Shanakan (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 1) (15 page)

“Tomorrow,” Delf said. “We have to leave tomorrow if we’re going to be there.”

Wulf said nothing, which in itself was a bad sign. Wulf was an agreeable sort, and often agreed with Delf even when he disagreed with him, if he didn’t hold a strong opinion. Wulf not agreeing with him meant that there was a problem. He had to admit that he hadn’t realised how much he missed the village until they had made it back. It was probably the same for Wulf. Their house had been kept pristine at Tarbo’s insistence. Their food stores had not been touched. It was home. It was a very new home, but it felt like the real thing.

Their welcome had been spectacular by village standards. Three of the village’s most important men had insisted on hosting them for what amounted to an out of season harvest feast. He was sure he had gained five pounds. Delf had never been a hero before, and he wasn’t at all sure that he qualified for the honour now. He had done very little, and if Serhan hadn’t shown up when he did it was likely they wouldn’t have made it back at all.

The village was quite sure, and his denying it made them even more certain. Hadn’t he saved the village from attack? Hadn’t he and Wulf rescued Falla from the bandits? Not really, but thanks for the food.

As much as he enjoyed being back he was keen to be off again. He was at heart a builder, and had never been happier than when he was overseeing major projects back in Samara, and now a whole building industry was promised. His palms itched.

Wulf was different. Wulf had discovered love. Providently, Falla also seemed smitten, and the two of them spent a lot of time together. Falla was a lot better now that she was back home, and beginning to feel safe. There was still something ugly inside her, and she was inclined to exalt in the fact that Bragga was dead, but that rage cooled a little bit every day, and he was sure that she would mend in time. She had turned out to be quite pretty once she started caring about such things again; far prettier than Wulf deserved, he observed as often as he could.

He had mentioned their promised journey several days ago, and Wulf had been non-committal. Now it seemed that he had made up his mind, and Delf was not inclined to push the issue. He would miss Wulf like he’d miss his right hand, but the man deserved what happiness he could get. He would just have to manage without his old friend.

“You’re going tomorrow?” Falla asked, sitting at the table opposite him. She loved Wulf, but she treated Delf like a brother.

“Yes,” he said. “I gave Serhan my word that I’d do a job for him, and the others will be expecting me to meet them. If I don’t show up I don’t suppose anybody will go to White Rock. I won’t get there in time if I don’t leave in the morning.”

“Wulf,” she said, turning to him. “Do you want me to pack a few things for you?”

Wulf coughed. “I’m not going,” he said. “I’ll stay here with you.”

“Oh, no!” Falla said. “You can’t let Delf go on his own. Who’ll look after him? Besides, we owe Serhan a debt. You should go.”

“I want to stay with you, Falla,” Wulf said, but Delf could tell from his tone that there was no fight in him. He would do whatever she wished.

“Just the first couple of jobs, Wulf,” he said. “You can train the others so we can manage better when you do leave.”

Wulf looked trapped, but Delf knew that it would be all right. One good thing about having a home is that you could look forward to getting back to it. He hoped that his friend would see it that way.

Wulf shrugged. It was a gesture of surrender.

“Well, if I’m going I suppose I’ll need a few days food and a good set of work clothes.”

Falla smiled and went to pack a bag. She enjoyed doing things for Wulf at the moment. Delf wondered how long that would last.

Wulf sighed and sat down. “Just two jobs, then?” he asked.

Delf laughed.

*              *              *              *

In the morning they left fairly late and rode off at a gentle pace. It felt good to be going somewhere for a reason, and even better to be doing so on horseback. Once out of the village they picked up the pace and made it to the old bandit camp a little before sunset. Delf was heartened to see smoke from camp fires, and they rode into the camp to be greeted by about twenty-five people.

He quickly learned that they had been waiting for him anxiously, and debating how long to stay before heading off home again. He was their leader, and they were not prepared to go to White Rock without him. After all, he was the one that knew Serhan. He was surprised to be brought a plate of food almost as soon as he sat down amongst them. They treated him with respect, which he wasn’t used to. He had forgotten what it was like. Nobody but Wulf had asked his opinion on anything since they’d left Samara over two years ago. In a sense very different from the village, this felt like home, too. He was a master builder, and this was his work force.

