Impossible Things (23 page)

Two men had the most banal dispute he’d seen in years, arguing pedantically for hours over a patch of land Kael was sorely tempted to claim for himself, until he learned it was too small to graze a horse on.

‘I declare it common land for your community. They’re to have full access over both your properties. Now go away. You’re both ridiculous.’

One woman was brought forward in chains, thin and dirty, her face bruised and crusted with blood. The magistrate accompanying her told Kael she faced execution for murder but protested her innocence so strenuously that he thought it best to seek his lordship’s judgement.

Beside him, Ishtaer tensed.

‘Who did she kill?’

‘Her husband. Stabbed him.’

‘Do you deny the accusation?’

‘Oh no,’ the woman said. ‘I stabbed him. After he beat me, drugged me, locked me in the cellar and forced himself on me.’

Kael glanced at Ishtaer, who had gone very still.

‘Drugged you?’ he asked.

‘The …’ the woman looked uncomfortable. ‘The drug that makes you … it makes you want …’

Realisation dawned. ‘An aphrodisiac? He gave you Venerin?’

She nodded, looking miserable. ‘He said I was frigid. I just didn’t want him.’

Kael was glad she’d stabbed the bastard.

‘A husband cannot force himself on his wife,’ the magistrate said patronisingly.

‘You’re an idiot,’ Kael said, and the man stared in astonishment. ‘Rape is rape whether it’s by someone you’re married to or a complete stranger. And the last time I checked, false imprisonment and bodily harm weren’t legal in Krulland either. Venerin certainly isn’t.’

‘But the law says a husband may discipline his wife,’ the man protested.

‘What? No, it doesn’t, we repealed that. Didn’t we?’ Kael stared at the Utgangen mayor and magistrate. ‘Go and find wherever it’s written down and scratch it out. And then take this magistrate and lock him in his own cells for a week so he can learn the value of compassion.’

The clerk and the guards looked surprised, but they did as he said. Kael scrubbed his hand over his face. He was queasily aware that he’d never given much thought to the idea that the law could be used against people.

Not all weapons are swords, you idiot.

Beside him, Ishtaer stirred. Her hand moved to Brutus’s collar, and every eye in the place watched it. Brutus stared back at them, looking more wolflike than ever.

‘Do you have somewhere to go?’ she asked the woman whose chains were being struck off.

‘My sister. She offered to take me in before when—when he started—’

‘How far away is she?’

‘Two days’ travel.’

‘You came here in the magistrate’s sled? Did he bring guards? Good. Stay here at the posting inn tonight and rest. Take a knife with you when you travel back. If your guards attack you, use it. Are you hurt?’

The woman gaped at her. ‘She is,’ Kael said quietly.

‘Then come with me.’ Ishtaer rose to her feet and held out her hand.

The woman followed her without question.

Everyone in the town hall stared after them, including Kael.

‘Ishtaer Lakaresdottir Vapendam,’ he said into the silence. ‘Rather magnificent, isn’t she?’

Ishtaer busied herself taking care of Aune, the woman who had stabbed her husband, taking her to the inn and requesting a bath to be brought up. She healed the worst of Aune’s wounds, found clean clothes while the woman bathed, and then ordered food.

‘You’re being far too kind, my lady,’ Aune said.

‘No, I’m not. I’m doing what any decent person would do,’ Ishtaer said, and then she sat back in her chair and felt her mouth drop open.

‘My lady?’

A year ago, I was you
. But worse. Or did it all become the same below a certain level?

The thought knocked her off balance. A year, was that all it had been? Since someone had to bathe her and heal her and dress her. She’d just swept out of a feudal court and given orders which were fully carried out.

The world was turning in a very different direction for her these days.

Supper that evening was less constrained than it had been the night before, but Ishtaer felt that it was only Aune’s presence that kept it from being so taut. She could feel the tension between Kael and herself every time he spoke, or accidentally touched her, and she hated it.

I want you.
Why did that disconcert her so much? She knew he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Why did it make the blindest bit of difference?

Halfway through their return journey snow started falling. By the time they were an hour from home, it had turned into a blizzard.

‘We could stop and tent up,’ Kael said to Ishtaer, who was bundled up with so many scarves and fur coats she looked like a rather adorable mole, ‘or push on through. Risk is if we stop, the snow could build up around us, and we’d never get out.’

