Impossible Things (18 page)

The water was deep and shockingly cold, even in summer, and Kael gasped as he came back up to the surface. He dimly heard Ishtaer say, ‘What happened? Is he all right?’ before he struck out to the shore.

About ten seconds later he heard a splash, and Ishtaer shouted, ‘Brutus, no!’, and he turned to see the creature doggy-paddling towards him, tongue lolling out.

Kael started laughing, and when the animal came near he ruffled its ears. ‘Well, wolfie, you certainly behave like a dog,’ he said, and swam on, towards the shallower water. Durran raced back to the beach and towards the water before anyone could stop him, followed by his brother, and the two of them splashed out towards him. He wasn’t concerned. They could swim. Everyone in Krulland could swim.

The water was knee-deep on Kael by the time he reached them, hugging them close and breathing them in. Their voices tripped over each other, babbling about boats and ponies and pirates and a whole incoherent bunch of stuff he’d get Mags to explain later. For now, he just held on to them, his boys, and silently promised he wouldn’t leave them for so long next time.

‘Look, a dog!’

‘You brought us a dog!’

Brutus pounded onto the pebbly shore and shook himself vigorously.

‘No, not quite. He belongs to a friend of mine. But I’m sure she’ll let you pet him, if you’re very careful.’ Brutus seemed so far to be a friendly soul, but if he hurt either of the boys Kael would make a fur coat out of him.

They ran off to play with Brutus, their father forgotten, and he waded ashore, where Mags stood, hands on hips, shaking her head at him.

‘You really are the most ridiculous man.’

He grinned at her. ‘I’m glad to see you too.’

She rolled her eyes, kissed his cheek and flicked a gesture at Brutus.

‘Why are my boys playing fetch with a wolf?’

‘He’s not a wolf, why would I bring a wolf home?’

‘I know wolves when I see ’em, Kael.’

‘He’s just a dog who looks like a wolf,’ he said. ‘The boys like him.’

‘Hmm. Who’s this friend he belongs to? What sort of reprobates are you bringing home now?’

‘Our new Healer,’ Kael said, watching Brutus trip up a man carrying a bunch of fishing nets. The boys fell about laughing.

‘Ah yes,’ Mags said, her voice quieter. She put her hand on his arm. ‘We got your letter. I’m sorry, Kael. He was a good man, a good Healer.’

‘A damned good Healer,’ Kael said, proud of his voice for not shaking.

‘What happened to him?’ Mags asked, but Kael could only shake his head.

The splash of oars created a welcome distraction, and he turned to see Ishtaer and Eirenn in one of the boats coming ashore. Since he was already sodden, he waded out to pull them up onto the beach, and as everyone else leapt out, he leaned in and took Ishtaer’s arm.

‘It’s dry,’ he said, ‘just step out, I’ve got you.’

She did, and he marvelled once more at the way she seemed able to move with such grace and ease when she could see nothing. Beneath his hand, however, her arm was tense as an iron rod. When a seagull screamed loudly overhead, her hand went to her hip where her sword was carried.

‘It’s just a gull. You’ll have to get used to them, I’m afraid.’

He led her over to Mags, who was watching Brutus and the boys zip about the beach after the sticks Eirenn threw. The boy might not be much cop at running, but he could throw like nobody’s business.

‘Mags,’ he said as Brutus and Eirenn bounded up, ‘this is Ishtaer Lakaresdottir Vapendam, our new Healer. And this is her dog. And this is Brutus.’

‘
Thanks
,’ said Eirenn.

Kael grinned. ‘Eirenn – what did your father do?’

‘Uh, he was a shepherd,’ Eirenn said, clearly confused.

‘Eirenn Herdesson Krigare, then,’ Kael introduced him.

Both Eirenn and Ishtaer looked confused as Mags held out her hand and said, ‘Margit Herdesdottir. My father was a shepherd too.’

Eirenn shook her hand, and after Kael held out Ishtaer’s hand, she did the same, which garnered a few curious looks from the others on the beach. Kael ignored them and began to lead Ishtaer towards the platt, the stone-built embankment above tide level where the contents of the boats were being unloaded. He was pretty aware of plenty of people staring, but whether this was at the Seer’s mark on Ishtaer’s face, or the fact that he’d had to put her hand in Mags’s in order for her to shake it, he wasn’t sure. Maybe they were staring because she was wearing breeches and a jerkin. Or because she looked pretty good in the breeches and jerkin.

Or maybe it was because he still had hold of her arm, in the sort of hold one would usually use on a lover.

He wondered if Ishtaer was aware of any of this.

He introduced her to Durran and Garik, who startled her by throwing their arms around her. And then Ishtaer startled him by kneeling down and hugging them back. For all that she’d told him she never wanted children, there was a shade of longing on her face as she held his sons.

