do see one potential problem,” Lizard said after a moment’s pause.

The Queen’s face was grim. “I know...Tevi.”

By midafternoon, although her knee was still sending darts of fire up her leg, Tevi was able to climb to the fortified stockade high on the hillside. If war came, the enclosure would keep livestock safe from raids. Tevi had volunteered to inspect the defences as a way to get time alone to think. However, Brec had tagged along, and there was no way to refuse her company without pointing out the interpretation Laff might put on their going off together.

The timber stockade was surrounded by a deep ditch that made use of natural contours wherever possible. From the embankment, Tevi looked down on the village nestling among fields far below. Holric looked like a toy made by a child in the sand. Tevi felt as if she had only to reach out her hand and she would be able to knock it flat. The image was appealing.

“The ditch and bank are sound, but the palisade needs a bit of work in places.” Brec’s voice interrupted her brooding.

“Umm, I’ll tell Grandmother to send some women up here with axes. What do you reckon...about a day’s work for three women?” Tevi suggested.

“That’ll do it easily.”

Tevi nodded but said nothing more.

“Come on. Let’s go back and see how preparations are going. We could check out the cooking—sample a few bits to make sure they’re doing it properly,” Brec said in her brightest tones.

“You could. I might go and see my boat.”

“Surely it can wait?”

“We’ve missed out on fishing today. We’ll have to set off early tomorrow. I want to be sure everything is ready.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Tevi said quietly.

“Yes, I do. But I warn you, if you don’t cheer up, I’m going to start singing happy little songs.”

Brec was irrepressible; at last, Tevi smiled. “That’s quite a threat.”

“I know. That’s why I reserve it for dire emergencies.”

The path to the beach took them through the jumble of barns and workshops on the outskirts of Holric. Decades of trampling feet had worn hollows in the dark soil. Drystone walls lined either side of the path, overhung by steep thatch roofs reaching nearly to the ground.

The area was deserted; even the fires in the smithy were dampened. The envoy from Rathshorn and the coming feast had disrupted the daily schedule. Little real work was being done. The men still cleaned and cooked, but older women gathered to discuss the prospect of war while younger ones practised swordplay and archery with even more zeal than usual.

Outside one storeroom, three men were struggling with a large cider barrel. Brec marched over and put out a restraining hand. The men—Brec’s brother, Sparrow, and two of Tevi’s cousins—immediately stood back.

“Is this for the feast?” Brec asked.

“Grandmother told us to get it,” Sparrow answered defensively.

“You were shaking up all the dregs.”

“We were trying to keep it steady.”

Brec relented and smiled. “Tevi and I will carry it.”

“We’ll cope.”

“I’d rather not take the chance. I’m hoping to drink some tonight.”

“They’ll be all right without us.” Tevi said, hoping to spare her knee.

“We can’t leave the boys to lug this around. It must weigh twice as much as them,” Brec argued.

Tevi gave in. The full barrel was clearly too heavy for the men, but thanks to Abrak’s potion, it presented no problem for Brec and Tevi, apart from Tevi’s knee complaining with each step. They wove their way to the main square while Brec directed a stream of banter at the men.

“You don’t want to pull a muscle, else you’ll be no fun at the feast and even less fun afterwards. Although the fun thing to pull then doesn’t have a muscle in it.”

Tevi’s cousins giggled and blushed above their beards.

Sparrow walked beside Tevi, smiling at her shyly. He was barely an inch taller than her, with long hair and large brown eyes. As children, they had played together, collecting crabs on the beach and acting out games of make-believe. As adults, they led lives divided by the roles allocated to them, but he still seemed to like her company.

“It’s kind of you to help us,” Sparrow said.

“Brec was right. It’s too heavy for men to carry.”

“I guess Grandmother didn’t think.”

“She must have a lot on her mind.”

“Do you think Rathshorn is going to declare war on us?” Sparrow asked seriously.

