Exile's Return (Book 1) (45 page)

Valena was waiting for him, expecting him to come to her rooms. She would want to know what had happened, but just at this moment, he had lost all appetite for her cloying affections. He needed to do some serious thinking. He’d come a long way over the last year, so far that he’d attained the kind of close friendship with Selar that he required. But it was not close enough yet, or he would have been able to stop Jenn from leaving.

Casually, like the touch of the breeze, he sent his senses out into the night. Now that he had met her, he should be able to find her, Seek her wherever she was. But he felt nothing, just like this afternoon.

Oh, she’d handled Vaughn so skilfully. Nash had made a simple attempt to reach out and touch her shielding, but he’d failed completely. All he could See of her was her absence. Yes, she was powerful indeed, just as he’d always been told.

He picked up the ancient manuscript left forgotten on the window seat and stared at the tight scrawl and crushed italics. The language was old Saelic, unknown in modern
times. There were not a dozen scholars within the Guilde who could have read this scrap – and even fewer who would understand a single word of its meaning. But Nash could.

Let her live not nor be not alone. For she will be the guiding light against the Angel of Darkness. She is the light of hope and that which will break us. We strive for her life even as she for our destruction. She is the last of her line. All ends and begins with her. Cherish and rejoice in her and be joined together with her for all eternity.

Nash gazed out the window once more as a pale breath of cloud drifted across the moon. He let the paper fall to the ground and the cool breeze touch his face once more.

Jennifer Ross. The Ally. He must either take her – or destroy her.

So be it.

Finnlay swung his legs out over the corner of the staircase and settled on to the cold stone step. With his back against the pillar he folded his arms and continued watching the scene in the stableyard below. Robert and Deverin were practising with sword and dagger – at least, Deverin was practising. It was anybody’s guess what Robert was doing. Finnlay’s brother had always been something of a natural with the sword. As a young man he’d had some fine teachers but, one by one, Robert had surpassed them all and had then made a point of passing what he knew on to Finnlay. However, there were a few moves Robert was now making on Deverin that Finnlay had never seen before. Even more unsettling was the single-minded method Robert had employed against his opponent the moment they’d taken up the weapons.

Rather than stretch and warm up a little with the usual easy parries, today Robert had launched an all-out attack, sending Deverin skittering across the cobblestones and up against the feedshed wall. Robert had taken a step back to allow Deverin more room to move, then immediately reopened the assault. Deverin was obviously trying his best, but as steel rang out against steel it was already very clear who the victor would be.

Finnlay heard a soft footfall on the doorstep behind him.

‘Good morning, Micah,’ he murmured, not taking his eyes from the action.

Micah plumped himself down beside Finnlay. ‘He’s no better, then?’

‘No.’

‘I’d hoped that with your lady mother’s return to Dunlorn
he would begin to come out of it. It seems I was overly hopeful.’

‘We all were, Micah. Any other suggestions?’

Micah only shook his head. Then he said, ‘What do you think he’ll do now?’

‘You mean about claiming his inheritance? Nothing. By now I’m sure Selar will have confiscated all of Oliver’s lands. The only thing left is the title, which even the King can’t take. But if you asked him, I’m sure Robert would say he’d rather have his uncle back than be addressed as the Duke of Haddon.’

‘He can’t decline it, can he?’ Micah said.

‘Nor would he, if only out of respect for Oliver. No, in that matter at least, he has no say.’

‘Like everything else, you mean.’

Finnlay glanced aside at him. ‘You’re worried about him. Me too. I’ve never seen him like this, not even after father died, or Berenice. He’s closed in completely, hardly says a word to anyone, and when he does it’s obviously forced. Hell, I just don’t know what to do.’

There was another sound behind them and Finnlay turned to see a familiar friendly face beaming down on him. ‘Why, Daniel! Whatever are you doing here?’

‘Just passing. Thought I’d drop in and pay my respects.’ With a rustle of garments, Daniel squatted down on the other side of Finnlay, balancing himself with a hand against the pillar. He was silent a moment, watching the swordplay, then he grimaced as Robert pushed Deverin back from a clinch. ‘Robert’s fighting like a demon. What’s got into him?’

