The Sigil Blade (16 page)

Eithne blushed happily at the compliment. Suddenly self-conscious of her reaction, her mood shifted and she tried to feign indifference.

“Maybe you can give me a tour now that I am well enough,” Edryd suggested.

Eithne’s eyes narrowed into a familiar expression. “You are not well enough,” she said. “And what makes you think I want to show you around my house?” she argued as an added measure.

Trying to demonstrate that he was strong enough, Edryd stood up and began walking towards the door, ignoring the aches felt in just about every muscle in his body.

“Well come on then,” Eithne said with an exaggerated sigh, realizing that he was determined. Without further argument, and in truth quite pleased to be relied upon as the source of privileged information, she led him out the door.

On the other side of the doorway Edryd found himself in a short, confined hallway, open on either end with archways that led into the main living area. This space served solely as a screen to the entrances to the bedrooms. It was an interesting but apparently unnecessary feature that struck Edryd as an unfortunate misuse of space. A stone fireplace and a kitchen area could be seen through the archway to his right. Eithne headed in the opposite direction into an open doorway a few feet away that led to the other bedroom.

“This… is my room,” she declared proudly. It was the same size as Irial’s room, but crowded with two beds, a trunk, a dressing table, and a small shelf full of books, there was scarcely any space left in which to move around.

The realization that his presence had meant that Irial was now sharing a room with Eithne, mortified him in no small measure. “I’m sorry that you had to give up part of your room,” Edryd began to apologize.

Eithne interrupted him before he could say more. “It’s only temporary,” she said. Her eyes brightening in anticipation, she suddenly blurted out, “let’s go to your room!”

She had not meant the room he had been staying in. Edryd followed after her as she bounced excitedly out of the room and hurried through the nearest archway into the large double-bayed open hall that made up the main living area in the cottage. Stout oak timbers rose up at regular intervals along the low stone plinth walls, curving as they ascended. Joined tightly at the top with mirrored timbers from the opposite side, they supported a steeply sloped thatch roof. A fire pit, lacking coals or ash or any other signs of recent use, dominated the center of the room. Thatch, blackened by smoke all around a small opening in the center of the hall, suggested that the fire pit had at times been used extensively in the past.

Two tables filled the far side of the room, one a large oak slab bordered by long low benches and the other a smaller roughly squared surface covered by a linen cloth and edged with mismatched chairs neatly arranged on each side. Irial sat beside the fireplace in the corner next to the bedrooms, comfortably relaxing in a chair while tending to the contents of a large iron pot heated by hot coals and a low flame in the fireplace. Closed doors along the wall opposite his current position suggested rooms on the other side of the living area. They lacked the screening hallway, but he anticipated that they would otherwise be largely identical to those he had just seen.

Eithne headed directly toward the door nearest the back of the cottage, pushed it inward, and disappeared inside. Pausing to acknowledge a curious look from Irial, Edryd followed after the enthusiastic guide. The room shared the same dimensions as the others he had seen, but had fewer furnishings. Seeing a modest bed against the back wall, Edryd took the opportunity to both test the bed and rest his tiring body by taking a seat on the wool stuffed mattress.

It seemed obvious that the room had been prepared for him, even though he had not been put in it. He wondered why with so much space he had been using Irial’s room and she had doubled up with Eithne. Then he began to notice how much colder this room was. Irial’s room shared a wall with the kitchen fireplace and would probably have been the warmest place in the cottage. The arrangement had been out of necessity, and wouldn’t continue. Edryd’s attention was then caught by the solid wood bar supports fastened to either side of the door frame. An oak beam matching the width of the supports stood upright in the corner.  He tried to remember if this had been a feature in the other rooms as well but couldn’t recall. Certainly, housing a strange man in the room next door, he wouldn’t be surprised if they barred their bedroom door each night.

Eithne looked at Edryd expectantly, gauging his reactions and seeking approval. “It’s a nice clean room,” Edryd remarked.  “I’ll bet you helped get it ready specifically for me,” he added.

“She did,” Irial said from the doorway. “You are only just beginning to recover though, and you are not well enough yet to move into a drafty room like this one.”

Overcoming his surprise at her sudden appearance, Edryd met her concerned stare directly. “I would be far more comfortable in here, and there are plenty of blankets. I’ll be fine,” he insisted.

