Authors: Brian Fuller
“Good Morning, your Grace,” Gen greeted her in a bardly voice. “You see that I have gone to great lengths to sail with you today.”
She smiled wanly, a little life returning to her eyes. “You were set for the Chalaine’s barge and your lovely Fenna, though I appreciate your revised motives.” She signaled him forward. “Get down from there. It will be our pleasure to entertain Lord Blackshire, Captain of the Shroud Lake Racing Barge, for the duration of the day.”
Mirelle pulled her damp hair back and secured it behind her with a leather thong. Gen greeted Cadaen, who mumbled a quiet, “Welcome.” Gen found it strange that Mirelle hadn’t given him her customary embrace, but upon seeing her haunted face staring blankly at the commotion around her, he took the initiative. She returned it and held him close for many moments before letting him go.
“Thank you,” she said warmly but dispiritedly. “What was that for?” She invited him to sit next to her on a cushion laid out for her use, probably the poorest accommodations she had ever had—there had been no time to build comfortable barges for the aristocracy. Cadaen wandered off toward the back of the barge, leaving them alone at the front.
“After Athan deemed me worthy to return to service last night,” Gen said, “I admit that I was anticipating a warm embrace from the First Mother of Rhugoth. I have become accustomed to it these past months. Seeing that you weren’t in the humor, I thought I would risk being a little forward. Even if you are offended, I doubt you could slap me hard enough to inflict sufficient pain to make me rue the pleasure.”
“Do you ever tell the truth?”
“Only when it isn’t obvious or boring.”
“And which is it in this case?”
“Obvious, I believe. Mirelle, you are always so full of life and passion, and you seemed so empty this morning when I saw you. I doubt I could say much to return your humor to you, but you at least should know that I am with you and at your service. I also feel badly that I placed you in danger. I’m sure Athan has told you repeatedly that the entire attack at Three Willow was an attempt to secure me. I thank you for not allowing him to dismiss me, though there is reason in the suggestion. If I am a liability to you or your daughter, I will run as far from you both as I can.”
“You are hardly a liability, Gen,” Mirelle said, leaning her head on his shoulder and staring at the Chalaine’s barge fading before them. “What Athan doesn’t want you to know is that an attack to capture you only points to your growing importance in the affairs of this world. The enemy takes you seriously, and so should everyone else.”
“Barge racing notwithstanding?” he joked.
Mirelle smiled. “I sometimes forget how young you are. It was, perhaps, beneath you, but endearing yourself to those of lesser station is not an unwelcome trait in a leader. I must confess, however, that hearing Athan complaining about it in council last night was the only bit of cheer I have felt in days, especially when he repeated your rude little rhyme, expecting outrage and receiving laughter instead.”
“Perhaps,” said Gen, “court jester is my true calling.”
“You can be whatever you want to be, Gen. Some people seem born to a profession, others are so blessed in character and intelligence that they must choose. The one is miserable until he finds his calling, the other miserable until he has tried them all. You are the latter, I think.”
“I think some are both,” Gen added. “You were certainly born to rule, though you have every gift to do anything your heart desires. But as of this morning, you don’t seem quite yourself, if I may be so bold.”
She stared out at the lake, eyes distant. “You cannot understand what these past few days have done to me, Gen. I am a woman who needs to feel in control, and every mile we travel away from Mikmir weakens me and clouds my mind. I have never felt so vulnerable! That I should nearly die twice in one week despite every precaution for my safety has unnerved me. I am at the mercy of forces beyond my ability to understand or manipulate. I don’t feel safe. I don’t feel confident. I don’t feel happy. I have never been this way, and yet I must be strong for my daughter.”
“It is perfectly normal. . .” he began.
“Please, Gen,” the First Mother said, “don’t tell me it is normal to feel this way after such deadly encounters. I’ve heard it enough.”