Finnlay couldn’t find an answer and just shrugged. Daniel continued, ‘Your letter said he was depressed, but this? This isn’t depression, Finn, this is fury. He looks every inch a man who is preparing for war.’

Finnlay turned his head slowly and gazed at his brother’s old friend. ‘Is that your considered opinion?’

‘Most certainly it is. Look at him. He’s anticipating every move his opponent makes and is there before. He makes no outward attempt to end the match, but gives Deverin every
opportunity to find a break. Robert’s testing himself, making sure there are no flaws in either his offence or defence. Yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing.’ Daniel glanced across at Finnlay, then Micah. ‘What’s wrong? What did I say?’

Finnlay looked at him. ‘Nothing, Daniel, nothing. Have you any suggestions as to how to break him out of it? You’ve known him a long time.’

‘And you’re his brother, Finnlay. Have you tried talking to him? Trying to get him to talk? You can’t work out how to fix it if you don’t know what the problem is.’

‘Isn’t it obvious what the problem is? He’s been like this ever since word reached us about Oliver. Robert came back here, shouted some orders about the nightly patrols, then shut himself in his study for two days. Not even Micah could get in. It takes no prizes to guess what he’s thinking.’

‘Oh?’ Daniel twisted around, ‘and what would that be?’

Finnlay almost smiled. There was such a rich choice – from Oliver to McCauly. Not to mention the revelation about Berenice. That bothered him more than anything.

But Finnlay said nothing of this and instead replied, ‘Come on, you know what Robert is like about blaming himself. He saw Oliver days after he arrived back in Lusara. Robert’s bound to be thinking that if he’d just done something at the time, then Oliver would be alive today.’

‘Possibly. Then again, you don’t know for certain. I mean, I think there’s more to this mood than pure self-recrimination. This goes way down deep. Like I said, you really have to talk to him.’

With a sigh, Finnlay climbed to his feet. The others also stood. ‘Talking to my big brother about anything serious has always been difficult,’ Finnlay said. ‘Right now it’s impossible. He won’t talk to me, Micah or even mother. If you don’t believe me, try for yourself. Go ahead, try. Maybe you can get some sense out of him.’

Finnlay gestured towards Robert who, with fine beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, had finally stopped the match and was even now handing his sword to a waiting boy and towelling his face dry. Daniel smoothed down his
jerkin and trotted down the steps to the stableyard. He waited until Robert had finished with the towel, then took a couple of steps forward. Finnlay remained above with Micah, watching everything.

Robert glanced at Daniel, then looked quickly away.

‘How are you, Robert?’ Daniel asked tentatively.

‘Fine,’ Robert grunted, ‘you?’

‘Fine, fine.’ Daniel hesitated and glanced up at Finnlay. Turning back to Robert, he dropped his voice a little. ‘I was truly sorry to hear about your uncle. He was a good and brave man.’

‘Thank you.’ Robert nodded and began walking away, but Daniel took a few steps after him.

‘Robert?’

Pausing in his stride, Robert turned slowly, seemingly unaware of Finnlay and Micah on the steps above.

‘Robert, do you want to talk?’

For a split second, Robert’s eyes flashed brilliant green, but all he said was, ‘No.’ Moments later he had disappeared around the corner of the feedshed, leaving Daniel standing alone in the stableyard.

Finnlay and Micah came down the steps to join him.

‘I warned you,’ Finnlay said without triumph.

‘Do you really think he would?’ Daniel asked in a voice full of awe. ‘Do you think he would actually go to war against Selar?’

‘You were the one suggesting it, Daniel, not me.’

Daniel turned and faced Finnlay square-on. In his eyes was something very much akin to fear. ‘Yes, but you know him better than I do. Do you think he would?’

Finnlay didn’t reply immediately, but turned a steady gaze on Micah. Slowly, the younger man shook his head, a silent message in his eyes. Almost imperceptibly, Finnlay nodded, then gave Daniel a half-smile of comfort the way he had seen his brother do on many tense occasions. ‘Sure he would! That’s why I was so pleased to see you, Daniel – you can be a great help. Come, let me tell you how.’

Placing his arm around the laughing Daniel, Finnlay took him indoors.

