Jerrol clasped his hand warmly. “Protect your family. Protect the line and if possible, keep the Lady close. Don’t ever give up on her. She’ll never give up on you, I promise.” The smith nodded slowly and turned away, following his wife up the muddy street.
Birlerion let his breath out with a whoosh. “Well,” he exclaimed, wiping his hands with a handkerchief in a futile attempt to clean off the ash.
Jerrol held up a hand. “Not here. Let’s get our things and get ready to leave. I think we need to bring Jennery up to date and go visit Lord Hugh as soon as possible.”
Chapter 14
Chapterhouse, Old Vespers
Liliian sat behind her desk and inspected the man seated before her. He had reverted to his studiously courteous manner. His brief outburst was a mere memory. But she remembered the viciousness in his expression clearly: his thin face transformed by his anger into a honed weapon, his black eyes spitting fury. In all the years she had known him, she had never seen him behave so.
“Explain yourself,” she said.
“Scholar Deane, I offer my sincerest apologies. I was just helping Taelia back to her room.”
“Oh? You have been absent these three or four months, with no word, no report of your whereabouts, and the first thing you do on your return is to invade the women’s quarter?”
“Not at all, Deane. I found her asleep in the courtyard when I arrived; I was on my way to my room.”
“Taelia was asleep in the courtyard,” Liliian repeated.
“Yes, Deane, on the bench by the fountain. I woke her and escorted her back to her room, and then you interrupted us.”
“Interrupted what, exactly?”
“I was asking her why she was in the courtyard. She didn’t remember.”
“I must advise you, Scholar, that I will be speaking to Taelia later.”
Torsion pursed his lips. “She said she was worried for Jerrol, but didn’t remember getting up. I suppose she must have walked in her sleep. There were enough scholars in the refectory to confirm my words.”
“Jerrol?”
“She was afraid for him. She said the Prince had accused him of treason.” Torsion grimaced, his eyes cold. “I’m not surprised. He was ever wont to be in trouble.”
Liliian’s eyes narrowed. “Where have you been?”
“I told you. I was going to Velmouth and then up to the Watch Towers.”
“For three months? I expect a detailed report of your findings on my desk by tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Deane.”
“And a report of exactly what you and Taelia were talking about.”
“Yes, Deane.”
Liliian watched him closely. He was submissive, his anger sheathed, but she knew it was bubbling under the surface by the tension in his muscles. “What is wrong, Torsion?”
Torsion stared at her and then exhaled heavily. He twisted his lips. “If I’d known...” He paused. “Even when he’s not here, he is.”
“He?”
“Jerrol. Taelia can’t see past her romanticised view of him. He is not for her. He is unreliable, absent most of the time. His hands are covered in blood, and yet she doesn’t see any of it.”
“And you do?”
“I’ve known him since he was an unformed child. I helped mould him into the man he is today. He is family even with all his faults, and I know them all. I wouldn’t want Taelia hurt. She could do so much better.”
“With you, I suppose?”
Torsion shrugged. “Why not? I would protect her.”
“Maybe she doesn’t need protecting. You can’t force her, Torsion,” Liliian said, her voice gentle.
“I don’t intend to. She will see sense in the end.”
Greenswatch
After settling at the inn, they mounted their horses. Zin’talia emanated relief at seeing Jerrol. He soothed her as they started back up the road towards Greenswatch. Trees crowded along the side of the road and made the day seem even darker and gloomier than it was. The trees were dense and the undergrowth so thick they couldn’t see into the gloom for more than a few feet. The muddy road wound down a slight inclination before veering off to the right into what seemed like a bank of trees at the end. An illusion, or so he hoped.
Their horses walking in step, Jennery peered around them and then up at the sky as a fine drizzle began misting down again, pooling in beads before running harmlessly off their cloaks. Jennery observed the effect thoughtfully and cast a weather eye at the sky. “The Lady must have known more rain was forecast.”
“With the amount of rain lately, it’s not a big leap to make,” Jerrol agreed.
“I wonder if she could do anything about the mud.”
“You’ll have to ask her, though I’m not convinced it will be a priority. Birlerion, what did you see in the remains of the smithy? Was there anything obvious?”
Birlerion shifted in his saddle and wiped the rain off his face. “It’s all a bit inconclusive. There was some lighter ash at the front of the building where it burnt hotter, which would match someone adding an accelerant to start the fire, but no indications as to what it might have been. The rest looked pretty standard.”
“And no proof that the fire spread any quicker than normal, except that it appears more intense at the front?” Jerrol asked.
“Fires generally have a spark point, where they first ignite,” Birlerion said, “and if they used oil to start it, then it would burn fiercest there.”
“The smith thought it was a warning, though a warning against what isn’t clear,” Jerrol reminded him.
“Yes, he shut up quick once his wife turned up. I wonder what he would have said if we had more time. The councils are certainly the mouthpiece, though whether they believe what they are spouting or are just misguided, I’m not sure. Someone is influencing them. I doubt any king would support such a message; it must be coming from someone else.”
“The Chancellor?” Jennery suggested. “Do you think he is trying to take the crown whilst the King is ill?”
“If Kharel thought the Chancellor could help him, he would use him.
