Stormed Fortress (49 page)

* * *

The person was an idiot, who voluntarily paraded hurt flesh or bruised pride, or unkempt attire before Dawr s
'
Brydion. Talvish knew as much; had watched seasoned fighting men lashed to boy
'
s tears by the old woman
'
s caustic style. Yet as the party bound for a crown audience passed through her wrought-iron gate, his nerve stayed resolute. He unstrapped his steel helm. Paused in the windy twilight, he laced dirt-rimed fingers through his rumpled blond hair. That laughable gesture complete, he tapped on the door to the apartment that housed Bransian
'
s grandame in time of siege.

Both he and Sidir stayed deaf to pity. The young pair under their escort were not to be offered the chance for a slinking retreat. Sidir blocked the narrow, arched portal behind. He would keep the royal charge and bring Jeynsa with drawn knives, to judge by his death
'
s-head expression.

Desperation failed to invoke mercy. The pretty carved door with its paned, amber glass already swung wide to admit them.

'
Dawr doesn
'
t nurse wounds,
'
Mearn s
'
Brydion warned, before words of greeting or welcome.

Poised in the lit entry, his avid regard had already fixed on the ice shard Fionn Areth held pressed to his jaw.

'
You don
'
t say!
'
Fionn Areth mumbled past his crude remedy. "The old besom expects us to be decked out like bawds, in gewgaws and fripperies for dancing?
'

'
Ah! Did we neglect the engraved invitation?
'
Mearn flourished the neat, feathered cap on his head.
'
So sorry, stripling. You
have
learned to read?
'

Mearn flitted aside before a victimized hamfist could swipe at him. Jewels flared under the single sconce candle that burned on the lower landing: in fact, the youngest brother s
'
Brydion was groomed for the ball-room, silk-shod and clad in a red velvet doublet. The facing was edged with black ribbon and fire opal studs. By contrast, his dark hose and white shirt were both plain, the lace cuffs that should accent such finery spared from snags on his warfaring calluses.

At total ease, Mearn struck off up the stairway, still chattering in cool sympathy to Fionn Areth.
'
By Dawr
'
s parlour creed, any injury gotten by fighting amounts to a stupid mistake.
"Lick your own hurts, and learn how to think so that next time, you watch where you step!"
She said that to Parrien once, when he crawled in bawling and expected her help to dry his snotty tears during boyhood.
'

Talvish snorted.
'
You refer to the time he broke both his hands, picking brawls with the blacksmith
'
s apprentice?
'

'
My brother was always a bullying ox,
'
Mearn agreed. To the Araethurian, he resumed,
'
Dawr refused to call her private physician. She left the lame duck to drive himself across town to seek ease at the garrison bone-setter
'
s. An awkward predicament, since no one but me dared her wrath to help harness the cart-horse.
'
Arrived at the stair-head, Mearn never paused, but pushed open another carved door.
'
I was four.
'
Across the tight-shuttered, unlit ante-room, he resumed his grim reminiscence.
'
The blighted chestnut cob mashed my finger, inept as I was with the bit. I chose to soak the crushed knuckle in the horse-trough, then arranged to fall in, head first.
'

He paused and glanced backwards.
'
That part was to hide the fact I was crying.
'
His smile was a crocodile
'
s.
'
Not much you can do for that bruising you
'
ve earned. The raw beef
'
s all been smoked into jerky.
'
As he finished, his strong, narrow hand turned the knob and flung open the last double panel.

'
You
'
ve arrived
'
he declared.
'
There
'
s the dowager
'
s sitting-room. You
'
re to go in directly, and may Dharkaron Avenger himself show you lot the swift spear of mercy.
'

Light and warmth spilled through the widening doorway, made mellow by a melting peal of plucked strings: Arithon, inside, was tuning the lyranthe inherited from Halliron Masterbard.

'
Ath love the tail-wagging arse of a goat, here
'
s a farce!
'
Fionn Areth threw down his ice-and-rag compress and balked.

Touched thoughtful, Talvish stopped short of collision and shot off a glance of calm inquiry.

Mearn shrugged in return. Before the battery of Jeynsa
'
s corked fury, and Sidir
'
s testy stare, ranged behind her, he said,
'
Arithon
'
s granted a concert for Dame Dawr. By his royal preference, you
'
re asked to attend.
'
He gestured, polite, for his guests to precede him.
'
Mind your manners. Piss and vinegar aside, my grandmother hasn
'
t been well.
'

"The great lady
'
s not ill,
'
contradicted a quiet voice from within, each silken word stamped by edged consonants.
'
Not yet. Though she will be, if she continues to lose the core value that drives her to live.
'

'
He
'
s alone!
'
Jeynsa knew her antagonist. The prince who had thrashed her defences in Halwythwood always would speak his true mind. Yet the blunt words just let fly were not aimed in the old woman
'
s presence. Primed to rage, the young clanswoman shoved towards the doorway to challenge her nemesis.