Brec overheard the question. “Don’t worry. We’ll look after you. We’ll cut the Rathshorn war band into pieces to use as fish bait.”

The men smiled, and Brec returned to her flow of innuendo, clearly feeling she had said all they wanted to hear, but Tevi was not so certain. Every woman in Holric was arguing strategy and politics; were men so different? Sparrow was not stupid. Surely he could not be content with Brec’s trite boasting. Yet he asked no more questions.

The barrel was deposited in the busy village square. Tevi was anxious to leave, but Brec prolonged the conversation, her attention fastened on one of Tevi’s cousins, who appeared flustered but not displeased. While waiting for Brec to finish flirting, Tevi observed the people in the square. She was getting more than her usual share of critical looks, but it was impossible to say whether it was due to the prospect of her leading the war band or to Laff’s accusation.
In fact
, she told herself,
it could be that I’m looking for signs of contempt rather than trying to ignore them
. It was easy to be oversensitive.

Finally, Brec was ready to continue. They walked in silence. Tevi assumed that her friend’s thoughts were on the young man, but as they reached the boat, Brec said, “Do you mind if I say something?”

“Would saying no stop you?” Tevi placed both hands flat on the hull and felt its solid reassurance flow into her. Silence made her look back. Brec was staring at her own feet, and her jaw was set. She had clearly built herself up to say something and was not going to be deflected. A nasty premonition kicked at Tevi’s stomach.

Brec swallowed and said, “You like Sparrow, don’t you?”

“Yes. He’s a nice lad. Easy to talk to.”

“I don’t mean like that.”

“What do you mean?”

Brec hesitated, biting her lip. “I mean...like...as a man.”

Tevi fixed her eyes back on the boat.
Laff has got even Brec wondering.
What must the rest of the village be thinking?
Aloud, she said, “Well, yes. He’s good-looking, and he...” Tevi’s words died.

Brec was also not at her most fluent. “Because...well, what Laff said...before you hit her...”

“She was just being spiteful.”

“Oh, I know that. But I think I know what made her think it.”

Tevi’s mouth went dry.

Brec’s words came in a rush. “Tevi, I can tell you’re nervous with men. I know that doesn’t mean anything...lots of women are; they just hide it. That’s what the stupid bragging is about. I do it myself, like with your cousin just now.” Brec raised her eyes, her expression worried but sincere. “But you’ve got no need to be nervous. Lots of the men like you, I can tell. Sparrow likes you. You must have noticed how he’s started hanging around you. And...I think he’s just waiting for you to...say something. You have to be more...”

For a moment, the truth hung on Tevi’s lips.
Actually, Laff was on the right track. I’m attracted to women, not men.
They were words that could not be said. Tevi mumbled, “I don’t know.”

“You can’t let rumours get out of hand just because you’re not like Laff, chasing after every man like a bitch in heat.”

Even if she was naive, Brec was right, but Tevi did not want to discuss it. “Er...I’ll...um...think about it.”

“If you want, I’ll speak to Sparrow for you.”

“No,” Tevi said quickly, but then gave a weak smile. “I’ll sort it out myself. But thanks.”

“All right.” Brec looked relieved, clearly feeling enough had been said and happy to move on. “Why does Laff hate you so much?”

The shift in topic was not the direction Tevi would have chosen, but she tried to give an honest answer. “I don’t think she does. She just puts on a show to distance herself from me.”

“Why?”

Because she’s too astute to get linked to a loser.
The words would have been too blunt and too simplistic. As a child, Tevi could remember Laff running after her, adoration in her eyes, but at some stage, Laff had learned that her big sister was not someone to be proud of. Tevi suspected that most of the venom behind her sister’s attacks was revenge for that first disillusionment.

Brec answered her own question. “She’s jealous because you’ll be Queen one day.”

“No, that’s not fair. Laff would be happy with the role of loyal sister to a respected Queen, but she feels I won’t be able to play my part when the time comes.”