Kraal watched him for a moment and then turned to Senneck. “Tell me, young griffin,” he said, “there is something I wish to know.”
Senneck raised her head, instantly alert. “Ask and I shall tell,” she said promptly. “I am at your command, mighty Kraal.”
If Kraal had noticed her overeager tone, he gave no sign of it. “The Northerner who murdered Lord Rannagon,” he said. “Rumour has it that he has been caught and killed. Is this true?”
Senneck flicked her tail. “It is not true, though it pains me to admit it. He has not been seen since the night of the murders, but my human and I believe that he is going north.”
“North?” Kraal repeated. “What is it that makes you believe this?”
“We apprehended his parents,” said Senneck. “At Norton, close to the edge of Eagleholm’s lands. They had gone there to meet with him, but he had not come. We interrogated them, and his father finally confessed that his son was going north. I was inclined to believe him. Your lands are the only place he could hope to find sanctuary.”
Kraal inclined his head. “I believe your judgment was correct, Senneck. Further north there are uncharted lands. The murderer could hide there easily enough, assuming he could pass through our dominions without being apprehended.” He looked at Erian and Senneck. “I thank you both for your warnings. Elkin and I shall warn our officials and the guard in the outlying cities to be watchful.”
“What’ll happen if he’s caught?” Erian interrupted, unable to stop himself.
Kraal cast a slow blank look at him—not menacing but somehow far more frightening than anger could ever have been. Erian withered before it.
“He’ll be brought here,” said Elkin, coming to his rescue. “A criminal as dangerous as that has to be, you know. And then the council shall help us decide what to do with him. It would be a formality, though, of course.”
“Execution, then?” said Erian, leaning closer without realising he was doing it.
“Of course,” said Elkin, slightly surprised. “What else? The traitor’s death, most likely.”
“Could …” Erian realised he was sweating. “Could we—?”
Senneck silenced him with a glare. “We trust in the competence of your underlings, my lady,” she said. “And in your justice. The Cursed One cannot survive long here, and he is a fool if he believes he can find safety in your dominions. After all, your leadership and your power are legend.”
Elkin straightened up, her demeanour suddenly cool and reserved. But she smiled very slightly at Senneck’s words. “Maybe I’m young,” she said, “but I know how to lead, and Kraal knows more than you can imagine. And you can stay.”
Erian started. “I’m sorry, my lady?”
“I said you can stay,” said Elkin. “I like you, Erian, and you, too, Senneck. I think you both have potential, and it makes me happy to know that even though you could have gone anywhere, you chose to come to me. You’ll have to work, of course.”
“Oh!” said Erian. “Yes, of course, we understand that, and I’d be happy to—”
“One of my officials needs a new assistant,” Elkin interrupted. “And I think you would be perfect, Lord Erian. You’ll be a lord now, by the way; all my officials are. We’ll have a ceremony for that later.”
Everything seemed to have slowed down. Erian could feel his heart beating, and hear it, too, so loud it sounded like a massive drum. “My lady,” he breathed. “I—I would be honoured.”
She smiled that sweet smile again. “You haven’t asked what your work will be.”
“Oh. What will it be, my lady?”
“Lord Kerod, the Master of Farms, is the official who needs an assistant. He’ll be your master,” Elkin told him. “He’s a good man, but he really doesn’t know much about farming, you see. Since you grew up on a farm, I think you could be perfect.”
Erian’s heart sank. “Oh. What would I have to do?”
“It should be simple enough for you. The villages all have to meet a certain yield every year, and if they’re well below it then you have to go out there and find out why. The Master of Farms has to monitor the villages and come up with new farming methods and send out people to train the peasants in how to use them. It makes it much more efficient. Malvern is the only city to have a Master of Farms, you know. The others prefer to leave the farmers to work it out for themselves, but I think that if you help them it can only help you. Don’t you think so, Erian?”
“Oh yes!” said Erian, too quickly and much too eagerly. “After all, everyone has to eat, and if you help the farmers then there’ll be more food,” he added, hoping this would sound perceptive.
It seemed to work. Elkin smiled and nodded. “I’m glad you think so. Many other griffiners don’t take me very seriously, because I’m young. I know you were surprised—you didn’t hide it very well.”
“I’m sorry—” Erian began.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Elkin. “Everybody is surprised. I tried to stop people from talking about my age. But, you see, it doesn’t matter. I’m young, but I’m very clever. And Kraal is the strongest griffin in Cymria, you know. He has the strength, and I have the cleverness. We go very well together, I think.” She sounded perfectly matter-of-fact.
“I am sure you do,” Senneck said smoothly. “After all, a fool or a weakling could not have done what you both have done.”
Kraal clicked his beak. “You had best be careful, Senneck. My human is vulnerable to flattery.”
Elkin laughed. “We all are, you know. Even if we hide it. Well, then.” She stood up. “I think we’ve talked long enough. I shall give orders for you two to be given quarters. You’ll take up your duties in two days, once you’ve rested, and we’ll have the lordship ceremony for you later. A feast would be good. I do like a feast, you know. And maybe a dance as well. Would you like that?”
“Very much,” said Erian. He glanced at Senneck. “Very much, my lady.”
“I thought you would,” said Elkin.
20
One Beat
P
rydwen’s estimate had been an accurate one, and they reached the edge of the mountains within three days of his having made it. Cardock, still at the head of the column of black-robed figures, looked up at the peaks of Y Castell and felt nothing but a kind of dull relief. The last day or so had been thoroughly wearing for everyone, and he kept noticing how the column behind him was straggling. They would need some time to rest before they struck out into the mountains. Cardock had already said as much to Arenadd, and the others had backed him up.
