Trial of Fire (27 page)

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, trying to clear his head. Whenever Robert spoke to him he felt like he was being tested; he’d already suffered for giving the wrong answers before.

‘Nothing. I just want to set a few things in place, in case we need them.’

‘Things?’

Robert pointed at the road. ‘We’ll be doing a lot of travelling, and I can promise you there’ll be a few surprises along the way. If we get separated for any reason, then our standard response is to travel south for two leagues. After that, find the nearest church or tavern and wait. Think you can do that?’

Andrew shrugged. ‘Yes. Wait for how long?’

‘Six hours at most. If the separation is longer than that, then we have different meeting places. Dunlorn for the south, Ayr for the north-east, centrally, our cave Sanctuary, Elita for the east—’

‘What about Maitland?’

‘No,’ Robert said emphatically. ‘I don’t want you going anywhere near Maitland – at least, not so anyone can see you.’

Andrew frowned, and noticed Finnlay watching over his shoulder. ‘But there’s no reason to think those Malachi might still be around, is there?’

‘We don’t know they’re not waiting for you to come back. After all, we don’t even know why they wanted to take you in the first place.’

‘No,’ Andrew said, looking down at his gloves. It was hard to go through
a day without that all-encompassing weight on his chest, thinking about how Bella and Lawrence had died, and that he’d not even had a chance to say prayers for them, or for the others who had died. He didn’t even know who had survived. They would wonder if he was dead, or they would think he’d gone into hiding, or was too much the coward to come back and face them. He had failed in his duty towards them; Lawrence would have been very disappointed in him. Both father and adopted father so disappointed in him: Andrew’s face grew red at the thought.

‘But things could get much worse than a simple separation,’ Robert continued, oblivious to Andrew’s pain. ‘I’m sorry, Finn, but if you get captured, unless it’s a straightforward situation, the chances are you’ll have to get yourself free. I won’t risk leaving Andrew without protection.’

Finnlay gave them a wry smile over his shoulder. ‘I’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen. I know I’m expendable.’

‘I didn’t say that. If I get captured or killed, then you get out of Lusara completely – and immediately.’

‘What?’ Finnlay brought his horse to a halt and turned to face them both. ‘Leave Lusara? And go where? You haven’t even told us where we’re going once we find Micah.’

Robert’s voice was low and firm, almost matter-of-fact, and yet it was laced with a tension Andrew couldn’t penetrate. ‘Flan’har. Bleakstone Castle. I need to collect the men waiting for us there. After that, we have work to do.’

If Finnlay was surprised, he hid it well. ‘Fine. And if you get captured?’

‘Take Andrew to Bishop McCauly. He’ll know what to do next.’

Finnlay gazed steadily at his brother, a gaze Robert returned without blinking. Then Finnlay drew in a short breath, gathered his reins together and looked away, obviously choosing not to say all the things racing around in his mind. Robert watched him as though he wished Finnlay
would
say them, no matter that he’d heard them before.

‘You’ll have to draw us a map,’ Finnlay added, eventually.

‘Of course.’

Finnlay turned his horse for the road and they began to move once more.

Silence ruled for a short while, then Robert turned to Andrew and asked, ‘Can you think of any other places Micah would go if he found the Enclave empty?’

‘Other places?’

‘Well, would he make straight for Flan’har, to see his family, or would he find some other way to meet up with you? Did you ever set meeting places in case you were split up?’

‘Well, yes, but—’ Andrew frowned. There was a catch to Robert’s voice
that was quite distracting, as though he were asking one thing, but seeking to find out something else entirely.

‘Andrew,’ Finnlay interrupted, ‘if you intend to become King, you’ll have to learn to finish your sentences. If you leave them to other people, you never know what you might end up with.’

‘And there,’ Robert added, with a smile, ‘speaks the voice of experience.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t agree more. After all,
you
were the one always finishing my sentences when I was a boy, if I recall correctly.’

‘Your memory is notoriously bad. Even Andrew knows that.’