‘Whatever you think is best,’ she said, which annoyed Kael. Where was the woman who’d rested her head on his shoulder and bickered with him?

‘Your opinion, Ishtaer. I want to hear it.’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t want to get caught in a snowdrift, and if we stop it’ll probably kill the horses. But you know this terrain much better than I do. If you can’t see where you’re going, I might as well be driving.’

She had him there. ‘We’ll go on,’ he said, ‘but slowly. Hopefully it’ll clear.’

It didn’t, of course, and the hour it should have taken them stretched into three. By the time he finally saw the lights of Skjultfjell through the thick, solid snow, Kael felt like he was made of ice and he’d never be warm again.

He glanced at Ishtaer. She hadn’t complained once about the cold.

He steered into the courtyard, which was deserted. ‘If you hold the horses, I’ll go and find someone to help us unload,’ he said, and she nodded and climbed down stiffly, feeling her way along the thickly furred flank of a stocky pony until she reached the head of the shaft horse. Brutus slunk along beside her, looking miserable, and the horses were too tired to even react to his presence.

Kael made his way in through the nearest door, stamped the snow from his boots and tried to adjust to the gloom. Up here was mostly storage and summer stabling, deserted this time of year, but with access to better-used parts of the castle that didn’t involve going back outside.

He climbed down a ladder, wove past tightly bound hay bales and made his way through the dark and dusty parts of the castle to the longhouse. Dinner was clearly over, but the place was still full of people talking, laughing, finishing drinks and generally being bright and warm and alive. He stood in the doorway for a moment, enjoying the warmth before guiltily recalling Ishtaer standing alone in the snow, and bellowed for attention.

By the time he’d organised a dozen or so men to assist with unloading the troika’s goods and stabling the horses, Ishtaer had been alone for maybe a quarter hour. The courtyard was sheltered, but the blizzard raged on. He poured a cup of hot wine for her and led the men back up to the top courtyard.

And heard the shouting before he even got to the door.

‘… my horses or my dog! This is not your domain!’

The hot wine spilled on his boots as he dropped it and ran.

‘You can have no one here! Go! Be gone!’

Kael shoved open the door and burst into the courtyard, a dozen men bearing torches behind him. They spilled into the dark yard, gasping at the cold, light spreading and guttering in the fierce snow.

Ishtaer stood with her sword in her hand, ready in a fighting crouch, Brutus snarling beside her and the horses squealing with terror.

There was no one else there.

‘Where did they go?’ Kael demanded, rushing over to her as his men spread out into the yard. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Kael? There were more than a dozen, maybe two, big horses, dogs, armour and blood and—’ She collected herself. ‘You must have frightened them away.’

‘Two dozen men?’ He glanced around wildly. The courtyard held nothing but the troika, his men and snow. ‘They can’t just vanish! Who has the sharpest eyes? Can you see through the snow?’

Ishtaer glared around the courtyard, as if straining to see her attackers.

‘Did they speak to you? What did they want?’ How had they got here? Where had they gone? ‘Maybe they followed us.’

‘We would have heard! They were blowing horns, and the horses were huge, they made such a noise on the ground, and the hounds were baying, and—’ she faltered. Her foot stubbed at the snow. ‘I didn’t think the yard had been cleared.’

‘Not in this blizzard,’ Kael said slowly. He looked at the thick snow on the ground. Even the hugest stallion wouldn’t make much of a noise on it. And any hoofprints would be eliminated by the falling snow.

‘Ishtaer, did you say hounds?’

‘Yes. Barking and howling.’ She looked confused. ‘I heard them coming …’

‘It’s the Wild Hunt!’ gasped one of the men.

‘It’s not the swiving Wild Hunt,’ Kael snapped, even as the rumour spread. ‘What are you, seven? There’s no such thing.’

‘I’ve heard ’em,’ said one of the younger lads defensively. ‘When I was a kid.’

‘Heard what? Horses? Men in armour? Dogs? Place is full of ’em, lad. Now stop all this nonsense and unload the sled. It’s perishing out here.’

Nobody wanted to be out in the blizzard a few days before the Dark, Huntsmen or no Huntsmen. The sled was unloaded pretty sharpish, the goods stored, and Kael led Ishtaer inside to the warmth and light of the longhouse.

