Defiant Peaks (The Hadrumal Crisis) (26 page)

Halferan Manor, Caladhria

29th of Aft-Winter

Z
URENNE LOOKED UP
as Reven knocked on the open audience chamber door. She and Ilysh were reconciling their personal expenditure; the first step in the full accounting of the manor’s ledgers with Master Rauffe before the turn of the season eight days hence.

‘There are riders at the gatehouse, my lady. They ask your permission to enter and speak with you.’

The young sergeant-at-arms looked from Zurenne to Ilysh, leaving Zurenne unsure whom he was addressing. She also noticed his fleeting smile when he saw that Lysha was using the fern stone which he’d given her for a paperweight but that was a concern for another time.

‘Who exactly do they ask for?’

‘For you, my lady. For the Widow Halferan. But one is Madam Jilseth.’ Reven was baffled. ‘Why should she ask for permission?’

‘On a horse?’ Esnina’s astonishment spoke for her mother and older sister. ‘The lady wizard?’

Zurenne knew that every mage had to travel by such mundane means from time to time; Archmage Planir had explained that a wizard’s magic could only revisit a place. But Jilseth had often appeared within Halferan’s walls.

She gathered her wrap around her shoulders. ‘Stay here with Raselle, Neeny.’

Maid and child were both sewing quietly in the window seat, making the most of the day’s unseasonal sunshine. Raselle hemmed new chemises while Neeny laboriously embroidered a linen runner for her new bedroom’s dressing table.

Ilysh was donning the shawl she’d draped over the back of her own chair. ‘Madam Jilseth must have news from Col. Corrain—’ She corrected herself. ‘My husband the baron calculated that their ship should arrive there today or tomorrow. He said so in his letter from Claithe.’

‘Sergeant.’ Zurenne gave Reven a commanding nod. ‘Lead on.’

She and Ilysh followed the young guardsman outside and down the great hall’s steps. As they approached the gatehouse’s shadowed archway, she saw the iron-bound oak gates standing open. Two horses waited patiently on the road outside.

Madam Jilseth looked remarkably uneasy on her mount. The wizard woman’s companion sat equally stiffly in the saddle, gloved hands clutching the reins so tightly that the horse shook its head fretfully from side to side.

‘Let the mare have her head, friend. She’s not going anywhere.’ Kusint was standing just outside the entrance.

Was this second visitor a man or a woman? Despite the twin blessings of sunlight and a windless day, the magewoman’s fellow traveller’s hood was pulled up. Zurenne could only see a closely wound scarf within, as though the rider was forcing a path though a mid-winter blizzard.

This visitor was a man, she decided. The rider was significantly taller than Jilseth and Zurenne couldn’t imagine any woman with the breadth of shoulder apparent beneath the newcomer’s voluminous cloak.

‘Madam Jilseth, you and your companion are most welcome to Halferan. Please, enter and share some refreshment with us.’

As Zurenne held out a graciously inviting hand, Ilysh copied her gesture.

‘Good day, Lady Zurenne, Lady Ilysh.’ Jilseth made no move to urge her horse forward. ‘May I make known to you Kheda of the Southern Reaches.’

‘Good day to you.’ Zurenne wasn’t sure she’d heard the name correctly through the rustle of feathers and indignant cooing from the cloth-swathed box which the rider was cherishing on his saddle bow.

That posed another question. Why would the magewoman bring courier doves when her wizardry could carry her words across hundreds of leagues in an instant?

The rider put back his hood. Awkwardly, with one hand clutching his reins as well as steadying the dove cage, he unwound his scarf.

Lysha gasped and took a step backwards. Kusint swore in the Forest tongue and moved in front of both women, his hand going to his sword hilt.

Zurenne heard Reven yell an urgent summons. ‘Halferan! Guards to the gate! All of you curs!’

The newcomer’s skin was the rich chestnut of his horse’s flank. An Archipelagan or a man of mixed blood? His eyes were leaf green and his close-clipped hair and beard were dark and wiry brown rather than the inky black of the Aldabreshin corsairs who had ravaged Halferan.

‘Mama?’ Ilysh breathed, pressing close to her mother’s side for reassurance.

