Children of Enchantment (33 page)

The walls of the fortress, heavy crushed stone, bore marks of fire, evidence of a prolonged struggle. Inside the gates, the
fortress itself bore silent testimony to the last battle. It looked as if the attackers had fought their way inch by inch,
and

Roderic wondered what ferocity had driven the Chiefs to fight for Alexander’s life with such determination.

His practiced eye swept over the fortifications. Alexander had been wise to withdraw here. Perched high above the sea, Sentellen’s
was inaccessible by almost every route, save the long road leading down presumably to the village. He wondered, fleetingly,
why they hadn’t come through the village.

Another sudden cloudburst saturated his cloak. Water ran down his face and dripped beneath his clothes, running down his back
in cold rivulets. Involuntarily he shivered, and their guide noticed. “Don’t care much for our weather, Prince?”

Roderic shrugged, refusing to be baited. They crossed the open courtyard in silence, Havil following close at Roderic’s heels
as they approached a low round, wooden building.

“That’s called the hodge, in their language,” Havil said.

“Silence!” barked the escort.

Roderic stopped in the middle of the courtyard. He resisted the urge to finger the hilt of his sword, but he looked up into
the giant’s gaze levelly. “We do not come as your prisoners. We come under a flag of truce, to parley.”

He heard the low mutter of his men behind him, the shifting feet as the cloaks moved and hilts were touched. The giant narrowed
his eyes and dropped his gaze momentarily.

“M’Callaster waits,” he repeated.

“Then take us to him,” said Roderic.

A low mutter swelled through the crowd as the men advanced. The guards who flanked the doorway of the hodge came to attention
as they entered, and Roderic saw the rainwater beading on their cloaks, their swords.

Within the hodge, their clothes began to steam. Water dripped in growing puddles onto the floor. Around a circular stone hearth,
several men crouched, alternately warming their hands and gnawing on meaty bones. Flasks stood at their sides, and Roderic
felt his mouth water as the smell of the food reached his nostrils.

Their escort cleared his throat. The men broke off their conversation, looked up, and began to talk all at once, gesturing
wildly. A clear voice cut through the babble. Roderic understood the word “Silence!” more by the tone in which it was spoken
than the word itself. The voice was young, younger than his own, a boy’s not yet broken into manhood.

“M’Callaster,” said the giant in his slow and heavily accented speech, “the Ridenau Prince comes to parley.”

Roderic gave Havil a glance and slight head shake, and did not speak. The men gathered around the fire conferred for a moment
amongst themselves, and then that same clear voice spoke. A slight figure who sat across the stone hearth made an impatient
gesture of dismissal, and the rest of the men rose to their feet reluctantly.

As the others filed slowly out the door, that high voice spoke again in clear and unaccented Merigan. “Which of you is Roderic,
the Ridenau Prince?”

“I am.” Roderic squinted in the smoky half-light provided by the flickering fire and the lanterns hung high on the walls.
Who could this boy be?

“Very well. Irconnell, take his party to the guest house and treat them as is fitting.”

As one man, the others obeyed, and Roderic nodded a reassurance to his men, standing his ground as the boy rose and walked
slowly around the hearth toward him.

“Sit down, Prince.”

Roderic was puzzled. The speaker sounded young, too young, and yet it was clear that the others, battle-scarred warriors all,
deferred to him. He seemed to be at ease speaking Merigan, as well.

“Who are you?”

The boy gave a short laugh and sat down on a low camp stool.

“Are you the M’Callaster?”

“Sit down, Prince. Care for a drink?”

Something about the tone of voice made Roderic look more closely at the youth sprawling before him. “You’re a woman.”

She grinned. “You have a good eye.”

“I have a good ear. Where’s the M’Callaster?”

She stood up and made a mocking bow, sweeping her hood off her hair as she did so. A thick fall of red-brown hair was revealed.
“I’m the M’Callaster.”

“I see.” Roderic did not see at all. He had never heard that the M’Callaster of the Settle Islands was a woman.

“Do you now, Prince?” She raised her eyebrow and settled down on the stool again, sprawling her legs before her as he had
never seen a woman of the court do. Her eyes went over him as boldly as his might over a maid. “What do you think you see?”

