Donnel's Promise (27 page)

‘So he will marry her.'

‘I wouldn't go that far yet. Osser's death hit her hard.'

‘Does she blame Donnel?'

‘Osser died through his own stupidity. He was heavily outnumbered and had no need to engage — it was a suicide attack. He sacrificed his men for no purpose. In my experience, widows and mothers tend to prefer the responsibility to lie somewhere other than with their menfolk, but that's the truth of it. Aside from that, it wasn't Donnel who led the force Osser attacked. That sorry weight sits on my shoulders, lass.'

She blinked. She hadn't known that.

‘In the final count it was Goltoy's greed that led to his son's death, though there'll be some in Westlaw who will never see it that way, the dowager among them.'

Risha had had enough talk of death. ‘What are your plans now, Gorth? Do you stay here or return to Donnel?'

‘I'll stay if you've a use for me, Lady LeMarc.'

She raised her hands against the title. ‘Don't! I plan to see Donnel reinstated. Bad enough that I was obliged to denounce him in order to achieve our goal.'

Gorth was shaking his head. ‘Can't be done, lass — and not worth trying. Donnel won't stand before them with his tail between his legs, and that's what it would take. Can you picture him accepting a chastisement delivered by Quilec?'

In truth she could not. ‘But—'

‘Apart from which, you're better suited to the job. Donnel is too much an autocrat to bend a knee to the Sitting.'

‘But what will he do?'

‘In the short-term, he'll be busy negotiating a peace with Rillon — in that Harbin is proving an ally. And the widowed Lady Westlaw is not without ways to occupy his energy.'

Risha blinked.

Gorth grinned. ‘I didn't mean it like that: you needn't look so shocked. Serillee has requested that he visit her estates, which have been a little ignored of late. From there I think he plans to call on Margetta in Fratton.'

Risha felt a stab of an emotion she didn't care to name. ‘He might have thought to tell me his plans.'

There was a pause. ‘He will, lass. I expect he thinks
that for now you're better left to find your own feet.'

She was not appeased. Her father had once promised her — more than three years ago now — that they would soon get to know one another. It was yet to happen.

‘There's something else,' Gorth said. His face suggested he did not relish sharing it. ‘Donnel waited a long time to keep the promise he made when Cattra died. And at the last, his revenge was taken from him.'

‘By Ciaran, you mean?'

Gorth shook his head. ‘He didn't so much want to kill the man who brought about Cattra's death as destroy him. But when it came down to it, he didn't have the chance. It had already been done.'

Risha felt as if the air had been sucked from her chest. ‘We did it between us,' she said at last.

‘Aye. I know that. As will Donnel, when he's had time to master the hole it's left inside him. The truth is, lass, with the goal he's held tight to all these years gone, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Which puts him and Westlaw's widow in the same boat,' he added.

‘I … see,' Risha said.

‘Now.' Gorth sat back and set his hands on his knees. ‘Tell me about this army you gathered to take back your city. Thieves and cut-throats, they're saying up north, with you riding at their head like a goddess of vengeance.'

She snorted. ‘Kern lent me a troop of guardsmen, and at my request approached the hill people we settled in LeMarc. Thirty were waiting near Churton. Their leaders helped me negotiate a treaty with the renegades living in the Otharn Mountains on Fratton's side of the border. It gave me a combined force of four hundred.'

‘So the stories are true. I should have known it.' He
grinned. ‘What deal did you offer the outlaws?'

‘They're not outlaws, at least, not by choice. I gave them amnesty and in return for a year's service with the guard, they earn the right to claim land sufficient to establish a smallholding.'

Gorth frowned. ‘In LeMarc?'

‘Fratton's southern valleys are empty, and shouldn't be. And those who don't wish to farm or remain in the guard can be accommodated by LeMarc and Havre.'

‘And Margetta has agreed?'

‘Barc, on her behalf. I had a letter today. He has
conditions
— we'll negotiate it.'

‘It will need careful managing,' Gorth said, beaming like a proud parent. ‘And I know just the woman for it.'

‘Speaking of which, forty women soldiers fought with the renegades,' Risha told him. ‘Our guardsmen were sceptical, until the first skirmish. They held their tongues after.'

Gorth looked dubious. ‘Next thing, our daughters will be wanting to join the guard. I'm not sure I approve.'

‘Better we achieve a peace that precludes the need for standing armies. If such a thing is possible.'

Gorth gave a sceptical grunt. ‘At least you've achieved peace for the moment.' He paused. ‘You knew that after Vormer's death they found a vial of poison in his room? It would seem he died of the same mischance that took Athan and Lenora.'

‘Hardly mischance: Vormer murdered them.'

‘Aye, but who murdered Vormer? I doubt he dosed himself.'

The conclusions Risha had drawn she did not intend to share. ‘I suspect we'll never know.'

