Exile's Return (Book 1) (22 page)

No. Whichever way he looked at it, saving Selar’s life like that had not necessarily been a bad thing. It was just a pity a few others did not see it that way.

Jenn interrupted his thoughts by getting to her feet and bringing more firewood from the pile by the door. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not convinced.’

‘About what, in particular?’

‘Well,’ she said slowly, framing her thoughts, ‘I still don’t see how we can arrive at Elita and find that my father will even believe it. You never convinced him you thought I’d been taken during the Troubles. My father believes that I am dead. Surely my sudden reappearance all this time later would only stir up bad memories for him. I’m not certain I want to do that to him. If he’s reconciled himself to my death, why should I disturb that?’

‘It’s your right.’

Jenn shook her head, not understanding.

‘Your birthright. Just as surely as Bella is his daughter, so are you. Whether you remember it or not, Elita is your home, the home of your family, your ancestors. You have a right to claim it.’

‘But it means nothing to me. At the risk of actually agreeing with anything Finnlay says, I would not miss Elita. My father knows nothing of my existence, so he wouldn’t miss me.’

Robert looked at her for a moment, wondering how much fear had to do with her reluctance. She didn’t look afraid, but he had learned by now that her face could hide almost anything she thought or felt, so he didn’t trust it. ‘Well, it’s your decision. But think about this: if you were in his place, would you want your missing child returned to you?’

*

It didn’t take long. Less than an hour into the morning, the rain began and Jenn was quickly soaked to her skin. Even with the wool cloak and dress Ayn had given her, the cold still seeped into her bones. She tried not to shiver as she rode, but it was difficult. The only warmth came from the horse beneath her as they crossed one gentle hill after another. There was no shelter, no trees, just field after field of cropped hay and ploughed turf. The rain made the countryside look worn, as though summer had sucked up all its vitality.

Jenn could have asked to stop, to try and find some shelter, but she knew that the moment she did, she would be forced to look at Robert, answer the unspoken question in his eyes. She would – but not yet. Not until she’d found some way to refuse that he would accept. So she rode on, cold and wet, in silence. Her mind drifted, going over the story he’d told her last night, then snapping away to safer topics, like the Enclave. When he spoke, she hardly heard him over the rain.

‘There’s a farm over the next rise. I think we’d better stop
for a while and dry out. I don’t think this rain’s going to last all day.’

Jenn nodded absently, cursing the gods. She said nothing though, merely following behind Micah as they rounded the hill and came down into a neat and wooded valley. The farm buildings were well looked after, but appeared almost deserted as they approached the side of a barn. Robert gestured for them to wait, dismounted and moved quickly and silently between the buildings. He came back after a moment with a grin on his face.

‘We’ll shelter in the barn. There’s no one around. Just an old man and his retainer. The rest have all gone to the market.’

Inside the barn it was warm and filled with sweet-smelling hay. Micah, ignoring his injury, immediately took possession of the horses and, with fists of straw, began to brush them down. Jenn could have helped him but he was happier on his own. She found a seat on the other side of the barn and sat down, folding her arms. Unconsciously, her gaze went to Robert who was busily exploring the building. He glanced at her once, then pulled up a wooden crate and sat down opposite her. He folded his hands and turned his most patient expression on her.

But she was ready for him. ‘Doesn’t it bother you?’

‘Eh?’ he murmured, surprised. ‘What?’

‘Coming back to Lusara knowing how the Guilde feels about you. Aren’t you bothered by the things they’re doing? Aren’t you going to bother them?’

Robert shook his head and gave her a lopsided smile. ‘No, I won’t bother them – at least, not deliberately.’

‘Then, even though you don’t … agree with them, you’re content to leave them be.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why? Why don’t you agree with them? Let’s face it, there doesn’t seem to be much you do agree with – the Enclave, the Guilde, the King – your own brother.’ Jenn smiled to take the edge off her tone. ‘You’re quite an objectionable man, aren’t you?’

Robert burst out laughing. She’d known he would and smiled in response. When he finally replied, however, it was not as she was expecting. ‘Do you know what the Guilde is, Jenn? Do you know how it came to be?’