Irial looked doubtful and clearly had her misgivings, but she didn’t argue.

“Your things are already here,” Eithne said, looking pleased and pointing to a trunk along the outside wall. His dark oiled coat hung on a peg in the corner and his shoes and belt rested atop the trunk Eithne had identified, which he assumed must have held his clothing. He was too tired to do much more in the way of moving around, so there wasn’t much point in getting dressed, but it was a relief to know where his belongings were. Eithne appeared dissatisfied when he didn’t open and inspect the trunk.

“We will try it for the night,” Irial said, “but if your condition worsens in any way, you’ll be moving back to a warmer room.”

Irial had Eithne bring him another bowl of warm broth, and she watched as he finished it. Afterwards she wouldn’t leave until he agreed to get some rest. Feeling rather foolish and uncomfortable at being mothered like a young child, Edryd allowed her to help him into bed, and without protest, he also allowed her to also tuck the sheets in tightly around him. Sleep refused to come at first, but when it did he settled into a deep uninterrupted slumber.

Chapter 9

King of the Ascomanni

T
he next morning, Edryd woke to find that he was alone in the cottage. Feeling determined not to waste another day lying in bed, Edryd dressed slowly while making plans to explore the rest of the building. He was still weak, but he had more energy and his body no longer ached so much with each exertion. It felt good to move around and he felt light on his feet. This wasn’t just in his head he realized; he was in fact much lighter than he had been.

Eithne had shown him nearly everything there was to see the night before. There was one last room which remained unexplored, but it was barred shut from the inside. Curiously, there was also pair of sliding wooden bolts attached to this side of the door that allowed the room to be secured from the outside as well. He could think of only one purpose for this: it could be used to lock someone inside. He was glad that this was not the room that had been prepared for him. Feeling chilled by a current of cold air as he stood beside the door, Edryd decided to return to his room, where he retrieved his coat from where it had been hung on a peg in the corner.

Satisfied with his explorations within, Edryd wrapped himself in the dark coat before turning back around, going through the open hall, and then out the front entrance into the bright morning sunlight in front of the cottage. His canvas coat was not especially warm, but it was of a good quality and provided protection both from the damp and from the wind. It was loose and comfortable, and he had to overlap the open ends a good four to six inches before it went tight around his body. Choosing not to think about this in terms of how thin and weak he had become, Edryd instead admired the cut of the coat, feeling not quite like the person he had once been, and welcoming the idea that he could become someone different.

Eithne was tending to a group of goats penned inside a fenced yard a short distance to the south of the cottage. Settling down on a large stump beside the wood pile that was stacked just in front of the house, Edryd watched as Eithne separated two milking goats and led them to a feeding trough. She glanced in his direction only once, and then proceeded to collect milk from first one and then the other, partially filling a wooden pail in the process. When she finished, Eithne transferred the contents into a hardened clay jug, and with one hand on each handle, she began lugging it up the gentle slope that led up towards the entrance of the cottage. Edryd instinctively wanted to help, but he decided against it. Better to be thought of as weak and enfeebled, than to publicly demonstrate it.

Eithne paid him no heed, either distracted by her burden, or more probably making a deliberate effort to ignore him as she disappeared inside without any comment, leaving Edryd to believe that she was annoyed with his failure to offer help. Alone once more, and feeling the uninhibited freedom that came with such solitude, Edryd stood up and went through a series of unhurried motions. It was a type of mock combat exercise, designed to develop efficient transitions between attack and defense. In this instance he was not training, for he needed no practice in these skills. His intent was to test the extent of his recovering energy reserves and to measure what strength remained in his body. His movements and his timing were good, but he could feel that his strength and his stamina were compromised. Even so, Edryd found himself wishing that he had a good solid sword. He couldn’t truly test his conditioning without the heavy weight of a finely balanced weapon in his hands.

Edryd spotted a long-handled axe resting head down against the wood pile. It was no suitable stand-in for an actual sword, but it would test his strength and start the process of reconditioning his disused muscles. A considerable supply of fuel had been piled up, ready to be cut into smaller pieces. It was work begging to be done. Edryd was discouraged to discover that he could not raise the axe head without difficulty, and worried that this would tire him out before he could accomplish much, but he worked out a technique quickly enough. Lifting the axe above his head, he let the weight of the tool do much of the work, bringing the force stored in his muscles to bear on the task only after the axe wedge began to descend.