Cardock had hoped that their talk on the hilltop, brief though it was, had been a sign that Arenadd was getting better and would begin to open up to him again, but he had been wrong. His son remained silent and shut in, unreadable, wrestling with some inner pain that he wouldn’t allow to show through in front of anyone. Cardock suspected that he still cried from time to time when he was alone with Skandar. Perhaps he confided in the griffin, and that thought hurt Cardock more than he would admit. He felt as if he didn’t know Arenadd any more, or at least not the grim, haggard man he had become. The old Arenadd, or Arren as Cardock now thought of him, had never been particularly sociable, but despite what Cardock now knew he had done, he had always been cheerful enough. Lord Arenadd Taranisäii, though, spent his time alone with his new partner, silent and brooding, all cold authority and distance. He had found a spare slave collar in the shed back at Herbstitt and spent a lot of his leisure time with it in his hands, endlessly toying with it, turning it over, examining the hinge and the spikes and the locking mechanism, and occasionally closing it partway but then pulling it apart again before it could lock shut.
Cardock sighed miserably. He had lost his wife, and now it felt as if he had lost his son, too.
He was very relieved when he heard the sound of wings overhead and looked up to see Skandar flying low and coming in to land on top of a smallish peak not far ahead. He was signalling to them to stop at its base and make camp.
They reached the new campsite well before sundown. It was on open land at the base of the mountain, fairly nondescript and not particularly sheltered. The trees thinned out here, and the ground was rocky.
Arenadd was waiting for them under a lone tree by a heap of tumbled rocks. Skandar was nowhere to be seen.
“Gone hunting,” Arenadd said briefly.
Cardock looked around at the others, who were already setting up camp. “So, we’re here,” he said, for lack of anything else to say. “Y Castell at last.”
Arenadd nodded and sighed. “I know this place,” he said. “
This
is where I was captured. Right here by this tree.” He kicked it. “Skandar insisted on coming back here for some reason, maybe because it’s a place he knows, too. He doesn’t have a territory, so this is the closest thing to familiar ground that he’s got. Now—” He sighed again. “I’d better go and find a camp spot. See you later.”
Cardock watched disconsolately as he walked off, and sat down at the base of the tree to rest his aching feet. The truth was that he simply couldn’t fathom the way Arenadd had been behaving lately. Perhaps it was the fact that he was now among other people who all knew his real name and what he had done. Having a reputation like that couldn’t be easy. If there was only some way to get him to talk about it, it might help.
Cardock stood up abruptly. There was work to do, and sitting around moping would help no-one. He willed his sore legs back into action and walked off to help with the setting up of the camp.
Caedmon and the others were busily gathering wood for their fire, and Cardock joined them. Unfortunately, the space they had chosen—right under the lone tree—had very little wood around it. Cardock told Caedmon to stay there and rest while he and the others went back the way they had come, where the trees were thicker. They reached the fringes of the forest and spread out.
The forest was already thick with other people setting up their own camps, and Cardock weaved his way among them, careful not to get in the way. Most of the obvious wood here had already been claimed, so he moved further in, where there were fewer people.
Eventually he had some luck: he came across a dead tree that had fallen some time ago and had plenty of dry branches on it. He began snapping some off, on the lookout for any larger pieces he could carry. He wouldn’t have to go any further than this; the tree was very large and had more than enough. In fact, some others had already spotted it and were coming to help themselves.
Cardock moved to the far side of the tree, searching for a good solid piece of wood. A proper fire would need a log or two if it was going to keep burning all night. He found a good-sized bough that was nearly detached from the trunk, and began to pull at it.
“—killed them.”
Cardock stopped to catch his breath and peered curiously through the branches. A couple of the men who had come to join him were talking as they gathered branches.
“Well, it only made sense,” one of them said. “If he hadn’t, we’d have bin caught, sure as fate.”
“Right enough, yeah, but it’s just, what I heard—well, I was right next door, see? And awake. Couldn’t sleep on that damned floor. I was right near the wall, an’ I heard what happened in there.”
“You said so already. What’d you hear, then?”
The first man shuddered. “It was horrible. I swear, I hear it every night when I can’t sleep. I heard these sort of—just thumping and a few yells. Hard to hear over the storm outside. Didn’t think much of it, but I heard the last one. Everything sort of died down, and then I heard this voice.”
“What’d it say, then?” said his friend.
“It was so
quiet
,” said the first man. “That was what scares me most. It wasn’t, like, screaming or anything. It just said, ‘Please don’t kill me. I have children. Please don’t kill me.’ And after that, nothing. Just another thump, an’ something hit the wall behind me, and after that, just silence.”
Cardock’s blood ran cold. “Oh, gods,” he whispered.
“No witnesses, then,” said the second voice. “He gave their swords to those friends of his, you know. I wondered where they come from.”
Cardock didn’t hear anything else after that. He let go of the branch and began to walk back toward the mountain. He felt strangely numb. Even calm.
Of course. It all made sense. The silence, the hiding and the tears. He’d spoken to Nolan and the others, and according to them Arenadd had behaved normally enough at Herbstitt. So why this sudden change?
Cardock cursed himself. He felt betrayed, but he also felt like a fool. Only two guards for all those slaves! And both of them trained men, hardly likely to be asleep while on duty. And he, Cardock, had believed the lie, and he had utterly failed to see or understand what he was seeing in his son after that. Not the reserve of a wanted man but the guilt of one who had killed again, and recently. A man unable to face his own father.
The sun was beginning to go down as he reached the lone tree. Caedmon was attempting to light a small heap of kindling, while Olwydd piled larger sticks around it.
Cardock stopped, breathing heavily. “Where’s Arenadd?” he said.