The Forgotten War (189 page)

‘Exactly,’ said Mathilde emphatically. ‘Kraven will need us. I know what my cousins are like; any sign of weakness and they will pounce upon it.’

‘But there is no hurry to wed,’ said Cedric. ‘It will be four or five years before Morgan gets Haslan Falls. He will come round in time. I bet you fair bludgeoned him with your
suggestion; he may need time to recover from the shock.’

Mathilde smiled at last. ‘I may have been rather forthright,’ she admitted. ‘But you know as well as I that his heart lies elsewhere. It matters not – the marriage is a
political one, after all, but I did hope that my second marriage would be more a bonding of soul mates than the first.’

‘I think you will have to accept that,’ said Cedric, ‘he will never forget his wife.’

Mathilde stood and moved over to the window. In the courtyard Morgan and Itheya were sharing some sort of joke together. ‘It was not his wife I was thinking about.’

Cedric nodded understandingly. ‘Do not worry about that. Neither her people nor ours would accept a long-term union between them. It has nowhere to run – do not fear on that
account.’

Mathilde sighed. ‘He has a soft heart, especially where women are concerned. Do you know he has sent authority to Tanaren to give poor Cheris the mage two hours in the city before she is
locked up for good.’

‘Punished for saving the city!’ Cedric shook his head. ‘I doubted her; I shouldn’t have. I fear for her now. I have even adopted her cat but I will give it to my
assistant Alys when she arrives. She loves cats.’

‘And I have her dress, the one I gave her. I will send it to her, if she is ever freed.’

‘I could take it with me, keep it on the Isle of Healing; she could visit and wear it, if she is able to.’

‘That would be good of you; I fear the Isle of Healing may be the safest place to be over the next few years. As one war ends, another may be about to start. Here even in the east the
Grand Duke is dividing loyalties. This is a country that never seems to want peace.’

‘I fear you may be right,’ said Cedric. ‘And which way will Morgan turn, I wonder?’

‘I wonder that, too,’ said Mathilde softly. ‘I wonder that, too.’

At last the carriage came to rest among the cobbles of Loubian Hill. The rain skipped over the uneven stones, dislodging the ingrained dirt and moving it just a few inches
where it would set again, once the rain had stopped. The carriage waited silently on the deserted street, next to one of the city’s more upmarket taverns and opposite a grand estate built on
two storeys and surrounded by a low wall. A bedraggled and hirsute guard stood outside its imposing carved double doors, obviously wishing he could be indoors where many soft lights shone through
the expensive leaded windows.

‘You are sure this is it?’ Cheris was sitting nervously inside the carriage, knees close together, looking through the window at the rain and the estate that loomed through it.
‘I mean the building is huge. Are you really, really sure this is the place?’

‘Everyone in the city knows the Menthur estate,’ said Sir Dylan wearily and it seemed for the hundredth time. ‘It is your parents’ house, have no doubt about
it.’

‘House!’ Cheris murmured. ‘Some house. And I have an hour, do I not?’

‘One hour, yes – not even the generosity of a baron will let it go on further.’ He held up Baron Felmere’s deposition requesting that she should get two hours in the city
as a reward for her role in the delivering of Felmere from the traitor’s siege.

‘You did not clear the streets as before,’ said Cheris.

‘They are near deserted up here anyway. Technically I should have cleared the streets, yes, but I am trusting you to behave yourself in this; you could hardly be in more trouble, after
all.’

‘So you are not worried I will make a run for it?’

Sir Dylan laughed. ‘I trust you. Did I not just say it? Besides, you would be caught and probably hung for your trouble.’

Cheris sounded rueful. ‘Your order actively dislikes me now, don’t they? I did not intend to make them look foolish, you know.’

‘Ah, serves them right; I would have known what you were up to right away – not searching under the bed indeed. Embarrassing idiocy. Anyhow, you had better be going; time is running
out for you.’

Cheris pursed her lips. ‘I am quite terrified, you know. What shall I say?’

‘Say hello and then explain that tomorrow you sail for the Isle of Tears and probable life imprisonment. Say that this is the last time you will ever see each other; you know, something to
lighten the mood.’

She gave a sad laugh. ‘Thanks.’

