Dangerous Waters (40 page)

‘But no one must know of your marriage.’ Zurenne forced herself to speak calmly. ‘We agreed on that and you promised me, in this very shrine.’

As soon as Corrain had departed, she’d been tormented with doubts, demanding oaths of utmost secrecy from Ilysh and Raselle, before Saedrin’s statue and Drianon’s.

Ilysh laid fennel stalks and an elder spray on the shrine table. ‘No one need know of my marriage. The demesne folk will only see a daughter honouring her father and his legacy.’

The girl went towards the shrine’s outer door. She paused with her hand on the iron ring, looking at her mother, unblinking.

‘At this season above all others, we must see the rites observed. Saedrin’s door must stand open for those who’ve been released from the flesh and bone that binds us to this world, especially for those who’ve died unnoticed and unburned. Half the village still mourns their men folk taken by the corsairs.’

Zurenne longed to protest. Lysha was a child and such matters should not concern her.

‘You saw to the rites last year, Mama,’ Ilysh reminded her. ‘Even after Master Minelas forbade it, and you did the same at Winter Solstice.’

‘Who told you that?’ Zurenne had gone walking alone in the night time pastures, chilled with fear as well as the frost. She had cut the rowan spray and blackthorn twigs with a shaking hand and a purloined knife, hiding everything beneath her cloak before scurrying back to the manor.

Starrid had caught her sneaking back in through the rear gate, pouncing like a triumphant cat on a mouse. What if she had fallen and hurt herself, or been lost to some other misfortune? Whatever would become of her daughters? Master Minelas was sure to punish her when he returned.

Zurenne had gone in dread of the monster’s retribution for the rest of the season, long after she had crept to the shrine at midnight on the winter solstice and honoured Poldrion with whispered rites.

Her nostrils flared. She need never have endured such fear. Minelas had already been dead. That was one more weight in the scales against the wizards of Hadrumal. Surely the demands of justice would see Raeponin deliver Corrain safely back to repay the Archmage for that deception.

Ilysh opened the shrine door and a muted cheer startled Zurenne. She took a few steps forward and saw the household servants and troopers gathered outside. Though the sun was barely risen, their approval of their lost lord’s daughter and heiress taking up his ritual duties was as warm as the midsummer morning. There was Jora, whose busy tongue was doubtless responsible for bringing them here.

Zurenne retreated back into the fragrant shade of the shrine. Whatever her own misgivings, she realised the demesne folk’s testimony would strengthen Halferan’s case if she and Ilysh ever found themselves arguing for this clandestine marriage before the parliament.

Lord Licanin had sent her a whole series of letters, detailing the arguments that he would be making before the barons. He was confident that his guardianship would be approved. Shutting the letters inside her writing box didn’t alter their words.

Zurenne could only be grateful that the parliament was meeting in Kevil, so far to the north and not on good roads. He couldn’t pester her while he was there, not even with brief notes sent to Master Rauffe. It took a full half year to raise courier doves from egg to reliable messenger.

But as soon as the parliament was over, he would be heading southward, waving the parchments supposed to seal their fates. Had she been an utter fool to trust in Corrain, a man of such flawed reputation, even if he had escaped the Aldabreshi?

Zurenne watched as Ilysh carefully removed the rowan spray and blackthorn twigs that had protected the shrine since midwinter from the hooks beside the shrine’s door. She stooped to lay them on the threshold.

Now the shrine door would stand open from dawn to dawn, the chicory wreath before Saedrin a sign to any uneasy shade that their way to the Otherworld lay open.

Ilysh knelt and struck sparks with flint and steel. The dried leaves of the rowan flared into flame and an appreciative murmur stirred the household.

Zurenne blinked away tears. Ilysh looked so like her father. It was agony to remember Halferan doing this, just as calm and assured. So long and his loss was as sharp a knife to her heart as ever.

She wondered how a could child show such strength of purpose. But Lysha’s words had shown that she understood the ritual. Her daughter was less a child with each passing season, soon to become a young woman.

Neeny was still her baby. Zurenne caught sight of her younger daughter, fidgeting by Jora’s side. All the festival meant to her was honeyed sweetmeats and scampering in the pastures by the brook with the children from the village.

