Authors: Fiona McIntosh
‘Must I touch it, my lord?’ Genrie asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She seemed to be swaying slightly, as if dizzy. Freath couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t help her, either. He returned his gaze to the ground.
‘Make it quick, Genrie, then it’s over for you,’ Loethar said tightly and Freath heard only the true threat behind those words. Both their lives were forfeit, he realised.
He sensed rather than watched her move closer to the grisly line up and held his breath, at the last moment deciding he owed it to Genrie to be fully with her in this terrible trial. Raising his chin, he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists to steady himself. He watched Genrie move before the heads, could see her body trembling as she raised a shaking arm. It was moving towards the second from the left. The wrong one. Of course it was wrong. They were all wrong. He felt a pit in his stomach open up as her forefinger pointed to the boy. He couldn’t remember his name. Didn’t want to.
Genrie staggered and shook her head. When she steadied herself, she seemed to change her mind. ‘This one,’ she said, pointing at the fourth head.
Freath was sure his heart stopped. She’d picked Tomas Dole.
‘You’re sure, now?’ Loethar urged.
Genrie nodded. ‘I’m sorry, my lord, I couldn’t concentrate at first. The heads … they —’
‘We understand,’ Loethar said, although it was obvious no one from his party was in any way moved by the pathetic sight of the remains of the boys. ‘You may go.’
She curtsied and fled from the room without looking at Freath.
‘Well, Freath,’ Loethar said, ‘it seems you have indeed found whom we seek.’
It took every ounce of Freath’s willpower to keep his voice steady, his expression calm. ‘I never doubted it, my lord. I have known the child since he was born.’
‘Could he have told her somehow, Loethar?’ Valya challenged quietly, cunning in her voice.
‘I didn’t permit him to speak or see anyone. He came here with me from the bailey.’
Valya shrugged.
‘Be sure, my son,’ Dara Negev spoke up.
Loethar nodded. ‘Just one more confirmation, Freath, if you don’t mind.’ The barbarian’s words were like a smothering blanket on the flames of Freath’s elation. ‘We need to be absolutely certain, you understand?’
‘Of course,’ Freath acknowledged graciously, as if Loethar should call for a dozen affirmations if that is what would put his mind at rest. He retreated another step, his heart pounding.
‘Call in Father Briar — but first, change the order of the heads.’
It was done and then a visibly shaking Father Briar was brought in. He spun away the moment he caught sight of the ghoulish parade. ‘Lo forgive me, I cannot. Why am I here?’ he beseeched.
‘This is hard for you, I understand, Father Briar, but you are one of only a few in the palace who knew the Valisar heir. We need to identify him.’
Briar hadn’t turned around. Freath suspected that if the warrior who’d brought him in had not been holding him upright, the man of Lo would be on his knees, sobbing. His cheeks were wet with tears. ‘These are children. Surely, my lord?’
Loethar looked at him in silent enquiry.
‘We are conquered. Right across the Set our armies are broken. Those of us who still live must accept your rule, my lord … and do. The spirit of the people is shattered. It’s time for peace to ease the collective heart of the Set. That is what I will preach when once again I have a congregation, my lord; I will tell them to embrace your sovereignty, to forge a new empire under your leadership.’
‘That gladdens my heart, Father Briar,’ Loethar said. Freath knew the priest was too far gone in his fear, and desire to make some impact on the barbarian, to hear the irony in Loethar’s tone. ‘But right now I need your assistance. I want you to face the four heads behind you and I need you to pick out for me the one that belongs to Leonel of Valisar.’
Father Briar began to shake even more. ‘Please do not ask this of me, my lord. I cannot.’
‘You must, Father Briar. I insist, or the killing can’t stop. If you do not identify Leonel, I will kill every eleven, twelve and thirteen year old across the Set and I will lay their heads at your feet. You alone have the power to prevent this additional slaughter. Now Freath here has told me that I have the head of Leonel. I want you to affirm it by showing me which one you recognise. I know you knew the boy well.’
The tension in the room had risen dramatically. Even the cool evening breeze could not temper the oppressive warmth around them all. Freath could see the old woman and Valya entranced by this theatre, whereas Stracker looked ready to draw a sword and hack the babbling priest to bits.
