Dawn of the Dreamsmith (The Raven's Tale Book 1) (64 page)

“You can be very harsh on your brother,” chided Ellara. She settled herself back down at the table and poured tea for herself and the girls. “He can be very fine company when you aren’t around to wind him up.”

Adelmar grunted. “I have often noted that we bring out the worst in one another,” he conceded. “But whether I am present or not, he is always lazy and feckless. Father should have been tougher with him, but instead he indulged him. The thought that he actually could inherit the throne terrifies me.”

His wife sipped at her steaming tea. “Perhaps that is why the emperor bade him accompany you, so that you can be an example to him.”

“Perhaps.” Adelmar scowled. “If that was his intention, then I fear it comes far too late.”
By about twenty years.

Ellara sighed wistfully. “Still, just imagine the songs the bards will sing, of the noble brothers riding together into battle, shoulder to shoulder.”

Adelmar snorted. “The only thing Jarrod will be riding will be the camp whores.” Amelie and Rosalynd giggled at his coarse language, and he reddened at the faux pas. “That is, he won’t be in the front lines. Evidently, he’s to see how an army fights a war, without actually taking part in it himself.”

“Your father is just being sensible. Your brother wasn’t raised to be a warrior.”

Adelmar frowned as he recalled some of the rumours that had reached his ear during their stay in the capital, concerning his brother’s habits. “I just wish I knew what he had been raised as,” he said gloomily.

Ellara tutted. “He just needs a wife to settle him down.”

Adelmar thought about that. There was no shortage of lords with eligible daughters vying with one another for such a tie to the imperial family, but neither Jarrod nor their father had thus far been particularly eager to take up any of the offers. With his thirtieth year fast approaching, however, it was surely only a matter of time.
I pity the poor woman he takes as his bride.

He was still brooding over Jarrod, when he noticed his eldest daughter was clutching at something around her neck. He had been occupied with thoughts of his wayward brother at the time, but it now occurred to him that her hand had flown up the moment he entered the wheelhouse. “Amelie, what are you holding?” he asked. He tried to speak kindly, but his daughter still appeared startled.

“It’s just some trifle she picked up at the marketplace,” said Ellara hurriedly.

Adelmar ignored her, and stood over the girl. “Show me.” His voice was soft, but firm enough to brook no disobedience. Grudgingly, she opened her fingers to reveal a silver chain, from which hung a green crystal pendant. Adelmar stared at it. Somehow, he had already known, from the moment he had seen her guilty expression. “Did you know about this?” he asked his wife, without turning.

“What does it matter?” Ellara’s tone was light, but Adelmar detected a trace of nervousness. “We don’t follow their faith, nor will we. It’s just a pretty necklace. These things matter to young girls.”

He felt anger rising up inside him, but fought to control it. Without speaking, he reached for the pendant and broke the chain with a sharp tug. What followed caught him completely off-guard.

When the chain was pulled free of her neck, Amelie, the happy, carefree girl he had showered with all the love and affection he had to give, rose up, hissing like a wildcat. There was a fury in her eyes that chilled Adelmar to the bone. He was too shocked to react as her hand struck out at his face, her nails raking along his cheek like claws.

Pandemonium erupted in the carriage. Over his initial surprise, Adelmar grabbed hold of his daughter’s hands. She thrashed against him, viciously kicking out with flailing legs. Where they struck the low table, cups filled with hot liquid and platters of cakes went flying. As Rosalynd began to wail, Ellara tugged at his back, imploring him to stop.

Adelmar had never raised a hand in anger against his daughters, but in that moment he came close. Instead, with Amelie dangling from his hand, he opened the nearest window and hurled the pendant out. When she saw that it was gone, the fight went out of the eldest girl. He released her and she slumped back on her seat, curling up into a weeping ball.

Ellara sat down between the two girls and drew them close to her, comforting them. “Was that really necessary?” Her tone was cold and accusatory. “She has been so happy in the days since she came back with that necklace. Only this morning she was telling me about the sweet dreams she has had the past few nights. Now look at them.”

