The Broken Blade (53 page)

“Ask. Seek. Look. The truth attends to itself throughout the city,” replied the King. “Edelred's former Right Hand himself stands here among us as my First Knight.” Hughan gestured to Eamon and Eamon bowed.

“I do not recognize this face as that of the Right Hand,” said Roe. “Arlaith's countenance was known to me, and this man is not he.”

“I make no claim to be Arlaith,” said Eamon, “but I served as Edelred's Right Hand nonetheless when Arlaith was stripped of his rank and made Lord of the East Quarter.”

“A convenient narrative indeed, but not what I should count as proof.”

“You will find proof enough when you wander the city.”

“But I cannot wander the city freely until I have renounced my colours?”

“I'm afraid not. As a military man, I'm sure you can appreciate that I cannot allow that until I am certain of your loyalty.”

“But without wandering the city I shall not gain the proof I require to renounce my colours.”

“I agree that it does require some measure of faith on your part,” said Hughan. “You must first take the step. Freedom will follow. You have my word.”

“But only your word.”

Hughan nodded.

“Then we are at an impasse,” said Roe, “for I shall not renounce my colours without first having proof.”

Then the doors opened again. A moment later Manners and Ilenia entered. Eamon felt awash with delight at the sight of her. He remembered her voice and song, her kind words when they had shared breakfast, her blood on his hands… and wondered whether she knew of the latter. He imagined that she must have seen him at Hughan's side when the Nightholt was destroyed, for as she came forward she did not seem at all surprised to see him in blue. She glanced briefly at Eamon. With a great smile, Eamon turned to Hughan.

“Sire,” he said, “may I present to you the Lady Ilenia, wife of Captain Roe.”

Ilenia curtseyed low. “You asked for me, sire?” she said.

A look of astonishment pierced the captain's face.

“It was the First Knight who sent for you, Mrs Roe,” Hughan replied gently.

Rising from her delicate curtsey, Ilenia looked up and then finally saw her husband. Tears leapt to her eyes and a gasp to her throat. She trembled. She looked at Eamon as though she wished to speak, but could not.

Slowly, Eamon stepped forward and led her gently by the hand to where her husband stood.

“It has long been my hope to see your husband returned to you,” he said. Smiling, he set her hand in Roe's. The weary and astonished
captain reached out to touch her face before embracing her with a cry of joy.

“Ilenia! You are well. This is more than I could have hoped for!”

Ilenia smiled through her tears. “The King and his men have kept me safe from harm. They are good men. This one especially.” She gestured towards Eamon. “You can trust them.”

“Then it is true,” said Roe. He turned to the King with tears in his eyes. “You have returned my Ilenia to me. I require no further proof. I will trust myself and my men to your mercy.” He sank down to one knee before Hughan. “With me those divisions of the Gauntlet who were stationed in Galithia also give their belated surrender.”

“I accept it, with wholehearted joy,” Hughan answered. “And I congratulate you again on your wholehearted courage. This city will have need of such men as you in the years ahead.”

“I thank you,” Roe said.

At Hughan's gesture Roe rose to his feet. Eamon nearly laughed to see the odd expression on the man's face.

“You will be tired from long miles made in haste,” Hughan said, looking at the overjoyed Roe. “You and your men will be my guests and rest here tonight. Tomorrow you may return to your outstanding men in the north, so as to bring them here.”

Roe, his arms still clasped tightly about his wife, breathed his thanks. Then with a single graceful gesture, Ilenia drew back from her husband's embrace and curtsied low before them. Her husband bowed with her.

“Long life to you, sire,” she said, “and to your house.”

Eamon gaped at her, stunned speechless with awe, for her words seemed to undo a thousand cries to Edelred's glory.

“Thank you, Mrs Roe,” Hughan answered. “May your kindness return to your own house. Mr Manners,” he added, “would you kindly take Mr and Mrs Roe, and these good men of his, to quarters where they may rest?”

“Of course, sire. If you would come with me, captain,” Manners said, gesturing to the doors.

Roe nodded. He took his wife's hand firmly in his own and went, together with wife and men, from the hall.

