The Traitor's Heir (22 page)

Eamon had never heard a more beautiful concession. “There is a bridge not four miles east of here; it crosses one of the River's tributaries and is not often troubled by the Master's enemies. We will meet you there at twilight tomorrow. If you have found your companion we will bear you both to Dunthruik. If not, we will bear you alone.”

Eamon threw himself into an eager bow. “My lords, you do me much honour.”

“As befits a beloved servant, we invest you with trust.” The Hand beamed at him, then caught a torch from one of the others and graciously handed it to Eamon. His languid tone drew on a darker edge. “Perhaps you would assist us, Mr Goodman?”

He knew what he had to do. Bowing, Eamon turned and then lifted the flames high, touching them to a thatched roof. The wood was slow to catch but the thatch sparked before blossoming into hungry flame. When he turned back to the Hand he saw that other dwellings were also burning. The Hands were quick.

“We must press on, Mr Goodman,” the Hand told him. “There are many rumours of the Serpent in this area and we must cover ground. You may find the torch helpful and so I leave it with you. Perhaps you will see to those hovels that we have not the time to attend to.” His heart churned. Eamon bowed. It was not an order that he could disobey.

The Hand smiled. “I wish you good chance in your search.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Without a further word the Hands gathered together and began to ride south. The riders and their following dogs passed close to the ruined hall and on into the woodland.

Eamon stepped to one of the few buildings that did not yet burn and raised his torch with trembling hands. He glanced back over his shoulder towards the dark eaves where the Hands had gone, daring to wait until they passed out of hearing as well as out of sight. The smoke from the blazing village filled his face, stinging acridly.

As soon as he could he cast down the torch and hurried back into the forest. Now the roots and branches tore at his legs, hindering his passage. When he reached Ma Mendel he found her shivering, her hand in her mouth to keep her from crying out. Tears poured over her ashen face.

Without a word he helped her to her feet and they returned to the Hidden Hall. It loomed grey before them, shadows dancing over its tumbled walls. As the flames in the village reached high the Hand's orb faded into darkness and vanished, leaving the smoke and grit of the fire in its wake. Still, Eamon kept one ear and eye always to the south.

At last, coughing and spluttering, they staggered back into the hall. Reeling, Eamon passed Ma Mendel to other arms as soon as he had crossed the threshold. Seconds later angry hands grabbed his throat.

“Liar!” Giles yelled. “Murderous gloved bastard!”

“I didn't kill anyone!” Eamon protested, spluttering.

“Let go of him, Giles!” Aeryn cried, slapping his hands away. The big man gave an angry roar and threw him aside. Eamon gratefully gasped for air.

“The fires, sir!” Mathaiah cried.

“No, we mustn't put them out –” Eamon's words were lost as a fit of coughing raked through his grizzled throat.

“What?” Aeryn sounded horrified.

“Eamon's right,” said another voice. It was Hughan's. He did not know where the King had come from; all he knew was that it was the King's hands that steadied him as he reeled.

“It is a trap to draw us out,” Hughan added. “If we douse the flames the Hands will know we're here. So here we must stay, and our homes must burn. It is not too high a price for our lives.”

Eamon remembered little of the next few minutes. His head throbbed, his breast ached, and all his limbs, tensed for so long, suddenly slackened, dangling lifelessly from him. He could not stand and so settled with huddling against a corner of stonework.

He heard Hughan arranging a rota of guards for the night. The next thing he knew he was being hurried to a side chamber where blankets had been strewn to make a dormitory. Once there, a stranger fed him some foul-tasting syrup. As the pain in his throat died, exhaustion overcame him. Fearing to tell what he had done and of how his bartered promise held him, he fell into a brief, troubled sleep.

What felt like hours later, gentle hands shook his shoulder. He stumbled back to consciousness. Things were quiet. Smoke lingered. Far away an owl hooted at the passing moon.

“What time is it?” he asked, shivering.

“Approaching the second watch,” Aeryn told him. “I'm sorry to wake you.”

“That's all right.” Memory came back with sudden force and he bolted upright. “I need to speak to Hughan.”

“That's why I've woken you.”

Eamon rose. Most of the chamber was still empty and he wondered whether that was because he had been sleeping in it.

