Quintana of Charyn (9 page)

Outside the inn, Finnikin watched the man and woman before him. They were of the same height. Both reed thin. And they loved each other. That was the fact Finnikin wanted to forget. That he was about to assassinate a man who loved someone. Who was gentle with her and cared whether she ate or not. But Finnikin remembered the stories of past leaders from the books of the ancients. The kindest of fathers were often the greatest butchers of innocent women and children.

When they reached the clearing, Finnikin saw Perri and his father. Unlike Gargarin of Abroi, he knew where to look for them in the shadow of the trees. And before he could change his mind, Finnikin had one arm around the Charynite’s shoulders, the other hand holding a dagger at his throat. Finnikin kicked away the man’s staff and Gargarin of Abroi’s body slumped against him.

He heard a sound from the woman as Perri’s hand muffled her cry and pulled her away.

‘Don’t hurt her!’ Gargarin said. Almost ordered. ‘Just let her go. She’s of no use to Bestiano. She’s suffered enough. If you have any compassion, let her go.’

Finnikin tightened his grip. ‘I don’t follow your orders and I don’t follow Bestiano’s,’ he said. ‘I’m just a fool who comes from that road you call Lumatere.’

He silenced the man’s shout with a hand, pressing the dagger closer to his throat. But suddenly he heard the rustle of leaves underfoot behind him and felt the tip of steel pressed into his back.

‘Drop the dagger,’ he heard a hoarse whisper say. ‘Drop it now!’

Gargarin of Abroi tried to turn in Finnikin’s arms and Finnikin sensed his desperation. The knife he held to the Charynite’s throat drew blood as Gargarin struggled. Behind Finnikin, the sword dug deeper into his back.

‘I said drop it!’

Mercy!

And just when Finnikin thought the moment could get no worse, he heard his father’s voice. Cold. Hard. Anguished.

‘Put down the sword, Froi, or I’ll slice your head clear from your body.’

 

 

L
ord Tascan and his family’s visit to the mountain was met with great enthusiasm. At first.
Yata
received them in her home and Lucian spent the afternoon showing them the dairy farms and the silo. Lucian was keen to set up an agreement between the Monts and the Flatland lords. The first of Lumatere’s market days with the Belegonians and Osterians had been a success for the kingdom, but the Monts had been absent, due to Phaedra’s death in the valley. Their hearts had not been in it. But Lucian believed it was time to show the rest of the kingdom that they were more than just sentinels.

And here Lord Tascan was, as keen as Lucian desired. But when the nobleman insisted he accompany Lucian alone on a tour of the stables, Lucian quickly came to understand the truth behind his visit.

‘I’m not going to waste time here, Lucian,’ he said, as they inspected the stalls. Lucian was hoping to show off the size of their boars to Lord Tascan, but he didn’t seem interested.

‘Since our return to Lumatere I’ve watched you carefully and have been impressed with your potential, lad. But then, of
course, there was the unfortunate marriage to the Charynite. All behind you now.’

Lucian stiffened. When he had visited the palace village a week past, friends and acquaintances had approached, one after the other, with hearty congratulations.

‘It must be a relief,’ the weaver had said.

Relief?

The sun appearing after days of rain or darkness was a relief. Orly and Lotte’s news that Gert and Bert had finally found each other and would produce the finest calf known to the mountain was a relief. Phaedra of Alonso’s death was a never-ending pain that gnawed at his insides. It made him a prisoner in his own cottage.

‘Lucian, this kingdom would love nothing more than your betrothment to my daughter, Zarah.’

Sweet Goddess.

‘It will bring opportunity to both our villages and it will bring light back to this mountain. Isn’t that what you want, Lucian? I’ve seen your
yata
. This marriage to the Charynite darkened her doorstep.’

No, her death did,
Lucian wanted to say.
Yata
had come to admire Phaedra. Even love her.

‘Zarah’s a good daughter, Lucian. The Osterian court held her in high regard when we lived there during the curse.’

‘I don’t want to offend your daughter, sir –’

‘Then good.’ Lord Tascan thumped Lucian on the back heartily. ‘It’s settled. No need to rush into anything formal just yet. But we’ll expect you for supper when you visit for market day. You can stay the night in the palace. I’m sure the Queen will enjoy seeing a beloved cousin. Perhaps there will be an invitation for my family to join you.’

Lucian forced a smile. Lord Tascan had waited a month. Not
to talk hogs and mutton. But to talk unwed daughters. How could Lucian have been so stupid not to notice?