Despite himself, Andrew smiled at the brothers’ silly banter, and even though a part of him knew they were doing it for his benefit, to make him feel more comfortable, such effort required some reward. He thought for a moment, then said, ‘There was a place on the other side of Maitland, a huge dead tree, where the middle had been burned out by a lightning strike years ago. But that was if the Manor was attacked or something and we got separated. There was always the Enclave, and usually, his cottage. If we were coming from Marsay, then there was a tavern about five leagues off the road where we could meet. I just don’t know that any of these would qualify.’

‘Yes, well,’ Finnlay peered over his shoulder, ‘you’re not the only one who thought the Enclave would never fall.’

Andrew chanced a glance at Robert, but his expression was entirely closed. It was obvious he was preparing to ask more questions, probably about things Andrew didn’t want to talk about, so he did the only thing he could do – he went on the attack. ‘You and Micah used to be close friends, didn’t you?’ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Finnlay look up sharply, but Robert did no more than grunt. ‘Why aren’t you close friends now? When I told you he hated you, you weren’t surprised. He stayed behind at Maitland because he didn’t want to spend a week travelling with you to the Enclave – and yet now, even though I know you’d rather we went looking for Kenrick or something, instead, we’re going to look for Micah. If he’s not your friend any more, then why?’ Andrew surprised himself at the passion in his voice. He didn’t dare look at the other two for fear of what else they might see. ‘What happened? Why aren’t you friends any more?’

Robert said nothing for a few minutes, and Andrew didn’t press him. They waited patiently for a cart and oxen to pass by in the opposite direction.

‘What has Micah said to you about it?’ Robert asked eventually.

‘Nothing.’

‘Really?’

‘Why? What did you expect him to say?’

‘Andrew,’ Finnlay warned, ‘you can exercise a little more respect than that.’

‘I just—’

‘Want to know something that’s personal, between myself and Micah, is that it?’

Andrew opened his mouth to reply, but Finnlay beat him. ‘I did warn you about not finishing your sentences.’

This time, Andrew didn’t smile; he could feel the confusion building inside him, the evasions, the prospects, the awful possibilities of the future he would have no say in. ‘Why shouldn’t I ask?’ He was shocked at his own temerity, but he couldn’t stop the rest tumbling out. ‘After all, you’re about to ask me all about Kenrick, to tell you everything I’ve learned about him over the years, and I’m sorry, Finnlay, I know you don’t want me to say his name, but, Robert, you’re being loyal to somebody who used to be your friend and yet you think me a fool because I’m loyal to a cousin who I’ve already sworn allegiance to. If there’s some fine distinction between the two, I’d really like to know what it is, because I certainly can’t see it.’ He was breathing heavily and he bit his lip to calm himself down. When he looked up, he found both brothers looking at him, then they exchanged a look and it was almost enough to set Andrew off again.

But Robert forestalled him, reading him correctly. He gestured towards his brother, saying, ‘You never asked, either.’

‘You wouldn’t have told me. And when did I get a chance to ask?’

‘I mean, you never asked Micah, did you?’

Finnlay shook his head. He slowed his horse a little so he could ride on the other side of Andrew. Oddly calmed by this gesture, Andrew wrapped the reins about his hands and kept his eyes on the road.

After another short pause, Robert began talking. ‘There are moments when your resemblance to your mother is quite … unsettling.’ Andrew frowned, but Robert clarified, ‘But that’s a good thing. Don’t ever think otherwise.

‘I can only tell you my side of it.’ Robert began again, ‘and that’s with the distance of nine years. Micah was once my closest friend and I trusted him like no other, sometimes even to the exclusion of my own brother.’

Andrew felt his face redden, but he kept his eyes on the road.

‘Micah fell in love with a Malachi girl. He should have told me about it, but he didn’t. Not realising who she was, we captured her at Shan Moss. He was there when I questioned her and said nothing. The next day, her people rescued her and abducted Micah. When I found out, I went to rescue him and while I was helping him, she stabbed me.’

Andrew gasped, his head snapping around to see Robert’s face. He felt he should have asked these questions a long time ago, especially when he found out about Sairead.

‘Now wait, Robert,’ Finnlay began, ‘you’re not trying to tell me that Micah deliberately betrayed you to Nash?’