‘Good day.’ Zurenne heard her voice rise perilously high and swallowed hard. ‘You are from Relshaz?’

She managed to speak loudly enough to be heard by the troopers rallying behind her.

‘No, my lady.’ The man raised his voice to be clearly heard within the manor’s gates, calm and sonorous and speaking in precise and courtly Tormalin. ‘I was born in the Daish domain of the southernmost Archipelago. I bring you greetings and good wishes from the wives of Khusro Rina.’

Zurenne couldn’t think what to say, distracted by ominous murmuring from Reven and the troopers behind her, by Ilysh’s trembling presence at her side, by Kusint’s ferocious scowl as he looked to her for guidance.

‘Velindre of Hadrumal vouches for Kheda of the Southern Reaches and I am here to guarantee both his good conduct and his personal safety.’

Jilseth’s pointed words silenced the muttering guardsmen. Zurenne breathed a little more easily. Hopefully no man with the wits that Saedrin gave a blackbeetle would risk wizardly ire by attacking this unforeseen visitor, who was after all, unarmed. She could see no sword or dagger at the tall man’s belt as he shrugged his shoulders free of his flowing cape.

She hastily gathered her wits. ‘Kusint, please see that our visitors’ horses are stabled and tended. Ask Mistress Rauffe to prepare two guest chambers.’

For one heart-stopping moment, she feared that Kusint would defy her, still standing squarely in the entrance. After a long moment, the Forest-born captain stepped backwards. He still made sure that he stood in front of Halferan’s ladies as the stranger rode past with Jilseth.

‘Sergeant Reven!’ Zurenne clapped her hands to demand the gaping youth’s attention. ‘Send word to the kitchens. Ask Mistress Doratine to send a tisane tray and food for our guests to the muniment room’s audience chamber.’

Reven took to his heels like a startled hare. Trimon only knew what rumours would go racing around the manor, Zurenne reflected, once Reven had told Doratine who had just ridden though Halferan’s gates.

‘Lady Ilysh.’ She slipped her arm through the crook of her daughter’s elbow.

Lysha lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, her father’s determination reflected in her eyes.

Kusint walked on her other side, hand still on his sword hilt, watching as Jilseth and the newcomer dismounted and their horses were led away towards the stables.

‘Mama—’ Ilysh murmured as Linset and Weltray escorted the visitors towards the baronial tower.

‘I know.’ Zurenne walked more quickly. They reached the steps first, hurrying inside to the audience chamber. ‘Raselle, take Neeny upstairs.’

‘Why was the lady wizard on a horse?’ Esnina jumped down from the window seat, her embroidery abandoned.

‘I don’t know, Neeny. Raselle, as quick as you can, if you please,’ Zurenne urged from the doorway.

‘Of course, my lady.’ Flustered, the maid gathered up pin cushion and scissors, folding fine white fabric into her work basket.

‘Neeny, hurry up!’ Lysha wrapped her sister’s needle case and silks in the creased and grubby runner.

‘I’ll do it!’ Indignant, Esnina snatched at the embroidery, spilling the multi-coloured silks everywhere.

‘Girls!’ Zurenne’s exasperation silenced whatever retort had been on tip of Ilysh’s tongue.

After one look at her mother’s face, Esnina dropped to her knees and swept up the fallen silks. Ilysh crouched low to help before ushering the little girl past their mother and into the hallway after Raselle.

Too late. Zurenne saw the maid halt with a stifled squeak of surprise. Esnina yelped and fled for her mother’s skirts.

‘It’s all right, Neeny, truly it is.’ Zurenne gathered her younger daughter close.

Neeny’s nightmares of bloody havoc and incomprehensible death surrounding her had been painfully slow to fade. Zurenne had begun to despair of the child sleeping the night through without waking in floods of tears and urine-soaked bedding.

The newcomer, Kheda, instantly dropped down into a low crouch. Now his green gaze was on a level with Esnina’s white-rimmed eyes.

‘Good day to you, my lady. May I ask, what is your name?’

‘This is Esnina.’ Zurenne tightened her comforting grasp on Neeny’s trembling shoulders. At least astonishment at hearing the man’s courtly Tormalin had kept the child from outright hysteria. ‘And this is Kheda—’ she hesitated over his appellation, as meaningless to Neeny as it was to her. ‘He’s Madam Jilseth’s friend.’

