The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (21 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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Arenadd rubbed his knuckles while Saeddryn helped her friend up. “
Never
use that word in my presence again,” he said.
Rhodri, his face bright red on one side, stared at him in shock. “Sir—”
“I don’t want to hear anyone say that word, Rhodri,” said Arenadd. “Not you, not anybody. Is that understood?”
“Sir, I didn’t—”
“I said, is that understood?”
Rhodri sat down again. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.
“Good.” Arenadd slapped his hand down on the map. “Listen to me. I captured Guard’s Post with an army of slaves. They’d had a week or so’s training at most.
At most
. They overran that fort in a single afternoon. Why?
Because they were disciplined
. I stole them from Herbstitt. As far as they were concerned, I was their new master; they did what I told them. I told them to capture that fort, and they did. Isn’t that so, Caedmon?”
Caedmon nodded grimly. “What he says is true. The lads from Herbstitt followed him there on foot an’ fought because he told ’em to. An’ afterward—”
“Yes, afterward I set them free. That was their reward. And listen to me.” Arenadd took a deep breath. “One of the biggest reasons I even decided to do this is the slaves. And maybe
you
don’t care about them any more, now they’ve become somebody’s property, but I do. I’ve been a slave. I know what it’s like to be nothing, to be sold for money as if you were an animal. I know what it’s like to be branded and flogged and work all day for nothing but a bowl of slop. Uh”—he glanced at Torc—“I know you made that stuff, Torc. I don’t mean to insult you.”
Torc nodded gravely. “It’s all right, sir. I know it was rubbish.”
Arenadd glared at the other Northerners. “And I see my so-called people have short memories as well. Because, in case you didn’t notice, we’re all slaves. Maybe we don’t all wear robes and collars, maybe we aren’t all bought and sold, but we aren’t free, and we’ll never be free until Malvern has been destroyed. We haven’t ruled ourselves in centuries. We can’t own weapons, we can’t worship our own god or speak our own language. They’ve
destroyed us
. Don’t you see that? They’re taking away the things that make us who we are—turning us into nothing. We’ve got nothing left to be proud of, nothing to believe in, nothing to bind us together. And that’s what they want. They took all that away so we’d forget. If we stopped believing we were our own people any more, then we’d never be able to fight again. We’re second-class citizens in our own home. And those of us who rebel have to hide ourselves away, as if we were ashamed of ourselves. You can call me mad or stupid if you like, but that doesn’t sound like freedom to me.” He drew himself up. “I mean to take our freedom back, and I mean to give those slaves back their pride by letting them do what all Northerners were born to do: fight.”
Silence followed. The others exchanged glances. Some looked uneasy, but Caedmon was looking at Arenadd with open pride.
Saeddryn stirred. “Sir . . . I see what ye mean, an’ maybe it could work, but how are we going t’get these b—slaves? They’re all in the South, ain’t they? Are we gonna go there an’ free them all?”
Arenadd shook his head. “Too impractical. There are hundreds of them, at the very least—taking that many slaves by force would be next to impossible. And it would bring the wrath of the other eyries down on us, which is the last thing we need. No. We’re going to do this legitimately.”
“What d’ye mean by that, sir?” said Davyn.
“We buy them, of course,” said Arenadd. He cracked his knuckles again. “Because if there’s one thing my years as Master of Trade taught me, it’s that some men are open to persuasion, some will cave in to blackmail or force, but
everybody
listens to the sound of a bag full of golden oblong.”
Saeddryn stifled an incredulous laugh. “
Buy
them, sir? Are ye serious?”
“Why not?” Arenadd asked mildly.
“Sir, where in the gods’ names would we get the money? Buying every slave in the country would cost a fortune!”
“More than a fortune,” said Arenadd. “But I’ve already thought of that, and I know where to get it.”
“Where?” said Caedmon.
“Malvern.”
“What, rob the treasury?” said Hafwen.