He talked to them again that night, making sure that he had a grasp of at least the names of all the men and the skills that they brought with them. Most of them were just strong and fit, and looking for an honest job, but there was a carpenter, a potter, and a couple of carvers.

The next morning they rode to White Rock. Delf had never been near the place before, only seeing it from a distance. It had always represented danger, and that which could not be trusted. It felt very strange to be riding towards it, and the apprehension that gnawed at him seemed to spread to the rest of the party, and by the time they reached the foot of the rock they were silent.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said. “We’re invited.”

Nobody answered him, and he realised he was talking to himself as much as to the others. He spurred his horse up the road to the gate and stopped ten paces short of the guards who stood before it. Everyone else stopped five paces behind him. The guards looked at him, but said nothing.

The place scared him, but he knew enough about the design of buildings to realise it was the architecture. Whoever had planned this place had meant for people to feel small and vulnerable standing in front of these gates. Nice job.

“I’m here at the request of Cal Serhan,” he said.

The guards looked at each other, and Delf sensed that what he’d said meant something to them.

“He’s not here,” one of them said. There was uncertainty on both sides now, and it gave Delf confidence.

“Captain Grand? Captain Bantassin?” he asked.

“Captain Bantassin is here,” the guard said.

“Well?”

“I’ll go and ask.” The guard who had spoken went into the fortress through a small door set in the gate, and the remaining guard looked uncomfortable. Delf drew a couple of conclusions from this exchange. Serhan was respected, and perhaps just a little feared by the guards at White Rock. That was impressive. It was also obvious that none of the guards knew to expect him, so there was an element of unpredictability in the mix.

“You know Captain Serhan?” the remaining guard asked. Delf was surprised. He hadn’t expected the man to speak at all, but he was getting more comfortable now.

“Yes,” he said. “I knew him before he came to White Rock.” It was factual, but not really true. The guard seemed impressed.

“You’re from the west?” he asked.

“No,” Delf confessed, “I’m from Samara, but I was between the west and here when he passed through. We met.”

The small gate opened again and three people stepped out. One of them was the guard who had gone in, and the other two were women, archers. The older of these looked at him for a moment.

“You must be Delf the builder,” she said.

“And you must be Captain Bantassin.” It was a guess, but a good one. She nodded.

“We’ve got quarters set up for you. You can wait there until he gets back.”

There was a murmur behind him. Delf understood.

“If it’s all the same to you, captain, I think we would prefer to camp outside the fortress,” he said.

Captain Bantassin hesitated; spoke to the other archer who then went back through the gate.

“I think we can manage that, Delf,” she said. “I’ll have supplies brought down to you. I suggest you set up beneath the gate – more shelter from the winds there.”

“Thank you. We will.” He turned and rode back down the hill. The others followed him closely. Keeping near to the base of the great rock he found the spot that Captain Bantassin had spoken of. There was a spur protruding from the rock that gave a good amount of shelter, and a small spring supplied adequate water. They tethered their horses and started setting up camp.

A short while later people began to arrive from the castle above. They brought tents – enough for his entire crew, plenty of food, wine, and anything else they could have wished for. In a couple of hours it looked like a small town, lit by oil lamps and the glow of fires. Delf’s people were in high spirits, and a grand meal was being prepared, much to the delight of Wulf, who interfered whenever he could.

By morning they were all pretty much relaxed with living in the shadow of White Rock. The people from the castle left them alone, apart from the occasional load of supplies that they didn’t really need. On one such visit Delf asked if there were any builder’s tools up in the fortress. Two hours later a wagon load of assorted items came down, and he picked through them with Wulf. There was a lot of junk there, but enough useful equipment to fit them out convincingly as a building crew.

Wulf took it upon himself to start training the men.

The following evening they all heard the sound of approaching horses, and Delf rode around to the foot of the gate road to see if it was Serhan. He saw a company of guardsmen, over a hundred, just beginning the climb up to the gate.

“Delf!”

It was Serhan, about fifty yards up the path. He wheeled his horse round and came back down.

