Stormed Fortress (42 page)

* * *

Sidir
'
s glue-pot, perforce, became relocated to a cramped, barracks fire-place inside the chamber most often used to hear officers
'
complaints. The day-today grinding of dray wheels, and the tramp of patrols at the watch change did not penetrate the thick walls of the Mathiell Gate keep. The sealed silence kept by old, wakened stone at times seemed to whisper, alive by Paravian magic. Notes or words past hearing, the quickened strain weaved through the echoes of rough conversation that bounced up the steep stair from the ward-room.

Not every man who lived by the sword could abide that deep presence in comfort.

A forest-bred clansman would be the exception. Present as well, just come off active duty, Talvish sprawled in a battered, slat seat, one idle knee hooked on the chair arm. Shown the deft expertise of a Halwythwood bowyer, he watched, green eyes never fooled by the quiet skill that affixed the shaved horn to the wood frame. The blond war-captain opened,
'
This place poses no refuge, except from the troops. If they haven
'
t themselves been dressed down at this trestle, they
'
ll shun the place where their fellows are cited for punishment.
'

Sidir
'
s lips flexed.
'
I should be concerned that we might not stay private?
'

'
Fionn Areth
'
s likely as not to show up here.
'
Talvish tested the murkier waters.
'
If you meet, I presume that can
'
t be by mistake?
'

Sidir hooked a soaked thong from the nearby bucket and began winding the glued strip for bonding.
'
No need to circle.
'
He did not look up.
'
I am prepared to hear out the whelp
'
s brazen questions.
'

Talvish
'
s lazy silence extended: a lynx might display such bone stillness. For the duke
'
s ranking officers, days began before dawn. The wear showed in his pale hair, crimped from his steel helm, and in knuckles grazed red from some bare-fisted labour, performed in salt water below the Sea Gate. Tired or not, the field veteran perceived clearly.

For his own reason, this well-guarded clansman wanted the coming scene public.

Sidir knotted off the wet thong with his teeth, just past the splice that stiffened the end that would notch the finished silk bow-string. He stretched his shoulders, then extended the strapped limb of the bow frame into the fireplace. As the thongs shrank themselves dry in the smoke, he broached in soft-spoken reluctance,
'
I am the last left alive, who endured both the reiving at the River Tal Quorin, and the campaign against Lysaer at Vastmark. Twice, I
'
ve wrestled to subdue the hard aftermath when my liege was forced to fight under Desh-thiere
'
s directive.
'

Across the dimmed closet, Sidir confronted the most subtle of the duke
'
s war-captains.
'
I have sensed that your loyalty serves my liege from the heart.
'

Talvish paused. Against a muffled contention in the ward-room below-stairs, he chose not to gainsay, though Sidir
'
s piercing statement effectively split his allegiances.

'
Without pride,
'
the clansman laboured on with distaste,
'
some things may be needful to know from inside my store of experience.
'

Talvish resisted his impulse to straighten from informal posture. Against knifing grief, that Vhandon was not the accustomed rock at his side, he scoffed gently,
'
Here I thought you wanted a yapping dog leashed, and no suicide leaps by the idiot hare, thinking to rip the wolf
'
s jugular.
'

Sidir laughed. "That too! The Araethurian pays your soldier
'
s discipline lip service, at least. Some pitfalls of personal embarrassment might be disarmed by your presence.
'

'
As Arithon
'
s won
'
t be,
'
Talvish closed without flinching.

Humour died.
'
A man
'
s strengths can break,
'
Sidir allowed.
'
During the bad times, three of us at full strength could scarcely contain the set-backs brought on by his nightmares of self-condemnation.
'
And those bulwarks were gone. The irascible clan war-captain, Caolle, and the Companion, Eafinn, both years dead; Sidir kept the clenched pain of their memories locked fast.

'
We
'
ve got Dakar and Elaira,
'
Talvish pointed out. Their advantage
might
balance the powerful changes wrought by the maze under Kewar; or might not, which spurred the ongoing concern. He risked the hard question against the creak of thongs, drying in flame.
'
What do you fear, liegeman?
'

This time, Sidir replied at sharp speed.
'
A knife in his Grace
'
s back.
'

'
The one he
'
ll invite out of sheer provocation? Then rest content. We see eye to eye.
'
Talvish shoved straight.
'
For now, your royal debt has come due.
'

But forest-bred senses had already flagged the steps from the passage.
'
I
'
taer chya strieka
'
an am
'
jiere
'
Sidir snapped in Paravian under his breath.

Then
'
the calm that bred chaos
'
banged open the door. Fionn Areth bounced in, bringing the reek of hot horse and oiled steel along with the sweat-ragged fleece of his gambeson.
'
You should see the uproar over today
'
s wager!
'
he blurted.
'
Jeynsa
'
s thrashed Sevrand at lances, thrown from ambush at moving targets.
'
His belated notice encompassed Sidir, which first widened his eyes, then silenced him.