Jora tightened her grip and Esnina’s squirming subsided. Now Ilysh was taking the elder and fennel from the shrine table and hanging them on the doorpost hooks. The door to the Otherworld might be open but no one wanted the troubled dead lingering here, or worse, any of the Eldritch Kin, until some rainbow offered them a door back to the Otherworld.

Ilysh paused to smile shyly at the watching household before going over to Larasion’s statue. The serene goddess gazed at them all, her armful of enchanted boughs bearing bud, blossom and fruit at the same time.

After curtseying to the goddess, Ilysh carefully lifted up the jug of wine which Zurenne herself had set before Ostrin’s statue on the final eve of For-Summer, giving thanks for the grape, his bounty, and for that season spent in his care. Now Ilysh set the wine before Saedrin, adding garlic and rosemary, rue and wormwood, just as her father had always done.

Zurenne had laid those herbs ready herself, just as she had always done. No, not quite. She pressed her lips tight together. They had none of the cracked blackspice which Halferan had always used, brought all the way from the remotest islands of the Archipelago. Even if they had Zurenne would not have used it. Nothing from the Aldabreshi was welcome here. So she had gathered sage, expecting that she would be the one to add it to the souring wine.

Ilysh dipped a sprig of hyssop into the jug and drew it carefully across the width of the threshold, brushing aside the ashes of rowan and elder. The line wavered, damply dark on the stone, running from door jamb to door jamb.

‘Saedrin see us safe through the year to come.’

The household echoed her words in a ragged chorus. Some of the demesne men murmured prayers to Larasion as well. The goddess of weather might not take up her watch over Aft-Summer until the festival was done but there could be no harm in beseeching her favour for the harvest a few days early.

Zurenne saw the uncertainty which prompted those fervent prayers. This was far from the carefree festivals which they’d enjoyed when Lysha was Neeny’s age, Halferan generous with the barony’s largesse.

Cracked blackspice wasn’t the only thing she could no longer afford to order from the markets or travelling merchants. She had almost no coin left for anything beyond necessities. None for more than a token towards the gifts customary at this season for loyal servants and tenants. The manor’s feasting, open to all-comers on the solstice eve, had been far from lavish.

She searched the demesne folk’s faces for any sign of resentment. Did they realise how empty her coffers were? Or did they condemn her miserliness? Did they grumble among themselves and wonder why she didn’t appeal to Baron Licanin now that he held the purse strings?

Because she dared not draw his attention back to Halferan any sooner than she must. Where was Corrain? He’d promised to be home by midsummer.

‘My lady.’ Captain Arigo had stepped forward, his age-spotted hands reaching for the jug and the hyssop.

‘No, thank you.’ Ilysh held the herb-steeped wine close.

Zurenne caught her breath, for fear of a spill on Lysha’s dress. She realised with a shock that the girl was wearing the violet gown which she had been married in.

‘I will anoint every doorway myself.’ Ilysh managed to convey her apologies to Arigo at the same time as making it clear this was not open to further discussion. ‘By your leave, mother?’

She turned to Zurenne who hastily cleared her throat.

‘With my blessing, my love.’

She forced a wide smile but could not follow as the crowd moved away, heading first for the manor’s gatehouse.

Zurenne had seen Jilseth, standing motionless as the kitchen maids flowed around her.

‘My lady Zurenne.’ The lady wizard advanced inexorably to greet her. ‘Fair festival.’

‘Fair festival to you.’ The courtesy was out before Zurenne could curb it. ‘As you see, we are busy with our festival rites. What brings you here? More threats? More deceits to acknowledge?’

Jilseth stepped over the drying wine stain into the shrine. Zurenne could hear the people outside, accompanying Ilysh on her progress to anoint every doorstep in the manor. They might as well have been a hundred leagues away, leaving her in this quiet gloom with the lady wizard.

‘I came to see how you and your daughters are faring.’ Jilseth straightened a posy of cornflowers laid before Drianon’s statue. ‘And to thank you for Captain Corrain’s continued silence. We’re glad that you saw there was nothing to be gained by Hadrumal’s humiliation.’

‘Don’t thank me,’ Zurenne said waspishly. ‘Thank your Archmage’s threats.’

The lady wizard had the grace to colour at that reminder. Jilseth looked out through the door into the manor courtyard. ‘I don’t see Captain Corrain. Is he pursuing the corsairs? We’ve been most impressed by your men’s recent successes, and the others along the coast.’