‘I know what I heard,’ she said as he hustled her along the corridor.

‘We have dogs here, and the wind can sound just like a hunting horn when it whistles through the—’

‘And the horses? I didn’t just hear them, Kael; I felt them. I could smell them, and feel their hot breath. The men smelled of blood and slaughter. The horses of sweat and manure and leather. I heard the clank of armour.’

‘Well, the stables,’ Kael began, somewhat feebly.

‘And the voice talking to me? I suppose that was just the creak of a door, was it?’

She has very accurate hearing
, he told himself, then overrode it with,
But who could hear properly in that blizzard?

‘What did it say?’

She gave a bitter laugh. ‘He said he was looking for a maiden to bear away. I told him he hadn’t found one.’

His fingers tightened on her elbow. The Huntsmen were said to bear away maidens. But probably someone had told her this. Talk in the inn had turned occasionally to the Hunt. ‘Anything else?’

‘He said he’d take my hound and my horses to join his hunt and slaughter me if I didn’t run. So I got my sword out.’

Pride swelled in him. ‘Good girl,’ he said automatically.

‘I told him he couldn’t have anything here, or anyone, and then you came and … I don’t really know what happened then.’

Kael paused with her just outside the longhouse. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. I just … it felt so real. Do you really think it was the Hunt? I thought that was just a myth.’

‘It is just a myth.’

‘Then I was just challenged by some madman on a big horse who vanished without a trace. Were there hoofprints?’

‘No, but that doesn’t mean anything, the snow was falling too fast. Even the troika’s tracks were disappearing.’ He frowned. ‘It could have been a vision. You’ve seen the future before.’

‘Yes, but not like that. I could
smell
them, Kael. They were
there
.’

Nevertheless … ‘I’m going to station some guards up there, wherever there’s a window. If they come back, we’ll catch them. Right now, it’s probably best to keep quiet about this. I’ll tell the lads, too. No point in scaring people.’

She nodded uncertainly.

‘Come on, there’s probably some food around somewhere, we both need to eat after that journey.’

Ishtaer agreed, reluctantly, and he took her in to dinner.

But later in the evening after they’d eaten, put Durran and Garik to bed and admired the kittens they’d chosen from one of the stable cats’ litters, after Kael had gone to his room to bathe the last of the chill away, he still didn’t feel easy. He’d posted guards, all of them brave and intelligent soldiers who knew the difference between wind howling and a huntsman’s horn, and he didn’t seriously expect anything to happen.

But he still found his feet taking him towards Ishtaer’s room, tapping on her door and hoping she was still awake.

She answered the door in her nightgown, a shawl around her shoulders. Her hair was damp, dark strands brushing her shoulders, and her cheeks were pink.

‘Yes?’ He watched her inhale. ‘Kael?’

‘You always know when it’s me.’ He leaned in the doorway, smiling.

‘Are you all right? Can I help you with anything?’

Her voice was a little chilly. Kael tried to make his sound warmer. ‘I want to talk to you. Can I come in? No sense wasting the heat.’

She stood back to allow him in. Brutus thumped his tail but didn’t get up from his bed by the stove.

Kael shut the door and leaned against it, hands in his pockets. He’d dressed after his bath, but it looked like she’d just got out of hers.

‘You’re a Seer.’

‘Yes?’ she said, as if waiting for something less obvious.

‘But you can’t see.’

She folded her arms. ‘Is this going somewhere?’

You’re making a mess of this,
Kael told himself.
Didn’t you used to be cool with women?

‘I mean – you don’t talk much about being a Seer. You see visions.’

‘Yes.’

‘You see what’s not there. Or maybe, what is there but no one else can see. I … I wonder if you’d have known if you could see? If you’d have seen the Wild Hunt today instead of just hearing them?’

‘Are you saying you believe me?’ she asked cautiously.

‘I’m saying it’s a damn sight more plausible than a bunch of mortal huntsmen appearing from nowhere and then vanishing again instantly. Maybe only certain people can see them, I don’t know. But I’m not calling you a liar.’

She rolled her shoulders. ‘Thank you.’

He didn’t think that meant he was forgiven. ‘And the other thing …’

Those shoulders tensed right up again. She was so easy to read.