It was only a short while before he had to stop and rest, tired and drenched in sweat, but he had managed to produce a reasonable pile of split logs. His exposed hands ached both from gripping the axe and from the cold air. He stuck them inside his coat for warmth before standing up straight to take a look around in an effort to get his bearings. The roadway he had travelled on that first night in An Innis was just north of the cottage. He was far enough away that he could not see the town, but the palace atop the peak was plainly visible. It was an isolated location, near enough to but also a healthy distance away from the settlement at the western edge of the island.

Realization struck Edryd in a moment of clarity. Fumbling through a pocket in his coat, he confirmed that it was still there. The coin Logaeir had left behind with his message glimmered in the morning light. The piercing in the coin matched the location of this cottage perfectly. Irial’s home was an Ascomanni safe house. Random pieces of information were now connecting together. Irial and Logaeir had been exchanging information from the beginning. She knew exactly who he was. He had any number of immediate questions, but there was no one there to answer them. Eithne wouldn’t know much—and he didn’t like the idea of trying to make her to reveal what little she might—but lacking another means to learn anything useful, Edryd collected an armful of wood and headed back inside the cottage.

Inside, Eithne was busy trying to appear as if she had not noticed his entrance. A small crack of an opening between the shutters and a dent in a cushion on the bench beneath the window near the front door, exposed Eithne’s demeanor for what it was, a transparent attempt to conceal that she had spent the last half hour watching him.

“Should I put these beside the fire?” Edryd asked, tilting his head towards the bundle of firewood cradled in his arm.

Eithne’s eyes tightened in the way that they did when she wanted him to believe she was angry with him.

“What have I done?” he asked as he deposited the wood atop a dwindling pile beside the fire.  When she didn’t respond, Edryd walked over to the small table and dropped eagerly into one of the chairs. “I’m sorry I didn’t help with the goats,” he apologized, guessing at the source of her irritation.

“I wouldn’t have let you,” Eithne declared firmly. “And who told you to cut wood for the fire?”

“I just thought…” Edryd began.

“If you get sick again, I will be blamed for it,” she said, cutting his defense short. Pouring Edryd a cup full of milk, she brought it over and planted it on the table. “Irial says you need to drink more milk. It’s what will help you the most.”

Edryd gladly accepted the cup and consumed its contents without complaint. Eithne refilled the cup and he drained that quickly too. The milk tasted better this time. It was fresher and he was also becoming more accustomed to it. Eithne seemed to relax upon seeing Edryd demonstrate an improved appetite.

“I promise not to do any more work without permission,” he said, easing Eithne’s demeanor even further. Sensing an opportunity, Edryd took the coin out of his coat pocket and placed it on the tablecloth. “Have you ever seen one of these?” he asked.

“That’s from Uncle Logaeir!” she said excitedly.

“Uncle Logaeir?”

“Well he isn’t my Uncle,” Eithne clarified. “I don’t think he is anyone’s Uncle really, that’s just what I call him.”

“How do you and Irial know him?” Edryd asked.

“He is one of the Ash Men!” she boasted conspiratorially.

Despite his desire to get Eithne to provide more information, Edryd cautioned her against it. “Are you sure you should be telling me this?” he asked.

A look of fear and panic spread across Eithne’s young face. “But, you have his token, and Irial said that you know him,” she said with startled worry.

“Its fine,” Edryd said, trying to calm her down, “the two of us are old friends.”

Color returned to her face as she began to breathe normally again. “That was mean,” Eithne sniffed, “you made me think I did something wrong.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Edryd apologized, “I just didn’t think that the two of you knew him.”

“Irial and Logaeir are friends too,” Eithne explained. “They knew each other when they were kids. He left An Innis when he wasn’t very old, but he came back.”

Eithne might have thought she was explaining all there was to know, and the intelligence that she had provided did suggest a reason for Logaeir’s obsession with conquering An Innis, but it did not fully explain how he knew Irial or how they were connected to each other. For some reason, Edryd wasn’t quite sure whether he wanted a more detailed account. “I’m sure Logaeir and I will have the chance to catch up with each other later,” he said, trying to reassure her again that she hadn’t said too much.

