The Last Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (39 page)

Bridgit tried to keep her fear well hidden. The Kottermanis in their cabin looked harmless enough and all they had on them were wooden mallets and long, chisel-like tools so they could pull down the walls between the cabins. That should have been cause for happiness and certainly those mothers about to be reunited with their children were beside themselves with excitement.

Yet Bridgit could not feel the same thrill. There was always the chance she would meet Kerrin again when the walls came down and she was both hoping for and dreading that moment. She did not think he was aboard but now she would know for sure, so her heart was racing and her stomach turning upside down. As well as that, the walls coming down meant she would have to give up the children she had been looking after. Obviously they were not hers, but it was still going to be a terrible wrench not to be their mother any more.

But, beyond that, she was learning that being a leader was not as easy as it seemed, having to deal with the first challenge to her authority. While the mothers who were going to get back their older children were delighted with what she had done so far, those with sons over sixteen summers wanted more – wanted all their children back. Erdogan had flatly told her such boys were considered men, and so would be kept locked away. After her early successes Bridgit wanted to try to get these boys back, as well as the elderly men, but she knew she had to be careful with Prince Kemal. So far he had appeared reasonable and even pleasant; she remembered, however, that he had been in charge of the raids and was obviously utterly ruthless. If there was no advantage in it for him, he would never agree – and she could lose everything she had already won from him. So she had told them that was impossible and, understandably, they had been upset. Like the first day, Bridgit had tried to be reasonable and comforting but, eventually, had been forced to lose her temper.

“Would you prefer to be chained up night and day, or perhaps separated from all your children? These Kottermanis are not our friends. They have spent a moon tearing our people out of their homes. They care nothing for us. Either you trust me and listen to me or I will send you up to speak to their Prince Kemal. And if you anger him, you will go over the side and your children will be cast into the darkest part of the hold,” Bridgit had told them and, reluctantly, they had listened to her. They had come to accept her as their leader. Of course now she was going to have to demonstrate that authority to the rest of the women too.

As the Kottermanis used their tools to knock out several long hidden wooden pins and collapse the walls on themselves she put aside those thoughts to focus on her fear that she would see Kerrin on the other side. One of the strangest thoughts she was having was how she would regret losing her leadership role. She had begun to get used to people looking to her for advice and she realized she would miss that if Kerrin was there – for he would instantly become her whole world again. She stopped worrying about him to pursue that thought but then the walls were gone and it was washed away in the rush of people from both sides.

“Stay with me,” she told her little family of lost children, making them hold hands so they did not get swept away.

All around her mothers and children were being reunited in floods of tears and friends were embracing and exchanging news. Mothers raced forwards and her little family was reduced one by one until she was alone and could walk away from the tearful reunions and look around desperately for Kerrin.

Once or twice her heart leaped as a small figure burst out of the crush but then hope and fear faded as it proved to be someone else. She searched, at first slowly and then with growing agitation, until she could be sure he was not anywhere.

She had to battle to keep the tears from coming. What was he doing? What was Fallon doing? She wished with all her heart she was with them but the knowledge they were far away was something of a comfort. The confirmation he had escaped and she was alone was bittersweet indeed.

But she had little time to brood on it, for many of the mothers came over, once they had weathered the initial relief of being reunited with their children – almost all of whom said it was Bridgit who had brought the walls down and reunited the families.

“How did you make them take down the walls and give us back our children?” more than one asked. Most of them did indeed look much thinner than they had when they boarded.

“Gather in closer. We do not know where ears might be listening,” Bridgit replied.

Soon there was a huge cluster of women and children around, all gazing up at her. It was a strange feeling. She had seen Fallon like this many times, at village meetings, as he passed on news from Lunster or reported on thieves in the area. She had never wanted nor sought that attention, but now she had it, there was something strangely satisfying about it.

“We are on a Kottermani ship, being taken into their empire, where we shall be sold as slaves.” She had to pause while the younger women and older children reacted to this. It was not loud, as the women, distressed as they were, did not want to upset their little ones. And they quietened down quickly at Bridgit’s urging.

“They do not want you to lose any value, so they agreed when I said the only way to get you to eat was to give you back your children,” she said.

“But what is the point? If we are to doom ourselves and our children to slavery, would it not be better to die?” someone asked dully.

“We have to believe we are not being doomed to slavery,” Bridgit said firmly, deciding she would not mention anything about Prince Kemal’s talk of rape. “They made a terrible mistake when they took us but left our menfolk. Fallon and the others will not abandon us. Even now they will be chasing after us.”

“That is all very well for you to say, but what about us, who were taken with our husbands as well?” an unfamiliar woman asked.

“They will come for you as well. My Fallon and the others will come for us all.”