Dylan tried to strike a more cheery note; his attempt at humour had been too close to the truth. ‘Seriously, Cheris, just be yourself; you have your peasant’s dress on. You look like
a normal girl, Keth’s teeth, you
are
a normal girl; you will know what to say.’

Cheris stared at her lap. ‘I have never seen the island’s prison. I know it only has about four cells and that they lie under the college and lead out along the eastern spur. They
are lit only by a grille in the ceiling. Even if I do not get life imprisonment, I will never be allowed to leave the island again. Tonight is my last night here. For ever.’

‘The punishment does not fit the crime,’ Sir Dylan said sympathetically. ‘Yes, technically your crime was great, but you did not hurt one of your own people; you broke a siege
and helped enable a war to be won. And you were horribly wronged beforehand. I am sorry for you, Cheris; please believe that.’

She took his hand, strong under his soft leather gloves. ‘Dylan, my room will be guarded tonight, yes?’

‘By me and two guards that is correct.’

She coloured a little. ‘Could you post them as far away as possible, and could you stay in my room as a guard. Surely the extra vigilance would be commended.’

His eyes were wary. ‘Why?’

‘Please do not think ill of me. Tonight may well be my last night of freedom in my entire life. I do not want Trask to have been the last man to have me.’

It was Sir Dylan’s turn to colour. ‘You are suggesting...’

‘I think I am ready, yes, I want to be close to someone, to remember that not all men are beasts. But having said that, if I should change my mind, if I get ... memories of what happened
and ask you to stop I would ask you to respect that, too. Please allow me to change my mind.’ She put her hand to her brow in annoyance. ‘Oh Elissa, I really have no idea, do I? You
must think me a whore, to toy with you so. I meant no harm, I swear it...’

This time it was him who took her hand. ‘Quiet, Cheris, that is the last thing I think you are. I am honoured that you so chose me and, besides, if I did not respect you as you ask you
would probably roast me with lightning bolts through my eyes.’

‘Please do not say that! Those days are over. I never want to use my powers again, ever. The prison doors have wards that negate magic. If I am there for life, that will ensure it for me.
My words are clumsy, but all I meant was that I wished to know affection one more time, for I will not be allowed visitors on the island; the other knights have been most emphatic in telling me
that.’

‘As I said and seriously this time, I would be honoured to stay with you tonight. If only it could be for longer... I am sure you have thought the same.’

‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘But let us not dwell on what can never be.’

Outside, at last the rain eased a little. ‘You had better go,’ said Sir Dylan softly.

‘Thank you for this,’ she said as she opened the carriage door. ‘I will not forget your kindness. Wish me well. I hope they recognise me.’

‘They will and I do, and thank Baron Felmere, not me.’

She stood in the street, pulling her hooded cape over her; evidently the rain was still heavy enough to annoy. ‘One hour then.’

‘Just under. Go on, off you go.’

Cheris waved, then turned and ran over the road towards the guard. She spoke to him briefly and Sir Dylan noted the surprise on the guard’s face. Then he led her to the door, hammering on
it until it was opened. A soft yellow light shone from within the house, covering both shadowy figures. And then Cheris stepped inside and the door was shut, leaving the guard to return to his
miserable duty.

Sir Dylan climbed out of the carriage and went up to its rider, who was completely covered in oilskins. ‘You can wait here or find somewhere dry it does not matter. Just as long as you are
back here in one hour. I am off to the tavern for a bite to eat.’

He darted into the tavern, passing under its friendly yellow lantern. As he did so the carriage driver cracked his whip and pulled away; evidently the thought of going somewhere dry could not be
resisted. After he had vanished off down the road the street was left empty. Or rather nearly empty. For as soon as the driver had gone another figure, previously unseen, emerged from the shadowed
doorway of an empty house three doors from the tavern. This figure, too, was covered in a hood and cloak and walked past the tavern and the Menthur estate and into the nearest side street, down
which it disappeared, as silent as a wraith.

Then came a great roar, not from the tavern, but from the estate itself, where the yellow lights in the windows had never welcomed a stranger more willingly.