“You made it, then. I expected to find you inside the castle.”

“The people with me didn’t feel comfortable staying inside the walls,” Delf replied.

Serhan seemed in a hurry, and not at ease.

“Look,” he said. “I have things that I must do. You’re camped round the side?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll probably not see you tonight, but first thing tomorrow we’ll go through the plans. I have a destination for you, though. How many did you bring?”

“Twenty-five.”

“A good number.” He spurred his horse back onto the gate road. “Tomorrow, then.” He was gone, riding fast up the incline through the dust of the troops that had now passed out of sight. Delf shook his head. The man had looked tired. He rode back round to the camp and told them all what had passed between them.

True to his word, Serhan came to their camp the next morning while they were still breaking their fast. He had plans with him, drawn up in an amateurish but neat manner. These they discussed for a while. When Serhan seemed satisfied that Delf understood what he wanted he told him where he wanted him to build.

“Sorocaba? That’s a fair ride from here,” Delf commented.

“We just came from there. I think they need to feel that they haven’t been abandoned, but it could be difficult for you. We were sent to punish them.”

“We’re builders, not soldiers.”

“I’ll send ten men with you.”

“Ten? Sorocaba’s pretty big, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but they should be quite subdued. I don’t expect any trouble, and I’ll brief the guard sergeant in charge so you won’t get any. Don’t expect a warm welcome.”

They made a number of other arrangements, and by the time they had finished the sun was high in the sky, and Serhan sat down to eat with all of them, and seemed at ease there, though all showed him respect, and few addressed him directly. He left them after that and they relaxed for the rest of the day.

On the following morning a group of ten guardsmen arrived with a pair of empty wagons and they packed all their tents and provisions before setting out for Sorocaba. Delf had enough to worry about now, and he could see that the guard sergeant was quiet also, but the rest of the company proceeded cheerfully enough.

They rode hard on the second day, coming to White Rock in the late afternoon. As they started up the incline to the gate, Serhan was surprised to see Delf coming around the base of the rock. He rode back to him, and they had a brief conversation before he promised to visit their camp in the morning. Apart from bearing at least three things that would cost him dear if Gerique found them he knew that the Faer Karani would want a report on what had happened in Sorocaba as soon as possible. Everything else would have to wait.

When he got to the courtyard of the castle he handed his mount over to someone else and ran up to his quarters with his arms full of luggage. He put the sword and the book in a corner of his bed chamber and covered them with a cloak, putting a pack on top of them. The ring he hid at the bottom of his pack.

He went as quickly as he could to the Faer Karan stair and waited at the top to be admitted. It was a short wait. Gerique was pleased.

Somehow the Faer Karani seemed to already know everything that had passed in Sorocaba.

“It pleases me that order has been restored at the cost of only one life.” he said. “The town is intact and will continue to serve my interests. It is very economical. Tell me about the so called wizard.”

“No more than a trickster, my lord, though he had the people of the town convinced. He may have known some magic, but not enough to defend himself.”

“Why did you kill him? I would have liked to question him.”

“My lord, he was dead when we arrived in the town, killed by one of the townspeople.”

“That is a remarkable coincidence. The timing is most fortunate for you, because it allows me to consider the convenient occurrence of his death while you were camped just a mile outside the town a reflection on your abilities.”

Serhan said nothing, and the Faer Karani studied him for a while.

“Bearing in mind your talent for coincidence and unlikely good fortune,” he continued, “I have decided to elevate you to the position of Seneschal. It is a position of some influence, as you will now be responsible for all human activity in the domains of White Rock.”

“My lord, all human activity?”

“Yes. Even Colonel Stil will have to defer to you, though he will continue to speak with me when I require his particular services. There are certain privileges that come with the position, but doubtless they will mean little to you. I require you to inform me only of your goals. The methods you choose to achieve them are your own concern. I trust that you will not fail me.”

“I will not, my lord.”

Serhan was surprised yet again. He had heard that the position of seneschal existed in a few of the Faer Karan domains, but as far as anyone knew there had never been one at White Rock. No further advancement was possible. He wasn’t even certain what additional duties he would be expected to perform. Never the less, he felt the thrill of achievement, the elation of success.

