Master of furies, p.34
Master of Furies, page 34
‘Frequently,’ she replied, with a touch of mirth.
‘I’m fine,’ said Declan, ‘and the day is not over.’
‘That’s good,’ Balven said, ‘because I’m opening wine.’
‘Good,’ Hava said, ‘because I need it. There’s a great deal to share with the … king. We’ve begun to glean much of what is happening down in Nytanny.’
Balven was silent for a while, staring out of the window as the coach started moving. He opened the wine, and then said, ‘I’ll wait for your report to Daylon. No need for you to have to repeat everything twice. So, why don’t you two catch up, and I’ll listen, then if you need to, you can sleep until we reach the waystation – probably around midnight.’ He looked at Declan and said, ‘We built it at the crossroads where this route reaches the highway to Beran’s Hill, and we’re building a garrison at Beran’s. We will rebuild the town.’
Declan remained still for a long moment, and Balven realized he knew what Declan was thinking: if Daylon had not used Beran’s Hill to set a trap for Lodavico of Sandura, and had fortified those two locations, the town might have survived.
Hava could feel the tension in the coach, but then Declan simply said, ‘Good.’
Hava looked at Balven and said, ‘So, king?’
‘My brother has never been a man of ambition, much like our father. He saw himself as a … caretaker, a preserver of what our father left us until the Betrayal.
‘You were a baby or maybe even not born when the Betrayal occurred. Do you know the history?’ he asked, handing her a mug of wine, then giving one to Declan.
Hava nodded. ‘Some of it,’ she replied, ‘and now a bit more as I see the hands of the Pride Lords and their Azhante servants manipulating the Church of the One. I may not know how the Church convinced the kings and barons to attack one of their own, ending the Covenant, just that they did.’
Balven glanced out of the window for a moment, and sighed. ‘Daylon loved Steveren Langene like a brother. I never had a jealous nature, but at times I was envious because they had so much in common. Daylon was new to his rank, as our father had passed but a year before. He’d already lost his wife unexpectedly, and was married to a woman for political advantage, whom it was hoped would bear him an heir.
‘He loved the King of Ithrace, but he loved his own people more. It was the night after that battle when we found Sefan, your Hatu. I think the bitterness of betraying someone he loved was why he sought to hide Hatushaly. Many of the barons and their oathmen would have delivered the baby to Lodavico of Sandura in order to curry favour. He had me seek out an agent of the Hidden Kingdom, and I did. That decision was a small bid for redemption.’
‘Hardly small from where I sit,’ said Hava. ‘That baby is my husband, and I’ll tell more in detail when we see the king, but he’s becoming someone who is powerful in ways I can barely describe, let alone understand.’
Declan raised an eyebrow at that remark.
‘Interesting,’ said Balven. ‘With Lodavico dead and Sandura now controlled by the Church, the existence of a Firemane baby is hardly of interest to anyone. Lodavico’s hatred for Steveren was madness, unmitigated envy, and jealousy. The Church seems to care only for power, and now they have it.’
Hava glanced out of the window past Balven as they crested a rise and in the distance saw a tall construction. ‘Quite a lot of building going on. I noticed several new fortifications along the coast when I sailed in.’
‘As did I,’ said Declan.
‘What is that?’ Hava indicated the project that had caught her attention.
Balven said, ‘That is where the river is going to be.’
‘You’re moving a river?’ Declan’s expression was one of incredulity.
Balven nodded. ‘That’s a dredger. The king is altering the course of that pleasant little stream that runs past Marquenet. New fields are being cultivated and new orchards farther away from the traditional ones. New pastures are being cleared in the hills ready for herds. In a few years, according to the newly named Royal Engineers, Hava and you will be able to sail your ships from that big harbour down at North Point right up to the large lake being dug north of Marquenet, or have them towed if the winds are right. In any event, it has a lot to do with dams and locks and a great deal of faith in knowing what they’re doing will work as planned.
‘I blame you,’ he said lightly, pointing at Hava.