Claw Pass in the spring was infinitely preferable to Claw Pass in the winter. There was no snow, the ettins had vanished further up the mountain, and the trees in the gorge
were full of vibrant greenery as the birds sheltered within them sang with all the gusto they could muster. A motley collection of horsemen and women rode the pass, this time passing trade caravans
going in both directions. Morgan was at their head with Itheya, Dirthen and Astania beside him. He had decided to escape the bickering of the nobles for a while and seized on this opportunity to
formally escort the elves back to their forest home. In fact, all the other elves had disappeared one day, surprising the humans travelling with them. Morgan had known they were going into the Pass
of the Knife but said nothing, keeping the elves’ secret.

They were accompanied by some twenty men-at-arms, enough for a formal escort without crowding the pass completely. Another addition had arrived the previous night, surprising everyone, most of
all Morgan.

‘Haelward!’ he called; truly he was possibly one of the last people Morgan had expected to see in this isolated place. Yet he was here, but there was a difference, for under his
cheek was a scar, a puncture mark just as if a spike had been driven into the flesh. Haelward told him his tale, for in a few short months he had travelled the length and breadth of Tanaren as his
duty had compelled him to do.

‘So you met the Lady Ceriana?’ Morgan said. ‘I met her once only, near the end. You know of her fate, I trust?’

‘There is no one in Tanaren who doesn’t,’ Haelward replied. ‘Nobility she may have been but she was a really sweet girl. Brave, too; it took courage to enter that
labyrinth at night; I don’t know how I did it, to be honest. And I return here and find you a baron, winner of this cursed war. In all the taverns I stayed in on my way here, and there were
many, the songs of Morgan of Felmere and the Dragon Princess are all that can be heard. I was sick of them by the end, no one sang about the Chambermaid and the Duke’s Son at all, and I like
that one.’

‘Songs about me not bawdy enough, I take it?’ Morgan asked.

‘Well, heroic deeds only go so far, whereas a song about a tightly laced corset can be repeated for ever as far as I am concerned. You heard of Leon’s death, I take it.’

‘I have yes; I sent his widow my condolences and some money to tide her over; if she needs more, she only has to ask.’

‘I am not sure her new husband would take it.’

Morgan looked surprised. ‘She has remarried? Good for her.’

Haelward nodded confidentially. ‘Only to Samson, if you can believe that. He says his wandering days are over; he has left the army and works as a huntsman for Baron Olric. The Baron has
never eaten so much venison.’

‘Good man, it was time he settled down. Of the others, Willem is coming to Felmere to help set up the university, along with a ton of books and some professors Cedric has managed to charm
away from their comfy chairs. And Varen is magistrate in Shayer Ridge, a bit of a right-hand man of mine, and a good one to keep an eye on the Lasgaarts for me.’

‘It is pleasing that he has settled there; he was so desperate to prove himself.’

‘He has done that abundantly, especially with Trask’s uprising. He held the village from besiegers for many weeks. It was the only place not to fall in the whole war. Anyway, my
newly scarred warrior, what of you? What are your plans, now the war is over?’

Haelward shook his head. ‘Over? Here, for now maybe, but in the lands I have passed through peace is on nobody’s mind.’

Morgan groaned. ‘I thought you would say that.’

‘It will be civil war, Morgan, mark my words. Soon we will all have to choose sides.’

‘We are a stupid country. Chira is poised over Arshuma like a fish eagle stalking a salmon. It will border us soon and a divided country is a weak one in its eyes. It is patient, the White
Empire. It can wait ten, twenty, thirty years for the opportunity, then they strike, and another country gets the benefit of their “civilisation”. It is a folly to ignore them, plain
and simple. Anyway, from what you have told me I will need all the trustworthy captains I can muster. Once my tenure at Felmere is over, I get Haslan Falls, but as Kraven will be only sixteen, and
a young sixteen at that, he will need watching closely. I may remain in Felmere, if requested, and I will make sure that I
am
requested, which means Haslan Falls will need a steward. A man I
can trust, but, as I cannot find one of them, I am asking you. What do you say? Ultimately, it may mean you get a baronetcy of your own somewhere.’

‘A very minor baronetcy, I would imagine.’ Haelward smiled. ‘Baron Haelward of Shithole, or something like that.’

‘It has a definite ring to it.’

‘Then I will happily accept your offer. Us men who almost trust each other need to stay together in treacherous times.’