Adelmar made no reply. Anger still burned within him, and he didn’t trust what might come out of his mouth if he tried to speak. Instead, he stared at them wordlessly for a few moments before striding to the door. As he jumped back into the destrier’s saddle, he could feel blood trickling down his cheek. Bergen glanced at him curiously, but kept his counsel.

With a face like thunder, Adelmar rode to the head of the column, taking his place among the heavy cavalry. As he did so, he felt the eyes of his knights on him. Like his adjutant, however, they were wise enough to keep their comments to themselves. Nevertheless, he was sure that rumours of the incident would spread like wildfire around the camp that night and his jaw tightened.

On a sudden impulse, Adelmar swivelled in his saddle and glanced behind. He caught one last sight of the city walls before they disappeared from view. Towering above all was the Spire, home of the Order. It seemed to him that darkening clouds gathered above its summit more thickly than elsewhere. Doubtless it was his imagination; a reflection of his own mood and opinion of the enigmatic Brothers.

The rest of that first day’s march passed in a blur. He barely spoke another word to anyone and avoided returning to the wheelhouse. As they counted off the miles, his simmering anger eventually gave way to guilt. Had he acted rashly? Had he allowed his own antipathy towards the Order and its chattels to cloud his judgement, so that he had taken out his frustrations on a child who knew no better?

Then he recalled the way her face had contorted with hatred when he had taken away the pendant. Hatred for him. He had never before seen Amelie, normally such a placid girl, behave in such a way. Was it simply because she was getting older... or something more sinister?

His mind was still awash with such thoughts when he brought the army to a stop for the night. The signal-horns sounded out down the length of the column, and in short order the rows of marching soldiers came to a standstill. Dozens of squires ran around the men, hurrying to erect tents for the knights and nobility. The rank and file soldiers, meanwhile, gathered in groups around campfires to prepare food and swap stories.

The sight of it lifted Adelmar’s spirits. He felt at home here, making camp among his troops. For the first time in weeks he felt free, away from the fawning courtiers and nebulous politics that plagued his father’s court. Strange as it would no doubt seem to his wife, he felt a hundred times more comfortable in riding leathers and breastplate than he did wearing the expensive formalwear she had chosen for him.

For a time, he stood watching as Dudley and a number of the younger squires erected his royal tent, supervised by Captain Bergen. It would be a while before it was ready for him to retire, after which he would while away the night poring over scouting reports from The Vigil and maps of the Tenebrian coastline.

With a grimace, Adelmar turned at last towards the wheelhouse. It was not sensible to pull such an unwieldy vehicle away from the road for just one night, so it still sat upon the flagstones. The horses had been untethered, however, and secured elsewhere.

Unsure what he should say to his family after the episode that morning, he opened the carriage door hesitantly and climbed inside. A single lamp had been lit, bathing the occupants in flickering orange light. Rosalynd was picking delicately at a plate of food, but when he saw his elder daughter, Adelmar’s words of greeting caught in his throat. Amelie was unconscious, lying wrapped up in blankets. She was not at rest however; her eyes were screwed tightly closed, her face twisted as if in pain. Her arms and legs writhed weakly beneath the blanket. A damp cloth had been laid over her brow, and Ellara sat at her side, wearing a worried expression.

“What has happened?” Adelmar demanded, moving towards them.

His wife looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “A fever came upon her some hours ago,” she told him. “She was a long time upset after you left, and kept asking after her necklace. At one point she became so agitated I had to restrain her from leaving the carriage to go and look for it.”

Adelmar stared down at the stricken girl, at a loss of what to do.
She is so pale.
“A doctor travels with us,” he suggested. “Rather, he is a surgeon, more accustomed to sewing up wounds than dealing with children, but I could fetch him.”

“He has already been,” Ellara replied, dabbing her eyes. “He gave her a draught to help her sleep and told me to keep her cool to alleviate the fever, but beyond that there was nothing more he could do.” She stroked the girl’s head. “The draught has helped some, but even so she still cries out, asking for the necklace.”

