A Sky of Spells (Book #9 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (18 page)

“True,” Kendrick said. “We
owe Matus our lives.”

Gwendolyn sat back and considered
it all carefully. She wondered what her father would have done. She knew he
never trusted the Upper Islanders, his brother, his cousins; and yet, he never
let them stray too far from his watch, either.

“I want to know more of what
Srog has to say,” Gwen said. “And I want another perspective on the island.
Reece,” she said, turning to him.

Reece stepped forward.

“You will depart for the
Upper Isles today.”

“
Me
, my lady?” he asked,
shocked.

Gwendolyn nodded.

“You were always close to Matus.
You are the same age, and he always trusted you, and you him. You will be my
voice, my eyes and ears. Seek out Matus, seek out Srog. Tour the upper Isles,
listen to its people, and come back with a full report of exactly what is going
on there. Based on your findings, I will decide whether to reinforce or
depart.”

Reece nodded, but he seemed
hesitant. Gwen sensed the reason why.

“Do not worry of our double
wedding,” Gwendolyn said. “It is still a half moon away. You will be back in
plenty of time. After all, I won’t have it without you. Go then. Do not linger.”

Reece looked much assured.

“Yes, my lady,” he said,
bowing.

Gwendolyn turned to Aberthol.

“Is there anything else?”
she asked, exhausted. “If not, then I would like to get on with—”

Aberthol held up a hand.

“Just one more matter, my
lady.”

Gwen sighed. She was
beginning to get a whole new respect for what her father had went through.

“A dispatch from Bronson,”
Aberthol said. “He reports of unrest on the McCloud side of the Highlands.”

Gwendolyn raised her
eyebrows, looking at Aberthol with dread. Was nothing ever stable? Was that
what it meant to be queen? To put out a never-ending stream of fires, perpetual
unrest, discontent? Why could people not just stay happy and at peace?

“Unrest?” she asked.

Aberthol nodded, examining
another scroll.

“He reports of his failed
efforts to unite the two sides of the Ring. Six moons have passed, and they are
resentful. They see the prosperity in the West, and yet they have seen none of
it for themselves.”

Kendrick was exasperated.

“Have they forgotten that
their leader initially sided with Andronicus and helped to inflame this war?”
he asked.

“If they hadn’t spent all
those moons before the war launching raids on our soil,” Godfrey said, “then
perhaps they’d have a greater share now of our prosperity.”

“In their defense,” Reece
said, “they did join our side at the end.”

“They are hardly being
starved,” Thor said. “Our men have given them plenty of our summer bounty and
have helped them rebuild. All of them eat well.”

“They may eat well,”
Aberthol said, “but they are not rich. There is a difference. They see what
others have and they covet it. That has always been their nature. They see King’s
Court, shining, and they want their cities plated with gold.”

Kendrick snorted.

“Well, then that is their
problem, not ours.”

“Wrong, my brother,”
Gwendolyn said. “Any problem, anywhere in the Ring, is
our
problem.
Their discontent cannot go unnoticed. That is where momentum begins.”

The room fell silent, and
Aberthol sighed.

“It is the nature of the
McClouds, my lady. They are a savage, crude people. They may not ever merge
with the MacGils. You may have dispatched Bronson for a task he cannot fulfill.”

“The rivalry between our two
clans is ancient and strong,” Erec said. “Thousands of years. We may not be
able to smooth them over in six moons—even with an emissary like Bronson.
Vendettas run deep. And the McClouds are not a forgiving people.”

Gwendolyn leaned back and thought
it all through carefully. Her stomach was hurting her again and she did not
know how much more she could take for one morning.

“What you say may all be
true,” Gwen said, “yet that does not mean we should not try. We find ourselves
in a unique moment in history: the tyrant McCloud king is dead; his son,
Bronson, is loyal to us; their kingdom was destroyed, and we were, however
briefly, united in the cause to oust the invaders. I see this as an opportunity
to, once and for all, unite our two kingdoms.”

“The problem with the
McClouds,” Kendrick said, “is that they are malcontents, and that they consider
themselves in competition with us. They see King’s Court, and they want the
same. But they’ve never had a King’s Court, and they never will. It is honor and
nobility and refinement that build a King’s Court, not a pile of stones. That
is what they will never understand.”

Gwendolyn sighed.

“Having a stable McCloud
side of the Highlands is vital to our own interests,” she said. “We do not want
the threat of cattle raids over our head all the time. We want our people to
live in peace. Which is how our father felt, and which is precisely why he had
tried to forge an alliance with Luanda’s marriage to a McCloud.”

“Yet it did not succeed,”
Aberthol said. “We must learn from his mistakes.”

“Nonetheless,” Gwen said, “we
must also learn from his efforts. I am not prepared to give up on peace so
quickly. It may be harder, and messier—but it is longer-lasting, and it is the
only path to our ultimate security. We must find a way to unite our two
peoples. There is always a way. The question is how?”

She surveyed her men, and
they all stood there, brows furrowed.

She settled on Godfrey, who
stood there, bleary-eyed, unshaven, looking hungover.

“Godfrey,” she said. “You have
not spoken today. You always have some nugget of wisdom.”

Godfrey looked up at her,
caught off guard.

“Well,” he said, flustered,
running a hand through his unkempt hair, “I’ve always known one thing to bring men
together,” he, looking around warily. “And that is drink. Show me two men who
hate each other, and I’ll have them singing together over a pint of ale.”

The room suddenly broke into
laughter, and Godfrey looked around, unsure, then smiled self-consciously.