Roderic wet his lips. He loosened the fastenings of his cloak and swept the wet garment off his shoulders. He pushed his sleeves
up his forearms and settled on a stool near the fire. “Lady—M’Callaster—I admit, you are not what I expected. I expected—“

“A man.”

“Yes.”

The fire flickered over her face, and for a moment Roderic thought he saw something like regret wash over the sharp features
of her face. “My father died last summer. Maybe you heard? So now you must deal with me.”

Roderic inclined his head courteously. “May I know your name, lady?”

“Deirdre. But save your pretty manners, Prince. Your brother’s life hangs in the balance.”

Roderic shifted in his seat. “But why?”

She made a soft sound of derision, as though she spoke to an idiot. “Why?”

She looked about thirty, Roderic thought, though in the flickering light of the campfire, it was difficult to guess. Still,
her dark eyes had fine lines about the corners that even the flames could not soften.

She got to her feet. With slow, measuring steps, she circled. She was nearly as tall as Roderic, and she carried herself with
a swagger he had never seen in a woman. “How old are you?” The question was sudden.

Roderic looked straight ahead and did not meet her eyes. “Old enough, lady.”

At that she laughed. “Old enough for what? It’s easy to see where you were raised.”

“I was raised to protect and honor women.”

“I was raised to protect myself.” She completed another circle and took a long pull at her flask. “I will tell you I was surprised
to receive your message. I thought that, given the treachery of the Lords of Mondana, you’d have other things to occupy your
time.”

“Treachery of the lords? What are you talking about?”

She wiped her mouth. “Come, Prince. Koralane had value to you and your merchants as well. The tender ladies of your court
will shiver this winter if the furs from the North can’t be brought into the capital. I’d have thought you’d be busy bringing
the lords to heel.”

“You think the Lords of Mondana burned Koralane?”

“Well, you don’t think we’d do it, do you?”

He stared at her. “We received pleas from Mondana, asking for aid. They didn’t set the fire.”

“They lied.”

“I don’t think so. People who commit acts of treason don’t usually call for an army to come to their rescue.”

“It was a trap.”

“Lady, I beg your pardon, but you don’t know what you are talking about. I sent three divisions into Mondana to fight that
fire—an army larger than anything the lords could muster. And why would they set the fire?”

“Why would we?”

They stared at each other, and finally she looked at the hissing flames. “So what do you want of me?”

“I came for my brother.”

“Alexander.” The word could have been a curse.

Roderic shifted his position, trying to read the expression on her face. Perhaps, finally, some of his questions would be
answered. “Why? What happened? In all honesty, I thought your people respected Alexander. What made you turn against him?”

“He violated the most sacred tenet of our code, Prince. The one which says that we protect the innocent and honor the women.
And I’m not the only one who wants his blood. I’m just the one who wants him most.”

“What has he done?”

She gave a harsh snort of a laugh. “You have sisters, do you not, Prince? Have you any that mean anything to you, other than
as pawns to marry off to some lord or another?”

He nodded, thinking of Tavia.

“I have such a sister, Her name is Brea. She’s not like me; she’s young, soft, sweet. The kind of woman you Ridenaus prefer.
Alexander came wooing her, with words as slick as honey, presents of every description from places I haven’t even heard of.
And he asked me for her hand—“

“Yes, I know he loved—“

“Let me finish.” She stabbed the furs with her dagger and it stuck upright, hilt quivering with the force. “She was like one
bewitched. She didn’t even see other men, though there were two who’d loved her since childhood. So I gave my permission.
And shortly after that, they were wed.”

Roderic stared.

“I heard her screaming. But, frankly, I thought it was bridal nerves. Brea always was a bit skittish. The next day, her women
found her in the center of a bloody bed. She was alive, if you want to call it that. Alexander had disappeared. I won’t say
what he did to her. He left her pregnant, and now she moans and claws at her belly, as though she’d like to rip the child
from her womb, or as though some monster eats at her from within. She hasn’t spoken a coherent word since that night.” She
looked up at him with narrowed eyes, and the fire he saw in them was no reflection of dancing flames. “According to the code
by which we live our lives, any man who harms a woman in such a way shall pay with his life. Now. Do you want to tell me why
I should let him live?”

