The Dog of the North (46 page)

Read The Dog of the North Online

Authors: Tim Stretton

BOOK: The Dog of the North
4.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

With a sigh he rose from his seat and set out for the Pleasaunce. Why could affairs not be more straightforward?

His reverie as he walked along the corridor was interrupted by a soft voice. ‘Arren.’

He turned to see Eilla half-hidden in the shadow of an alcove. The torch flickered and cast a grotesque distorted shadow.

‘I thought you were not talking to me.’

‘I assume you are going to meet Siedra.’

‘You have left me in no doubt that the matter is irrelevant to you.’

‘You are angry with me about the wine.’

‘It was not a sensible action.’

Eilla shrugged. ‘I did not plan it. But she gave me such a vile look.’

‘You are imagining things. I saw no “look”.’

Eilla shook her head. ‘Of course not.’

‘You have to admit that her behaviour afterwards was all one could wish of a lady.’

‘Arren,’ she said in exasperation, her small hand bunching into a fist and hitting the wall. ‘Can you not see what she is about?’

‘I saw her the victim of a misconceived and damaging prank, responding with grace and dignity.’

‘You are a fool, Arren,’ she said in a thick voice. ‘If you cannot see she was feigning composure, your judgement is at fault.’

‘She is not used to governing her temper. Why should she feign now?’

‘Why do you think?’ she snapped. ‘To make her appear to advantage and me to disadvantage.’

You managed that on your own.’

Arren thought to see a glimmer of a tear in the flickering light of the candle. ‘When you spilled the wine,’ said Arren with a sudden certainty, ‘you were not just aiming to
spoil her dress, were you?’

Eilla set her mouth. ‘What do you mean?’

You wanted her to abuse you, to strike you, to call for you to be whipped, didn’t you? You wanted to destroy her character in my eyes and earn my sympathy for yourself.’

Any tears in Eilla’s eyes were gone now. Her voice was flat yet somehow throbbed with emotion. ‘Why do you see through my schemes so easily and yet see no wrong in Siedra? She is far
more manipulative than I.’

‘Can you not trust the strength of my regard for you, Eilla? You do not need to resort to scheme and plot to recruit my sympathy.’

Eilla’s face curled into a harsh smile. ‘Do I not? You seem to find great difficulty in breaking with Siedra. You should not blame me for presenting the facts in a way which
illustrates her character.’

‘It may be that you have done that, Eilla; but not in the way you have imagined. If you will excuse me, I do not wish to keep Siedra waiting.’

He turned on his heel and strode off towards the Pleasaunce. In the background he could hear Eilla’s sobs which she could no longer contain.

3

The sliver of moon was high as Arren stepped into the Pleasaunce. Under the benevolent canopy of the nottar tree stood Siedra, her honey-silk dress replaced by one of deep
burgundy. He looked around to make sure that no one else was around: he was all too aware of how easy it was to be overheard in the gardens.

Siedra showed no such concern and met him with a melting embrace. ‘I thought you were not coming.’

‘I could not get away,’ said Arren. ‘Oricien was expanding on his experiences at court.’

‘Pah! He has been away for a month and he thinks he is the King’s boon companion. “Prince Enguerran this”, “Princess Melissena that”. He is still a man of
Croad.’

Arren gave her a surprised glance. ‘If he stands well at court we all profit. He expands your prospects as much as his own.’

‘Hah! My prospects are expanded from Dinarre to Tre-varre.’

‘Siedra, this is fruitless. Besides, you are yet young to marry.’

‘I am sixteen, and well developed. I will be married within the year.’

Arren knew this for the truth, and he declined to insult either of them by denying it.

‘Have you no false comfort to offer?’ she said. ‘You bear the matter with indifference.’

Arren shrugged. ‘It is pointless to fight what cannot be changed.’

Siedra shook her head ruefully. ‘I do not know if you are as stolid as a stone, or you have Master Pinch’s grand perspective. Perhaps it is all one.’

‘I know you are unhappy. It hurts me to see it.’

‘Dear Arren – you at least I can rely on. Come, let us forget the future.’ She took his hand and led him deeper into the trees. Arren thought of Eilla: he should not be doing
this, and he had already resolved not to. Then he remembered the incident with the wine, and Eilla berating him afterwards. She would have to take care of herself; he could not be responsible for
every injustice in the world.