She saw Neeny look at the magewoman. Jilseth answered her with a reassuring smile. Zurenne felt her little daughter’s shudders ease to wary stillness.

The tall man removed the cloth from the wooden-slatted cage he carried. ‘Perhaps you can answer my question, my lady. Are the birds in your dove loft as white as mine?’

Esnina was surprised into a whisper, looking upwards to Zurenne. ‘They look just the same, Mama.’

‘Raselle, take Neeny upstairs.’ Zurenne stooped to kiss the top of her child’s head. ‘I’ll send to the kitchen to see what Doratine has been baking, sweetling. Now, be a good girl.’

Raselle stepped forward to take the child’s hand and led her away towards the staircase. Kheda watched them go, waiting until the pair were well past the turn of the stair before standing up again.

Zurenne realised that he was even taller than Kusint. The Forest youth was still standing by the tower’s entrance, glowering at the Aldabreshin man’s back.

‘Please, come in.’ She gestured towards the audience chamber door.

The Archipelagan smiled as he shed his cloak. He wore a plain black doublet and breeches, his clothes and boots as creased and grimy as Corrain’s had been on his return from Duryea. Zurenne wondered how long he had been travelling.

He draped the heavy cloth over one arm. ‘Your small daughter, she is six or seven summers old?’

‘Six.’ Reminiscence softening the man’s eyes piqued Zurenne’s curiosity. ‘Do you have children?’

He nodded. ‘I do.’

Zurenne waited for him to say something further but nothing was forthcoming. She turned hastily and led the way through the anteroom into the audience chamber.

Ilysh was standing behind the long table, hands folded at her waist. ‘Please take a seat.’

Zurenne wondered if anyone else heard the infinitesimal tremor in Lysha’s words. She offered what reassurance she could in her smile as she joined her daughter.

‘Thank you, Lady Ilysh, for your welcome to Halferan.’ Jilseth pulled out chairs for herself and the Aldabreshi.

‘You are always welcome, Madam Mage.’ Ilysh sat down and glanced at her mother, her eyes beseeching her help.

‘You said that you had news for us?’ Taking the chair beside Lysha, Zurenne saw Kusint standing stony faced by the door. His eyes were still fixed on the Archipelagan and his hand rested on his sword despite the visitor’s lack of weapons. ‘From Col?’

‘Not as yet,’ Jilseth apologised. ‘I can scry for Baron Corrain if you wish, though I am sure one of my fellow mages in the city would have alerted us if anything had befallen his ship.’

‘Then what are you doing here?’ Ilysh managed to ask with reasonable courtesy.

Jilseth looked at the Archipelagan Kheda. As he explained, his resonant voice was as sombre as his expression.

‘As I believe you know, Aldabreshin traders in Relshaz have gone from refusing to do business with mainland merchants who have any dealings with wizards to stirring up the city’s riff-raff to attack the wizards themselves. There are those in the Archipelago who would go further still. Some propose ending trade with the mainland, to remove any possible risk of magical attack, for whatever reason.’

‘Planir is most concerned by the hostility to wizards now spreading on the mainland beyond Relshaz,’ Jilseth interjected. ‘He knows this will only worsen if Hadrumal is blamed for the wholesale ruination of trade with the Archipelago.’

‘What has this to do with us?’ Zurenne was as bemused as Ilysh.

Kheda leaned forward, resting muscular forearms on the table. ‘Khusro Rina is a stargazer, revered far and wide throughout the Archipelago’s northern and western reaches. He has seen ominous omens, warning of disaster ahead if a schism becomes established between the mainland and the Aldabreshi. His wives have resolved to do all they can to mend matters. They have decided that they must act before the spring seasons open the sea lanes to travel between the mainland and the Archipelago.’

‘The northernmost domains, Jagai and Khusro, are sustained by trade with the mainland,’ Jilseth added. ‘They also profit from their dealings with the rest of the Archipelago since every warlord’s galleys and triremes must use their sea lanes to reach Caladhrian waters before sailing onward to Relshaz or Col.’

‘The warlord’s wives?’ Ilysh asked, wide-eyed. ‘How many does he have?’