Trial of Fire (28 page)

‘Pick it up,’ Robert commanded, and Andrew rushed to obey.

It was odd, but the only command Andrew had ever fought was Robert’s insistence that he kill Kenrick; at any other instruction, Andrew was more obedient than the most loyal servant. What would it take for him to rebel?

Finnlay no longer thought about telling Robert the truth about his son.

‘Who taught you sword?’

‘Um, Lawrence had a swordmaster come to the Manor three days a week. I trained with him half a day each time. I also trained with bow and pike, and staff. And then, when I go to Marsay, I train daily with K— with the court. Kenrick has the finest teachers.’

‘I see,’ Robert said. ‘Is that all?’

‘Oh, and Micah. He was really—’

‘Exacting?’

‘Yes.’ Andrew fell silent and waited again.

Robert simply stared at him, his sword hanging easily in his fingers, pointing at the ground. Andrew watched him as though he should be doing something but couldn’t work out what.

Finnlay added onions and turnips to the pot, threw in some corn and a heavy pinch of herbs. He could hardly bear to watch – and yet he couldn’t look away.

Without warning, Robert swung his sword again, but this time hard and fast. Andrew barely brought his blade up in time, and certainly without enough force to combat the blow. He stumbled back, darting around a support pillar to give him a few extra seconds. Robert pursued him relentlessly, using his greater height, weight and speed to his advantage. It took no more than a few seconds before Andrew was pressed up against the opposite wall, his sword gone and Robert’s blade pressed up against his throat.

Robert didn’t employ any dramatics. ‘Obviously Micah wasn’t quite exacting enough. Come, pick up your sword and we’ll go again.’ He turned and headed back to their starting point. Andrew paused a moment, then fell to the ground to pick up his sword, and ran back to face Robert again, this time far more ready for the attack.

Or rather, he
thought
he was. As far as Finnlay could tell, Robert did
everything exactly as he’d done the first time, and although Andrew met the blows with more power, moments later he was once again pressed against the wall, gasping for breath.

‘Come, again.’

Again, and again. Finnlay lost count. He watched only because somebody had to bear witness, again and again, until Andrew slipped and fell and Robert’s blade caught the bottom of his chin, drawing blood.

‘Come, again.’

Andrew wiped the blood away and scrambled to his feet, running back to where Robert waited for him. Though he couldn’t admit it out loud, Finnlay couldn’t deny what a pleasure it was to be able to watch Robert in action. It wasn’t often he got to see such consummate skill from a Master swordsman of Robert’s calibre. Finnlay got comfortable. Again and again they faced off, and the result was always the same. Finnlay went outside and gathered more firewood, found a few hard apples on a tree and a dozen edible mushrooms around its base. When he returned, he found another bout just finished. As they regained their starting position, Robert paused, his voice showing no sign at all that he’d exerted himself.

‘Well?’

‘Well what?’ Andrew replied, trying to pretend that he wasn’t breathing hard.

‘What have you learned so far?’

‘That you’re expecting me to give up.’

‘I see. Are you?’

‘No.’

‘So you want to keep going all night?’

‘If that’s what you want.’

‘You don’t want me to win?’

Andrew didn’t answer that, but lifted his chin a little, keeping his sword in front of him.

‘Because it’s a little late, that’s all. How many bouts do you think we need before you
do
win?’ Robert sheathed his sword and moved to stand over Andrew, not openly threatening; it was more subtle than that. ‘I already know how determined you are, Andrew. I’m just not sure exactly what you are determined to
do
. Unfortunately, I don’t think you are either. And if you think I was trying to get you to give up, then you need to look again at what you’re trying to learn from me.’

‘Me?’ Andrew almost squeaked, lowering his sword. ‘I never said I wanted to learn from—’

‘No?’ Robert smiled. ‘Then why are you still standing there? Finnlay, what’s for supper?’

‘Soup, bread and bacon,’ Finnlay replied evenly.

‘Perfect. I’m hungry!’

This was going to be a long trip.

*

It started again before breakfast, before Finnlay had even woken up properly. The first thing he heard was a rhythmic thumping noise. He rolled out of bed to find Robert and Andrew gone. He absently poked some life into the fire, then went outside to find a discreet corner somewhere, only to discover the two of them hard at work.

