Sons of the Falcon (The Falcons Saga) (43 page)

“
Our
reputation, you mean.”

Her smile was viperish. “I was
caught in only one man’s bed. If I have any reputation of the kind, it’s in
your mind alone, and it’s a sordid mind at that. And this after I sang your
praises to your brother.”

“But I saw—”

“You saw nothing! Has this troubled
you all these years? My, but the Ilswythe twins are unburdening themselves this
morning. Such tortured souls, they are. Such martyrs.”

“Stop it, Rhoz.”

“You opened the box, my boy. Deal
with what spills out.” They stood across the rug from one another, glaring. At
last Rhoslyn let her arms fall to her sides and sighed. “You were right, you
know. I adored him. But I knew I could use him, too, so I told myself I needed
him. But that’s not the same as love.”

“And me?” Hell of a time to ask
where he stood. In all their years together, Rhoslyn had never once said she
loved him. Such words hadn’t been a requirement, nor did he expect them, but
he’d hoped. Many times he thought they were about to leap from her mouth, but she
tucked them away nicely again. Why hadn’t he asked about Thorn years ago? He
had been afraid he would run her off, that’s why. Nothing forced her to live
here with him, after all.

“You’re the one who came back.
That’s all that mattered.”

“If it had been Thorn who showed up
that day—”

“But it wasn’t. That’s the point.
Even if it had been, I would not have renewed the proposal. He was a crutch,
and by then I’d learned to walk without him. Oh, Kelyn don’t you see? In the
past month while he’s been living here, I’ve realized that since the beginning,
despite his own heartbreak, Kieryn has done everything for
our
benefit,
our
happiness. He stays away because, for him, it’s safer. He goes to war against
evil we can’t see to keep our daughter safe, and he a scholar who prefers peace
and quiet. And me, I … because of what I did to him, I’ve feared him all these
years. It’s a relief to move past all fear of him.”

Kelyn nodded and started for the
door to hide his hurt. Still no profession of love. Maybe later. Maybe when he
hadn’t made her furious first. “Yes, that’s a relief, indeed. I have to go.
Carah will be hammering down the door any minute.”

Rhoslyn followed, as icy as ever.
“And don’t worry about me. You’re taking half the problem with you. Thorn won’t
be staying in my lascivious care. Go with a clear mind, Kelyn, and have a good
time.”