“Well, theft would be a part of it, yes. Now.” Arenadd leant forward to point at a spot on the map. “We’re here. And over here—a week or so’s travel at the most, by my estimate—is Crescent Lake. Next to that is Fruitsheart—a very large and wealthy city, thanks to the orchards and the vineyards all around it. Obviously we can’t capture it yet, but my plan is for us to move there next. We’ll take a few people with us—not too many—and go to ground there. We’ll take money from the treasury here and buy a house or two, and we can use those as hideouts. You, Saeddryn, will hide there with the others, including Skade. It’s a big city, so I’m sure you’ll be able to avoid detection as long as you’re careful.”
“An’ what will
ye
be doin’, sir?” said Saeddryn.
“I haven’t finished yet. You won’t be idle while you’re there. We’ll discuss this in more depth later, but I expect you to be active in Fruitsheart. Start recruiting, spread the word. Very cautiously, of course. We’ll start sending out people to other cities to do the same. I hope to have a cell in every major centre in Tara, including Malvern itself. I need eyes and ears everywhere.”
“It sounds like a good plan t’me, sir,” said Saeddryn. “What’s t’other part?”
“Yes, the other part . . . while you’re doing that, Skandar and I will be in Malvern.”
Saeddryn started up. “What? On yer own, sir?”
“Yes.”
Annir, who had stayed silent so far, looked horrified. “No,” she said. “Arren, you can’t go back there. I won’t allow it.”
Arenadd gave her a warning look. “I’m sorry, Mu—Mother, but this is my decision to make.”
Annir realised she was embarrassing him. “I understand, but surely—”
“She has a point, sir,” said Saeddryn. “We can’t risk losin’ ye, or Skandar.”
“I agree,” said Skade. “You should not go back there, Arenadd. If you were captured again . . .”
“Send someone else,” said Saeddryn. “I’m sure we can find someone.”
“No,” Arenadd said flatly. “It has to be me who goes, and Skandar.”
“Why? Sir, I know ye’ve only been leadin’ us for a short time, so I understand that ye might want t’look brave an’ so forth, but when ye’re a leader ye have t’be selfish sometimes. Ye have t’look after yer own safety. If we lost ye, we’d lose everythin’.”
Arenadd smiled faintly. “I’m flattered you think so. But you don’t quite understand. I have to go because I’m the only one who can do what I have in mind. May I remind you, Saeddryn, that unlike you I have . . . certain talents. And the Night God didn’t give them to me so I could let them go to waste.”
Saeddryn withdrew. “Aye, I understand, sir. But what d’ye plan t’use ’em for?”
“Something that will get us the money we need and completely cripple the Eyrie at the same time,” said Arenadd.
“An’ what would that be?”
He told her.
“Are ye sure ye could do it, sir?” Saeddryn said doubtfully.
“Yes. With Skandar’s help.”
There was silence for a while. Rhodri, Davyn and Hafwen began to grin.
Saeddryn couldn’t stop herself from doing the same. “Ooh, they’re not gonna like that, sir. They’re not gonna like that at
all
.”
Arenadd grinned wolfishly. “I doubt they will.”
Saeddryn glanced at the others and then nodded. “I think it could work, sir, provided we do it right.”
“Well, I’m not going to pretend I don’t need your input,” said Arenadd. “So if anyone has any suggestions . . .”
They spent the next hour or so deep in conversation around the table, discussing, speculating, making plans. Everyone had suggestions, and they gradually refined the plan and added to it, building on Arenadd’s original ideas until they began to agree that they had come up with something workable.
“So that’s it, then,” Arenadd said when they were done. “We’re ready to go ahead if I’m any judge. As long as Skandar agrees, we can do it.”
“When shall we leave here, sir?” said Saeddryn.