His rise within White Rock had been so meteoric that even Serhan was beginning to wonder at it. He was confident of his abilities, perhaps even over confident, but he had not expected this within two years. It was as if Gerique was pushing him on, giving him more and more power just to see what he would do with it. After all, he could still be eliminated at a whim. There was no such thing as security at White Rock.

Gerique dismissed him and he went back down the Faer Karan stair to find a man waiting for him at its foot. He was much older than Serhan, about the same size, but dressed in the sort of clothes that made you invisible at White Rock, everything in greys and browns.

“My lord Serhan,” the man said. “I am here to assist you in ascending to your new role. I will be your chief servant.”

“Chief servant?”

“Yes, my lord,” the man said. “As Seneschal of White Rock you are entitled to many servants. It is my job to organise them, and you.”

Serhan laughed. “You are not in awe of me, at least.”

“No, my lord. That is not part of my job.”

“You keep calling me ‘my lord’?”

“It comes with the job, my lord. Your job, that is. I get very little with mine.”

“But you do have a name?”

“Alder san Hanje Crane, my lord.”

“Please do not entitle me with every utterance. I begin to understand why Gerique finds it tiresome.”

“He does?”

“Enough! What were you before you were a chief servant, Alder?”

“A scholar, sir. A librarian.”

“Really? Is there a library here?”

“No sir, I made the whole thing up.”

“I appreciate your sense of humour, Alder, and your lack of humility, but you are going to have to start making allowances for me. I don’t have that much time for humour.”

“As you wish, sir. There is a library at White Rock. It is very small, but contains some interesting volumes.”

“In time I will ask you to show it to me, but for now I have a question; do you read and speak the old tongue?”

“I do, sir.”

“Very good. Can you teach me?”

Alder hesitated, biting off another ironic remark, no doubt. “I will do what I can, sir.”

“Then we will start tomorrow. Now, what needs to be done first?”

“I suggest that I show you your new quarters, sir, and introduce you to the other people on your staff.”

New quarters? His mind went immediately to his old room and what he had barely concealed there.

“You are not having my possessions moved, are you?”

“No sir. One thing we learn very quickly is not to do what we are not told to do.”

“Good. I will move them myself. So what do these quarters look like?”

“If you will follow me?”

They went to a staircase that Serhan had never used before and up several flights of stairs until they reached the very top. Here there was a great door only a little less impressive than the one outside Gerique’s chambers. It was on a corridor with several other doors, but dominated the space. The others were clearly entrances to lesser apartments.

Alder unlocked the door with a key, which he then handed to Serhan. Beyond the door the Seneschal’s chambers were larger and more opulent than he had expected, beginning with a large hall, which housed what he could only think of as a banqueting table. It would easily accommodate twenty people. The bed chamber was twice the size he was used to, and the bed was decoratively carved, and very comfortable – he bounced on it a few times. There was another large room, laid out as a work place. It had shelves and a desk – all empty. It also had a grand view out to the west, and he guessed that the window was set only a little to one side of the main gate. He could see the main approaches to White Rock, and even the path that he himself had taken on his way here. The whole was furnished with colourful rugs and skilfully made tapestries.

“The rooms please you, my lord?”

“Indeed. They seem quite comfortable.”

“Then you will allow me to summon your staff?”

“How many?”

“I have kept it to a minimum, sir. Six. You are entitled to twenty.”

“What on earth would I do with six servants, let alone twenty?”

“Each has their function, sir.”

“All right, let’s see them.”

Alder went out of the door and called down the corridor. Within a couple of minutes his servants, all six of them, had assembled in the main hall of his new chambers. He looked at them carefully.

“If I may introduce them, my lord?”

“No. Let them introduce themselves.”

“As you wish.”

Serhan pointed to the man on the left. He was a stocky figure with bushy eyebrows and large hands.

“My lord I am your personal cook. Whatever you wish to eat, any time of day or night, I will prepare it for you.”

“And your name?”

The man reddened. “Bullen, my lord.”

He pointed to the next, a thinner and taller man with fair hair.