Just then, Amelie’s hands lifted out from under the blanket, and groped feebly at the air. “Please,” she murmured. “I need it. It sings...”

He watched as the girl fell silent again, her hands dropping back to the blanket. In his chest, his heart felt as though it would break. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If I had known what would happen...”

“It isn’t your fault,” Ellara replied softly. “The sickness must have been inside her already, to have come on so quickly. Perhaps the argument this morning brought it on sooner, but even if we had stayed behind she would have fallen ill eventually. Only you would have been too far away to help.”

In truth, Adelmar had not intended to apologise for bringing his family along with him on their march. It had not occurred to him that it could be to blame for her illness. Rather, he was sorry that he had confronted Amelie over the necklace. He had always thought of them merely as gemstones. But what he had seen in her face that morning... there was a madness to it, a desperation. He had no idea how it was even possible, but he had begun to suspect that the stone had somehow taken a hold of her mind, beyond the normal attachment children had to their favoured belongings. “I am here,” he said. “But I don’t know how I can help.”

“Just stay with her, Adelmar,” his wife replied, moving aside to make room beside the bed. “Comfort her. She needs her father. I’ll take Rose out for a walk, it will be good to stretch our legs after a day cooped up inside here.”

His wife and youngest daughter left the carriage, leaving him alone with Amelie. He cleared his throat as if to say something, but felt self-conscious and kept silent. Instead, he reached for the girl’s hand and wrapped his fingers around it. She would soon see her thirteenth summer, he knew, but lying there she still seemed so small to him, so childlike. Her hand was almost lost inside his own.

Adelmar lost track of how long he sat there, wordlessly watching his daughter’s fitful sleep. He barely noticed his wife and Rosalynd returning some time later, but after they had prepared for bed and turned out the lamp, he continued to sit in the darkness that followed.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have done at some point in the night, for he stirred as the light of the dawn touched the carriage interior. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling the ache in his back from a night spent seated in one position. Ellara and the girls were still sleeping, and even Amelie appeared more peaceful than she had the previous evening. He crept outside so as not to disturb them.

He nearly tripped over the prone form of Dudley, who had apparently spent the night asleep outside the wheelhouse. With a brusque command, he sent the squire to fetch breakfast and fresh water. The last thing he needed was another long day’s ride, but he knew from experience that after hot food and a wash he would be ready to set off once more.

It went as he had hoped. After completing his ablutions and breaking his fast with a platter of greasy eggs and crisp, salty bacon, Adelmar began to feel himself again. Still, he was troubled by the events of the previous day, and spent most of the second day of the march in a brooding silence. They passed through the rich, fertile lands that lay south of the capital city, the fields and pastures of which produced much of the food needed to sustain its populace, but Adelmar saw none of it. He stared into the distance, deep in thought.

When they made camp again that evening, this time he went straight to the wheelhouse. The atmosphere within was more cheerful than the day before, he was pleased to find. Amelie was still in bed beneath a thick blanket, but she was awake and sitting up. He was still slightly shocked by her paleness, but as he entered she met his eyes and smiled weakly.

For the second night running, Adelmar stayed in the carriage with his family. The reports that awaited him in the royal tent could sit a while longer. It was a pleasant evening, which gladdened his heart. Ellara and Rosalynd nattered happily about sights they had seen that day on the road as they supped, and he was content to let their words wash over him. Amelie was quiet and lay back as she watched them with dark, shadow-ringed eyes, but she seemed interested in what was being said. At any other time he would have been concerned by her listlessness, but compared to the previous night it was a vast improvement.

After a while, Amelie nuzzled up against his side and fell asleep. Even after his wife and Rosalynd had laid down for the night, he sat awake, absently stroking the older girl’s head. He sensed that whatever had come between them the previous day had passed, and it suddenly came to him that in the whole of that evening there had been no mention of the lost necklace. There was a melancholy to her manner, but he felt certain that now the sickness had passed she would be her old self again before long.