“In a few days,” said Arenadd. “Once we’re well rested. And for the love of gods,
don’t tell everyone where we’re going
. Not even our friends. Rhodri, you and Davyn will tell people we’re going to Wolf’s Town. Saeddryn, you tell them we’re going back to the Gorge. Hafwen, Cai, Nerth . . . just make something up. We won’t tell anyone where we’re going until we’re well away from the city. Got that?”
Saeddryn nodded. “I was goin’ t’suggest the same thing myself, sir.”
“Sensible as always, Saeddryn.” Arenadd nodded. “All right. I think that’s enough for now. Let’s get some rest and something to eat. I could probably do with some more sleep as well.”
The council began to disperse, and Arenadd sat down with a sigh and drank some more water. The hangover hadn’t gone yet; it had probably made him a little more snappish than usual during the meeting. Still, he was pleased with how things had gone.
“Arren?”
He looked up. “Oh, hello, Mother. How are you?”
“Fine. Arren, can I talk to you?”
Arenadd turned around in his seat to look at her properly. “Of course you can. Please, sit down—d’you want something to drink?”
She took some water and drank it. “Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder. The other councillors were all leaving, including Skade.
Arenadd stifled a yawn. “What is it, Mother? How’s your neck?”
She touched the bandage. “It’s healing well, Hafwen says.”
“That’s good. I was afraid it might get infected; it looked a bit red the last time I saw it.”
“No, Hafwen’s ointment kept it clean. Arren . . .”
“Please call me Arenadd. Arren is too”—he shook his head—“I don’t know. I don’t feel like it belongs to me any more.”
She smiled very slightly. “You didn’t used to think that.”
Arenadd sighed. “Let’s just say that I’ve changed a lot since then.”
“Arren . . .” Annir surprised him by reaching out to touch his hand. “Arren, I know . . .”
“What is it?”
“I know you’re too old to . . . I mean, I know you’re old enough to make your own decisions now,” said Annir. She laughed sadly. “You stopped obeying your father and me when you were ten, if I remember.”
“Mother, I know I—”
“It’s all right. I don’t mind. Every boy grows up. But I wanted you to know that I still love you.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “I love you so much, Arren. You’re my only child, and you always will be. My little warrior.” She gave a watery smile. “Aren’t you? My little Northern warrior. You always were. Even when you were tiny.”
Arenadd looked at her, taken aback. “I understand. I know I was never very close to you and Dad after I became a griffiner. I’ve never forgiven myself for that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you any more. I always came back to see you, didn’t I? And I never stopped caring about you, or looking out for you. In fact, I . . .” He paused. “You know how . . . when that other boot maker set up shop in the village, not too far away from you?”
“Yes.”
“He was taking all your business,” said Arenadd. “Until I raided his shop and had him arrested for smuggling whiteleaf.”
“Yes, I remember that,” said Annir.
Arenadd looked slightly guilty. “I never told you this, but . . . he was innocent. I planted the whiteleaf myself.”
Annir started. “What?”
“I know. It was dishonest of me, and . . . but I had to do it. You and Dad were going to go out of business. If you’d lost your shop, what would you have done then? I saw how badly things were going for you, so I decided to get rid of him.”
Annir made an odd sound, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “Oh. Oh, you little . . . I always thought it was strange that that happened just a few days after your visit. I don’t think your father ever suspected, though.” She became serious. “But Arenadd, if you love me, then listen to me.”
“I’m listening.”
She took in a deep breath. “Don’t do this.”
Arenadd looked slightly surprised. “I understand that you don’t want me to go to Malvern myself. I know it’s dangerous, but that’s the nature of this kind of thing. I promise I’ll be careful.”
“I don’t mean that,” said Annir. “I mean everything.” She gripped his hand. “Don’t do it, Arren.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Any of it. Don’t go to Malvern. Don’t start a war.
Don’t do it
. Please.”
Arenadd stared. “Mother, please. Try to understand—”
“No. I understand perfectly well.” Annir looked him in the eye. “Arren, what’s happened to you? What did they do to you?”

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