He took her hand and tried to will strength into her. “It is true, Mirelle. You will be yourself again. You must at least hope for that. Until then, you lean on your friends and on your faith. It may be distasteful to one as capable as yourself to use a crutch, but there is no shame in it. When we give our friendship to others, we agree to accept both the blessing and the burden of tying ourselves to another person’s life. You have many friends, Mirelle. Do not fear to be weak before them. They will leap to your aid and only love and respect you more for confiding in them.”
“It isn’t that simple,” she returned. “A woman as scrutinized as I must live continually in reference to everything and everyone around her. A misplaced frown or a misspoken word from me can cause avalanches of unintended consequences, and if I appear weak, there are those who rejoice and sharpen their knives. My daughter is terrified, and if I show her that I am too, she may very well turn this caravan around. Cadaen flogs himself at every opportunity for his failure to protect me and has begged me to replace him. If he knew fully how I felt he would probably do something stupid like kill himself or leave. If I appear diffident for one such as Athan, he will trample all over me. So, you see, I cannot take the crutch.”
“Have you shared any of this with Regent Ogbith or Ethris?”
“No. My daughter and I save these deep troubles for your ear alone.” Her grin was affectionate, though touched with sadness.
“Very well,” Gen laughed softly. “I’m not sure what I will do with all these dark secrets, but if I can help lighten your spirit, then speak on. You can even call me names if it helps. The Chalaine called me a ‘nobody serf from some nowhere lumbering town’ that night during the winter.”
“Did she now? That’s a bit tame for me. I have much sharper words at my command. I thank you for your willing spirit. I do hope to feel more at ease soon, though I think I would be much improved if I could sleep. Every time I close my eyes I can feel the knife at my neck. That, and I can’t stop thinking about how I now owe my life to Shadan Khairn. I’m not sure which is more distressing. Do you think Fenna will be much put out if she catches me napping on your shoulder?”
“She is the jealous type, but not to worry. I’ve told her all about us.”
“Good.”
Mirelle leaned against him and closed her eyes, and in minutes she fell asleep to the steady drumbeat of the bargemaster. Cadaen checked on her from time to time, eyes angry and pained. Owing to his lack of rest the night before and the soothing undulation of the oar strokes, Gen nodded off soon after, awaking a couple of hours later to the shout, “Land ho!” followed by a the sound of splintering wood far ahead of them. Mirelle’s eyes popped open. The oarsmen slowed the barge to a stop as quickly as they could.
“Curse it all,” she yawned dreamily. “Why is it that good dreams always attract interruption? What has happened?”
They waited, hearing scattered reports of a barge slamming into a cliff face. Shroud Lake was completely encompassed by a canyon wall save for one beachhead to the south. Regent Ogbith’s barge sidled up to Mirelle’s and she stood, greeting him and Ethris who both stood at the rail.
“We’ve drifted too far north,” the Regent informed her. “The lead barge has hit the canyon wall, though it is salvageable. We’re having a devil of a time getting our bearings in this fog. We’ll need to back a safe distance away from the cliff face and turn south. If we back away too far, we waste time. If we don’t, we risk slamming into the wall again. If we see ahead of us for a space, we could proceed with more confidence.”
“I think I can help,” Ethris offered.
The old Mage closed his eyes and concentrated. At first it was just the whisper of a breeze, but as Ethris started chanting, the breeze grew to a wind and then swelled to a gale. The enshrouding fog leapt away from the barges, revealing a towering white cliff wall, some fourteen hundred feet high, looming ominously over the fleet. For the first time since the water journey began, everyone could see everyone else, and several minutes were taken by all just to stare.
“It will not last long. Get your bearings and move,” Ethris ordered.
“Let’s get to the Lead Barge and see if they’ve figured out where we are.”
Regent Ogbith’s barge pushed forward at double time, and in a quarter hour all the barges pulled around to face south and a little west. Within thirty minutes, the fog returned.
“An aptly named shard,” Mirelle commented as the gloom enveloped them.
“Yes, and more than a little insipid,” Gen added. “Though I hear the sights are more grand—a few weeks in.”