Gorth raised an eyebrow, but let the matter drop. ‘Did you take Thatton?'

She shook her head. ‘He fled Havreport as soon as my force came within sight of the city. From what we've heard since, Vormer's former allies couldn't abandon him fast enough. Bruer suspects he's in Saithe.'

‘He'd have family there who might hide him, for a time at least. His wife?'

‘Hoping she never has to see him again.' Risha
straightened
her spine. ‘Thatton must answer for his crimes. Too many died in the dungeons and northern marches for him to be excused his part in those crimes.'

They were silent a moment. ‘What of you, lass: you're coping?'

She shrugged. ‘The new Council is taking shape. To be truthful I was hoping it would free a little of my time, but it seems only to generate additional tasks.'

His smile was thin. ‘It will improve as things settle. What have you done with Vormer's supporters?'

‘Some claim coercion. I've placed Feron in charge of determining each case. Those judged culpable will be imprisoned and their property and chattels will be seized to provide for those orphaned or made destitute by the coup. The estates of Vormer and Thatton alone will go a considerable way towards meeting the cost.'

He gave a grunt of approval. ‘Shows you're fair, but not to be taken lightly. Your father's daughter.'

‘And Cattra's.'

‘Aye. And Cattra's.'

Risha stared from the window, irritated by the rain that had been falling for days. Sea and sky were a single uniform grey, the water of the harbour pocked by wind flurries.

‘I don't envy Croft a trip in this weather,' she said.

Lyse nodded absently. She had papers spread around her and was drawing up lists. Plans for her festival were well advanced. She shifted abruptly and set her hand on her belly. ‘He's very busy today. At first it was just a flutter, but now it feels as though he's swimming.'

Risha knelt and placed her palm flat against the curve of Lyse's belly. She felt a nudge. ‘You're certain it's a boy?'

Lyse smiled. ‘Shallie says when you feel strongly about it, you're almost certainly right. She knew both hers were girls. And she says boys kick more.'

It would be months yet until the baby was born, and Lyse was thriving and content — while Risha seemed to feel no less exhausted than she had through the frantic weeks of summer.

‘Harbin has asked whether he might come to our festival,' Lyse said.

‘What will you tell him?'

‘If you don't object, I'll tell him he's welcome. It would be nice for the Westlarns who have chosen to settle here.' Her voice was very careful.

‘I think it a fine idea, Lyse. And perhaps, as well as that, he would like to feel your boy kicking.'

Two days later Croft arrived, wet, cold and accompanied by an equally bedraggled Timon.

Risha greeted them with relief. ‘I was beginning to think you must have fallen into a bog and drowned.
We've had reports that the El has broken her banks and is flooding across the southern plains.'

‘The bridge at Thursk is in danger of losing a pier. Whitelaw is sandbagged, but if the rain goes on they won't be able to keep up.'

‘Is it as wet in Caledon?'

‘Aye. It's not improving anybody's spirits.'

‘Ciaran is grateful for your letters,' Timon said. ‘She seems a little more engaged than she was.'

‘Has Talben made any progress?'

‘Only in intimidating Quilec. Last week I saw him break into a waddle — doubtless a run in his mind — to avoid coming face to face with Talben in a corridor. Your mother's cousin makes a habit of turning up where he's least expected.'

‘When you go back you might suggest to Quilec that if Ciaran is released to my care it would free him of Talben.'

Croft's teeth flashed. ‘Aye, I will, if I can get to him. To be honest, he's not a lot more eager to see me.'

‘Diplomacy may win out where intimidation does not,' Timon said. ‘And, if it comes to it, you hold the balance of power within the Sitting.'

‘I would rather spare Ciaran that trial.'

The noise he made in response sounded less than hopeful. ‘She said I should ask whether you had any news of Kinnoc.'

Risha shook her head. ‘The man has crawled back under his rock. And I trust he will find a viper there to welcome him.'

‘Talben said that if Kinnoc gives you any trouble he is most willing to help you deal with it. Though I can't see the man being much of a threat.'

Risha didn't reply.

A girl brought warmed ale and both men drank with enthusiasm.

‘You should try the new bath-house,' Risha said. ‘It's the perfect antidote to a thorough soaking or too much time in the saddle.'

‘With pleasure, having suffered both.' Timon sat back and stretched his legs.

‘I'm glad you'll be here for Lyse's festival. We're expecting Harbin tomorrow.'

‘It'll be interesting to see how he plays things,' Timon said.

‘Very cautiously, I don't doubt,' Croft said.

‘While we will be nothing but courteous.'

Timon smirked. ‘Have you ever known me anything else? By the way, your friend Marit is in Caledon. He sent you this.'

Opening the damp packet he passed her, Risha
scanned
the trader's prudently worded note and sat back with a startled exhalation. ‘He thinks he's located my mother's grave.'

