The whale plucked a herring from the table and threw it down his neck like a pelican, swallowing in a single gulp. A great draught of wine followed, then more fish, a huge fistful of mixed nuts, some more herring after that as well, then another full cup of wine. All the while, the dainty little serving girl he kept at his side moved in and out, filling his bucket-sized goblet, making sure the plates were full of his favourite foods. No wonder she is so slim, with all that rushing back and forth. And the way she ogles that food…
“I wonder if you have given further thought to provisioning us with a boat,” Amara said, to break the whale from his gluttonous feasting. “It’s been long days now, and…”
“No.” He shook his big bald head. “No, and no, and no again, my lady. I say no to that. I gave you a longship before, to take you to Varinar, and you only came right back. I cannot allow you to leave, not at this time. It is too dangerous out there. I hope you understand.”
“You mean you didn’t get your money,” she said.
He put down his goblet and peered at her from across the table at which they sat, a huge oaken table that rested in the hall before his throne. All about them torches burned in wooden sconces on the walls and above lanterns swayed in the shadowed rafters, creaking softly. Just outside the hanging vines, a pair of burly Bladeborn guards kept watch at the door. Could I snatch up a blade and gut the whale before they get to me? The table was long - purposefully so, perhaps - but if she ran she might just make it.
“I promised you chests of gold and jewels to pay for passage,” Amara went on. “If you give us a boat and a host of strong oarsmen, we can row to Varinar and…”
“No,” he said, cutting her off. “Are you going to make me say it? No and no, and no again. I say no to that, my lady. You said yourself that this city of yours is in ruin, and I heard that from the captain as well. He told me about the fire, the smoke…the dragons. I will not have our boats go near that shore and risk drawing those beasts out here.”
“They’ll come eventually anyway. You can’t hide from them forever.”
“I can. And so must you. If you have an issue with that, my lady, I am perfectly willing to rid myself of a few mouths to feed and throw you and your men in the lake. If you continue to push me on this then I will have no choice but to expel you. You are grieving, I know, and I know what it is to grieve, so I will forgive you your insolences for now, but my mercy will not last. I have taken you in and given you refuge. I have fed you, clothed you, permitted you the use of my haven and my home. And for this, what do I get? Complaints and protests and these constant requests to leave.” He shook his head. “Why, I ask you? If you expect to find your husband alive in that ruin, you must think again. He is dead, as is your niece, sad as it is to say. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for you.”
Never, a part of her thought. Until she knew for sure, never…
She stood from her chair. “Do I have your leave to go?”
He frowned up at her, eyes lost in folds of flesh. “No,” he said. “Sit. I am not done with you yet.”
Her body was shaking with anger, but she did as she was bidden. Wine helps, she thought, reaching out and taking a gulp. She took another, and then another after that, struggling to compose herself. Memories haunted her. Of that first heartrending moment when she’d seen the city in flames, and broken down on the deck of the longboat, weeping for her sweet young Lillia. Sir Connor and Sir Penrose had demanded that the captain take them to shore, but he’d refused, and what could they do? The knights were too honourable to kill innocent oarsmen, and if they tried to swim in their armour every one of them would have drowned. It might have been easier, though, Amara thought. I should have just thrown myself overboard, and let the lake take me.
There were tears in her eyes, she realised, as there so often were these days. She wiped them away, turning her head to the side, but the whale had already seen. “Forgive me if I have spoken some hard truths, my lady. I did not mean to upset you.”
“It’s fine.”
“No. When I say I know what it is to grieve, I mean it. I have lost a son before, and a daughter as well. I watched my father killed by a rival and my mother…I was forced to stand witness to her rape when I was only a boy. Oh, you think me cruel, that is clear to see, but cruelty is often complex, and comprehensible when you know its source. Mine comes from a dark place, a place I will not take you to. But this is what it has made me. I feast to drown my feelings, and I guard those under my protection at all costs. The money you promised me is not of interest anymore. Our borders are closed, to those coming in and going out, and no one, not you or anyone else, will change my mind on this.” He took a pause, then said, “I will remain lenient for as long as I can. But if I get a sniff that you or one of your men are planning to kill me, or steal a boat and escape, I will have no choice but to make an example of you. A shame, what a very great shame that would be. But it will be done, my lady, of that you have my word.” He paused once more, then looked to the vines. “Go, then, if that is what you wish. And think about what I’ve said. I hope, in the weeks to come, you will give up on these follies and make your home here. That would be the best thing for us all, I know. Together, we can be happy.”
Together. The word made her want to vomit. She stood, turned, and left at once, neither bowing to him as he liked nor giving him a parting word. She marched past the guardsmen, down the long corridor of trees that led away from the palace, through the pretty grove that took root at the heart of the island. There were paths here, wood-decked and worn, the planking groaning underfoot as she marched. Little lanterns swayed in the branches and guards watched her warily as she went, hands on the hilts of their blades. They wore sealskin cloaks, scaly armour, with halfhelms wrought in the likenesses of fish and sundry sea creatures; a trout here, a leaping salmon there, a snapper and an eel, a shark and turtle, swordfish and lionfish and starfish. Amara had seen krakens too, and mermen, and other older things that lurked in the lake. Those appeared to be worn by the more experienced men, the captains who went out on their boats to ward off passing ships, or else take them in so that the duties could be paid.
Pirates, Amara Daecar thought. This is a nest of pirates, nothing more.