“How is Ma Mendel?”

“She's safe.”

He followed Aeryn as she made a path through the blankets. Guards stood silently in the hall by the doors and he could hear the sounds of fitful sleep from the open doors of the great chamber. He was therefore not surprised when Aeryn led him on to another, smaller, side-chamber. It had the look of a storeroom. Small lanterns had been strung along the wall to provide light, granting the crowded room a strange look.

Hughan stood at the head of a small table, his counsellors lining the side of the room. Giles stood near the table, with Mathaiah in front of him, looking nervous.

Eamon took everything in at a moment. Aeryn slipped from his side and went to join Ma Mendel, who stood near some of the counsellors and had regained her look of indomitable cheerfulness.

Eamon raised his eyes to Hughan's. There was a long silence.

“Are we prisoners?” he asked at last.

“Eamon,” the King began, gently. “Would you give account of what has happened tonight?”

Eamon drew breath. It was not as easy to tell the truth to Hughan as it had been to twist and turn it before the Hands.

“Sir, honourable counsellors,” he began. “The Hands came seeking the prisoner they lost when my holk was captured.”

He was surrounded by what felt like a tempest of hateful, bitter gazes, but not a sound accompanied them.

Eamon looked to Hughan for direction. The King nodded to him. He had been guaranteed silence for however long it took to tell his story.

“They sought to be led to you, Hughan, and to recapture Aeryn. If they had found this hall then we would soon have been confronted with many more than five Hands. That is why I went to speak to them,” he continued, “and that is why I lied to them. I told them that Mr Grahaven and myself had been captured by wayfarers who had tortured us, depriving me of food and sleep and feeding him with substances that bend the mind. I said that I had never seen the Serpent, that my prisoner had been taken, and that I sought my companion in these woods, as proof of what had befallen me on the holk. I was granted permission to continue in this search and commanded to set fire to what remained of your homes. This I did not do in full.” He bit his lip. He had disobeyed a Hand.

“So now I am a double-traitor.” His voice was a whisper as the truth of it struck indelibly at his heart. “I am pledged to ride with the Hands to Dunthruik tomorrow evening, else they will know that all I said was a lie and they will come here seeking you. And I do not know if I will ride as a disgraced lieutenant or a prisoner, nor how long this hall will remain hidden once I am taken into the circle of the throned's walls. I ask that you would not force Mathaiah to go with me if he does not wish it. That is the full account,” he said at last. He looked up and saw that Hughan was watching him steadily. “I am sorry.”

There was a long silence. Aeryn fidgeted uncomfortably with a tress of her hair. Eamon began to panic. Would no one speak a word? He would not care whether they praised or despised him – all he longed for was a sound.

Suddenly his wish was granted.

“Eamon Goodman, will you serve me?”

Eamon found his eyes drawn upwards by the command of that voice, both like and unlike that of the Hughan he knew. He looked at the stern, bright face, and saw a king. His aching eyes saw a circlet of silver upon Hughan's brow that glistened like lit stars over a summer sea. The mark on Eamon's hand throbbed with fire and he felt a whisper in his mind as the voice prepared for a fresh assault. But he turned deaf ears to it and, never once losing sight of the stars that beckoned to him out of the darkness, he knelt down before Hughan in the dusty hall.

“How can I not?” His heart beat with passion and loyalty as he bowed his head. The men and women all around him gasped, but he did not lift his head. The fire in his hand spluttered, forced into submission.

A gentle touch rested on his brow. Eamon felt lightheaded beneath it.

“Eamon Goodman, you enter into my service of a free heart,” Hughan said. “And so you will find freedom in it. I do not ask for oaths of fealty or the pledge of your lifeblood for the use of my hands; I ask that you would draw your sword to defend the helpless, lift your hands to raise up the needy, use your heart to love the people of the River, and challenge evil where you find it. In these promises, made to me but not bound in me, I ask you to render service.”

Eamon heard each word in wonder. His limbs trembled, and his heart felt as though it might burst forth in a joy that walked hand in hand with her neighbour sorrow.

Through the tumble of his thought he heard Hughan's voice again: “Will you serve me, Eamon Goodman?”