“I am Curtis, my lord. Your personal groom. I will look after your horses and ensure that they are in top condition and ready for you to use at any time.”

“I don’t think I own a horse, Curtis.”

Alder coughed. “In effect you own them all, my lord. The Faer Karan do not ride.”

“I see, so I get my pick?”

“Yes, sir.” Gerique had mentioned that the job had some benefits. All the horses? Did he control everything?

Next.

“I am Grayla, my lord. My duties are to clean your chambers and to make sure that your fires are lit and kept up while you are at White Rock, if they are needed. I am also responsible for clean linen.” She was fortyish and stout with a kind but simple face. His personal cleaner. What next?

Next was quite different. She was about his own age, a few inches shorter than him, and very slight. Her dark hair was cut short for a woman, and her features were small and delicate, apart from her mouth, which was quite generous. Pleasing to look at. She was dressed in the usual shapeless garment, but had tied it at the waist so that it emphasised her slender frame.

“I am Mai, my lord,” she said. Her voice was pleasant to hear as well, deeper and darker than he had expected, and she smiled at him in a manner that he would not have expected of a servant. “I am your secretary, and will assist you in any task that you undertake of a scholarly or domestic nature. If you wish it I will also arrange any audiences that you may grant to staff or visitors, and summon people that you wish to see.”

“Very Good,” he said.

The last man was, of all things, his personal tailor. Apparently his appetite for fine materials had been noticed. The man promised to create whatever he wanted in the way of jackets, coats, cloaks, trousers, and even boots. His name was Perwin.

“Thank-you,” he said when the man had finished. “Now I know you all, and will call on you as I need you or see fit. There are a couple of ground rules, though. This chamber here,” he pointed to the study,” is not to be entered by anyone, except on my explicit instructions, and even then only when I am present. Is that understood?”

They all affirmed that it was.

“You may all go. Bullen, do you do wine as well as food?”

“No, my lord. Alder has the key to the wine cellar.”

“You may go then.” He turned to Alder. “We have a wine cellar?”

“You do, my lord,” he replied. “The Faer Karan do not drink.”

“Does anyone else have access to this wine cellar?”

“No, my lord.”

“Not even the officers?”

“Not even the officers.”

“And what is in this wine cellar?”

“Wine, sir.”

“Alder?” He put a warning note in his voice.

“About ten thousand bottles, sir. All of it was excellent in its day, but a lot of it will have gone off by now. There are probably a thousand in good condition.”

“Then bring me a bottle, Alder,” he held up a hand to stop the inevitable question. “Surprise me – demonstrate your good taste.”

Alder smiled, for the first time. “I think you’re getting the hang of it, sir.”

The man left and Serhan sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. How was he ever going to stand the man? Would talking to him do any good? Somehow he didn’t think it would. He could dismiss him and get somebody else to take the role. After all, he didn’t think that he needed any servants, never mind a chief one.

He walked down to his old quarters and picked up his pack, along with the sword and book that he’d found in the basement of the abandoned tower. He took them back to his new chambers and put the important items in his study, the others in the bed chamber.

While he was doing this he heard noises outside, and went back to his great hall to find Alder pouring a glass of wine. He had never seen a glass before. He picked it up and looked at it. The thing was cut with amazing patterns that caught the light and scattered it through the wine.

“Quite beautiful,” he said.

“Yes, sir. It is over four hundred years old.”

Serhan put the glass down carefully. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable drinking out of it, Alder. What if it breaks?”

“There is nobody else to use it, sir. The Faer Karan…”

“Do not drink. Yes, I understand. But if I break it?”

“We have ninety-six more in storage. They have been there a very long time, sir. They were made to be used.”

He had a point. Serhan tasted the wine and found it smooth and full bodied. It delighted his palate.

“Tell me something, Alder. How did the people that you paraded in front of me just now get picked for the job?”

“They are the most able at their particular skills, sir.”

“So Bullen is the best cook in White Rock?”

“Exactly, sir.”

“And you are the best chief servant?”

“I am the only one, sir.”

“And that makes you believe that you are indispensable?”

Alder paused for a moment. Serhan could almost see him tasting the wording of the question.