Those sailor-soldiers were not the only armed men here, though. There were Bladeborn about the island too, with godsteel mail and bits of armour, and misting blades at their hips. Some had once served in noble houses, or wandered the world as hedge knights for hire, or sought out contracts as sellswords and assassins. Amara had spoken with many of them by now, hearing their tales of how they’d come to be here, trying to detect whether any would be willing to turn their cloaks and help her. She had to be careful with that. If the Lord of Lard got wind of her sedition, he would not be best pleased, but now more than ever she knew she had no choice.
I’m not going to rot here with that whale. By now the whole of the north might be in flames, the world falling to ruin, everyone she cared for dead or dying. But as long as she stayed here, she would never know for sure. One way or another, she was getting off this rock.
The ceiling of the great cavern was twinkling with luminescent moss when she stepped out onto the beach. It was beautiful, like a starlit sky, glowing in hues of green and blue and sometimes pale shades of pink and purple as well. Beyond the shore, the waters moved serenely within the vast cave in which the island was situated, gently drifting out toward the mouth where the river wended away to the lake, miles away. While Amara had been given free rein to walk the island at her will, the same was not true of the others. They were limited in their wanderings, and watched at all times, permitted only to visit the beach on the eastern edge of the island-within-the-cave, and the little village of huts and shelters built along the shore.
At the edge of the village, a small beach hut had been provided for their use. Inside were bunks built into the walls, a trestle table between them with benches on either side. It was much alike to a ship cabin, Amara had noted when first she’d seen it. Later, the longboat captain who’d taken them to Varinar and back - and who still refused to give her his name - had told her that she was right. “We ripped it out of a galley, this one,” he’d said. “Same with half the huts here. All taken from this ship or that.”
Two guards were standing outside. Both were Bladeborn. One was an old knight, dressed in his former house cloak and colours of green and yellow, frayed and stained and sun-scorched. The other was a sellsword, much younger and chirpier, garbed in a godsteel shirt of mail over boiled leathers.
“Sir Talmer,” Amara said to the knight, a grim-faced man of stocky build who’d served under Lord Wallis Kanabar once, he had said. His house name was Hedgeside, a name chosen by his ancestor, who’d been a hedge knight for long years before winning acclaim during some war. For his service he was granted an estate, servants, and the accompanying lands and incomes by Lord Morris Kanabar, who was the Lord of the Riverlands at the time. He was also given the chance to choose his own name, and took on Hedgeside in honour of all his nights spent sleeping under hedges. Amara liked the tale. That old hedge knight had a sense of humour that his descendent seems to lack. “You’re still here, I see.”
The old knight nodded. “My duty isn’t over yet. Will be here till dawn, my lady.”
“All night? Oh, how rotten.”
He shrugged. “I’m used to it by now.”
Amara looked to his companion for the evening, a sellsword named Benjy Barrett. ‘Brazen’ Ben Barrett he liked to call himself, in that cocksure way common among his kind. He had overlarge ears, and oversized teeth, that made him look rather like a rabbit. “Brazen Ben,” she said to him. “Tell me a story of sellsword adventure.”
The rabbit grinned at her. “My lady, be glad to. But I reckon Sir Talmer here might object.”
Amara had the same sense. Sir Talmer was a sour man, though his old acquaintance with Wallis Kanabar was something she was trying to use. “Perhaps next time, then.” She leaned in. “If Sir Talmer should close his eyes for a moment, feel free to join us inside, Ben. I know Carly would appreciate it.”
“Oh?” Ben’s eyes showed his interest. “She mentioned me, did she?”
“Oh, Ben. She’s always talking about you. A fellow sellsword and all?” A smile played about her lips as she nudged his arm. then she pulled the door and stepped inside.
The others were bathed in firelight, a torch flickering on the end wall, where a window looked out over the twinkling water. All sat at the benches, facing one another across the table, sharing a jug of mead and some plates of salted fish and bread. Sir Connor and Sir Penrose were on one side, Carly and Jovyn on the other. All had been stripped of their armour and weapons and given hempen shirts and shifts instead. Carly, of course, looked fetching anyway. That girl would look gorgeous lathered in dung.
“How’d it go with Lord Lard?” Sir Connor asked, shifting down the bench so Amara might sit.
She took her place next to him, as Sir Penrose poured her a cup of mead, and slid it down the table. “Thank you, Pen.” She had a sip and answered Sir Connor’s question. “Not well, I’m afraid. I asked if he would grant us a longship again, and he said, ‘no and no and no again. I tell you no, my lady’. He says that a lot.”
“He likes the word ‘no’,” Connor Crawfield muttered. “So, what now?”
Amara looked to the door, wondering if Brazen Ben and Sir Talmer might be listening. She could not say how good their hearing was with godsteel, though even without it, if they put their ears to the door, their voices might just carry. So she leaned in, gesturing for the others to do the same, and reduced her voice to a whisper. “He’s never going to let us go,” she told them, their five faces so close they almost kissed. “He made that clear tonight. He’s scared, of the dragons. His borders are closed, he insists.”
“They’re not his borders,” Sir Connor snorted. “These islands belong to the crown, not some fat pirate on an oaken throne.”
Jovyn nodded briskly. “There are enough knights here to depose him, my lady. Men of honour. If you ask them, they’ll serve you. You’re the sister of the king.”
“They don’t care for kings out here,” Carly said to that, blowing a lock of flaming red hair from her eyes. “That’s why they came here in the first place. These men aren’t knights anymore, Jovy. They’re traitors and cravens, who have come out here to hide.”