The question threw her. She’d never really thought about it. Sober now, she shook her head. ‘No. Tell me.’

‘Well, believe it or not, the Enclave probably knows more about the birth of the Guilde than they do themselves – mainly because the first sorcerers were members of the Guilde. The Guilde is easily the oldest association in the world, outside of the Church. It was originally formed before the Dawn of Ages, when our world was created out of the ashes of the old. Back then, man knew more, had knowledge far beyond our own and, fearing the cataclysm to come, entrusted a few learned men with that wealth. When the gods battled for supremacy and split the world in two, the only thing that remained was the Guilde. Over the ensuing centuries, the Church and Guilde together rebuilt the world and all that we are now is due to their efforts. The gods blessed the Guilde with their sacred trust and it has never failed in its duty.’

Robert paused and glanced over his shoulder to make sure Micah didn’t need any help. Then he continued, but on a completely different tack. ‘Do you know what the most valuable thing in the world is, Jenn?’

She kept her eyes on him and replied, ‘Freedom.’

He smiled softly. ‘All right, the second most valuable thing. Knowledge. It has no price, no peer and can never be taken from one who has it. The Guilde holds knowledge as the most sacred trust – and holds it greedily to itself. It has command of the sciences, of engineering, of reading and writing – everything so important to our survival. But the Guildesmen share it with no one who has not taken their vow. They direct the work and use the rest of us as labourers. That way they retain their hold over us and their power. Somewhere over time, power has become the most important thing to them and, in my opinion, betrays the trust they hold so dear. They intimidate us with their knowledge and
enslave us with our ignorance. That’s why I don’t agree with them. Does that answer your question?’

She had another question. If she was lucky, she could keep him talking – and distracted – long enough for the rain to stop, and then it would be too late. Too late for him to ask if she’d made a decision about Elita.

‘How did you know the old man in the farmhouse was alone? Did you speak to him?’

There was less surprise on Robert’s face this time, but his smile was not unkind. He knew what she was doing. ‘No. I didn’t need to. It’s something most sorcerers can do occasionally. There are times when you can pick up on the thoughts of others – never a sorcerer, mind. Nothing specific, just absent thoughts when a person is tired. People used to think it was mind-reading but it’s nothing like that. I can when I want to. After a while, you learn how to listen for it.’

‘But if you …’ Jenn’s voice trailed off as she realized his attention had strayed. Robert turned his head, drawing his brows together. ‘What is it?’

He didn’t answer but stood immediately and moved across the barn to the huge door. Micah paused in his work and moved to join him. Then, over the pounding rain, she could hear it. Horses. Galloping towards the farm. She could feel the vibrations through her shoes.

Robert pulled the door open a crack and Jenn sneaked up behind him to peer through, just in time to see a band of yelling raiders roar into the farmyard. They kicked open doors and gates, sending panicked animals running. One of the men had a flaming torch which he touched to the thatched roofs as he passed. As they headed for the farmhouse, Robert moved.

‘Stay here, Micah. Look after Jenn.’ With that, he was through the door and running across the yard. With his sword already drawn, he cut down a raider from his horse, sending the animal galloping off into the rain. Chickens and geese squawked and ran out of the way as Robert reached the second raider. Sullen flames were already rising from the
damp thatched roofs, but Jenn could only stand and watch. The barn was untouched and she held on to Micah’s arm, knowing that her fingers dug into his flesh, but unable to stop.

By now some of the raiders had turned their attention to Robert. With two men down, and three in the house, there were only another three for him to deal with; they appeared fierce but incompetent swordsmen. Robert moved like lightning, spinning around in the slippery mud to parry each attack against him. His sword flashed up and a man fell, a gaping wound in his side. The second pressed Robert for a moment, but he too soon fell. The third, realizing his mistake early, turned and ran into the house. As he disappeared, Robert waved his hand towards the burning roof and instantly the flames began to die. Seconds later the last of the raiders tore out of the building and leapt on to their horses, their arms full of loot. The torch was tossed on to the roof of the house and then the raiders rode off into the rain.

Micah moved. He grabbed Jenn’s arm and together they ran through the mud to the house.