“He’ll be here tonight,” Eithne volunteered. “He is coming to talk with you and Irial.”

Still amazed at how forthcoming Eithne was, Edryd pressed for more. “To talk about what?” he wondered.

“Something about the Red Prince,” Eithne answered.

Apparently Eithne knew pieces, perhaps just things she had overheard and not fully understood. Edryd had no desire to let her know that he was the man they were calling the Red Prince, and he very much preferred it if she never did. She already knew more than was safe.

“What would you know about the Red Prince?” he asked innocently.

“He joined the Ascomanni. They are all following him now, and he is going to help Uncle Logaeir take back An Innis.”

This was surprising news to Edryd of course, but he couldn’t very well explain to Eithne why it was also all very impossible.

“You’re sure?” he asked with a bit of an edge to his voice, unable to completely disguise the surge of anger he felt at hearing that he had supposedly become the leader of the Ascomanni.

Ignoring his tone, or perhaps simply failing to notice it, Eithne nodded her head in confirmation. She was quite certain. “Everyone in town knows he is here,” she insisted. “He has a ship with red sails, and the Ascomanni have been attacking ships under the banner of the Red Prince for weeks now.”

“And you say the Red Prince is going to attack An Innis?”

“Well, I heard Uncle Logaeir say that he had to use the Red Prince in order to make it all work,” Eithne explained. “Irial got mad, but he said there wasn’t any other way.”

“She isn’t the only one that’s angry,” Edryd responded before he could catch himself. Seeing a nervous uncertain look on Eithne’s face, he quickly gave a vague explanation for his comment, “Logaeir is playing a very dangerous game. I am worried he won’t like some of the consequences.”

He had meant to soften his tone and sound concerned for Logaeir, but what had come out was a thinly veiled and none too subtle threat directed at the Ascomanni strategist. Eithne didn’t seem to notice. “Don’t worry about Uncle Logaeir, he will have thought everything through already,” she said with complete confidence. “He is always five steps ahead of everyone, you’ll see,” she added, obviously repeating something she had heard others say.

“Maybe,” Edryd said, managing to bring his anger under better control. If Logaeir was really going to be here tonight, it was going to make for an interesting evening. For a second time this morning, Edryd keenly felt the absence of a good sharpened blade. It made him feel… incomplete. He wondered if there might be something stored somewhere on the property, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask Eithne. He also knew he was not strong enough yet to be thinking about such things.

Edryd thought about Eithne’s observation that Irial had been angry with Logaeir. It was comforting to learn that she was actively against whatever strategy Logaeir had settled on and was not participating in it, but he would need to determine exactly what her relationship was with this scheming and duplicitous would-be conqueror of An Innis. Irial had provided him with useful information about Aed Seoras. Hopefully she would be prepared do the same with respect to Logaeir.

As the day progressed, Eithne spent most of afternoon outside. She had demanded that he remain indoors, as she was only too willing to fully enforce Irial’s orders that he should be resting. There really were an unending number of things that needed to be done about the property on a daily basis, and Eithne was staying well on top of them. While she worked, Edryd passed the time by going through all of the books he could find in the house. One was an extensive collection of information on medicinal herbs. It seemed to have been used a great deal by Irial. Another gave instructions on animal husbandry.

He found others that were more along his lines of interest, including a philosophical treatise on the nature of reality. He liked to consider himself reasonably educated, and by Nar Edor standards, where he was from, he would most certainly have qualified as extremely well-read. But distracted as he was by Logaeir’s misappropriation and misuse of his name, Edryd didn’t have the concentration needed to properly absorb and interpret the concepts described by the author, who argued that all existence was a malleable manifestation of our imperfect perception of a deeper and simpler underlying frame. Edryd seemed to be able to tease any meaning he wanted out of that asseveration, which as he thought about it, was perhaps a small part of the point that was being made.

Several frustrating and unproductive hours later, which had been spent entirely on reading through this baffling text, Edryd realized that the entire day had passed him by, becoming aware of the late hour only after he noticed that it had become too dark to read. Eithne brought more milk and a lantern, and reminded him that Irial wanted him to drink as much as he could.