‘Ishtaer is going to be our Healer. I want you to treat her with respect, and help her if she asks you to. And even if she doesn’t. Ishtaer can’t see, so she might find things a bit difficult to begin with. So no racing around without looking where you’re going, all right?’

They peered at Ishtaer’s eyes, and she let them.

He walked her up the steep, meandering cliff path, counting off steps and warning her of uneven ground. Brutus padded along beside her, Eirenn just behind, while ahead the boys ran, pinging around with endless energy. Every small terrace and courtyard they passed was full of people and animals, donkeys and mules carrying goods up to the main house, dogs chasing each other around, cats leaping after seagulls, people passing sacks and baskets of goods along.

Nearly everyone they passed nodded or called out to Kael. Most of them peered curiously at Ishtaer, but not a single person stared in a way he’d have found offensive. And Kael was suddenly aware that he would have been offended. That he was proud to walk alongside this strange woman with her odd abilities and her scars and marks and her wolf.

‘I’m really glad you’re here,’ he said, and her smile was puzzled, but genuine.

‘This place is mental,’ Eirenn said, poking at something that rattled. ‘I got so lost on the way here, I’m going to have to start tying bits of string to doorknobs so I’ve got something to follow.’

‘Great, something else to trip over,’ said Ishtaer, opening a jar of something that smelled like it could strip paint. ‘Here, what does this label say?’

‘Fire ointment.’ Eirenn peered closer. ‘He’s written that it removes foreign bodies, and there’s a list. Dirt, cloth, insects – ugh.’

‘He?’

‘Sir Karnos, I guess. This was all his. Well – but some of the handwriting is different. I suppose he must have inherited the place from someone.’

Ishtaer replaced the jar and made a mental note of it. Karnos’s workshop was huge, filled with shelves and drawers and racks. She’d found fresh herbs, dried herbs, macerated and distilled herbs, potion after potion and every type of dressing. There was a mattress and a couple of chairs for patients, and a small cubbyhole with a further bed for anyone she needed to keep an eye on. Next to that was a larger bedroom which contained every convenience of her room at the Academy, and then some.

‘Fire ointment, fire ointment … blimey, would you look at this list?’

‘List?’

‘He has a recipe book here, sort of. Notes on what works and what doesn’t. This has got all sorts of stuff in it I’ve never even heard of. He says for a severe infection, you can set it alight. Alight!’

Ishtaer considered the smell of the fire ointment. It seemed to be a common attribute of Healers to have an instinct for herbal remedies and to know what a potion or ointment might contain. She sorted the ingredients of the fire ointment in her head and said, ‘Yes. It would burn very quickly like a … like a firework, I suppose. Enough to kill an infection. But it would do some damage. Not to be used often, I expect.’

‘Yes, that’s what he notes.’ Eirenn peered at the label again. ‘Kills infections. From the smell of it I’d say it’d kill most things.’

Ishtaer unscrewed the jar again and dabbed some onto her finger. It tingled with heat. ‘Yes, but I think it will work.’

‘Sure, but you can try it out on someone else.’

Bit by bit, the realisation kept stealing up on Ishtaer that this was her domain now. She wasn’t a student any more, she wasn’t working under Madam Julia, she was responsible for everyone at Skjultfjell. No one could tell her what to do, which was both liberating and terrifying.

‘Ish?’

‘Hmm?’ She carefully slotted the jar back into place.

‘Do you think it’s weird? I mean, Lord Krull, here?’

‘What do you mean? You didn’t actually expect him to live in a castle of bones, did you?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Eirenn, in a tone that said he did. ‘It’s just … well, this place is kind of like … like generations have lived here, and everyone’s someone’s cousin, and they all just muck in, and …’

‘… it’s not how you expected a warlord would live?’ came a voice from the doorway, which made Eirenn jump and Ishtaer smile. She’d heard Kael’s footsteps and smelled his soap, the same sage scent he usually smelled of, but stronger now, as if he’d just bathed, and his clothes had been washed in the same stuff.

‘Look, basically I’m just a feudal lord, and I spend most of my time here sorting out little disputes and making sure everyone’s got enough food for winter. The warlord stuff is just …’

‘A show?’ Ishtaer said, remembering what he’d said to her all that time ago.

‘Yes, exactly that. I work hard and I love my kids, just like everyone else. Of course, I am still in charge, just in case you were wondering if we run this place as a democracy.’

‘They seemed to be trying democracy in Palavio,’ Eirenn said. ‘I wasn’t a fan.’

‘They were trying anarchy in Palavio,’ Kael said. ‘That’s by the by.’ She heard his boots creak as he shifted his weight. His foot still pained him, not that he’d ever let it slip. But every time he touched her she felt the ache, the occasional sharp pain, shooting through him.