“But what can they do?”

“What won’t they do?” Bridgit replied swiftly. “And if you want to end it all, at least give them a chance. How would our rescuers feel if they sailed all the way into the heart of Kotterman only to find us all dead?”

“Will they really come for us?”

“Fallon will. And he will not stop until we are back. I know that is what he will do. It is our task to stay alive until then, to protect our children and each other so we can all return together,” Bridgit told them, her voice ringing with belief.

She could see doubt on some faces but determination on many more.

“How did you become leader, anyway?” someone asked.

“Because someone needed to. And I was the one to lead the fight against these bastards when they attacked us. That has won me the respect of our captors. If you don’t like it, then you can go and complain to the Kottermani Prince I persuaded to put us back together,” Bridgit snapped. She was not surprised when the women quietened down at her words and she decided to press her advantage. “And you will eat and regain strength. Because if you don’t, they will split us all up again. Would you rather that?”

Nobody questioned her and she quickly divided them into groups, expanding on what she had done in the first, smaller cabin, so that there were always people watching the children, and an area set aside for their toilets.

Then she made sure the women were all eating, or at least drinking the honey in water. But they all took the food. Just seeing the children again had restored them, although Bridgit liked to think her words had also given them some hope.

“What do you think will happen when we reach Kotterman?” Nola asked softly.

“One day at a time. That is how we must think from now on,” Bridgit said. “Just get through one day, and one more. Fallon will come: I know it.”

“How do you know that?” Riona asked. “How can you really know that? Aren’t you just hoping that?”

Bridgit smiled, but it was a fragile thing. “I am hoping that. I have to believe it with all my heart or I fear I shall go mad.”

“Some might say it’s too late for that,” Nola said with a smile.

Bridgit forced herself to smile back and to breathe deeply. That was her fear. She could keep going as long as she was sure Fallon was coming after her. But what if he couldn’t find her? What would she do then and, more importantly, what would she say to the other women? Desperately she pushed that thought aside. He would find her.

Fallon walked down to the stables by himself. He had not wanted to leave the rooms – particularly with the threat to both Cavan and Kerrin – but the prince had insisted.

“They will try to make contact with you, from what my brother’s spy said,” Cavan predicted.

“Or try and kill me,” Fallon said gloomily.

But there was nothing else for him to do. After a couple of days of frenzied activity, all was in place. Teams of villagers were checking empty houses across the city, Swane’s wing was being constantly watched, the Guild of Moneylenders was finally coming in to talk to them about Eamon, and Gallagher and Devlin were shadowing a party of Kottermani merchants who had met with the King and were now on their way back to the harbor.

The King even seemed to be accepting them. He had escorted Cavan to a private audience with Aidan in the King’s rooms and the Prince had come out of there seemingly happy.

“He was angry that I went off by myself, tried to set a trap for Swane and was nearly killed, but he also apologized for misjudging Eamon and made me promise to keep safe. He says he has doubled the number of men watching Swane and will deal with him after the Kottermanis are gone – or if he tries anything,” Cavan said.

“Did you tell him about Swane’s threats?”

“I did. He said it just meant I had to stay safe and not provoke him. I think he will finally stop my brother!”

Fallon thought about that as he walked. He wandered aimlessly for nearly one turn of the hourglass before spotting a couple of familiar faces standing watch at the castle storerooms, while a swarm of servants unloaded wagons. He wandered over to greet Bran and Casey, two of the guards he had led into Killarney for the Prince.

“Good to see you, captain,” Bran said, showing no bitterness over the way Fallon had punched him in the throat to make a point.

“And you lads,” Fallon said, winking at Casey, who still looked nervous. “What are you doing?”

The pair of them looked uncomfortable and Fallon glanced around and noticed that not only was only part of each wagon being unloaded, but plenty of money was changing hands, bags of it going into a chest watched by a pair of Kelty’s biggest guards.

“What is going on here?” he asked.

Casey opened his mouth only for Bran to nudge him; they both stiffened to attention. Fallon was about to demand answers when someone cleared his throat behind him. He turned to see Captain Kelty.

“What are you doing here?” Kelty demanded. “None of this concerns your master.”

Fallon was about to reply when he spotted the mark stamped onto the barrels on the next cart – the seal of Lunster, which he would recognize anywhere. Sweating men hauled several of the barrels off the cart and onto another, then a portly merchant dropped a chunky bag into the chest as servants counted the reduced number of barrels on the Lunster cart.

“That’s taxes from Lunster,” Fallon said. “And you’re skimming from it and selling it off.”

Kelty stepped closer, his face twisting with anger. “Keep your begorrah mouth shut!”