Today, my knives are for carving dead wood,
'
the clansman declared, accent cracking. Take care with your manners, young sprig.
'

'
Which implies that he
'
s ready to answer your questions,
'
Talvish suggested with sly provocation.

'
I would sooner converse with a snake!
'
Fionn Areth side-stepped the clutter. Arrived at the trestle, he camped on the bench beside Talvish
'
s chair and eyed the unfinished staff being cured in the hearth. That
'
s a bow?
'

'
Half of one.
'
Satisfied with the tension set up by damp leather, Sidir laid the baked frame across his thigh and began daubing glue on the opposite limb.
'
Speak and have done. Even snakes prefer their choice of company.
'

Fionn Areth regarded the clansman
'
s bent head, dark hair threaded white at the temples; the hunter
'
s hands confident, as the shaped strip of horn was warped into place with another soaked thong from the bucket. Whether or not such calm should be disturbed, the Araethurian dared the first hurdle.
'
You saw the horrors at Tal Quorin and Vastmark. Endured the brunt of the losses. I wanted to ask of your prince
'
s intent. Why don
'
t you believe he
'
s a criminal sorcerer, shedding the blood of the innocent?
'

'
Because there
'
s no truth to the claim,
'
Sidir said, twining thong with near-mystical patience.
'
Otherwise, I would be dead, and all of my people along with me. Arithon
'
s acts spared our clans at Tal Quorin. Etarra
'
s attackers fell in harsh numbers, but the same terms that killed them granted survival for two hundred lives on our side. Town-born will overlook that accomplishment. Yet a fact ignored by the cause of the victor cannot be refuted for convenience.
'

'
Why not?
'
challenged Fionn.
'
A death is a death. A thousand cut down to save one is too steep a price, no matter whose sons filled the grave-sites.
'

Sidir yanked his knots tight, in no hurry. But his eyes were steel as he glanced up.
'
Should such townsmen have invaded the free wilds to start with? Whose warmongering choice brought them on us, but Lysaer
'
s? Why raise Etarra to arms against the pledged terms of the compact? There are boundaries set to curb merchant trade, and town factions who desire them broken.
'

'
Your old ways, maintained at what cost to humanity?
'
pressed Fionn Areth, unsatisfied.
'
Should anyone die for a law that
'
s defunct? Your people prey on the roadways as thieves, and no more Paravians inhabit Athera!
'

'
I can guarantee that they do,
'
Sidir said.
'
Or I would not be here, engaged in a theoretical debate over a justice our royal lineages have pledged to protect.
'

Fionn Areth hooted, and pounced.
'
You can
'
t know for certain!
'

'
I haven
'
t the vision,
'
Sidir agreed.
'
Not to gainsay the Fellowship Sorcerers, whose binding purpose preserves the old races
'
line of survival. The crown our Teir
'
s
'
Ffalenn must uphold is the fulcrum that maintains the care-taking balance between human need and the mystery that nurtures a living Paravian awareness. The trade-guilds have long overstepped charter rights! Clan heritage serves the free wilds, and the high kingship is the marriage of human flesh with the creative matrix of Athera
'
s existence. For this, Prince Arithon was acknowledged by Fellowship hands to carry the terms of our fealty.
'

'
His defence claimed your family,
'
Fionn Areth bore in.
'
For the sake of an abstract you
'
ve never experienced, I want to know why don
'
t you hate him.
'

'
But I do,
'
Sidir contradicted. Raw flame licked the bowstaff. The heat-dried sinew popped and crackled, cranked under the stresses of tightening.

Through the shocked pause, Fionn Areth should have crowed. Instead, he gaped beyond speech.

Sidir turned the bow. The fresh weals on his wrists shining with scar tissue, he stated,
'
I hate his Grace for each of my beloved kinsfolk, gone from this life for his defence. For all of the times he deserted our clans. Left us on the run from the knives of the scalpers, who feed on trade greed and Alliance corruption. Who despoil our clan women and innocent girls under the dog-pack brutality that infests the head-hunters
'
leagues.
'

'
But -
'

'
Such events are not myth!
'
Sidir interrupted. Into Fionn Areth
'
s disbelieving, set teeth, he said more.
'
My sister was gutted and raped, at Tal Quorin. My aunt in Fallowmere, staked out on cold ground, while eight men with league badges took turns forcing her till she died, bleeding. My mother, I won
'
t further defile.
'
He added,
'
I don
'
t weep in your presence! Those I loved dearest are quite beyond pain. Now, their justice relies on the
merciful
rule of my prince, who ought to be crowned at Ithamon.
'