‘Me, why?’ said Hava, finishing her wine.
‘That treasure ship, whoever’s Black Wake.’
‘Borzon’s,’ Hava replied.
‘As a result of the treasure she carried we can pay workers, and even feed most of them. We finished the new fortifications and now that we’re a kingdom, Daylon’s decided that Marquenet needs direct access to the sea.’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier just to move the castle?’ she asked, half-joking.
‘To build a new one near the ocean, probably, but we have tradition, an ancestral home, and all that. Part of Daylon’s plan is raising ourselves to be the new Ithrace. Now, Daylon sees this new kingdom as preserving what is left of Ithrace’s glory. He even dreams of restoring the Covenant.’
With a mix of humour and a hint of bitterness, Declan said, ‘Well, if they ever make me king, I’ll keep that suggestion in mind.’ He held out his mug and Balven refilled it. Declan muttered, ‘Expanding Toranda would be cheaper.’
Hava considered what Balven had said, then replied, ‘The flaw with the Covenant was assuming it was a rational agreement between men of good faith, and that alone was why it would endure.’
Balven nodded. ‘You rise continually in my regard. I’m not the marrying type, but had I met someone like you a few decades ago?’ He turned away from the window. ‘I admire intelligence more than any other quality, except perhaps a good heart. It’s rare.’
‘So I have found,’ she agreed.
Softly, Declan said, ‘As have I. I’ve bidden farewell to many good hearts, and good minds, since I last saw you.’ He looked pointedly at Balven.
Balven saw the pain in Declan’s face and for a brief moment his expression revealed concern. Then his well-practised mask returned and he said, ‘The Covenant did endure for years, but you are correct in thinking that it required principled men to keep honouring it. Our ancestors never anticipated a murderous lunatic like Lodavico being a king.
‘You must be tired, and we only stop once to replace the horses, so if you can, get some sleep. As you can imagine, I have a great many things to consider, even before hearing what news you bring.’
Hava yawned. ‘Sleep is always a good thing.’
Balven rose from sitting next to her and took a seat on the cushions opposite, next to Declan.
Closing her eyes, Hava nestled down into the corner of the carriage and after a minute, fell asleep.
Declan followed suit, crossing his arms and settling into the opposite corner.
Balven watched Hava a moment, thinking how fate had at least brought interesting people into his life, and then he set to considering the future of this new kingdom. Glancing at his newly revealed brother, he wondered if Declan really did represent the future.
DONTE SAW THE CARRIAGE ROLL into the main courtyard of the castle. Turning to the two former prisoners, Sepisolema and Firash, he said, ‘There she is!’
Balven had sent for Donte when word reached him via carrier pigeon that Hava’s ship had been sighted off Toranda, and Donte had ridden the day and a half from Beran’s Hill, which was now being called the Beran Garrison. Balven had been on his way to North Point, to meet Hava, when Donte had been given the simple task of staying with the prisoners in Balven’s absence.
Donte found both the young Azhante men affable company, now that they were fully recovered from the beatings they had received at the hands of the king’s interrogator. They were apt students of the local language, and what used to be the ‘Covenant Tongue’, the de facto trading language spoken all over the Twin Continents.
Donte turned to the two Azhante and said, ‘If you go back to your rooms, I’ll send for you when Hava has time to see you.’
The two men waved and left for the castle. Donte watched them enter through a side door then noticed again the brand-new banner flapping in the breeze from a tall pole above the highest tower. He thought the entire king thing was amusing, though a great many people around him seemed to think it had some greater importance that he failed to see. Still, he did enjoy telling guards at the checkpoints that he was on a mission for the king, which earned him a great deal more deference than he had ever experienced before in his life.
The carriage rolled up to the main entrance to the castle and a guard quickly opened the door. Balven and Declan climbed out and Donte was standing next to them by the time Hava exited the carriage.
They hugged and Hava said, ‘So, they haven’t hanged you yet?’
‘Not so far.’ He laughed.