“You’re here to make sure the King gets his cut. But if he takes a tithe of the taxes before they’ve even been accounted for, then the shortfall has to be made up by the country, which means the farmers and fishermen get squeezed a little more,” Fallon said, working it out as he went along. “For the Crown has to get its proper share. It’s like screwing extra out of the people without announcing it.” He turned angry eyes on Kelty. “There’ll be families going hungry because of this, all to line the King’s purse with even more gold!”

“That’s enough,” Kelty growled. “Now bugger off or we’ll have to see how good you are with that stick you carry around.”

Fallon was tempted to rise to the challenge, for what was rumbling out of the gates on merchant carts would feed his village for half a moon. But he remembered how Kelty had the ear of the King, the King who loved anything Kottermani and would rule on whether Fallon could keep protecting Prince Cavan.

So he forced a smile to his face instead. “I’ll leave you to it then. Guess you do things differently around here. I’ll get used to it.”

Kelty’s anger softened into mere suspicion as Fallon turned and walked away, making sure he did not look at Bran and Casey. Better to keep their relationship with him a secret. Inside, Fallon was boiling. These bastards were short-changing the taxes and demanding more, when all the time they were selling the difference. It was sickening. And they were doing it blatantly. So what in Aroaril’s name was going on in the shadows?

“What you saw was only a hint of what really goes on in this court,” Cavan said with a shrug. “There are a thousand ways to make money from the people and my father knows them all.”

“But what does he need all this money for? You can’t tell me he is struggling to put his next meal on the table!”

“Things will be very different when I am King,” Cavan promised soothingly.

“I thought you couldn’t say that sort of thing.” Fallon smiled.

“Well, I am the Crown Prince, so I can talk about my plans for the future. The problem begins if you start saying you want it to come earlier than my father would like.”

“By Aroaril, I am struggling to understand how the nobles and King could treat the people like this!”

“If you knew my father like I do, you would not be so surprised,” Cavan said darkly.

Fallon had to admit he was not the most perceptive man but more than twenty years of marriage had left him able to detect unspoken words within sentences. “What is the man you know like then?” he asked.

Cavan shuddered. “I cannot talk of it. Not yet, perhaps not ever. Suffice it to say it is a darker tale than even stories about selkies arriving in Lunster to carry men away. And yet with more truth.”

“Can we trust him to stop Swane then?”

Cavan grimaced. “And there is the contradiction in my father. At times he is mad, at others he is brilliant. I can tell you he hates Zorva worship with a passion. You should hear him speak of what he witnessed as a boy. And he will do anything to keep Gaelland safe. He might want it safe so he can torture it but that is all part of him. So yes, to answer your question, he will stop Swane if it is a choice between my brother and the country.”

Fallon was intrigued but knew better than to try to push too hard. Besides, he could not demand answers from the Crown Prince. But what should he say now? He was saved by the return of Devlin and Gallagher, bursting with news.

Cavan was particularly excited by their story of how the Kottermanis had turned away from the main path and disappeared into a house down a side street, emerging much later. Best of all, Devlin and Gallagher had followed a figure dressed all in black from the house back to the castle, where he had disappeared down a hidden corridor near the kitchens.

“Are you sure they did not see you?” Fallon asked.

“We were very careful,” Gallagher said.

“We spent so much time pretending to admire these plates in a shop that the owner thought we were a couple of fancy boys looking to set up home together,” Devlin added.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Cavan asked.

“Well, I could do so much better than a hairy, ugly dwarf with smelly feet.” Gallagher grinned.

“My feet do not smell,” Devlin said, no smile on his face.

Fallon waited to see if there was a joke there but when nothing came, he turned back to the matter. “The important thing is we know Swane is meeting with the Kottermanis,” he said. “If we send Sister Rosaleen out next time, she can send us back a message before your brother’s man returns, then we can be waiting for him. Then we all we have to do is drag him before the King and the Archbishop and demonstrate dark magic killing him as we question him. Nobody can deny what Swane is doing then.”

“Shall we go back now? Maybe we could look through that house?” Gallagher suggested.

Cavan made a face. “Not going to be possible, I’m afraid. The Moneylenders are finally coming in. They might provide us with a link between Swane and Eamon. And then we shall need to prepare for a King’s Banquet this evening. I would advise you to get some food and rest, for it will be a long night that will test you all.”

“What do we have to do?” Fallon asked.

“Nothing. You must do nothing, no matter what you see or hear.”

“That’s easy. Devlin does nothing all the time,” Gallagher chuckled.

“This is no laughing matter. You will understand when you see,” Cavan said tiredly.

Fallon wanted to know more but was stopped by Brendan hurrying in.

“Highness, the Moneylenders are here,” the big smith said.

“Good.” Cavan straightened. “Bring them in.”

