Shadowmarch

“I think you two must both know Brother Okros of the Eastmarch Academy of scholars,” Brone said. “He came to help you when you were ill, Barrick. Now he is caring for… for one of my servants.”

There was blood on the bed, on the sheets; Brother Okros’ hands were wet with it. The monk gave them a quick, distracted smile. “You will forgive me, Highnesses. This man is not yet beyond danger and I am very occupied.”

The man on the red-smeared sheets had a dark, untammed beard, and his skin, hair, his clothes were all very dirty, but even groomed and clean he would not have made anyone look twice. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, his teeth clenched as if to hold in his straining, rasping breath. His shirt had been pulled open and Brother Okros had his fingers deep in a ghastly hole in the man’s chest just below the shoulder.

“Just a moment,” said the physician-priest, and finally Barrick recalled the voice if not the face, remembered hearing it float through one of his fever dreams, talking about correct alignments and improved balances. “There is a broken arrowhead still lodged here. I . . ah! There it is.” Brother Okros sat up, a pair of bloodied tongs clutched in his fingertips with a small piece of what looked like metal between the tines. “There. At least this will not now make its way to his lungs or his heart.” He rolled his patient over, gently but firmly—a deep groan came up from the wounded man, only partially muffled in the bed linens—and began to wipe at another bloody hole above the man’s shoulder blade. “This is where it went in—do you see? I will need to pack the wound with comfrey and a willow bark poultice…”

Briony’s face was pale, as Barrick felt sure his own was, but his sister swallowed and spoke calmly. “Why is this man lying bloodied in your rooms, Lord Brone? And why is Brother… Brother Okros… tending him? Why not our castle doctor? Chaven has been back several days.”

“I will explain everything in a moment, but I wanted you to hear this from the man’s own lips. Turn him back over, Okros, I beg of you. Then we will leave you alone to bind his wounds and give him whatever other physick he needs.”

Together Brone and the little priest got the bearded man onto his back again. Okros held pieces of cloth tightly against the wounds on both sides.

“Rule,” said the lord constable. “It’s me, Brone. Do you recognize me?” The man’s eyes flickered across him. “Yes, Master,” he grunted.

“Tell me again what you saw at Summerfield Court, Rule. Tell me what sent you riding back here in such a hurry, and probably earned you an arrow in the back.” Brone looked at the twins. “This man should have died on the road. Clearly someone thought he would.”

Rule groaned again. “Autarch’s men,” he said at last. “In Summerfield.” He fought to moisten his lips, swallowed hard. “The cursed Xixy bastards were… honored guests of the old duchess.”

“The Autarch’s men… ? With the Tollys?” Barrick couldn’t help looking around as though at any moment the shroud-faced men of his nightmares might appear from the shadows.

“Aye.” Brone was grim. “Now come and I will tell you the rest of the tale.”

Paying the cold night its due, Brone had wrapped a blanket around his massive shoulders. Half his beard was covered. He looked like a giant from an old story, Barrick thought, like something that gnawed bones and toppled stone walls with his hands.

How much do we really know about him? Barrick was struggling to keep his mind straight. He felt light-headed, as though fever were plucking at him again with fingers both hot and cold. Our father trusted him, but is that enough? Someone has killed Kendrick. Now Brone tells us that Gailon Tolly has disappeared, and also that Gailon’s family makes alliance with the Autarch What if the criminal is our lord constable himself? I might not like Tolly —in fact, I never liked him or his bloody father, with his red nose and his shouting voice —but is it enough just to take Brone’s word or the word of his spy that he’s some kind of traitor?

As if she shared his thoughts, his sister said, “We are certainly grateful for your efforts on behalf of the crown, Count Avin, but this is a bit much to swallow in one mouthful. Who is that man on the bed? Why didn’t you summon the royal physician?”

“More to the point, where’s Gailon?” Barrick asked. “It’s convenient that he’s not around to defend himself and his family.”