He led them through the maze of corridors and rooms and what Ishtaer thought might actually be tunnels, until they reached the doors to the longhouse. The noise of dozens of people and the scent of food got stronger, roasted meats and vegetables and wine, making her stomach rumble.

Kael laughed. ‘I’ll warn you not to expect a feast like this every day,’ he said. ‘This is special because we’ve come home, and also to welcome you. But I meant what I said back at the Academy. You won’t starve here.’

‘Glad to hear it, if what the lads on the ship said about the winter is true,’ Eirenn said.

‘Well, it is and it isn’t. Winter gets pretty swiving harsh here, I won’t lie about it. Mags will probably already have started preparing for it. In the Dark – the deepest part of winter – often no one goes outside. The villagers winter up here with us. It’s one of the reason the castle is so big. We bring the livestock into the barn or they’d just freeze to death. The boats come up onto the platt, else the storms would turn them to matchsticks. Even the
Grey Ghost
goes into hibernation. We take the masts off and winter her in a cave above the shoreline. But when they come to tell you about the Huntsmen and the—Whoa! Boys! Remember what I said about Ishtaer not being able to see where you were?’

But Ishtaer had heard Durran and Garik come thundering around the corner. All right, so she couldn’t tell them apart from other children the same size and age, not yet, but she’d known enough to step back.

‘Sorry, my lady,’ Durran said, and his brother echoed him a second later.

‘Just Ishtaer,’ she said, ‘not lady. And it’s all right. No harm done.’

‘Can we play with Brutus?’

‘No,’ Kael said before she could respond. ‘You can go and wash your hands and help your mother bring in dinner. Go on, go.’

They made disappointed noises but sped off, and Kael took Ishtaer’s arm once more, leading her through a doorway and into the longhouse. The noise was huge, but not as bad as the feasts at the Imperial Tower. There was no fancy music, just people talking and laughing. Occasionally, the cry of a baby rose above the rest of it. Under the scent of food she smelled old woodsmoke and decades of spilled beer. Her fingers trailed over a wall of stone and wood, her boots stepping on flagstones that had worn into dents through sheer use.

‘This place is old,’ she murmured.

‘We have no idea how old. My ancestors weren’t great record keepers, and quite a lot of what they did write down is in runes. Which reminds me, Karnos was a meticulous record keeper, but I can’t say I ever understood his system. If you want me to read some stuff to you, just ask, all right?’

‘All right,’ Ishtaer said slowly.

‘And I’ll make notes for you too, if you want. We reckon this is the oldest part of the place,’ he continued, as if he hadn’t just offered to be her secretary. ‘Bit by bit other outbuildings and walkways got added, then turned into rooms and corridors, until you have this absolute warren. Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it eventually.’

‘From the sea, you’d never know this was all here,’ Eirenn marvelled.

‘No, and that’s sort of the point. The whole place is roofed with turf, and there are whole rooms carved right out of the rock. They’re actually great for keeping food stored.’

He led Ishtaer onto a small dais and to a high-backed chair. For a moment he paused, then said softly to her, ‘This was Karnos’s chair. He was hugely well respected here, even if everyone thought he was a miserable old bugger. They’ll miss him a lot. Try … try not to replace him, if you know what I mean.’

‘I’m not sure I do.’

‘Just be yourself. Don’t compare yourself to him.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘This chair is yours now. The carving is unique, see? You’ll sit here for all meals. We take most of them together.’

Ishtaer nodded and sat, Brutus flopping to the ground beside her with a sigh.

And the huge room went … quiet.

There were still some children squabbling, some chairs scraping, a baby crying, but everyone else seemed to have watched her take Karnos’s place, and they were waiting for something.

Beside her, Kael’s seat scraped loudly and heavily.

‘Right,’ he said loudly. ‘We’re back, mostly safe and mostly sound. But there’s one face missing, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Karnos hasn’t turned into an attractive young woman on our trip. If that were the case I’d have done the same to all my men.’

A few people laughed, but they all seemed to know what was coming.

‘I know you received my letter about Karnos. I know you’ll all miss him. He was a good man, a good Healer, and a good friend. No one will miss him more than me. No one will regret his death more than me. So I ask you to raise a drink to Sir Karnos Atrius Medicus Saraneus, or as he was privileged to be known in Krulland, Karnos Simmareson Lakare. Or as many of us knew him, That Miserable Old Bugger.’

A chorus of voices called out what Ishtaer thought was some combination of all those things. Verak’s voice, she noticed, was one of the ones calling him a Miserable Old Bugger, but she clearly heard the tears in it.

‘We will miss him,’ Kael said. ‘And we can never replace him. But we are in need of a Healer, which is why I have brought this young lady home with me.’ His hand rested on Ishtaer’s shoulder. ‘She is Chosen, and has practiced medicine for many years, even before she attended the Academy. This may be why she graduated in what might be record time. Eirenn, did you check?’