A silence stretched through the room.

She looked up. ‘Both my parents are strangers.'

‘Look in a mirror, lass,' Croft said. ‘And deeper. Likely you know them better than you think.'

25

Margetta's gift

T
he Sitting proved tame compared to the last. A string of witnesses, including Lillet and Timon, were called to provide testimony of Goltoy's death. Rillon listened to the accounts without expression.

There was no dispute about Ciaran's guilt, the
argument
lying in whether or not she had acted in rightful defence of her lady, and in that Harbin's testimony proved conclusive.

When the vote was called, Rillon abstained and Quilec cast a red rod. Margetta and Risha's three yellows won Ciaran's pardon, but not her freedom.

‘Without a unanimous verdict, the woman must remain under the supervision of someone not directly involved in the matter,' Quilec said.

Risha had no doubt he intended himself.

‘I support Lord Caledon, and propose Fratton take up that responsibility,' Margetta said. ‘Having not met Ciaran prior to the last session of the Sitting, you can be assured of my impartiality.'

Quilec's bluster couldn't trump the truth of her claim.

‘I further propose that the question of a scholars seat be set aside until such time as the needs of the five duchies are clear.'

No one opposed — perhaps, Risha decided, they were a little awed by the girl's budding confidence.

Donnel did not attend the session. Gorth sat at Risha's side as advisor for LeMarc, Bruer and Talben for Havre. Harbin's counsel was claimed by his cousin, though the men barely spoke to one another. Risha found the new Lord Westlaw difficult to read — which was perhaps why his mother and son were currently under Donnel's protection, providing some surety against the duchy of Westlaw breaking the fragile peace.

‘Will you ride with us to Fratton and see Ciaran settled?' Margetta asked, at the session's end.

Risha shook her head. ‘Fenn brought us across the lake; we left our horses in Havre. And it's been too long since I saw Cantrel. I hear he's been feeling his age this past winter.' Though both claims were true, neither was her main reason for avoiding Fratton.

Margetta smiled placidly. ‘Then you will receive the gift I sent all the sooner. It is rightly yours I think.'

Further discussion was pre-empted by Quilec, puffed up and pompous with indignation. ‘I trust you understand the weight of responsibility placed on you.'

‘Indeed Lord Caledon,' Margetta said, ‘a burden you have shouldered nobly these past months.'

Pushing past Quilec's bodyguard, Risha took Ciaran's hands.
I had wanted to see you free.

It is of no importance. I suspect Fratton will suit me. I seem to have little interest in the world these days
.

‘Ciaran, I am very sorry about Athan. You have
suffered
too much loss.'

The woman smiled thinly.
And now avenged it. It is an accomplishment I am proud of — I do not regret paying for it.

You were absolved!

Of one crime. I doubt many would absolve me of the other
.

Risha blinked at the unexpected confirmation.

Vormer's death was quicker than that he gave my husband or Lenora
. She continued aloud. ‘Good luck, Lady Havre. I trust you fare well. Perhaps I may be fortunate enough to hear news of you now and again.'

‘I will write.'
And visit you.

First speak with Talben. He can teach you more about the Gift than I, though it had been my intention that we discuss it together
. ‘I regret that our journey to the northern marches did not go precisely as planned,' she said aloud.

‘You have been a friend to me as to my mother. For that I thank you.' Risha's throat constricted.
I wish we might talk properly. There's so much I don't understand!

And time to learn
.

When the citadel came in sight Risha kicked Mica to a canter, Croft and her escort of guardsmen matching her pace. They had made good time from Merren Bay, the roads dried out by a week of settled weather that had ushered in spring.

A bell rang in the watchtower heralding their approach. In the courtyard a group had gathered to greet them. There was a flicker in Risha's mind of her first
meeting with Donnel — whether memory or vision, it was difficult to tell.

She flung herself from Mica's back. ‘Cantrel!'

The old man limped forward. ‘As usual, you go off for one purpose and return having achieved another entirely.' His disapproving frown could not mask his pride.

She hugged him. He felt frailer than she remembered, the shape of his bones clear through his skin. ‘How has the winter treated you?'

‘As they all do: I'm pleased to see spring that I might feel a little warmth in my old carcase.'

‘I'll have Bruer's engineer build you a bath-house. The one we've added to Havre's castle has been so popular this past winter he is drawing up plans for another for the town.'

She kissed Fretha's weathered cheek, greeted Galyn and Anya, and returned Harl's one-armed embrace. ‘I've missed you, old friend.'

‘Aye, well, the place isn't the same without you, and hearing news of your exploits only makes it worse.'

She looked up at the imposing façade of the Keep. ‘It's good to be home.'

Something flickered at the edge of her vision and she turned toward the stables. A boy stood there.

‘Clik!'