Balven said, ‘He’s actually been behaving himself and has been useful. Helped chase off bandits a while back.’
Hava gave Donte an appraising look. ‘Trying to be a hero?’
‘Hardly. I just don’t like people shooting arrows at me.’
Balven turned to Declan and said, ‘I think you’d best go see Edvalt, and let him know what is coming. If I or the king need you, we’ll send for you.’
Declan’s face was an inscrutable mask as he said, ‘I’ll be at the smithy,’ and he left.
Balven gestured for Donte and Hava to follow him. ‘When you meet the king, bow like you did before. Daylon dislikes the bending the knee business. Reminds him too much of Lodavico, I think. Address him as highness, sire, or majesty. He doesn’t seem to care which, but it’s a matter of court dignity.’
Hava asked, ‘Did you get a new title as well?’
‘“Sir” works just as it always did,’ Balven said, ‘but my new title is “First Minister to the King” and my old one is still “Daylon’s bastard brother”.’
Donte laughed and Hava smiled.
‘It’s all theatre,’ said Balven.
‘But important theatre,’ said Hava.
He raised an eyebrow approvingly. ‘You are a bright one.’
Hava saw that the hallways had been recently scrubbed, the stones stripped of the years of soot from the candle sconces, and the wooden chandeliers all stained back to their original colour, with the brass fittings polished to a shine. Banners had been cleaned and rehung, so everything looked brighter, and there was indeed a feeling of freshness throughout the castle.
They passed through what was now the king’s throne room, which had previously been the baron’s meeting hall. It was still being used as before, a place to hold court and, should the occasion arise, to entertain guests and host banquets. Hava doubted there would be any of that for some time to come. Guards wearing new tabards stood at each door leading into the large hall. The old symbol of Marquensas, a sword crossed with a branch of orange blossoms, now boasted the addition of a three-pointed crown above it. Hava thought the white and gold on a field of light blue was regal-looking indeed.
They reached the door to the king’s private study, a room both Hava and Donte had previously visited. Balven held up his hand, signalling the need to wait. He knocked and when he heard ‘Come in’, he pushed open the door.
Daylon’s private study was unchanged. Whatever alterations he had instigated in order to emphasize the new-found grandeur of Marquensas’s elevation to a kingdom, he apparently felt no need to change this one room.
Hava and Donte both bowed, and Daylon waved away any further need for ceremony. ‘Sit,’ he instructed, and both Hava and Donte took chairs, with Balven remaining standing, as was his habit.
‘We—’ Daylon began, then he looked at Balven and pointed at Donte. ‘Does he need to be here?’
Donte started to rise, but Balven took a step and put a hand on Donte’s shoulder, gently pushing him back into the seat. ‘I thought he might prove useful,’ he answered, and the newly invested king seemed to consider that a good enough answer.
Focusing on Hava, he said, ‘We need to hear what you’ve discovered.’
Hava began with her exploration of the Border Ports, including what she’d uncovered about the Azhante ship patrols, then she went on to detail what she’d arranged with Red Sweeney, and Catharian’s mission to sow dissension and ensure that King Daylon’s forces were not opposed by local fighters if possible.
The conversation dragged on, and Daylon sent for a meal as the sun lowered in the west. The discussion, questions and answers continued throughout the meal and into the night.
At last, Daylon said, ‘So, to sum it all up, these murderous bastards are planning another attack here? Soon?’
‘We’ll be coming up to midsummer in only a few months,’ said Hava. ‘From what I’ve cobbled together from the pieces of information I received, there were these sacrifices—’
‘Yes, to the Dark Masters,’ said Daylon. ‘And warfare between … tribes? Nations?’
‘I only saw one tiny bit of Nytanny and it reminded me of a whole lot of island towns where I grew up. But the people I talked with told me of big cities, and thousands of towns and villages …’ She put her hands up and shrugged. ‘It’s a very crowded place, from what is said. Part of the reason behind the attack here was simply to get rid of a lot of fighters.’
‘On their own side?’ Balven asked, frowning.