“Well,” she said, “if I had known I would have you to myself for a while, I would have asked the Chalaine to lend me her playing cards. She and I have played cards every night with Fenna, Dason, and Geoff. She has improved at every session and is uncommonly good now, underhanded methods or no. You must be a good teacher.”
“I don’t think so,” Gen disagreed. “I am afraid that your daughter is a gifted cheat and had a previously untapped talent for gaming. Let’s not let Athan know about my involvement in that discovery, shall we?”
“Indeed, not,” Mirelle whispered. “And, speaking of Athan, I think the man is spying on me. I believe half the oarsmen on this barge are Churchmen in disguise. So if you have any insulting tirades for him or past indiscretions to confess to me, say them quietly. I am, however, particularly interested in your past indiscretions, so say on.”
They spent the balance of the day in pleasant, idle conversation. Gen had to settle for the fact that he would not see the First Mother’s natural humor return quickly, no matter what his assurances or his attempts at lightening her mood. She slept a little more during the afternoon, leaning on him as before.
As evening approached, the fog broke up in the face of a natural wind. To their left, the cliff still loomed, though it was declining rapidly, and the shards and moons lurked behind scattered, gray clouds that thickened with every oar stroke forward. The improving vista brought a palpable relief across the fleet, and many passengers stood and watched the landscape slide by.
Just as darkness fell, a drizzle threatened to dampen their spirits again, but ahead of them guttering torches and fires burned on the shore—the landing was in sight. A general hurrah was raised as everyone prepared to debark. The landing site they steered for was a small, treeless strip of beach a mile wide between two cliff walls. A half-mile behind the beach, a grassy hill sloped up, climbing gradually with the cliff that formed its edge. An earthwork mound, fortified with wooden walls, had been built just shy of the hill in the months previous to the start of the journey, forming a crude but effective defense meant only to buy escape time. On either side of wall, tents sprawled away into the darkness. Several regiments of soldiers were encamped permanently there, and most of the men now lined the beach to offer help with horses and supplies
As planned, the soldiers debarked first, followed by the Ha’Ulrich, the Chalaine, and then everyone else. The drizzle turned to a downpour as Gen escorted Mirelle to the Chalaine’s wagons where she decided to sleep that night.
“Chalaine!” Mirelle called. “Look who I brought back with me. Let me in, Tolbrook. I’m soaked clear through already.”
“Gen!” Fenna and the Chalaine said in unison.
“Move out of the way, you two!” Mirelle commanded as Gen helped her in. “He still looks the same!”
Fenna leaned out to kiss him anyway. “So how was your little vacation?” she teased as he closed the door and she opened the slot.
“Refreshing,” Gen said. “All I lacked was the company of my friends, though I did get to spend some time with the First Mother today.”
“We are both sorry and glad you had to return to ‘work,’ then,” the Chalaine piped in. Gen could sense the uneasiness in her voice, her words attempting a buoyancy of emotion that her heavy heart did not feel. “Especially after your adventures as barge captain.”
“That’s getting around, is it?” Gen asked.
“Oh, yes,” Fenna answered. “Geoff has written the whole thing down, including your little rhyme. He says it adds a bit of—what did he call it?—‘lightening spice’ to what has been a rather troubled tale, thus far. Oh! And he has asked me to be his assistant to help him organize his notes and record the history of the trip! Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Fabulous,” Gen returned stiffly. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it a great deal.”
“And learn a lot, too,” she enthused. “Did you do much writing when you were a bard’s apprentice?”
“No. Tell had little to write about, and I enjoyed the telling of stories more than the writing of them.”
“Well, Geoff insists that a biography be written about you, so he’ll likely be asking you a lot of questions about your past. I’ve already told him some of the stories we learned from your friends.”
“Great.”
Fenna talked to him for nearly an hour, and despite her frequent mentions of Geoff, Gen was glad for her happy mood that seemed untouched by the horrors of Three Willow. She left for her tent after the rain subsided, though it intensified again soon afterward. The Chalaine and Mirelle had a whispered conversation he could only snatch pieces of. The camp was full of activity until well after midnight, supplies, wagons, and horses all arranged and accounted for.