He started back across the
threshold with an apology on his lips, but Rhoslyn slammed the door in his
face.

~~~~

W
hen both her uncle and her
father hurried off, Carah was left standing on the steps with Rhian. She
shuffled her feet and racked her brain for something witty to say. She was
usually armed with an interesting comment or question for awkward moments like
this, but with Rhian her mind went curiously blank. He seemed completely
unaware of her presence, however, just glowered like a thunderstorm at the two
arguing footmen. Carah’s heavy trunk was slipping down the horse’s flank; the
poor animal had lost its patience and pivoted around the man holding the lead
to avoid the attentions of the second.

Carah was about to suggest they
take a luggage cart instead when Rhian started down the steps. “We should’ve
left an hour ago,” he barked. “Ai, Goddess, let me do it or we’ll never get
there.” The two footmen shied from him, like lambs before the herder’s dog. “Look,
you have to think like a horse. Would you want to walk lopsided all day? No? Then
go away.” Carah chuckled behind her hand as Rhian untied the whole mess and
started over. The footmen slinked past and received a sympathetic nod from
their lady for their efforts.

“Do you really need all this?”
Rhian asked, tying a fisherman’s knot around her oversized trunk.

She traipsed down the steps, dug in
her golden pony’s saddlebag for an apple and fed it to the baggage horse. “You’ll
be fine in just your livery, but a lady must dress for every occasion. A dress
for morning, a dress for riding, a dress for dinner, a dress for evening. That
means matching slippers, jewelry, petticoats, and all the other unmentionables.
And she dare not wear anything twice. That would be scandalous.
I
didn’t
make the rules. If it were up to me, I’d just wear my robe. It’s all that
matters.” For the journey, she decided she’d rather not ruin her silver robe with
rain and mud but settled for riding leathers and boots and a waxed woolen cloak
to shed the rain.

Rhian peered around Kelyn’s smaller
trunk. “It means that much to you, being avedra?”

“It’s the one thing I looked
forward to all my life.”

“Is it what you hoped?”

She raised her chin.
Don’t look
at his eyes
. “Not yet.”

Uncle Thorn hurried into the
courtyard, rubbing his hands eagerly. “Are we ready to go? Where’s your da?”

Carah replied with a shrug.

“Jaedren!” he called. “You and
Carah come here.” The squire stopped whispering sweet nothings to Rhian’s horse
and ran to Thorn. Laying a firm hand to Carah’s shoulder, her uncle said, “You
are to stay with Rhian or myself at all times and do exactly as we tell you,
and no arguments.”

Memory of the nightmare shuddered
through her. Running, running from the crush of bone and the smell of blood.
“Yessir,” she said, her deference genuine.

“Good. Go acquaint yourself with
Záradel. You’re going to ride my horse today. She can outrun any ogre and get
you to safety.”

“You don’t think their waiting to …
to ambush us?”

“I don’t know what to think, love.
Saffron and Zephyr will scout ahead and let us know well ahead of time if
there’s trouble.” He placed his hand on the crown of Jaedren’s head. “And I
have an assignment for you, young man. You’re our man in reserve. Whenever you
have time between duties, studies, and sleep, you’re to walk the wall with
Captain Maegeth and use Veil Sight to look for ogres.”

“Yes,
sir
!” the boy
exclaimed, slamming a fist to his chest. “I’ll be the best sentry ever.”

“Only if you know what to look for.
An ogre’s azeth is different from ours. It has only a semblance of light.
They’re more like murky greenish halos. Easy to recognize. You may not see any,
and that’s what we want. But if you do, count how many you see and note where
they’re bound. I expect a full report when I get back.”

Jaedren’s chin jutted proudly. “I
won’t fail you, sir.”

Thorn chuckled and ruffled the
boy’s hair. “You sound like your father and look like your Uncle Leshan.”

“That’s what Kelyn always says.”

One of the massive bronze doors crashed
wide, and Kelyn stormed from the keep. “Foul blasted weather,” he snarled, eyes
cursing the flat gray sky.

“Right,” Carah said, backing away
and nudging the others. “Time to mount up.” Jaedren gave her foot an extra lift
as she hoisted herself into the saddle. The Elaran black was taller than her desert
pony and Thorn’s legs longer. While her uncle adjusted the stirrups for her,
Carah eyed her da. He growled something at Rhian, who kept his gaze on his
task. His fingers worked a bit faster. Wading into the snake pit, Carah asked,
“Isn’t Mum coming down to say goodbye?”

“Oh, she said goodbye, all right. What
are you doing on that horse? The one I gave you isn’t good enough?”

Thorn dropped the second stirrup
and stood between the two of them. “It’s my wish. There’s no harm in it, and
what does it matter so long as we get to Bramoran alive?”

The glare that Da cast his brother
dragged out like the slow drawing of a sword. Anger must have rolled off him in
palpable waves, for Thorn eased back a step, looked round at Carah, the keep,
and finally spread his hands and asked, “What?”

The hostility ebbed gradually from
Da’s face. He turned away. “Nothing. I’m a fool. And don’t read my mind!”

“The idea never occurred to me.”

“Aye, sure.”

“This is disgraceful,” Thorn
declared. “I can’t play chess with you. I can’t even let you insult yourself
without you thinking
I’m
up to something.”

Carah clamped her teeth on a grin
before Da saw it. He started for his horse. “The day is wasting, and the king