‘Since these Dark Masters have … vanished, apparently, the Pride Lords have had to put down rebellion after rebellion, and one tactic is to turn nations and tribes against each other. Another was this attack here.’
King Daylon put his hands on the desk and made to rise. ‘It’s been a long meeting and I am still trying to unravel what you’ve told me. We’ll continue tomorrow when I’ve had time to ponder it all.’
Hava rose and said, ‘Highness, the single most important thing is that you now have a deadline, and a choice. The deadline is how long we have until they move again to destroy what’s left – in other words this kingdom – and the choice is if you want to launch a pre-emptive strike there, or wait to defend against them here.’
Daylon stood motionless for a moment, then said, ‘I understand. Get some rest: we’ll pick this up tomorrow.’
They bowed and departed and once outside the private chamber, Hava looked at Donte and said, ‘That is absolutely the longest I’ve ever seen you sit in one place and say nothing.’
Donte smiled. ‘No one asked me to say anything, and I’ve learned it’s not wise to interrupt a king.’
‘How long were you in the dungeon?’
‘Only a week. Let’s get something to eat.’
Hava laughed. ‘You are always hungry.’
• CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO •
Planning and Choice
Edvalt faced the other smiths in the newly constructed foundry. He put his hand on Declan’s shoulder and said, ‘A few of you know me, or have heard of me, and this is Declan Smith.’
Declan was pleased to see Gildy and a few other familiar faces mixed in with a host of strangers. Marquenet had been spared from the raids, so a dozen local smiths, masters, and journeymen, and their apprentices, lived close enough to the foundry to walk home every night. Another score had arrived among the refugees, so now the king had nearly forty sword makers. Other men who were familiar with metal-working – tinkers, coppersmiths, jewellers, and foundry men – were busy preparing to equip the king’s army to carry the fight back to Nytanny.
Edvalt said, ‘Declan travelled to the Burning Lands and returned with the rare sand I used to finish my blades, to create King’s Steel. Those of you who know the secret of King’s Steel, come and stand beside us.’
Only six master smiths crossed the room.
‘That means there are eight of us to show the rest of you how to make King’s Steel. The hoarding of that secret is over!’ Edvalt shouted as a few smiths began to object.
Declan held up his hands for quiet and after some muttering the room fell silent. ‘When I created this,’ he said, lifting the scabbard in which his masterpiece rested, ‘it was to be for a wealthy nobleman, but he was killed in the war. He was old and fat and wanted it as a trophy unearned. He was not going to strike a single blow with it, while brave men fought and died because their blades failed them.’
A few of the smiths nodded, understanding and agreeing.
Declan continued. ‘Edvalt and I know that not every blade we make will match this one. We do not have the time to take three or four days to forge each blade, but we can show you how to finish one in two days, or less perhaps. These will not properly be “King’s Steel”, but they will be far better, stronger blades than you’ve made before.’
Edvalt said, ‘Declan has brought back sand from down near the Scorched Coast, a source passed down to me from my master, from his before him. Declan, please show the blade.’
Declan removed his belt and took the sword from out of the scabbard and passed it to the nearest smith. Several, like Gildy, had seen it before, but even those who had took a moment to relish holding it once more. The quality was so apparent that even the youngest journeymen could see it when they held the blade.
‘That is what we strive for,’ said Edvalt. ‘Many of the swords we make will not be equal to that blade, but most will come close, and perhaps a few will match it. But the swords we make here, after today, will break many of the blades you forged in the past, and few we make will fail those who wield them.’
Declan took back the sword and returned it to the scabbard, then fastened it around his waist once more. Edvalt took to setting up eight teams of masters and journeymen, so they could all learn how best to work using the rare sand.
A court page arrived and approached him. ‘You’re Declan Smith?’
Declan nodded.
‘The king wishes you to come at once.’
Edvalt overheard and raised his eyebrows in silent question. Declan shrugged, indicating he had no idea why he was being summoned. Edvalt signalled he’d start with two groups and Declan again nodded.