What Barrick felt sure was an angry light glinted for a moment in the lord constable’s eye. Brone paused to drink more wine; when he spoke, his voice was even. “I cannot blame you for being surprised, Highnesses, or for being mistrustful. And for the last question I have no answers. I wish I did.” He scowled. “This has gone cold—the wine, I mean.” He stumped to the fireplace and began heating the poker. “As to the other matters, I will tell you and then you must make up your own minds.” He grunted, flashed a sour smile. “As you always do.

“The man Rule is, as you’ve guessed, a spy. He is a rough fellow, not the sort I would prefer to use in a place like Summerfield Court, but I have had to make shift. Do you remember that musician fellow, Robben Hulligan? Red hair?”

“Yes,” said Briony. “He was a friend of old Puzzle’s. He died, didn’t he? Killed by robbers on the South Road last year.”

“By robbers… perhaps. He died on his way back from Summerfield, within a few weeks after we heard that your father was a prisoner, although even I did not think much of it at the time, except the inconvenience to me. It may or may not surprise you to learn that much of what I knew about the Tollys and Summerfield came from Hulligan. He was close with many in the court there and the old duchess loved him. He was allowed to roam where he pleased, like a pet dog.” “You think… you think he was killed? Because he was your spy?”

Brone grimaced. “I do not want to jump at every shadow. The only certain thing is that since Robben’s death I have known little about what happens in Summerfield, and it has bothered me enough that I sent Rule. He has many skills and usually has little trouble finding work in a great house— tinkering, fletching, acting the groom.” “These spies,” Barrick said slowly. “Do you have them in all the great houses of the March Kingdoms?”

“Of course. And to save you a question, Highness—yes, I have spies in this household as well. I hope you do not think I could do without them. We have already lost one member of the royal family.”

“Which your spies did nothing to prevent!”

Brone looked at him coolly. “No, Highness, they did not, and I have lost many nights’ sleep thinking about just that, wondering what I might have done more carefully. But that does not change what is before us. Rule is a careful man. If he says there are agents of the Autarch at Summerfield Court, I believe him, and I suggest very strongly you do not dismiss what he has to say.”

“Before we go on,” Briony said, “I still wish to know why that priest was seeing to him, not Chaven.”

Brone nodded. “Fair enough. Here is the answer. Brother Okros was not in the castle when your brother was killed. Chaven was.”

“What?” Briony sat up straight. “Do you suspect Chaven of my brother’s murder? A brutal stabbing? He is the family physician! Surely if he wanted Kendrick dead, he could poison him, make it appear an illness…” She broke off, looking suddenly at her twin. It took him a moment to understand her thoughts.

“But I’m alive,” Barrick said. “If someone tried to kill me, they failed.” All the same, he did not feel well. Barrick shook his head, wishing he had never come to the lord constable’s rooms, that he had stayed in bed, struggling against nightmares that were at least arguably imaginary. “Brone, are you saying that Chaven might have murdered Kendrick, or been in league with whoever did?”

The old man slid the poker into his flagon, then blew the steam away so he could watch the wine bubble. “No. I am saying no such thing, Prince Barrick. But I am saying that I trust almost no one, and until we know who did kill your brother, everyone who could come near to him is suspect.”

“Including me?” Barrick almost laughed, but he was furious again. “Including my sister?” “If I had not had you watched, yes.” Avin Brone’s smile was a grim twitch deep in his beard. “The next in succession are always the likeliest murderers. Take no offense, my lord and lady. It is my duty.”

Barrick sat back, overwhelmed. “So we can trust no one except you?”

“Me least of all, Highness—I have been here too long, know too many secrets. And I have killed men in my day.” He looked hard at them both, almost challenging them. “If you have no other sources of information than me, Prince Barrick, Princess Briony, then you are not being careful enough “ He stumped back to his stool. “But whatever else you may learn tonight, this news of the Autarch’s men in Summerfield is very grave, and of that there is no question. I cannot but fear that Gailon Tolly’s disappearance may have something to do with it. And certainly someone took enough of a dislike to Rule to put an arrow in his back as he rode up the Three Brothers Road,