‘I told you to stay back!’ Robert was inside the building, on his knees beside the old man. The servant lay by the door, his lifeless eyes gazing into heaven.

Jenn twisted out of Micah’s grasp and knelt down beside the old man. He was still alive, but his breathing came in grating surges, his eyes shut tight against the pain. Blood seeped from an evil wound in his chest and another on his shoulder. The raiders had cut him down without a thought, just as they had his servant.

‘It’s too late,’ Robert murmured, his voice almost inaudible now. ‘He’s dying.’

‘But can’t we do anything?’ Jenn reached out and took the old man’s hand, but his grip was weak, his flesh cold.

‘Yes,’ Robert said reluctantly. ‘There is something I can do.’

She looked up in time to see him produce his
ayarn
. He gazed at it for a second, and then a warmth seemed to flow
from the stone and out across the old man’s broken body. Gradually the lines of pain eased from his face and his breathing became more even. Jenn glanced up at Robert but he shook his head.

‘I can ease his pain a little. Nothing more.’

Her gaze dropped again to the old man’s face and as she watched, he opened his eyes and looked at her. Slowly, a look of breathless awe creased his features and his hand gripped hers hard.

‘Blessed Mineah!’ he gasped in wonder. ‘You have returned to us at last!’ With that, he smiled, closed his eyes and let out his last breath. The hand lost its grip in hers and fell to the ground.

Jenn breathed as if for the first time. She hadn’t known this man, had never seen him before, but his death felt so real, so personal. He’d been murdered by those raiders. His home destroyed. His family would come back to nothing. She felt his death like a knife in her own heart, sharp and uncompromising.

In front of her, Robert rose to his feet and replaced his sword in its scabbard. When he spoke, his voice was as heavy and as cold as the rain. ‘There’s nothing we can do for them now. Let’s get going.’

Jenn heard his words. She understood. She knew they had to move before either the farmers came back, or the raiders. She appreciated the necessity, felt it in her bones, but she could also hear the stubborn denial in Robert’s voice, as though he was calling himself hypocrite with every breath – as though he hated himself for having to say it.

She got to her feet but couldn’t look at him. She knew how he felt.

Slowly now, they went back to the barn, collected the horses and resumed their journey.

*

All day it nagged at the back of her mind. As the rain stopped, as the smell of wet grass rose from the fields around her, as the grey sky rolled on overhead. That old man, his dying breath, Robert’s silence, and Micah.

She could feel his gaze on her, but she said nothing. Hour after hour she refused to say anything. And what could she say? What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to feel? She knew what Robert wanted. The attack on the farm had only concentrated their argument. She would not be safe anywhere but Elita. Damn them – damn them both!

It was the conviction more than anything else. That deep-seated tone of belief in everything they said. And it didn’t matter what they were talking about – the Guilde, Elita, even sorcery. She knew nothing, she was the innocent – and at the very same time, she was expected to make some kind of damned decision about the rest of her life!

And of course, they had no idea why she would have a problem. But why would they? Why would Robert and Micah think there was anything strange or odd about taking her back to Elita? Sure, no child taken in the Troubles had ever been seen again and the very fact that she’d been discovered was a cause of some mystery. This … this kind of thing just didn’t happen. She was the child of an innkeeper, raised to the smells of a taproom, the heat of a kitchen. Was she supposed to forget her father? Was she expected to stop loving him? And even though they’d turned her out when he’d died, she had already decided to make her own way in life and had been happy, more or less, with that decision ever since. Then suddenly—

Suddenly, it turns out she is the daughter of an Earl! Suddenly, she has a place in life, a home to go back to, roots she can trace back generations, and at least as far as a kinship with the royal line. Suddenly she has a sister and probably cousins and neighbours as well.

Suddenly she is a completely different person.

Now this sorcery business was hard enough to deal with, and she had real, physical evidence of that. But this? A faceless parent she’d never met – at least not to remember. A sister who would probably not welcome her return. A household who would watch every move she made, waiting for her to slip up, to prove to be an impostor. What if Robert was wrong? What if they really didn’t want her at all?