Robert had found some old rag and had tied it to a tether post in the middle of the yard. He stood to one side as Andrew practised cuts at it, swinging to the count Robert made.

‘Did you—’ he asked on his way past.

‘I last scanned about five minutes ago. There are a few convoys coming along the road, but apart from that, we’re mostly on our own.’

‘Good.’ There was not a day went by when he didn’t curse his inability to Seek. It was such a small thing in the grand scheme, but it never failed to irk him.

The thumping kept up for another hour, long after the sun came up, by which time Finnlay had made breakfast, eaten it, washed up, packed and was sitting on a discarded mill-wheel getting bored.

Or at least, that’s what he wanted it to look like. Andrew was self-conscious enough as it was, under Robert’s scrutiny. It wouldn’t do either of them much good to know that Finnlay was watching them both carefully. The moment would come, not soon, but eventually, when the constant grating of one against the other would cause a flash point: Andrew
was
a Douglas, whether he knew it or not, and he was a Ross, even though he’d never really been allowed to be. So Finnlay watched and waited, pretending he was doing neither.

And then Robert was putting an end to the morning’s training and getting ready to saddle up. He let Andrew go to wash up at the well, and Finnlay brought his horse up. ‘If you’re going to give me a lecture, Finn,’ Robert grunted, ‘do it now and do it quickly.’

‘No, no lecture. Why would I do that?’

Robert looked aside at him while tightening the straps on his saddle. ‘It’s a compulsion with you.’

‘Well, I have no lecture.’ Finnlay put his hands behind his back, knowing he was looking smug, but unable to help it.

‘You’re probably saving it for later.’

‘Robert,’ Finnlay put his hand on his breast, ‘I’m wounded you think that of me.’

‘I’m sure you are,’ Robert replied, but he laughed a little. He waited a moment until Andrew came back, then said to both of them, ‘We’ll get to Micah’s cottage late this afternoon. I also want to have a look around while we’re there. I’m sorry, Andrew, but I would like to know why your aunt and uncle were targeted by the Malachi once it was clear they weren’t going to get you.’

Andrew just nodded slowly.

Finnlay asked, ‘What do you expect to find?’

‘I don’t know – but there’s no harm in looking. I’ll go on my own.’

‘Of course.’

‘Then you don’t think Micah can be trusted.’ Andrew spoke quietly and thoughtfully.

‘I don’t know that Micah
can’t
be trusted – but I do know that he has been close to Malachi in the past and they have more than proved their worth. In his favour, when the Malachi did attack us, his actions saved your life. I’m not going to risk it for anything, Andrew, so you’ll stay with Finnlay, out of the way. With any luck, we’ll find Micah waiting for us, and then we can continue in peace.’

Andrew searched Robert’s face for a moment, then looked away, as though there were a host of things he wanted to ask but didn’t dare. Robert appeared to be oblivious, but Finnlay wasn’t so sure. So much of what Robert was doing, so much of what he said and how he schooled his expressions, were entirely for Andrew’s benefit. For the most part, Finnlay wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say or not. He’d corner Robert tonight, away from Andrew, and sort out exactly what Robert wanted from him.

His brother had already picked up a stick and, with his boot, smoothed out a patch of yard dirt. ‘Finnlay, your map. Andrew, you need to look at this too.’ Robert began to draw on the dirt, familiar lines that looked like rivers and lakes. ‘Here is Maitland, and here, Dunlorn. This line is the border with Flan’har. I should have drawn you a proper map back at the cave, but this will have to do. Now, ten leagues over the border from here, you’ll find St Julian’s Monastery. The good Bishop spent most of the last eight or so years there, and the monks are good friends of our cause, taking in a large number of our refugees. If all else fails, you can find help there. But if you head due south from St Julian’s, towards the sea, you will reach Bleakstone Castle. The Bishop, Payne, Owen, Daniel and Deverin are there, along with I don’t know how many men who’ve found their way to us.’

‘Just head due south?’