After a long goodbye the guests departed, demanding promises he would come visit them, and Lucian returned home. From where he stood outside his cottage, he could see Lord Tascan’s people disappearing down the mountain trail and he felt nothing but great relief. Since Phaedra’s death, his cottage had become his refuge. Sometimes he imagined her there beside him. She had once told Lucian that she liked how high his home sat on the mountain, overlooking the other cottages and farms. She had loved the dips and slopes of the land in the distance, the smoke that came from Orly’s home, and the sight of Miro’s herd of sheep on a neighbouring property.

‘It’s a pity you can’t see it all from inside,’ he heard her say. ‘Windows would give you the greatest view all around.’

‘Why would I want to see more of everyone?’ he said. ‘Then they’d never leave me alone. The walls blocking out the mountain work just fine for me, Phaedra. It means I don’t have to see the sadness of their faces now that you’re gone.’

He spoke aloud to her often. This is what he was reduced to. Speaking to the ghosts of his father and his wife.

He was about to walk inside his cottage when he saw the horses travelling up the trail from the village of Balconio. Was it Lord Tascan returning? Lucian would have to hide, if so. But then he realised it was the Queen’s Guard and, fearing the worst, Lucian walked down the path back to
Yata
’s compound and waited for their arrival. As they ventured closer, he saw his cousin Isaboe amongst them. They were usually forewarned that she would be staying so that
Yata
could organise her quarters. But he also knew that sometimes his cousin craved to be with her mother’s kin, because no one fussed over Isaboe like
Yata
and the
aunts. She was still their little Mont girl despite being Queen of them all.

When she arrived with Jasmina and the Guard, he helped her dismount and they embraced. She seemed to want to hold on a moment longer and he let her. He took Jasmina from one of her other guards, Moss, and placed the imp on his shoulders.

‘Should you be riding?’ he asked Isaboe.

‘I’m with child, Lucian,’ she said dryly. ‘Not dying. And I’m actually on my way down to the valley.’

‘What?’ Lucian asked, stunned, looking up at her guard Aldron, who grimaced.

‘I’d appreciate you talking the Queen out of doing that, Lucian,’ Aldron said.

‘And I’d appreciate you both not talking about me as if I’m invisible,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

‘Did the Queen of this kingdom just roll her eyes?’

‘She’s been doing it all the way up the mountain,’ Aldron muttered.

‘And still you’re talking about me as if I’m not present!’ she said.

Lucian exchanged a look with Moss. No one seemed to like the idea of Isaboe travelling to the valley.

‘Stop doing that! All of you,’ she said firmly.

Lucian held up a hand in surrender.

‘If this is about your fight with Finn –’

Aldron was shaking his head at Lucian in warning.

‘My conversations with your beloved friend are of no one’s business,’ she said.

‘How come Finnikin’s my beloved friend whenever you fight and he’s your beloved husband all other times?’

Isaboe stared at him, unamused. ‘Take me to the valley, Lucian, or I’ll have Aldron here relay the conversation I just had
with Lord Tascan as we passed each other. The one where he suggests an invitation to the palace next time you’re in town. With his daughter in attendance.’

Lucian sighed. Isaboe would do it to spite him.

‘Moss, can you take Jasmina to
Yata
and tell her we’ll be staying the night?’ she said, taking Jasmina’s little fingers and kissing each and every one of them. ‘I’m off to see Tesadora. I’ve not seen her for such a while.’

‘Then I’ll send Jory to fetch her,’ Lucian said. Moss and Aldron nodded, liking the idea. ‘Tesadora can eat with us on the mountain tonight.’

‘No,’ his cousin insisted. ‘Tesadora’s not one for fetching and I want to surprise her.’

Lucian insisted that Isaboe share his mount.
Yata
spoke often about the babe arriving at the end of spring. When Jasmina was born, the kingdom was in a state of euphoria for months. Lucian couldn’t bear the idea of the horses getting skittish and something happening to the Queen.

They rode down the mountain with Aldron and two of the other guards. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed his cousin’s company and how little time they had spent together lately. After sharing family gossip, they spoke of market day in the palace village and Lord Tascan.

‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘Lady Zarah trills. Finnikin used to flirt with her when he’d visit the Osterian court during his exile.’

‘Yes, but that was before he met you.’

‘I overheard Finnikin once telling Sir Topher that Lady Zarah’s voice was a soothing sound.’

‘Hmm, soothing voices are in decline on the mountain … and in the palace, the way I hear it,’ Lucian said. He peered over his shoulder for her reaction.

Isaboe’s eyes narrowed. ‘If I had the power to make anyone in this kingdom mute, I’d begin with her trilling voice,’ she said. ‘Nothing soothing about it. She speaks softly so men can step closer to ask her to speak again.’