Mercifully Father Briar did gather himself together, finding the courage to turn. He allowed a soft sob to escape when he finally laid eyes on the sad sight before him, and as if on cue, one of the propped heads toppled to the side. Father Briar flinched, a low shriek escaping him.
‘We’ll just right this one for you,’ Loethar said matter-of-factly, grabbing the hair and pulling the head straight to lean up against the sideboard on which they’d been placed.
The room went silent.
Father Briar took a shallow breath. ‘I feel sick, dizzy…I’m sorry, I —’
‘Quickly, Father Briar. The sooner you do this for us, the sooner we can work out what happens next,’ Loethar said briskly.
Again, Freath heard the undertow of threat in the barbarian’s words. His own breathing had become ragged. He wondered if his own tired heart was giving up. It felt set to burst from his chest, it was pounding so hard. Though he wanted to look away, he forced himself to fix his eyes on the priest, who had one hand on his chest and was raising the other in a shaking arc. His finger pointed but from Freath’s vantage he couldn’t tell which head had been chosen.
‘Touch the head, Father. We must be sure,’ Loethar urged. ‘You are too far away. Hurry up; I tire of your squeamishness.’
Father Briar staggered three steps and placed a hand, as though giving a blessing, on the third head — the head of Tomas Dole. ‘This is Leonel,’ he said, turning abruptly to vomit into the corner.
‘Well done, Father. Let us all retire to another chamber,’ Loethar said. ‘Freath, perhaps you could have this one cleaned. Father Briar, you’re free to go once you have gathered your wits. As are you, as well,’ he added, sweeping his gaze across the Vested. ‘Freath, please come and see me afterwards. Thank you for your work today. I’m impressed.’
Freath nodded graciously. ‘I’m glad to have proven myself worthy to you, my lord,’ he replied, resisting a desire to draw his own shaking hand across his brow.
The barbarians left hurriedly. How Freath kept his own composure he didn’t know but he managed to put one step in front of the other, guiding everyone out of the stinking salon. Closing the door on their backs, he allowed himself a moment of impossible triumph combined with startling disbelief. Father Briar was trying to say prayers for the children, his words at war with his grief. Freath began to move toward the priest in an effort of consolation.
‘Freath!’ Clovis called, soft but urgent.
Freath turned to see Kirin collapsed on the floor.
The six of them had been walking for hours in silence. The path they’d been following was narrow, well disguised and certainly not conducive to conversation. Everyone seemed lost in thought, but no one was fatigued. Gavriel realised that he was suddenly invigorated, likely due to the fresh sense of purpose.
The tunnel-like animal track they’d been following opened up and although the single lamp that lit their way meant that they still had to walk carefully, they now had more space to spread out.
This prompted Leo to talk. ‘Tell me more about the meeting with my father,’ he said to Faris.
‘What’s to tell? It was a shock. But I knew he was no impostor, having seen your father many times without him realising he was sometimes close enough to touch his most gifted thief.’ Faris laughed. ‘He was as good as his word and had come alone. We’d followed him for many miles, seen his arrival — just as we’d seen yours — for a long distance.’
‘How did he know where to find you?’
Faris shrugged. ‘Followed his nose in much the same way as Lily did hers. I know the rumour-mongering says my gang is in the north but it’s a huge area. No one really knows where we are. The truth is, we found him, in the same manner that we found you.’
‘And he just pronounced that he had a bargain to make with you?’
‘That’s about right. He wasn’t scared of me. But then I was hardly scared of him either, considering he had so many arrows trained on his chest. He was extremely confident. I genuinely thought he’d come to work out a deal whereby I stopped stealing taxes and he might turn a blind eye to the odd wealthy merchant being robbed on the highway. I must admit, his lack of interest regarding his own money was refreshing and his real reason for coming intriguing.’
‘It’s incredible that he was planning for this eventuality so far ahead,’ Gavriel said. ‘Even more surprising that he kept my father at arm’s length on it.’
‘Gavriel is now legate, by the way,’ Leo said. ‘Some day he will command the Penraven army.’