So the wizards were spying on the coast. Zurenne supposed that shouldn’t come as a surprise. She folded her arms, suddenly bold.

‘Naturally Captain Corrain and his men are keeping watch in the saltings. This solstice brings the highest tides and we know full well those often bring the corsairs. Are you telling me that you don’t know that, after all your magical spying?’

Zurenne saw that the lady wizard knew that she was lying. She felt a surge of triumph nevertheless. She could also see Jilseth’s disappointment. By all that was sacred and profane, Corrain had somehow escaped the Archmage’s scrutiny.

He had escaped the Aldabreshin slave galleys, which everyone said was impossible, and now the mighty wizards of Hadrumal had no idea where he was. Perhaps Zurenne could dare to hope Corrain would return to make good on his promises. To stand between her and her daughters and those men who would rule their lives. No one else would ever know that he was no more Ilysh’s true husband than a straw man from the fields.

In the next instant, dread chilled her. If the wizards couldn’t find him, did that mean Corrain had been killed? Was that why he hadn’t returned? Could mages scry for the dead? Zurenne dared not ask.

She saw Jilseth was studying her face with unnerving intensity. ‘I’m curious to learn what you know of Captain Corrain’s strategy, my lady.’

Zurenne smiled sweetly. ‘Such matters are hardly a womanly concern.’

‘Perhaps not in Caladhria, though I know a great many women elsewhere who’d say different.’ Jilseth pursed her lips. ‘No matter. I can wait until Lord Licanin comes here to take charge of the barony. I imagine he’ll want to know where Corrain has got to.’

‘I’m sure he will,’ Zurenne said placidly.

Jilseth considered that before persisting. ‘Is there nothing I can do for you, to persuade you to trust me? I know you have good reason to mistrust wizardry but I stood by your side when Lord Karpis would have foisted that villain Starrid on you again.’

Zurenne hesitated. Jilseth looked more hopefully at her. ‘There is something I can do for you, isn’t there?’

As Zurenne spoke, she spared a fleeting prayer to Saedrin that she wouldn’t regret this. But for all her mistrust of magic, this festival’s display of her poverty had shamed her beyond endurance. ‘If you really wish to make amends, you can find Starrid for me.’

‘He’s no longer in Lord Karpis’s service, I take it?’ Jilseth was all business now.

‘He was whipped from his lordship’s gate,’ Zurenne said curtly, ‘and last heard of bleeding on the road to Saldiray.’ She saw her opportunity to get an answer to her earlier question. ‘He may not have survived such a thrashing. Can you scry for a dead man?’

‘If you can provide me with some of his possessions, I can. Why do you want to find him?’

‘Because he might know where that thief Minelas has stowed Halferan’s wealth.’ She gestured furiously towards the door to the great hall. ‘I have spent almost the last of my silver just to offer the demesne folk a plain wafer cake and cup of ale.’

‘That’s certainly a service which Hadrumal should render you, as some recompense for your sufferings at Minelas’s hands.’ Jilseth was nodding. ‘Little enough and too late, I know.’

She meant it too, though Zurenne was getting her measure now. She could see what lay behind the lady wizard’s eyes. Jilseth was thinking she could worm her way into her confidence, once Zurenne was in her debt.

Zurenne would happily encourage Jilseth in that delusion, as long as the wizards of Hadrumal hunted Starrid down.

Once the treacherous steward was in her hands, the prospect of wizardly retribution should shake whatever he knew of Minelas’s thievery out of the villain. After Jilseth’s humiliation of Baron Karpis, Zurenne was certain that Starrid wouldn’t risk his own skin by testing that threat for a bluff.

Moreover, if the Archmage and his subordinates were busy looking for the coward, they couldn’t be hunting Corrain, wherever he had got to. Perhaps there was a slim chance that the vagabond trooper and his Forest ally could make good on their promises.

Now Zurenne could hear the affectionate crowd escorting Ilysh back towards the great hall’s steps.

Once again, anguished doubts assailed her. Was there any chance that Corrain would return before Baron Licanin arrived to assert his guardianship? If not, did she dare to admit to the clandestine marriage without his presence to strengthen her hand?

How would Licanin react to the news? What would this loyal household think of their barony’s heiress married so young to a guardsman of such tarnished character? What if Corrain never actually returned, after Zurenne had publicly linked Ilysh’s name to his, swearing they were truly wed?