Eamon watched them go with deep fondness. He was vaguely aware of Feltumadas nodding at Hughan.

“First Knight,” Hughan said.

Eamon looked up from his thought. “Sire?”

“Would you come with us to the East Quarter? Lord Anastasius has a matter he wishes to discuss.”

“Yes, sire,” Eamon answered. He half-wondered why Anastasius had not come to the palace, but the thought left him as swiftly as it had occurred. The King finished his dealings with the others, and then dismissed those in attendance.

Together with Feltumadas and Anderas, King and First Knight left the palace.

“What is it that Anastasius needs to discuss?” Eamon asked as he went at Hughan's side.

“Something regarding the East,” Hughan answered. “He thought it would be appropriate to discuss it there with us, and I agreed with him.”

 

They trod swiftly through the sunlit streets to the Ashen. The reconstruction work was going well, and a great deal of the building's façade had been reworked already.

Anastasius awaited them at the Handquarter steps. He greeted them, his brow knit with concentration. Ithel, Ylonous, and several other Easter lords stood nearby. Slater appeared briefly in the doorway, but disappeared inside when he saw Eamon.

“Good morning and welcome,” Anastasius said. His greeting was variously returned. “Would you all come with me into the hall?”

“Of course,” Hughan answered. He followed Anastasius through the partially scaffolded doorway. Eamon followed, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light.

Many of the ceiling paintings – those so beloved by Anderas when he had been the quarter's captain – had been smoke-stained
by the fire, but now, to Eamon's delight, they showed fresh in the morning light. Eamon gazed up at them, admiring the long mountains, valleys, and glimpses of towers between the lower passes.

“They're marvellous!” Anderas breathed.

“They are,” Eamon agreed. He had to gaze straight up at them, turning in the centre of the hall so that he could admire them each in turn.

“I am glad that you approve, First Knight,” Anastasius answered. “I wished in particular to seek your opinion on this banner,” he added, touching Eamon's arm to draw his attention to the wall opposite the entry door.

He was not sure how he could not have looked that way when he entered, but, at Anastasius's gesture, Eamon turned to look. What he saw stunned him.

The wall was draped with a long banner, a streak of mid-blue framed with black, that hung delicately where once the owl and ash had been. The great banner bore a bold, rearing black horse; it looked to the left and its mane was tossed back as it gazed undauntedly ahead. At the horse's breast flamed a silver star.

It was a stunning emblem. Eamon stared at it in wonder.

“It is beautiful,” he said, “but I do not recognize it. Whose is it?” He had never seen black employed in any of the banners born by Hughan's men.

A smile crept onto Anastasius's face. Eamon thought suddenly of Ma Mendel and of Lillabeth, and the women who had needed black cloth for their work…

“Whose is it?” he asked again, his voice scarcely audible even to himself.

“By the Star's will, it is yours,” Anastasius replied.

Eamon gaped at him, agog. “Mine?”

Hughan touched his shoulder. “If you will have it, it shall be the emblem of you and of your house.”

“I can't even ride!” Eamon spluttered. He laughed as he gazed up at the horse in surprise and joy.

“Despite your best efforts,” Anderas told him, “the evidence is to the contrary.”

The banner filled Eamon's eyes; tears touched his face. A horse, black as the Hand who had ridden it, with a star over its heart. The emblem honoured him yet did not deny what he had done.

Suddenly he laughed. “Thank you,” he said, and then he looked to Hughan as another thought struck him. “Why does it hang here?”

“Because this hall also belongs to you,” Hughan answered.

“What?” Eamon bleated, feeling faint. “Surely, Lord Anastasius, this hall is yours –?”

“And I give it to you,” Anastasius answered. Eamon stared at him and the Easter laughed. “It is true that this quarter belonged to the east of old, but this realm, this city, and all that is in both, have been set under the Star.” He smiled kindly. “It had long been my desire and design that, should the Star take his victory from Edelred, this quarter should be rendered unto another. I have seen your heart for it, First Knight, and its heart for you. So it is my desire to set this quarter in your hands.”