‘The truth is, I didn’t have time to examine it. I had a knife in my shoulder, I was already wounded badly by Selar, I was surrounded by Malachi and there was Nash, waiting for me to fail. All I knew was Micah had lied to me, and his presence had brought me to that place.’

‘And now?’

Andrew held his breath, waiting for the judgment.

‘He’s spent the last eight years watching over Andrew. He protected him against the Malachi attack. He knows Bleakstone. If his purpose had been to betray me to Nash, he could have done so a thousand times over the last few years.’

As Robert fell silent, Andrew looked from one brother to the other. Neither seemed to know anything about what had happened to Sairead. If he said nothing now, would Robert consider him just as disloyal? And of course, if he did say something, then this fragile new trust Robert had formed in Micah would be shattered, all of which really meant that it was up to Andrew to decide whether Micah could be trusted or not.

He trusted Micah to protect him, as he had never once done anything to suggest that he wouldn’t, and he had saved Andrew’s life on any number of occasions. But did he trust Micah to be loyal to Robert’s cause? That was another matter and he had absolutely no idea.

There were no more revelations after that, and no more questions. It felt like he’d awakened memories that Robert needed to shake before they could move on. Andrew didn’t mind. The longer he kept his silence about Kenrick, the longer he could avoid making his own choice.

*

Long before dark, Finnlay started looking for a useful place to spend the night. When he first saw the abandoned farm, he scanned the area as they approached, leaving Robert to Seek for danger. But the place was well away from the road, and although both farm house and stable were blackened with fire, there was some roof left on the stable, and all four walls. It was more than they usually had, and he was grateful for it.

By the time they reached it, the sun had set, leaving a pale glow in a western sky still devoid of clouds. Of course, now that the sun had gone, the night became bitterly cold and they set up their camp as quickly as possible. Finnlay immediately set a fire going on the hard dirt floor and pulled out his cooking pots.

Just as Andrew made for the door, however, Robert stopped him. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

Finnlay’s heart sank, but he kept his head down.

‘I was going to get some more firewood. That small pile won’t last us through the night.’

‘Leave it. Finnlay will take care of it.’

‘Oh.’

Finnlay could hear the hesitation in Andrew’s voice, and the command in Robert’s.

‘Where is your sword?’

‘By my bed.’

‘Bring it here. We’ll have some practice.’

‘Practice?’

‘If you take much longer about it we can still be standing here at breakfast debating the issue.’

Andrew scrambled for his bed and returned with his sword still in its scabbard. As Finnlay poured water into a pot to make soup, Robert took the sword and slid it out, examining the blade up against a light he made himself. Andrew stood before him, still substantially shorter than his father, but nevertheless, no weakling. In another year or two he would be approaching Finnlay’s height. Physically, there was no doubt where his blood came from.

And oddly, neither father nor son saw it – though Andrew had no idea of the history of his mother’s relationship with Robert. It amazed Finnlay even now: that they could have an altercation like that on the road today, and all Robert could conclude was that Andrew was like his
mother?

The truth was, he couldn’t say exactly why he’d insisted on coming on this trip, except that he knew these two needed somebody to stand between them, to inject a little reason into the battles he knew were coming. And no matter which way he looked at it, that boy over there, watching with trepidation as Robert examined his sword for nicks and flaws, would one day be Finnlay’s King. What man wouldn’t want to be a part of something like that – especially when that King was also his nephew, the Kingmaker his own brother?

‘This is blunt,’ Robert announced, ‘and the hilt is far from solid. Hold it and let me see your grip.’

Andrew took the sword and held it before him. Robert watched a moment, then walked around the boy, and only Finnlay would know how much of that was real, and how much designed to intimidate. There was not a man alive who knew more about intimidation than Robert.

As Finnlay dropped his carefully chopped carrots into the pot, Robert
drew his own sword and brought it up before him. Without warning, he swung in a slow arc, and grunted with approval when Andrew raised his blade in defence. The clash of steel echoed oddly in the burned-out stable.

Again and again the plangent impact filled the building, each blow slow and deliberate, all done without words. And then, abruptly, Robert twisted his wrist, pricking Andrew’s hand with the point of his sword and sending the boy’s blade flying through the air to land by the horses, which stumbled away at the noise of the sudden impact.