4

Arren was woken by the first glimmers of sunlight infiltrating through the leaves. By his side Siedra continued to sleep. He levered himself up onto an elbow. This was
insanity: to be caught in this situation by anyone at all would mean the information proceeding instantly to Lord Thaume. Arren’s certain knowledge faltered at that point: Thaume would be
enraged, and he was a man who imposed justice in the heat of the moment. Hanging, gelding, exile: it was difficult to imagine the penalty falling outside that range. Siedra’s punishment had
already been decreed: marriage to the man of her father’s choice. In a sense, she had no more to lose; indeed, the more wantonly she behaved, the greater her chances of being considered
unsuitable for a political marriage. Lady Cerisa’s history lessons had more than once involved wellborn young ladies who had forfeited the respect of their husbands through wantonness. These
had been intended as cautionary tales, but in the circumstances Siedra might be taking them as exemplars.

Beside him on the ground she stirred and looked up at him with a smile. ‘After exercise, sleep,’ she said with a glint in her eyes.

‘Do you know what time it is?’

‘I am governed by my impulses, not the hourglass.’

‘You will not say that if your father stumbles over us at his morning constitutional.’

She waved a hand in dismissal. ‘He never walks in the Pleasaunce in the morning. Besides, does the risk not set the heart beating?’

Arren sat up abruptly. ‘Not in any way I wish to encourage.’

‘I took you for a passionate gallant. It seems I may have been mistaken,’ she said with a studied curl of the lip.

‘This is futile, Siedra. The whole notion of our intimacy is a mistake.’

She flushed and stood up. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I have been uneasy from the outset,’ he said. ‘It is rash, foolish, insane: it cannot continue.’

‘Can you deny your feelings for me?’ she said, her cheeks flushed.

‘There are no feelings,’ said Arren through gritted teeth. ‘I have been flattered and captivated, but I can own no deeper feelings.’

‘It is that little bitch! Did you not see how she tried to humiliate me last night? She is desperate to turn you against me.’

‘It is nothing to do with Eilla,’ said Arren in as level a tone as he could muster.

‘You cannot refute her jealousy of me. She is bitter at the constriction of her prospects, and she cannot bear to see you with anyone else.’

‘The description would appear to fit you at least as well as her,’ said Arren.

She slapped at him, and although the blow was obvious and easy to avoid, Arren let it take him on the cheek.

‘Does that make you feel better?’

‘You have not heard the last of this, Arren – neither you nor that trollop. You will live to regret the day you spurned Lady Siedra.’

She spun on her heel and ran from the glade. Arren watched her go with foreboding.

‘Arren!’

In alarm he turned to find the voice. ‘Over here.’

It was Oricien. Had he heard the scene in the glade?

‘I have scarcely seen you since our return,’ he said. ‘There is much I would tell you about Emmen. You must return with me.’

‘Would your father spare me?’

‘The court greatly respects martial prowess. You will soon become a great favourite. That alone will be enough to gain my father’s support. Besides, who knows when your father will
return? The King may even choose to keep Darrien with him permanently.’

‘When do you return to court?’

Oricien shrugged. ‘A month, two months. And the ladies, Arren, you would not credit the loveliness! Even the ladies in waiting carry themselves like princesses. We had a tourney and I wore
the favour of Lady Isola.’

‘Who is she?’

‘The daughter of some lord, Sey, I think. A handsome girl, if a touch haughty.’

‘Do I sense a match?’

‘She is too young for marriage. In truth, I preferred Lady Helisette, but the choice will not be mine. Come, let us take some breakfast.’

Oricien put his arm around Arren’s shoulder and they walked back towards the castle. Arren wondered again about Oricien’s access of confidence. Perhaps it was down to the absence of
Guigot, a disconcerting presence and always a challenge to the legitimacy of Thaume’s rule. Still, the idea of a sojourn in Emmen had much to commend it, not least distance from Siedra.

‘Good morning, Master Pinch,’ said Arren as they met the thaumaturge approaching the castle. ‘Would you care to join us for breakfast?’

‘I thank you, no, Seigneur Arren. I find it bloats me for the day and distracts the mind from its studies. I had hoped for a word in private with you.’

Arren raised his eyebrows. ‘I am always happy to oblige you, sir.’

‘Good. Perhaps we will repair to my workroom.’

Oricien continued towards the dining room and Arren followed Pinch up a narrow writhing staircase to his room at the top of the tower. The space was not large and every available inch was
crammed with retorts, basins, books, with a small bed wedged into one corner. The thaumaturge clearly did not put a premium on luxury.

‘Sit down, if you can find a space, yes, yes, the bed will be perfectly satisfactory.’