Fallon had expected to see fat, self-satisfied men with the faces of weasels and was vaguely disappointed to see both the leading Moneylenders seemed quite normal. Their tunics were of Kottermani silk rather than Gaelish linen but, other than that, he would have walked past them and noticed nothing.

“Highness, I am Allen and this is my deputy, Clancy,” the taller of the two said with a small bow.

“Gentlemen, please sit down,” Cavan said.

“Your highness, it is such a pleasure to see you again.” Allen, a lean man with grey hair and just the suggestion of a jowl around his chin, bowed again before taking his seat.

“Guildmaster, I am surprised to see you here. I thought you would still be mourning the loss of your daughter, taken from her room by the snatchers who plague this city,” Cavan said.

Allen bowed his head. “I try to lose myself in my work, highness. I find that is a comfort.”

“Well, you have my sympathies. But I need your help and you can be sure you will also have both my gratitude and my protection if you can offer it,” Cavan said.

“Of course, highness,” Allen said gently. “How much would you need?”

“I don’t want money,” Cavan said flatly.

“But highness, why then did you want to see us?”

“My bodyguard Eamon. Before he came to me, he was one of your Bruisers. I want to know more about him,” Cavan said.

Fallon saw the pair of Moneylenders exchange a glance, then Allen smiled at the Prince.

“Highness, we would love to help. But there is little more we can add to the story. We are not proud of that division of our Guild and certainly never like to use them unless it is absolutely necessary. I don’t know those men and prefer to think –”

“He was promoted to handle special cases, those who had hired enough guards to hold off your Bruisers,” Cavan interrupted. “You must have known about that. You can’t tell me you ignore people who refuse to pay you back.”

Allen was still smiling, although it had become a little strained. “I might look at certain cases but I do not involve myself directly,” he said carefully.

“So you can deny any death or dismemberment?” Cavan suggested briskly.

“Highness, please, we are a reputable Guild, sanctioned by your father; we have a license that costs us a great deal of silver each moon –”

“I want to know if my brother borrowed money or if Eamon was hired by my brother at any stage when he worked for you,” Cavan interrupted again. “As I said, you can either have my support and protection or you might find that, when I come to the throne, your license to lend money is given to another Guild.”

Fallon watched the color fade from both Allen and Clancy’s faces.

“We shall search our files and get back to you,” Allen said, his smooth voice almost a croak now.

“You do that. I want an answer tomorrow,” Cavan said.

Fallon watched the two shaken Moneylenders be escorted out by Brendan and Gallagher and so he caught the look Clancy cast at Cavan, as well as the little shake of the head Allen gave. “They know more than they are telling,” he said the moment the door was shut.

“There is something there,” Cavan agreed.

“Should we follow them, try to see who they meet?”

Cavan shook his head. “I have given them the ultimate threat. Without a license they have nothing. They dare not risk that. Besides, we need to get ready for tonight.”

“Is it really that bad?” Fallon asked.

“No. It is worse.”

Fallon was not convinced about Cavan’s warnings but went back to his room to change and tell Kerrin he would not be there that night.

“Dad!” The child raced across the room and hurled himself at Fallon.

“I have to go out this evening and I am not sure how late I will be back. So Padraig will have to say good night to you tonight,” he warned.

“No! I want you!” Kerrin’s arms tightened around him.

“I know, son. But we have to do these things if we are going to get your mam back. Now, are we going to train you with the sword or just stand here?”

“But I’m no good,” Kerrin said dispiritedly.

“And that’s the way you’ll stay unless you practice,” Fallon replied immediately and saw the boy’s face fall and his shoulders slump. He kicked himself. Bridgit would never say such a thing, would only encourage Kerrin. Then he hardened his heart. What he said was true.

“Get the sticks and we’ll begin. Or I’ll get them and begin without you,” Fallon said.

Kerrin slouched over to the table. “Faster! Or we’ll give the other one to Caley and you can fight with your hands!” Fallon called.

Kerrin returned with the sticks and moved into position, everything about him screaming reluctance.

“Come on!” Fallon tapped him on the arm lightly with a stick.

“But I’ll never be as good as you,” Kerrin sighed.

“You’ll never be any good at all if you don’t practice,” Fallon told him.

He tried to slow down his strokes but Kerrin was just as clumsy as before and even less enthusiastic.

“Come on!” Fallon encouraged him but Kerrin just shrugged.

“I’m just
no good
,” he said.

Fallon lowered his own stick, trying to think of something wise to say. But nothing came to mind and then a knock on the door made him turn to see Devlin peering around the door.

“The Prince says we need to go,” he said.

“Do you have to, Dad?” Kerrin asked, his shoulders slumping even further down.