Tears streamed down Eamon's face as the words washed over him.

“You have done much, First Knight. In honour of your great service there is one more thing I would bequeath to you and to your house: the highest title of our land.”

The Easter stepped forward and reached for the neck of Eamon's cloak. There, the Easter lord pinned a small golden sun. Anastasius stepped back.

“Istanaria and its sons honour you, Lord Goodman, Lord of the East,” he said. “May the sun and Star be ever over you and your house.”

The men around him applauded – it was hard to tell whose beating hands clapped loudest. Eamon gazed back at Hughan.

“Sire,” he whispered.

“It was a title borne long before the Hands took it,” Hughan told him. “Many things of worth and goodness were taken and warped by Edelred. It is our task to restore those things.”

“You are a bridge, First Knight,” Anastasius added, “between the Gauntlet and the Star's men, between Istanaria and this city, between what has gone before and what will come after.”

“Thank you,” Eamon breathed. He shook his head in amazement. “These honours seem beyond me,” he said, and looked at their smiling faces. “You all knew of this?”

“Our shameless grins don't answer that?” Anderas returned.

“I suppose that they do,” Eamon conceded with a laugh.

“There will be a formal ceremony after the coronation,” Anastasius told him. “I will hold the quarter until then, but you may wish to make preparations to transfer here nonetheless.”

“When is the coronation?” Eamon asked, looking once to Hughan.

“It will be held on the thirty-first,” Hughan answered. “It is a date which I mean to announce tomorrow.”

It would be a long-awaited day.

 

Fired with infectious joy, Eamon spent a little time in the East Quarter – as familiar to him as the beat of his heart – speaking to his former servants, working through some arrangements with Anastasius, and gazing in awe at the banner that had been created for him. It was a badge of all that he had suffered and achieved, and moved him deeply.

Before he left, he took the time to walk in the gardens, marvelling at the curious elegance of vine and leaf, drawing in deep lungfuls of the heady scent of the tended blooms. The array of colours was startling, richer than the prizes of any treasure horde.

He found his thoughts turning to Alessia. He realized that what he longed for then was her beside him – to share his delight as once she had shared his sorrows.

Perhaps she had received and read his letter, perhaps she had not. But there was more to be done than simply to entreat her. She was worth so much more than that.

With a smile, Eamon moved about the garden, taking examples of the choicest blooms. He gathered them together into a luxurious
bouquet, binding them with a ribbon he sought of Slater, and among the reds, fuschias, and gold, he set a single white rose. He carried the flowers with him as he returned through the city to the palace, emboldened by their beauty.

He came at last to the part of the palace where many of the women stayed. He found Aeryn there, making arrangements that he was sure pertained to the forthcoming wedding.

“Could I trouble you a moment, Aeryn?”

Despite the bustle of chatting women and quick-moving scribes, Aeryn turned to him with a smile. “Of course, Eamon.”

“Is Lady Turnholt here with you?”

“She is.”

Eamon's heart soared. “I am not sure she would accept them from me in person,” he said, “but would you be willing to give these to her, from me?”

Aeryn's eyes fell to the dazzling bouquet. Entrusting the flowers to her, Eamon added: “Please tell Lady Turnholt that these flowers are no match to her, but I hope they will give her some joy today.”

With a gentle smile, Aeryn nodded. “I will,” she replied.

 

Eamon continued diligently for much of the rest of the day at his own tasks, spending time between the West Quarter and the port. But whenever he paused, his mind returned in delight to the banner that hung in the East and the promises and title that had been given to him there. They amazed him.

He knew also that not every man with him in the West would go with him to the East. He felt sure that Anderas would follow him; indeed, his certainty was confirmed when he spoke to the man later that afternoon.

“Anderas, when I take up the East Quarter, will you –?”

“Do you even have to ask?” his friend grinned.

 

In the early evening he gathered his men together in the West Quarter and explained the situation to them. He offered them each
time to think on whether they would prefer to remain in the West or follow him to the East. Like Anderas, Manners threw his lot in with Eamon's at once. Doveton and Edelred's former servants expressed similar intent.