Sidir might have stopped her. Since he made no move, Talvish followed suit, in no mood to be caught up in the fierce confrontation.
'
Let her go!
'
he urged Fionn Areth, who also, unwisely, surged past and crossed the lit threshold.

Mearn grinned like a fox.
'
But we
'
ve all been invited.
'
His step at the grass-lander
'
s heels was not brash.
'
If the promised performance springs for the throat, my coin
'
s on Dame Dawr. Hale or not, she
'
ll draw the first blood.
'

Inside, the small chamber was curtained and still, gently washed in the glow of an oil-lamp. Stuffed chairs faced a table arranged with a tray, and a low divan with lion
'
s claw legs. The birch logs ablaze on the merled, marble hearth shed a comfort not seen since the siege tightened grip on the citadel. The decor was tasteful, resplendent, restrained. Amid the gleam of bronze finials, upon damask upholstery flourished with tassels, the graceful, Paravian-made lyranthe commanded the room. The scintillant glints thrown off abalone-shell inlay framed a living grace, captured in light.

In fact, the bard was alone with his instrument. His uncut jet hair had been tied at the nape, a harsh style not meant to mask the expression just now obscured by his bent head.

The adornment of jewels would have been wasted. His fine build was exquisitely set off by the severity of his attire. These clothes were not borrowed: the lustrous pearl silk of the shirt-sleeves, and the dense, emerald doublet had been finished to the highest standard. The jet studs set in silver that pinned his cuffs flared and died, to the snapping strike of quick fingers. He said nothing more, but tested each string in a sequence of bell-tone harmonics.

'
I should have guessed,
'
Jeynsa stated, her scornful tone charged for mayhem.

The lyranthe cut her off. Notes showered and cascaded through falling arpeggios, through which lyric space, Arithon finished her vicious denouncement.
'
That I would be found cosseted in the shelter of a woman, idle enough to solicit a warmed niche and expensive new clothing? How insightful of you to presume that your hostess tonight has nothing but frivolous preferences.
'

'
Dame Dawr
'
s seamstresses took his Grace
'
s measure, last summer,
'
Mearn
'
s tart assault interjected.
'
The old bat
'
s always been an insatiable tyrant on issues concerning propriety.
'

'
In her presence, alas, even renegade royalty is obliged to dress to crown rank.
'
Arithon glanced up. His impervious eyes were bright, even dancing. Neat hands, still busy, refused interruption.
'
The lady
'
s writ ordered the pretty cloth, Jeynsa. I understand that her seamstress was commissioned on the hour that Duke Bransian joined your conspiracy.
'
The observation delivered no sting. Behind razored words, he was smiling.

Jeynsa sucked in a breath. One forgot at one
'
s peril, after months in the artless company of Fionn Areth:
this
face, and this man, with his rapacious intellect, could never be mimicked in counterfeit. Caught in grimed clogs, with her boy
'
s woollen breeches crusted with quicklime, she dared not sit down on Dame Dawr
'
s heirloom furniture. Cold to the bone, she resisted the sweet lure of the fire: fought not to fall to the
presence
that towered behind this show of disarming humour.

Direct as a lance thrust, she launched her complaint.
'
If the duke
'
s close relations are among your Grace
'
s friends, you would have served them with cowardice.
'

'
I
'
ve shirked the sword
you say
I owe to their defence?
'
Arithon tightened a drone string. The bass note slid, gliding to melting, true pitch.
'
There
'
s an alternate view. That no man or woman alive is the disempowered victim of another
'
s degrading circumstance. Each is equipped to pursue their own fate. No one needs saving. Any hale person who yearns to be free could ignore Duke Bransian
'
s ultimatum.
'

Jeynsa made her return sally brief, a cruel shot straight from the heart.
'
By betraying their families?
'

Arithon did not rise.
'
Never betrayal.
'
His imperative glance shifted, shutting her out as he changed strings and addressed the next tuning peg.
'
Man or woman, they had only to claim their firm footing and act for harmony by walking away.
'

Rage flowered then, a storm that burned to strike down such impervious autonomy. Jeynsa leashed that primal surge to attack. Just
barely
curbed the impulse to wrest the distracting instrument away from those clever hands.
'
Your Grace of Rathain, as my father
'
s daughter, I must question your charge! The s
'
Brydion cheated the Alliance for you! Served as your spies and informed for your purposes. Now Lysaer is here to wreak punitive damage. You expected to
just walk away?
Let fathers and matrons with dependent, young children burden the free wilds of Atwood? As
caithdein
'
s
successor, I
'
m supposed to ignore the stain on your lineage
'
s name and toss off the grief of their rescue onto your freebooter
'
s
conscience?
'

'
I did not reject loyalty!
'
Vengeance-quick, supple fingers slapped off singing strings.
'
I offered change
'
stated Arithon Teir
'
s
'
Ffalenn against a nerve-shocking silence.
'
I asked the s
'
Brydion to abandon a structure of stone. Not the flexible spirit that imbues human life!
'