Roderic shook his head. “But Alexander loved your sister. I know he did. He spoke to me for permission to marry her… he had
no intentions of harming her.”

She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “That’s not all. He tried to pit brother against brother, Chief against Chief.
He threatened to tax our liquor, our wool, the furs we bring to the mainland. He went from holding to holding, from island
to island, leaving chaos in his wake. Are you sure I wouldn’t be doing you a favor?”

“Did you know he has a twin?”

Her jaw dropped. “A twin? And I suppose you expect me to believe that this evil twin is responsible for everything that’s
happened?” She laughed and her scorn was obvious. “Do you really expect me to believe that one, mainlander?”

“I do,” Roderic replied. “Because it’s the truth.”

For a long moment she stared at him, measuring and appraising. “Something tells me I ought to be believing you,” she said
slowly at last. “But—but why? Why and how would a brother turn against a brother so?” She shook her head. “Of all the bonds
we honor in these islands, Prince, the bond of blood’s the deepest. It’s death to any man who raises a hand against his brother—“

“He’s already turned against his sister,” Roderic interrupted. “He killed my sister, Jesselyn, a holy priest of the Church.
If my own soldiers had not been sent out to meet them, my brother Vere, who was traveling with her, would have bled to death
from the wounds inflicted by Amanander’s men. Yes,” Roderic said as Deirdre gasped and shook her head a little in protest,
“so you see, lady? It is more than possible that Amanander has spread his mischief across your lands.”

“But why?” demanded Deirdre.

It was Roderic’s turn to pause and gaze into the heart of the flames leaping within the stone circle. He shrugged. “When it
happens, lady, as I know it must, even here, among you islanders, why does any brother turn against his own?”

“Usually they both want the same thing.”

“Yes. Well, in this case, what Amanander ultimately wants is the crown of Meriga. And he asked Alexander to support his bid
for the throne, and Alexander, who is an honorable man, as you all thought until these last months, refused to break the Pledge
of Allegiance he had sworn to our father, and the one he was required to swear to me.”

“It never made sense to me,” Deirdre admitted after another silence. “But the laws of my people required—“

Roderic held up his hand. “I understand. We are both bound, you and I, by words and law. And so is Alexander. He is not the
man to break his word. I know he isn’t.”

Deirdre sighed. “It won’t end so easily, Prince. I might believe you, and I do, but my people—” She paused and cocked a brow.
“My men will not.”

Roderic nodded grimly. “We must work together. There are more pieces to this puzzle than either of us know. I came here in
good faith, lady, for your father served my father faithfully and well. There is an oath which binds us—our interests are
the same, ultimately. I’ve no wish to continue the bloodshed. There are too many questions we cannot answer alone. And I must
settle this as quickly as I can, because if what I think has happened here is true, then the woman I love may be in danger
even now. I give you my word, lady, that I will not leave until the peace is established once more.”

“Your word!” There was derision in her voice. “You are the brother of an oathbreaker. You expect much.”

“I give you the word of the Prince Regent of Meriga. Remember, there is an oath which binds us, lady.”

For a long moment she hesitated, and Roderic watched as emotions warred across her face. Finally, she rose to her feet and
held out a blanket. “Here. Take off those wet things—wrap yourself in this. I will send for dry clothes for you.”

It was his turn to hesitate. He was wet to the skin, and he had little wish to negotiate naked under the bemused scrutiny
of this woman.

“Oh, go on.” She laughed. “I doubt even a Prince has anything I haven’t seen before, and besides, I’ve always found men much
easier to deal with when they are naked.” She winked, as though he knew she’d read his mind, walked to the door and spoke
a few words to the guards.

Amused, despite his situation, he stripped the wet clothes off and with a quick motion wrapped himself in the blanket. She
did not turn away. “Sit.” Her tongue flicked over her bottom lip. “Will you drink?”

“Water, please.”

“In this weather?” She handed him a flask. When he put it down, she leaned back against the piled furs. Her hair, so thick
and lustrous it seemed a living thing in the firelight, fell over her shoulders. Her dark trousers clung to the lines of her
thighs, and her hands looked strong and capable. The backs were as scarred as his. She was so different from Annandale, indeed
from any other woman Roderic had ever known, and yet there was a potent vitality about her which appealed to him.