His answer was the boundless desire of his heart: “For what time it is permitted to me to walk the River's realms, I will gladly serve you, my King.”

“Then rise, First Knight.”

Eamon rose steadily to his feet. A great peace was on him. Across Hughan's hands lay a sword. Eamon recognized it as it ran silver in the light: it was the sword that he had drawn against the throned in his vision. Hughan held it out to him, his joyous face lowered.

“You must not bow your head to me,” Eamon breathed.

“I too have taken a promise to serve,” the King replied softly. Wondrously, Eamon took the sword in his hand. As he raised it before him it sang.

Eamon opened his eyes. He and Hughan stood once more in the small, crowded chamber. There was no sword in his hands, only traces of blue-silver light fading into the stone like water into sand. Everyone around them stood in awe. He did not know what they had seen – indeed, he barely knew what he had witnessed himself. But Hughan held his gaze steadily and from that Eamon drew strength.

“Let it be known,” Hughan said, turning to those by them, “that this man is my First Knight and that he serves me. He has my trust and, as a measure of your trust in me, I ask that each of you affords him the chance to be worthy of your trust also.” Eamon tried to tease a feel of the onlookers. Many seemed in shock. Giles looked furious.

“Thank you for your witness,” Hughan continued, speaking to the chamber at large. “I discharge all of you to your places of duty and of rest. I ask that Alnos, Leon, and Giles remain with me whilst I speak further with Eamon.”

There was a shuffling of feet while the chamber emptied itself, apart from these three and the King. A worried-looking Mathaiah was entrusted to Aeryn, who led him away.

Soon Eamon was alone with those he presumed to be highest in Hughan's council. Giles still watched him, like a predator that would leap for his throat. Eamon recognized Alnos but the third man, Leon, was one whom he did not remember seeing before. Perhaps he had not been paying attention.

Hughan stepped forward and his manner became less formal. “Are you all right?” he asked. Eamon nodded, wondering whether his friend had been just as surprised by what had happened as he had been. With a smile, Hughan continued in a louder voice: “You may remember that when I spoke to you yesterday morning I said that there was a service I would ask you to do me, should you be willing.”

“I am willing, sire,” Eamon answered.

“Then I wish, in the presence of these generals, to explain this service to you so that you can consider it.”

Eamon nodded. He felt as though he could do anything for this man; a strange, wondrously strange, new feeling was in him. “I will do whatever I can,” he said.

“Eamon, what I would ask is something that perhaps only you, and few other men, could do and live,” Hughan told him. “I will not conceal from you my belief that your life would hang perpetually by a thread of your own wit and courage. But I do not want you to feel compelled or betrayed by me into this, or any, task. It may be that I seek to send you where you do not want to go. If that is so then I would have you choose to go, not for my will so much as for your faith.”

Eamon's heart pounded. Bereft of words, he nodded.

“The throned has been seeking me and those who follow me for some time,” Hughan began. “This is not a new development, nor is it unexpected, but something has changed. He has redoubled his efforts in his search and is striking with more than his accustomed ferocity. We have been harrying his forces here in the north for some time, taking advantage of the trouble with Galithia and Lamiglia. Much of the north bank supports us. There are dozens of hidden places, like this hall, all along the River, each one filled with weapons and with men ready to use them. This he knows, even if he does not know where we are.”

“You mean to challenge him?”

“Yes.”

Eamon stared at him in awe.

“There is much that we have yet to finalize. As you may imagine,” the King added wryly, “the logistics, strategy, and allies that must be arranged before I can even think about moving openly against the throned or taking Dunthruik, have been proving very complex. Plans for getting men, equipment, and supplies to the city will continue to give my generals plenty of headaches in the coming months.”

Hughan's eyes met his again and Eamon felt that they were reaching the critical point. “Clearly, it would be of help to us to know what is happening in Dunthruik,” he said. “It would also help us greatly to understand, and exploit, any weaknesses that can be found. The throned has sat in tyranny over the River Realm for the five hundred and thirty-two years since Ede's death. I do not know how such a feat is possible,” he added. “I merely know that it is true. Since the day that he seized the throne, Edelred has been searching to eradicate my house, and yet his search has grown keener now. I cannot answer why. There is much that we do not know, either about the throned or about his plans.”