Gwendolyn smiled, as she
looked him over. Her brother was kooky, and yet he held some primal wisdom. And
he knew, better than anyone she knew, the heartbeat of the common man. Her
father had taught her that sometimes the most complex solution came in the most
obvious wisdom.

“You may be right,” she
said. “That may just be the solution. And I am going to appoint you to find
out.”

Godfrey’s eyes opened wide, looking
astonished.

“
Me
, my lady?” he
asked.

Gwendolyn nodded, as the
others in the room looked on, astonished.

“You are the perfect one. Travel
across the Highlands. Seek out Bronson. Tell him I’ve received his dispatches. Then
establish drinking halls. Help Bronson do what he cannot: bring these men
together.”

“My lady,” he said,
stammering, “I am not a leader. And I am no politician. You know this. Father
knew this. He tried to hide me from court. And now you want to give me a
position? Did you learn nothing from father? He knew, at least, that I was good
for nothing here.”

“Father did not see clearly
in all matters,” Gwen said. “I see much more in you. You have talents that
other men do not, and you vastly underestimate yourself. You can bring men
together of disparate backgrounds, better than any man I’ve seen. You lack the
haughtiness inherent in most royalty. I trust you, and I need you to do this. Will
you accept?”

Godfrey reluctantly nodded.

“For you, my sister,” he
said, “I would do anything.”

Gwen nodded and took a deep
breath, grateful the matter was settled. She could not bear to hear any more
scrolls from Aberthol, so she pre-empted it as she saw him reaching for
another, and rose from her throne, shaky.

The room immediately rose
with her, and it was clear the session was over.

Thor came and took her hand,
as Aberthol slammed his staff and the room broke up into relaxed conversation.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked
her quietly; he must have seen how pale her face was.

Gwen breathed deep, grateful
for Thor’s support. She felt tired.

“I just need to lie down,”
she said.

*

Thorgrin stood outside the
main gateway to King’s Court, beneath the huge, arched stone entrance, holding
his horse by the reigns, as did all his friends, each getting ready to depart
for their journey on Departure Day. Beside him, Reece checked and re-checked
his saddle, brushing his horse, preparing for his trip to the Upper Islands;
beside him, Elden prepared to venture off to search for his father, while O’Connor
prepared to embark to see his sister. Conven prepared to go to his hometown and
visit his wife—while nearby, Erec and Kendrick prepared to set off to do the work
of the Silver. Even Godfrey was gearing up for his journey to McCloud
territory. They all were heading in a different direction, all hoping to catch
the good luck of embarking on Departure Day.

Thor clasped forearms with
Reece.

“I will miss you, old friend,”
Thor said.

“And I you,” Reece said. “I’ll
be back before the second moon rises, in time for our joint wedding. You need
not worry.”

“The Upper Isles are not
far,” Thor said. “But they are fraught with danger. Watch your back.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be going
with him,” came a voice.

They both turned to see Krog
standing nearby, smiling as he prepared his horse, stuffing a short sword into
an extra scabbard.

“You are?” Reece asked, surprised.

Krog nodded back, standing
there with a stern expression.

“But why?” Reece asked. “I thought
you don’t even like me.”

“I don’t,” Krog said
emphatically. “It’s something to do. And like I said, I owe you for saving my
life back there. I need to pay it off.”

Reece shook his head.

“I don’t want anyone tagging
along out of some sense of obligation,” Reece said. “You can join me if you
want—but not because you feel indebted to me.”

“I will come for any reason
I wish,” Krog said defiantly, then turned and stormed off, preparing his horse.

Reece and Thor exchanged a
curious glance, and Reece shook his head.

“I swear, I’ll never figure
him out,” Reece said.

“Keep your eyes open,” Thor
repeated. “Those MacGils may be cousins, but don’t trust any of them.”

“Do not worry, my friend,”
he replied. “They don’t want a war on their hands they cannot win. They would
never dare harm a member of the royal family. And if they do, well,” Reece
grinned, “I’ve got weapons at my side, and I’m only too happy to defend myself.”

Thor smiled back.

“I know, friend. I’ve fought
many battles with you at my back. I wish you were staying here to help me pick
and train the Legion.”

“I suspect you will manage
just fine on your own,” Reece said. “In fact, by the time I return I suspect the
Legion will already be brimming with new faces.”

Thor smiled.

“We shall see.”

“Reece, may I have a minute?”
came a female voice.

Reece turned and saw, standing
behind him, Selese. She looked upset.

“I don’t want you to leave,”
she added, her voice grave.

“But I am hardly leaving,” Reece
said. “It is just a few days’ voyage.”

Thor turned away to give
them privacy, and as he went he still heard their hushed voices, carried on the
wind.

“Our wedding is but a half moon
away,” Selese added.

“I am aware of that, I
assure you,” he replied. “I did not volunteer this mission.”

“I do not want you to go,”
she said, her voice trembling. “I’m normally not like this, but I have a bad
feeling about it. Just stay here. Help us prepare for the wedding. Gwen can
send someone else.”

Reece shook his head.

“I would never turn down a
request from my sister. It goes against my honor. Besides, it’s Departure Day,”
he said. “It is an auspicious day to embark.”

She shrugged.

“Not for all,” she said. “My
father embarked once on Departure Day. He never returned.”

Reece saw a tear on her
cheek, and he stepped forward and stroked her face with the back of his hand.

“I am touched, my love, for
how much you care for me,” Reece said. “And I promise you I shall return.”

“I love your sister,” Selese
said, still looking down, not meeting his eyes. “After all, we’re being married
together. She has become as close to me as a sister. And yet, in this case, I
wished she would have chosen someone else to go.”