‘Third fastest,’ Eirenn said from her other side.

‘Not bad at all. She’s also a Seer who can predict some remarkable things, and a Warrior in training. The Empire has given her some bloody stupid long name, but here in Krulland I think we should call her Ishtaer Lakaresdottir Vapendam. Welcome her.’

People yelled out variations of this name.

‘Oh, and this is Eirenn. Right. That done, I’m bloody famished, so let’s eat.’

This got a bigger cheer than anything he’d said so far.

‘At least he didn’t call you a dog this time,’ Ishtaer said.

‘I feel he’s warming to me.’

Chairs scraped, conversation resumed, and Mags asked Ishtaer if she’d like some soup. While she ate, Ishtaer tried to work out who was sitting around her, but aside from Eirenn on one side and Kael on the other, she was lost. Mags and the boys sat opposite, with Verak close by, and several more children who all called him Papa. Various strange voices mingled around her, over and under the hubbub.

‘You okay?’ Kael asked, nudging her. ‘You’re quiet.’

‘What was the name you gave me? Ishtaer Laka—Larak—’

‘Lakaresdottir Vapendam. We have a much simpler naming structure here than in the Empire, which, let’s face it, wouldn’t be difficult. Verak took up a Krullish name when he married Klara, a local woman, and Karnos used one, too. Your second name is your father’s name or profession, with son or daughter on the end. Changes every generation. Lakare is the Krullish word for doctor.’

Her brain whirred. Kael’s second name in either language was Vapensigsson; her new name was Vapendam. ‘What does Vapen mean?’

‘Weapon. My father was known as Vapensig – Man of Weapons, literally – so I’m Vapensigsson. You’re Lady of Weapons, Vapendam. It’s a sort of honorific, like the victory titles the Empire gives.’

‘Do you have one?’

‘Kriglord. Means warlord. We’re pretty literal around here.’

Ishtaer absorbed that, and finished her soup as Eirenn chatted to Mags about the differences in shepherding up here in the cold compared to out west in the wet. A large plate of beef was plonked in front of her without ceremony.

‘Do I have to learn Krullish?’ she asked.

‘If you want to. Most people here speak Common. They’ll respect you enough to speak it to you.’

Will they?

Kael touched her arm. His hand was warm, the touch reassuring. ‘You’ll be fine.’

He had faith in her. It was baffling. And even worse, she kind of liked him touching her, which was confusing beyond belief. She ate a bit of beef to cover her embarrassment. ‘I’ll never figure out who everyone is.’

‘There’s a few hundred here, so I’d try and do it gradually if I were you. Up here on the top table we’ve me, Mags and the boys, and Verak, Klara and their kids. He has dozens of them, so they take up quite a bit of room.’

‘I have seven,’ Verak said, ‘or have you forgotten how to count that high?’

‘Ursula, Ture, Solvig, Lise, Alva, Goran and Hedda,’ Kael reeled off. ‘You think I’d forget? Or more to the point, that Klara would let me?’ The rest of the table laughed. ‘People tend mostly to sit where they want. I can’t be bothered with all this formality. But some things you have to observe, and that means getting the people in charge up here and visible. That means me, and Verak, and Mags, and you.’

‘And Eirenn?’

‘Well, it seemed cruel to make him sit with the kids,’ Kael said, a smile in his voice.

‘You do know I’m not deaf?’ Eirenn said.

‘So long as you’re not stupid either. Come on, eat up, busy day tomorrow.’

Kael wasn’t kidding about it being a busy day. He had no interest in letting his men get fat and lazy, so he had them training immediately after breakfast, as usual. For five minutes Ishtaer and Eirenn stood to one side, both of them looking slightly shell-shocked.

‘This ain’t the Academy,’ he told them.

A few yards away, Verak hefted his war axe and charged at Kennet Helgeson, whose shield blocked him with a mighty clang. The axe was made of wood, but it could still do a hell of a lot of damage.

‘We use wooden swords here mostly, but every now and then we break out the real stuff. And – Ishtaer, you still have that pouch of crystals?’

She nodded, touching it beneath her shirt.

‘Eirenn, what do you do for crystals?’

The boy raised his right wrist, which bore a metal cuff studded with coloured crystals. It had a second-hand, battered look about it. Scholarship boy, Kael remembered. Most Chosen wore more than one piece of crystal jewellery, and those who’d been born to Chosen parents proudly displayed the necklaces given to them at birth.

Except Ishtaer. Hers was—lost.

‘Right. You get your strength from them, we all know. And no one can take them from you, that we also know. But every now and then I’d like you to consider taking them off and fighting like a regular soldier. Build up your strength. Don’t rely on them completely.’