‘He came from Margetta,' Galyn said. ‘She made us promise to keep his arrival a surprise.'

Risha crossed the courtyard in rapid strides. Clik tolerated a minute of her embrace before wriggling free.

Croft tousled his hair. ‘Good to see you, lad.'

Clik pulled a slate from a bag slung at his hip and
wrote in large, carefully shaped letters: ‘Welcome home'.

Risha grinned. Clik gnawed his lip, laboriously shaping more words before pushing the slate into her hands.

‘From your friend Clik,' she read.

Tears pricked at her eyes. Clik looked alarmed.

‘It's a good sign,' Croft assured him. ‘Women get like that sometimes: crying when they're happy. Makes it that much harder for us to understand 'em, as you'll find out.'

Risha laughed and dropped a kiss on Clik's head. Taking the slate she wrote: ‘Thank you. From your friend Risha'.

There was a sound from the building behind them. Clik tucked the slate in his bag, gripped Croft's sleeve and towed him toward the Keep. When Risha made to follow he stopped and pushed her back toward the stable.

‘What, Clik? Did Margetta give you a horse as well? She must have, for you to have got here.'

He rolled his eyes, gave her a final shove and returned to Croft. The guardsman shrugged. The group in the courtyard had drifted away — though not very far. Happy to humour the boy, Risha walked into the stable.

It was cool within, the air rich with the sweet smells of hay and horse. She ran her eye along the stalls. Someone was standing in the shadows by the tack bench, hands busy with a harness. The smell of beeswax wove through the rest. Risha faltered.

‘Muir.'

‘Lady Arishara.'

‘I … thought you still in Fratton.'

He said nothing. Margetta's words and letter flooded into her mind, bringing colour surging into her cheeks.

Muir studied her. ‘You've been crying.'

She huffed a laugh. ‘That's Clik's fault.' She was
suddenly conscious of how dishevelled she must look. ‘His welcome letter made me weepy.'

Muir wiped a tear from her cheek with the ball of his thumb. ‘We've been practising every day, but most of the credit for his writing lies with Margetta. And you.'

The frustration of the winter months escaped. ‘Muir, why did you not write? I had any number of letters from Margetta and Kern. Even Emett wrote, and Barc. But not you.' She stopped.

‘With all those, I doubt I could have added more to your news of Fratton.'

‘It wasn't about news. It's been months.' She swallowed against a sudden constriction in her throat. ‘I've missed you.'

A muscle clenched and unclenched in his jaw. ‘And I you, my lady.'

She would not have it — or at least, would not have it unspoken. ‘Muir? Don't do that.'

‘What?'

‘Become distant. And call me “my lady”, the way you do when you're cross.'

‘I'm not cross.'

‘Can we not …' She held his eyes. Her breath shook. They seemed to have been here before. ‘Can we not step across this gulf?' She moved a little toward him.

He swayed back. ‘Risha.'

‘Yes?'

He wet his lips. ‘Margetta was not the only reason your father bid me stay in Fratton.'

She frowned. She had no interest in thinking about her father, or Fratton.

He took her hand, his thumb drawing small circles on
her palm. Her heart began to skip erratically.

‘You are very young. And your father's daughter.'

‘My father has nothing to do with this.'

‘No?' His thumb stilled. ‘I am no one, Risha. A
bondsman
. A farm boy.' He blew out a breath. ‘Hardly a boy. While you …' He dropped her hand, his fist clenching at his side.

‘You're not yet thirty! I hardly think that classes you as ancient. And if you would let my father rule your heart, I think it a thin thing indeed.'

His smile flickered. ‘Your temper is not the most endearing of your traits.'

‘Reject me for that then, but not for my father.'

His jaw tightened. ‘I am his bondsman.'

‘And I am a farm girl, a goat keeper. Donnel married for love, Muir, and it seems entirely possible he might do so again. He will not take this from me. Even if he tries, I won't let him.'

Reaching out she took his hand, turning it palm up between her own. She had always loved his hands. She pressed it to her cheek, her lips brushing the skin of his wrist. Muir made a noise in his throat.

Raising her arms to his shoulders, she laced her fingers behind his neck. His hands lifted to her waist, neither pulling her closer nor pushing her away. She could feel his doubt, and his need.

‘Kiss me, then tell me you will walk away.'

The space between them seemed to vibrate with
tension
. Still he made no move to bend towards her.

‘Muir, at least give me this.'

He shook his head. ‘You torture me.' His arms slid around her back.

She brushed her lips against his. ‘Do I?' Each quivering breath swayed her closer, till no space remained between the rapid beat of their hearts.

He kissed her softly, then less so. She sank into the sweetness of it.

Muir cleared his throat. ‘Do you think your father would believe that you gave me no choice?'

‘Well. Have you not often called me stubborn?