is waiting.”

Thorn, too, swung into the saddle
and ordered, “Saffron, Zephyr, report.”

The last thing Carah needed on a
long ride was a headache, but she blinked and focused her Veil Sight in time to
see two streamers of light dart under the portcullis and draw up before her
uncle. The fairies chirped and twittered, and Thorn nodded the all-clear. He
led his brother and niece through the main gatehouse, down the hill, and onto
the King’s Highway. Rhian brought up the rear at a more casual pace, leading
the luggage horse. They took their time navigating across Ilswater Ford. The
river still ran swift and high; drowned rats and uprooted saplings swept past.
Carah thought it was high time Ilswythe had a proper bridge, like the one Mum
had built across the Liran below her palace, but now was hardly the best time
to mention it.

On the other side, the Highway ran
straight and clear. The wheels of merchants’ wagons had rutted it, but Lord
Ilswythe’s party made good headway, trotting along silently for several miles. The
misting rain turned the tilled fields into slick black mud; sheep and cottages
drifted in and out of site. Carah was not mistaken when she assumed her father
kept up the swift pace to leave behind the harsh words that had passed between him
and Mum.

The mood lifted only when they
trotted up a hill and saw two lines of dwarves in the valley below, marching down
the middle of the road. “Master Brugge,” Kelyn called. The column stopped and
waited. The ruddy-faced dwarf led them. His beard was more salt these days than
pepper. He raised a wide, square hand as the riders reined in.

“Thought you might pass us this
morning, m’ lord,” he said. “Gloomy day for a march, so it is.”

“You are to represent Thyrvael at
the Convention of Kings?”

“Aye, the longer walk troubles us
not, but are you keen on this arrangement?”

Kelyn chuckled dryly, and he needed
not say more. He glanced back along the lines of dwarves. Each carried a
wickedly spiked khorzai on his back and wore half-helm and scalemail. “Valryk is
permitting you this many soldiers in your escort?”

“Hnh, a king’s order lines a privy
well. We know it’s unsafe to travel without fighting men these days. Don’t we,
Lord Commander?” His speckled jasper eyes strayed over Thorn who looked
brazenly avedra in his blue robe.

“We do,” Thorn said.

“But where is your son?” asked
Kelyn. “He is not among your party.”

“Ach, damn blasted fool, he’s gone
to sea!” Brugge spit. “Imagine it, a proper dwarf serving aboard a seagoing
vessel. Vargo was corrupted, I tell you, and by your cousin no less.”

“Athna?”

“Aye, the seawitch. A fine friend
she’s been since we sailed with her into Fieran waters, but I never dreamed
she’d sway my boy into stepping foot aboard her ship. As soon as he did, he was
lost to me and no mistake. Last I heard, he was sailing after some pirate called
Laughin’ Jass up north of Windy Coves. I have eight daughters left, and it will
be they who run the mines after me. But we tarry. We will see you and yours
tonight at the feast. I will drink to your health, Commander.”

“And I to yours, Master Brugge.”
Kelyn nudged his courser and off they rode.

Over her shoulder, Carah called, “Save
me a dance, will you?”

His stone-hard hands waved her off
as if the request embarrassed him. “If I danced the human dances, I would dance
with you, lady. But I fear my legs do not permit it. Stay close to your uncle!”

He knows
, Carah realized,
shivering as a chill breeze slid down the back of her neck. Had Brugge been
given the same dream? Or had he known about the dangers longer than that? Da
never confided his discussions with people like Brugge to his daughter, but now
that she was diving into the dark waters with him, she hoped that might change.

“I thought Eliad might join us,”
she said as they left the dwarves behind. A deep, lusty marching song cut
through the mist and faded slowly as the road drew out between them. “He is
coming, isn’t he, despite his claim to the contrary?”

“I wrote to him last week, ordering
him to stop acting like a child and do as he was told. It’s for his safety, I said.
He didn’t reply. I hope he shows up and plays the submissive bastard brother or
he might have hell to pay. I assume none of Valryk’s other siblings were
invited. Eliad is a fool to snub the king.”

That was more like it, Carah decided,
smiling at him. If she was going to be the Duke of Ilswythe someday, she needed
to know the things that troubled him and those that didn’t.

Early in the afternoon, they caught
first sight of Bramoran. The towers and red, circular curtain wall spread out
on the edge of the gray moor. Below them, the land began to slope down toward
the Plain of Tírandon and turned green. Small talk ceased and the horses slowed
to a cautious walk as Thorn and Rhian surveyed the hillsides and the flattening
land below. Carah squinted through fingers of pain so she could see what they
saw.

“Not a glimmer of Elari or ogre,”
Thorn said.

“That’s good, right?” Kelyn asked.

“Aye, but surprising.”

Far ahead, Carah glimpsed a cluster
of bright lights nearing the city’s main gate, but they were too far away to
recognize. “Those are humans then? It could be Fierans. Do you think the White
Falcon will actually come?”

“If he doesn’t, we’ll all see it as
an unforgivable slight,” Da said.

“Did you ever meet him? During the
war, I mean, when he was a boy?”

“No, but we held his brother
captive for a time, and if this king is anything like Nathryk, nothing the
White Falcon does will surprise me.”