‘You’re mean,’ he laughed.

‘It’s true,’ she protested. ‘The first time Jasmina heard her voice she held her hands to her ears and cried.’

He reached back and poked her side with a finger and they both laughed again. But the closer they came to the valley, the more silent they became. He knew he would never speak the words out loud to her, but he had been disappointed that she hadn’t acknowledged Phaedra as his wife. After her death, Isaboe had sent her condolences, but Lucian wished that she had come to know Phaedra in life.

When they reached the point on the mountain where they could see the first glimpse of the Charynites in their caves, he heard her sigh.

‘What are we going to do about this valley, Lucian? If it’s true that Alonso has refused to send grain, I can’t take food from my own people to feed an enemy.’

‘Perhaps … they could fertilise the land and grow more of their own,’ he said. ‘I’ve only allowed them a small patch, but they could grow much more along the stream and between the caves.’

Hadn’t that been Phaedra’s idea?

‘Do you know how we fertilised Kasabian’s vegetable patch?’ Phaedra had asked him with delight one time when they were travelling back up to the mountain. ‘We climbed to the higher caves and carved holes for the pigeons to … you know.’

‘No,’ he had said, pretending ignorance. ‘I don’t.’

‘So they can … you know.’

‘So they can shit.’

‘Well, I would have put it more delicately.’

‘Trust me, Phaedra. There’s no delicate way to shit. It evens out the entire land. Humans and other creatures. Queens and peasants.’

‘Then we collect the pigeon … droppings and mix them with the water and soil, and that’s how we fertilise our garden,’ she said proudly.

It’s what he told Isaboe, without mentioning Phaedra.

‘People who plant gardens and vegetable patches become part of the land, Lucian,’ Isaboe said. ‘We can’t have them forming an attachment. It means they’ll never go.’

At her campsite on the Lumateran side of the stream, Tesadora was boiling a broth that smelt too repulsive to be considered dinner. She was surprised to see them, but held out her arms to Isaboe.

‘Stomach upsets in the valley,’ she said. She looked suspiciously at Aldron and the guards as they began searching the area.

‘If you’re so worried about the dangers, why bring her down here?’ she snapped.

‘Don’t talk about her as if she’s not here, Tesadora,’ Lucian said.

But no one seemed in a mood to jest.

‘You know they won’t risk crossing the stream,’ Tesadora said, irritation in her voice and still watching Aldron and the guard. She returned her attention to Isaboe and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘You look tired, beloved.’

‘I’m not sleeping too well these nights.’

‘I can imagine why,’ Tesadora said. ‘Your husband’s an idiot. Have I not told you that many times?’

Isaboe laughed, but Lucian could see worry in her eyes.

‘I sent for you, Tesadora, but you mustn’t have received my notes.’

‘Circumstances have been strange here since …’

Tesadora sighed, looking at Lucian.

Since Phaedra. Since Vestie travelled down a mountain on her own in the early hours of the morning. Since a strange, savage girl took up residence in their valley.

‘I wanted to talk to you about the sleep,’ Isaboe said.

Tesadora looked perplexed. ‘You still walk the sleep? But you’ve not bled. And I’ve not walked it with you.’

‘It’s odd,’ Isaboe admitted. ‘Vestie walks it, too. Not alongside me. It’s as if we walk our own.’

Tesadora was unnerved by the news, her beautiful face creased with worry.

‘I’ll come up the mountain with you tonight and we’ll make a strong brew to ease those jitters,’ she promised.

Tesadora extinguished the fire under her pot and Lucian helped her pack up.

‘I want to meet the girl, Tesadora,’ Lucian heard Isaboe say. He watched Tesadora freeze.

‘Vestie says she’s a Charynite with no place to go,’ Isaboe continued. ‘That she’s frightened of her own people.’

‘She’s no one,’ Lucian said. ‘Just a stray who doesn’t want to be in the presence of Donashe and his cutthroats, if you ask me.’

Tesadora covered the pot. ‘They’re arriving from all over these days,’ she said dismissively. ‘Ever since the events in their capital. The girl can look after herself. You three,’ she said to the guards, pointing to her pots and jars. ‘Make yourselves useful and put these in my tent.’

‘And what if she can’t look after herself, Tesadora?’ Isaboe continued. ‘What if there’s something I can do for her? All those people in the valley, waiting for my permission to climb this
mountain. Perhaps she’s the one. She is on her own with no kin. Take me to her, Tesadora. We’ll ease her fear.’

Lucian looked at Tesadora. As strange as the girl was, perhaps it was the first step. He liked the idea, but suddenly preferred that the conversation take place on the mountain and not down here in the valley.