ignored. Unexpectedly, he slept well that night.
Now, the morning after, he had no difficulty in finding Aewult. The Bloodheir’s Palace Shield had cleared a stretch of the quayside and stood like an array of metal-clad statues in a wide half-circle. Protected from the common folk by that barrier, Aewult was gazing out over the choppy water towards the castle. A woman was by his side, wearing a heavy but intricately decorated coat with a thick fur collar. It took Taim a moment or two to recall her name: Ishbel, the companion Aewult had brought with him all the way from Anduran.
Taim slipped between a pair of the silent shieldmen. He was relieved that neither made any move to obstruct him; he was, at least, saved that minor humiliation. He came up to the Bloodheir’s side with a small bow. Aewult did not acknowledge his arrival.
“It’s a fine castle,” Aewult said. He turned to Ishbel, gesturing at the lifeless mass of Castle Kolglas. “Don’t you think, my lady? It’s a noble setting.”
Ishbel gave no sign of any genuine interest. “I suppose it is. If you can call anywhere this cold noble.”
Aewult smiled at her.
“It was a fine castle,” Taim said. “The roof’s half gone now. Most that wasn’t stone has been burned out.”
“You can build it back,” Aewult said. The smile vanished from his face as soon as he turned his attention to Taim. “It’s nothing that can’t be mended, once your young Thane’s back on his throne. Where is he, by the way?”
His voice had a powerful edge of threat, of aggression, in it. Where his father Gryvan, in Taim’s experience, spoke with subtle daggers concealed behind each word, Aewult flailed around with cudgels.
“I don’t know, sire. I have not seen or heard from him since we marched from Kolkyre. We expect his arrival any day, though.”
Aewult grunted. The answer clearly did not satisfy him. “You can expect whatever you like. Where did he go? Was it Highfast? That’s what Mordyn thought.”
Taim had to take a moment to consider his answer. The Bloodheir was unlikely to believe him if he feigned complete ignorance of Orisian’s plans. Even so, Taim had no intention of reporting to the Haig Blood on the detail of his own Thane’s intentions.
“I think so,” he said, endeavouring to sound like a man accustomed to ignorance of his master’s dealings. “He meant to make his way here with some speed, though.”
“Did he?”
The simple phrase was bloated with self-satisfaction and affected lack of interest. Evidently, Aewult knew — or thought he knew — something that Taim did not.
Ishbel made a disgruntled sound, faint but pointed. “I’m getting cold here. It’s bitter.”
“There’s snow coming in off the sea,” Taim said. He nodded out towards the banks of clouds to the west. They hung like a dismal roof over the grey sea. “Any west wind can bring snow at this time of year. This one’s likely to be heavy-laden. Tonight, or tomorrow maybe, there’ll be a big fall.”
Ishbel grimaced — it was no small achievement to render her exquisite features so unattractive — and pulled that exuberant collar of fox fur tighter about her neck. A pair of women, bent beneath the baskets full of shellfish they carried on their backs, were scrambling up onto the harbour wall. They must have been out along the rocky shore to the south since early morning, Taim knew. The tide had been at its lowest before dawn. Ishbel watched them walking slowly along the quayside.
“I don’t how anyone gets anything done in this weather,” she muttered. “You should all move south for the winter. Like geese.”
“It’ll be some time yet before the deepest winter,” Taim said.
“Why don’t you go back to our chambers?” Aewult said to his lover, and then beckoned one of his shieldmen. “Send an escort back with the lady Ishbel. And have them prepare my horse. I will be needing it soon, and thirty men to ride with me.”
“Are you planning to go somewhere?” Taim asked the Bloodheir as Ishbel and a pair of the armoured shieldmen disappeared up the road.
“I am.” Aewult turned back towards Castle Kolglas. “I’ll be surveying my army this afternoon. I want them to be ready for tomorrow.”
Taim hung his head and regarded the cobblestones. Events were already setting off down the very path he had hoped to avoid. Had Orisian been here, there might have been some way out of the trap that Taim could feel closing about him; but Orisian was not here, and Aewult was. Now, Taim knew, a great deal — for him and for his Blood — depended upon what passed between him and the Bloodheir; upon what accommodation, if any, he could find with this turbulent man.
“You mean to offer battle tomorrow,” he said, making it a statement rather than a question.
“Not offer. Force. I’ll march, and I’ll keep marching until the Black Road face me. Either we’ll have ourselves a battle or they’ll run away back over the Stone Vale. I’d prefer the battle. Not as much glory in chasing sheep as there is in slaughtering wolves.”
“You think battle a glorious thing?”
“You do not?” The retort was sharp, angry. A battle with the Black Road was not the only kind of conflict the Bloodheir might be eager to court, Taim thought gloomily.
“I’ve seen too much of it to think it anything more than a necessity to be endured,” he said.
“And you think, therefore, I have not seen enough of it? You think me inexperienced in war, Taim Narran. A child, too callow to lead an army. Is that it?”
“No, Bloodheir. That was not what I meant. I am tired, and I am not as young as I used to be. That is all.” It was a lie, but a necessary one. He could hardly tell the Bloodheir that he thought a hothead with a desire to prove himself as quickly as possible made a poor leader for any army.
Aewult kicked a loose pebble into the water. He followed it to the edge of the quay and peered down at the waves.
“Tired and old, indeed,” he said without lifting his gaze. “You needn’t worry. You can stay here tomorrow, while we carve a path back to Anduran for your Thane. If he ever sees fit to grace us with his presence. Perhaps his duty has called him elsewhere.”
The Bloodheir swung about and set off up the road towards the market square. His Shield clattered into loose ranks before and behind him. Taim had to hurry to keep up. He was tempted to ask Aewult what it was he thought he knew about Orisian’s whereabouts, but was not inclined to feed the Bloodheir’s sense of his own importance.
“The Black Road seems more numerous than we thought,” he said as they strode along. “All the reports suggest the Horin-Gyre Blood is no longer the only foe we face. And Inkallim-”
Aewult cut him short with a flourish of his gloved hand. “You and your Thane shouldn’t have been in such haste to leave Kolkyre, if you’ve not the stomach for a fight. I’ve got enough men here to give me the stomach for anything.” He came to an abrupt halt and jabbed a finger at Taim. “You are the rearguard now. Haig’ll do the killing that’s needed to win this war.”
Taim was uncomfortably aware that they were attracting attention. A whole family huddled on the doorstep of a bakery had turned their heads at the sound of Aewult’s voice. Half a dozen men carrying firewood down towards the harbour had stopped to watch. Above, an old woman was peering curiously out from a window.
“We should march with you,” Taim suggested as evenly as he could. “You’ve still got hundreds of warriors strung out on the road, not even here yet. My men can kill for you as well as your own.”
“I’ll tell you what you should do, Captain of Anduran: you should do as I command. I am here, your Thane is not. Unless you can produce him, and have him command you otherwise, you’re bound to do as I tell you. Are you not?”
“Yes, sire.”
Aewult grunted, a satisfied smirk briefly stretching his mouth, and set off once more. Taim followed with a heavy heart. The Bloodheir was right: in Orisian’s absence, he had no choice but to obey whatever instruction Aewult saw fit to give him. Any other course would lead to an open breach with Haig. However appealing that prospect might be in some respects, here and now it would be a disaster.
Up ahead, Aewult’s shieldmen were like the prow of a boat, ploughing a path through the thickening mass of people as they drew closer to the square.