‘Right now, my king, there is no army to speak of. I have seen what the barbarians have done. All the Set armies are decimated; bodies still scatter your realm and the blood is yet to dry across the fields and the villages. People are still to bury stranger and foe alike before they can even mourn their own lost. The whole region is in turmoil — on its knees to Loethar, you could say. I imagine it will be years before a generation of boys grows up without memories of this bloodshed.’ He glanced at Gavriel. ‘I hate to pour water on your fire.’
‘Don’t dash their hopes, Kilt Faris.’ Lily spoke up. ‘These two young men
are
our future. We have a king. Your men are the army that will rise from the ashes of the barbarian destruction.’
Faris stopped. ‘Er, let me stop you there. I have nothing to do with uprising, rebellion or thoughts of re-creating the splendour of the Valisar dynasty.’ He took them all into his gaze and Gavriel could see he wanted none of them to get any mistaken impressions of his motivations.
‘This is about money, is it?’ Gavriel said.
‘I am not Brennus. He had reason to preserve his line. My reasons are quite different but no more selfish than his. Let me say this. King Brennus visited me purely out of self-interest. This was not about you personally, Leo, though I hate to say it. No matter how much your father loved you, this was as much about greed for him too.’
‘Now wait a —’
‘No, let him finish, Gav,’ Leo said, holding up a hand. ‘It’s best we all understand one another.’
‘Thank you, majesty,’ Faris said. ‘This seems as good a place as any to rest momentarily. Jewd, check that all is safe, would you? Tern, follow suit.’ As the men loped off, Faris returned his attention to Leo, Gavriel and Lily. ‘We’ve made very good time. You certainly seem very committed and determined. I think it’s wise we have this conversation now.’
‘Go ahead,’ Leo said. Gavriel realised that the youngster he had become nursemaid to just days previous had already aged years.
And it will need to continue if we’re going to survive
, he thought grimly. Most importantly, Leo seemed ready to hear the truth…the secret that had been entrusted to Gavriel by Brennus. He would tell him as soon as they were alone.
‘Your father had the preparedness to look into the future,’ Faris was saying. ‘He took note of the angry wind blowing from the east, and he moved to protect his most valuable possession. It was not his realm’s gold, it was not his city, it was not his people, it wasn’t even you, Leo…or your family.’ Gavriel watched the young king’s lips thin at this. ‘It was something far less tangible than any of those possessions. The single most important aspect of Penraven life to your father was the name Valisar, and the fact that a Valisar had sat the throne, and was figurehead for the whole Set, for so many centuries. He was determined the dynasty would not end with him. And so, for very selfish reasons that had nothing to do with self-preservation, he came to see me. He did love you — of this there is no doubt — but he loved his heritage, his history, his whole reason for being and his sense of duty much, much more, Leo. And because he had produced an heir he was not going to relinquish the right to put the 9th king of Valisar on the throne. Brennus aimed to pass crown, sword and throne — everything that was won by Cormoron all those centuries ago — to you, Leo. You see, he was equally as selfish as you accuse me of being.’
Leo regarded Faris gravely. ‘You want to see my father’s approach as purely one of self-interest. I prefer to think of it as his desire for the realm — for the good of the people.’
Faris didn’t bat an eyelid at the youngster’s admonishment. ‘Life is very much from the perspective from where you view it. However, Brennus knew the might of the barbarian’s driving need to conquer, and he decided he needed time. Time for his next child to be born, time for a bargain to be struck to preserve the life of his heir, time to organise a plan. The blood of the other realms bought him that time.’
Leo stood, disgusted. ‘This is rubbish, Faris. I won’t hear another word spoken against my father like this.’
‘Why would I lie?’ Faris replied. ‘Brennus admitted that the Set could not win the war unless everyone banded together. He said — and this is no lie, I give you my oath — that he had to make an ugly choice between saving the Valisar crown and saving the Set, reasoning that the chances of Leonel’s survival — with the right help — were better than the Set’s chances against the marauders.’
‘Do you honestly believe, Faris, that the king would not have aired this plan — this “ugly decision”, as you call it — to his closest friend, companion, adviser and commander of his army?’
‘I’m telling you that’s exactly what he did.’ Gavriel glared at him as Faris continued. ‘I’m sorry if I’m hurting anyone’s feelings here but I speak only truth. The king came here in disguise, having deliberately slipped away not only from Brighthelm but from his legate. He meant to keep his decision secret. I was the only person he shared it with.’