‘Aye.’ With his head still down, Robert put in a few more details. ‘If you find there’s trouble at Bleakstone, or find the Bishop is gone, or anything
else, then head straight for the capital. I know Grant will do his best to hide you in the first instance, then get you on a ship in the second.’ Robert added, ‘Either way, Finn, you just get Andrew to Aiden.

‘And you?’ Robert turned to Andrew. ‘Could you find your way to Bleakstone?’

Andrew frowned a little and turned to look at the map from different angles. Then he looked up again. ‘Yes. What … what instructions have you left with the Bishop?’

That question made Robert laugh, slowly and deeply. ‘The news is all bad, I’m afraid, my boy. His instructions are to give what aid he can to put you on the throne. And the men he has with him are just as heartless on this matter as I am. You’ll find no mercy there. But if you do find you need to rely on him, I want you to trust him without question. He is more trustworthy than the rest of us put together. Now come, we need to get moving before we’re
all
captured.’

*

He couldn’t pinpoint why he kept his silence, but Robert found it more and more difficult to maintain an even mood the further they travelled. It might have been the shifting tides of the weather, tumbling between windy and warm to cold and wet, where clouds swept across the sky one moment, to be replaced by a sun almost too bright. It might also have been the company on the roads – one of the reasons he usually avoided them. For the most part, he found it too hard to see up close what Kenrick was doing to Lusara, and seeing the poor camped on the edge of a village, lining the road with their hands out for a copper so they could eat, or the child hanging from a rope at a crossroads, or the lost and dispossessed who, with bare and sometimes bloody feet, trudged from one side of the country to the other hoping for work, or a home, or some place where they could be safe, where what they had and who they were was not going to be stolen from them again.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a Lusaran speak with pride about his own country, and so much of it was indirectly – and directly – his fault. If he had moved quicker, had not left Selar in the first place, or killed him when he could, or done just about anything over the last twenty years, things would be so much better than this. Travelling through his country was a proper reminder that he’d failed badly, and nothing Jenn nor anyone else could say would change the fact that if they thought he was the man to fix this now, then he was also the man who had failed to fix it previously.

But for the very same reason that he avoided looking and feeling these things, he knew he had to force Andrew to. He let the boy ride in front,
alongside Finnlay, and he himself just watched, speaking only when asked something directly.

It was interesting how a boy as sensitive, as caring and gentle, as honest and unspoiled as Andrew could be so completely ignorant of what was going on literally at his feet.

As the morning approached zenith, Robert got them down from their horses, saying they needed the exercise for an hour, to rest their mounts, to get their own blood flowing. Finnlay made no comment, and although his gaze had lingered on the terrible sights, Andrew’s demeanour had never changed. It was perhaps the single most disturbing thing Robert saw all day. This was never going to work. He had to be mad to think he could make this work: Andrew wouldn’t get as far as fighting Kenrick, let alone taking the throne – and how, in the name of the gods, was Robert to beat Nash when Nash was already so much stronger? How was Andrew going to cure the ills of this blighted country when he was as blind to them as Kenrick?

Perhaps what Lusara really needed was for Robert to just let go – he shuddered at that thought, but neither Finnlay nor Andrew noticed. Why was he suddenly thinking Lusara would be better off without him, particularly surrounded by all this misery – he thought for a moment his demon might be rising, but he recognised that although it was there, it was a mere shadow of its former power, almost –
almost
 – harmless. So if not the demon, then what? If he let go of this now, if he pulled back and did nothing more in this rebellion, it would most certainly fail, and horribly, and that could not possibly be better than this. So there would be no withdrawal, no more self-doubts, no more hesitations or procrastinations. This was it: since he
was
the man who had failed to fix it previously, then he was also the man who
had
to fix it now.

*

They stopped in a riverside village long enough to buy some fish for supper, then Robert began Seeking again. Throughout the afternoon he felt Finnlay’s eyes on him, but he said nothing. And though he couldn’t pinpoint the reason for it, his silence still grew. Perhaps he was simply missing Jenn: the last few weeks had been the longest time they’d spent together since they had first met, sixteen years ago. And now, to finally be allowed to touch her, to lose himself in her – no matter what else happened, he could not regret that. Perhaps he was afraid he would never see her again; he was moving further and further away from her, leaving her to the tenuous protection of an orb only newly made.