‘I am at a loss as to why you wished to see me, sir.’

‘All will become clear soon enough,’ said Pinch, leaning against a table which appeared inadequate for the additional weight. ‘Of all the youngsters of Lord Thaume’s
household, you have been the most exasperating. Your release of my dimonetto was highly vexing, and put me to great effort.’

‘I can say no more than my apology at the time.’

Pinch raised a placatory hand. ‘I am not reproving you. Your curiosity always commended you to me. Had you shown the slightest trace of thaumaturgical talent I should have taken you as a
famulus. Lord Thaume would not have prevented me. Compared with Guigot’s brazen self-interest, Oricien’s polite boredom and Siedra’s inattention your own attitude was
refreshing.’

‘I am glad to have secured your good opinion,’ said Arren, ‘although I am still unclear as to the purpose of our conversation.’

‘I am merely establishing my good will before my warning. I had resolved not to become involved in the day-to-day life of the castle.’

‘Warning?’

‘You are playing a dangerous game, Arren.’

‘I do not understand, sir.’

Master Pinch pushed against the table – which groaned alarmingly – to stand to his full modest height.

‘Do not insult us both with tedious evasions. Can you tell me in truth that there is no area of your life where you are not conscious of acting in the most rash and perilous of fashions?
Remember, I am a thaumaturge: I see much.’

Arren coloured.

‘Good. You are at least conscious of my meaning.’

‘I believe so.’

‘A man who is familiar with snakes may handle them with impunity. He may even drape them around his neck if he chooses. You or I, watching him, may think the trial of little consequence;
we may even try the feat for ourselves. Of course, we are instantly bitten, and if the snake is venomous we die.’

‘I do not—’

‘You are handling a viper, Arren, and you do not have the charm of snakes.’

Arren pursed his lips. ‘You are telling me little I do not already know.’

Pinch raised his eyebrows. ‘Your conduct then is even more inexplicable. Ignorance of your folly was the only conceivable excuse.’

‘I have broken – I have set the snake down, only this morning.’

Pinch nodded. ‘Unless you have the skill to draw a snake’s venom, it still remains dangerous.’

‘If I may ask, how have you come by your information?’

‘I have cautioned you in the past that asking a thaumaturge such a question is, aside from its impoliteness, usually fruitless.’ He nonetheless spoke with a smile. ‘The
thaumaturge can open many doors closed to others: farseeing, the agency of the dimonetto, a hundred charms and enchantments.’

‘Of course,’ said Arren.

‘In this case,’ said Pinch, ‘you may also care to look from the window.’

Arren rose from the bed and walked over to the slit in the heavy stone wall. Below him, he could see the Pleasaunce, and look down directly into the glade.

‘Fortunately for you,’ said Pinch, ‘no other room commands this view. No one else will have seen your assignations.’

Arren sat down again. ‘For that I am grateful.’

‘However, anyone else can have observed your demeanour in a certain lady’s presence, and in this you have not been subtle. Both you and the lady have been indiscreet in the way you
have carried yourselves. I am glad to hear you have called a halt to the affair.’

‘Why have you warned me?’ asked Arren.

Pinch gave an avuncular smile. ‘It is the lot of the thaumaturge that human society is by and large uninteresting to me. The pull of the Unseen is greater. But I am soon to leave Croad,
perhaps for ever. I would not leave behind me a situation which inevitably will play out to disaster. I am well disposed towards Lord Thaume, yourself, and Eilla, who has carried herself with great
dignity and kept my room tolerably ordered.’

‘I thank you, sir.’

‘You may wish to leave now: a favourable conjunction of dimensions is about to occur, and I would take advantage. And Arren – do not think you are safe yet.’

Arren was about to reply, but Pinch was already reaching for a sheet of parchment crowded with his cramped script. He turned and left the room.

5

Arren was at a loss how to proceed, but the morning was still young. He collected his practice sword and went over to the exercise yard and for an hour drilled himself to
exhaustion. Several of the grooms who had made up his mounts joined him and ended the session with sore heads, but Arren felt no guilt. Such harsh lessons bred alertness, and better that their
heads should be cracked with a wooden sword than split asunder with sharp steel.

Other books

Armageddon by Leon Uris
Muezzinland by Stephen Palmer
Partridge and the Peartree by Patricia Kiyono
The Stalker Chronicles by Electa Rome Parks
Bee in Your Ear by Frieda Wishinsky
Mating by Norman Rush
Side Effects by Michael Palmer