*

Margaret touched the wick of one candle to that of another and as the flickering flame grew strong, she placed it carefully on the tray before the altar. As an afterthought, she picked up a third candle, mouthed a silent prayer and stood it beside the others. Then with a final glance at the trium above, she knelt on the chapel floor and bowed her head. Despite the memories it engendered, it was comforting to once again kneel before the altar of Dunlorn’s tiny chapel. If only she were here for another reason.

A scrape of leather on stone behind her made her lift her head. She turned slowly, but she already knew who it was.

‘Robert?’

He was in darkness, standing the shadows. He didn’t reply.

‘Please, Robert. Come closer. You mustn’t allow this to beat you.’

He turned to go.

‘Robert, I beg you. I’ve lost both husband and brother to that man. Do you think I don’t know how you feel?’ She stood, but did not walk towards him.

He paused. She waited. Finally he spoke, his dead voice barely echoing through the stone chamber.

‘I’m glad you’ve come home, mother.’

She blinked and he was gone.

*

Finnlay read as he climbed the stairs to Robert’s study. The manuscript was one his brother had brought back, but Finnlay had found it only that morning, lying among the forgotten papers on Robert’s table. The script was difficult to decipher and contained sentences made up of both letters and numbers, which he couldn’t begin to understand. Nevertheless, he couldn’t put it down and tried instead to find where it fitted into the growing bank of information on sorcery they had collected. At this rate Finnlay would have to schedule a visit to the Enclave to try and match up this
new material with what was held in the library there. Somehow, something here must have a bearing on where the Calyx lay hidden. Although he’d said little about it, finding the Calyx was still in the forefront of his thoughts, and these days it was good to have something to distract him. Perhaps finding the Calyx could even help Robert. After all, if it could free the Enclave, then surely it could also free him?

Without looking up, he entered the study and made his way directly to the table where Robert kept his notes. He placed the manuscript on a clear space to one side, then cast around for the other related stuff, but as he looked up he realized he was not alone as he had supposed. Robert sat in the window embrasure opposite him, gazing out, unaware, it seemed, of Finnlay’s presence.

With a frown, Finnlay tried to measure this countenance with the fury Daniel saw, but it was impossible. Robert was neither angry nor sad. He was … nothing. His face was a blank, and Finnlay was tempted for a moment to shout at Robert just to get a response. However, he opted for a different tack and sent his senses out to try and register Robert’s presence. But even there he failed. Either Robert was shielding himself, or Finnlay’s meagre powers were fading. He knew which was more likely.

He turned back to his notes. He was about to pick up a heavy, leather-bound book from Semsay when Robert spoke – the first time without prompting since Oliver had died.

‘I was about to commend you on your restraint. It seems I was hasty.’

‘Pardon?’

‘No shouting, no pleading, no tantrums. I’m impressed.’ Robert’s voice was a monotone, his face barely moving.

Finnlay didn’t know how to respond to this, but he knew he must. ‘Thank you.’

‘But you couldn’t stay away from my books, could you?’ Robert turned his head slowly and looked at Finnlay with empty eyes.

‘No. Why should I? I don’t understand what’s wrong with
you, Robert, but I refuse to go down with you. I for one intend to keep working.’

‘Life goes on?’ There was not even the hint of a smile in Robert’s sardonic tone. ‘Fine. Go ahead. Don’t let me stop you.’

Finnlay pulled in his bottom lip, then without another word picked up the papers he needed and headed for the door. However, before he could leave, Robert flung a final message after him, his voice low with an almost feral warning.

‘And if you go writing letters about me to my friends – or enemies – again, I’ll make you very sorry.’

Finnlay fled, running down the stairs till he got to the bottom. For a moment he stood there, gulping in air. How long was this to go on? What did he have to do? And he did have to do something. Robert was his brother. No matter their past differences, Finnlay just could not leave Robert to drown alone. The consequences were too awful to contemplate.

*

Micah paused outside the door to his master’s study, a tray balanced on one hand. Had a warning been placed on the door or was it safe to enter? Having no powers of his own, Micah could only guess. He cursed inwardly that the gods had placed him in the service of such a man as Dunlorn, without giving him the power to help him when he most needed it. And he could do nothing but wait for Robert to emerge from this on his own. Until then, Micah would not give up. He would serve Robert, regardless of whether Robert thought he wanted serving or not.