“I suppose I could manage it — when we’re outside the gates.”
They headed out of the forest across deep snow, though the surface was hard and it was easy walking, save where a too-hasty step broke through the crust.
“Looks like they’ve been under attack,” said Holm.
“And won.”
There were guards all along the walls and carpenters were repairing the main gates. Several large mounds in the snow suggested a lot of enemy dead, but the fortress stood proud and undefeated, and a hundred chimneys were smoking.
They headed across to the road, where the snow had been beaten down by people coming and going, then slowly along it. Tali went first, nervously. The men on the wall to either side of the gate had their bows trained on her all the way.
“No further,” said Holm. “You’re almost within bowshot. Take off your hat. The scarf too. Let them be in no doubt that you’re a Hightspaller, and no threat.”
Tali took off her hat, unwound her scarf, then braced herself for the sickening panic of agoraphobia, but it did not rise. Perhaps the sky was too gloomy. The wind ruffled her hair. It was icy on her exposed neck and the driven snowflakes settled there, but did not melt.
“State your name and business,” called a tall guard.
“We’ve been hunted halfway across Hightspall, and seek refuge.” Her voice sounded shrill, fearful. “My companion is called Holm and — ”
“What is your name?” the guard said curtly.
“I am the Lady Thalalie vi Torgrist.”
Silence. The man had disappeared from the wall. None of the other guards spoke. Neither did they lower their weapons.
“He’s gone to speak to his captain,” Holm said quietly. “We may have a long wait.”
Tali drew her coat around her more tightly. Cold was seeping up through the soles of her boots. She stamped her feet but it did not help.
Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. “Why is it taking so long?” said Tali.
Holm did not answer.
“What if they turn us away? We’ve got no food left.”
A huge man appeared on the wall, clad in furs and wearing a hat drawn down over his face against the driving snow. He studied them for a few seconds before turning away.
Tali swallowed. “That doesn’t seem like a good sign.”
“Depends how you look at it,” said Holm.
Shortly a small gate opened beside the main fortress gates. A guard gestured to them.
Tali put on her scarf and hat as she hurried across. The guard held up a square, callused hand, studied their faces as though memorising them, then waved them through.
A tall, weathered man stood waiting in the yard, wearing the insignia of a sergeant. He was quite bald and did not have many teeth. “Sergeant Nuddell,” he said courteously. “Your escort to Lord Deadhand.”
“Does he always interview refugees personally?” said Holm.
“I don’t talk about his business.”
They followed Nuddell along paved paths, freshly cleared of snow. Several leafless trees occupied a left-hand corner of the yard. Ahead was a massive castle built from yellow stone. Towers on the corners each had a green, copper-clad dome.
“Garramide looks all very neat and orderly,” said Tali.
“The late, great dame ran a tight house,” said Nuddell. “Her heir, Lord Deadhand, does things the same way.”
He led them inside, along a broad entrance hall and up several levels to a door guarded by a compact, hungry looking fellow, scarred across the throat as if someone had tried to cut it. He nodded to Nuddell, opened the door, stood aside to let them pass and pulled the door closed.
Tali went in, anxiety gnawing at her stomach and acid burning a track up the centre of her chest. She passed across an anteroom, her feet making no sound on an ancient patterned rug, then around through a doorway into a large, panelled room lit only by embers in a large fireplace.
The big man still wore a greatcoat. He had his back to her and was standing in the shadow beside the window, looking out. But there was a presence about him, a familiarity, that swelled and grew until, at the moment he turned, she knew him.
“Rix!” It came out as a shriek of joy.
He stretched out a grey right hand, studied it ruefully for a moment and drew it back. “Around here, they call me Deadhand.”
She sprang forwards, thinking to embrace him, for they had been great friends. Then, remembering the manner of their parting, she froze.
Rix frowned. “Am I so very changed? So very ferocious?”
She had to put things right. “I did you wrong, not telling you about Lord and Lady Ricinus’s treason. I’m sorry. I was trying to protect you.”
“It was my right to know,” said Rix coolly.
She could not tell what he was thinking. “I wasn’t trying to protect you, as though you were a child,” she went on. “But if you’d known, you would have been in an impossible situation — ”
“A duty to protect my sovereign in a time of war,” said Rix, “utterly in conflict with my duty to honour my parents and safeguard my house. Even so, you should have told me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Tali, “I’ve been worrying — ”
“Then worry no more. The high treason was revealed, the traitors condemned, the house crushed. Everything I had and everything I was has been swept away. The slate has not just been erased, it’s been smashed and thrown out. Come here.” He held out his arms.
Tali embraced him, or tried to, though in her heavy coat her arms did not meet around him. He could have enfolded her twice in his arms.
Rix looked over her head towards Holm, then disengaged.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Rixium of Garramide, though I go by Rix. Or Deadhand, whichever you prefer. I won’t shake hands, if you don’t mind — it rather puts people off.”
“I’m Holm,” said Holm. “I hear you did away with that hyena, Leatherhead. That must have been a sight to see.”
“He might easily have done away with me.”
He ushered them to chairs by the fire and called for food and drink, then gave a brief account of the fight with Leatherhead and his time here, though to Tali’s mind it raised many questions and provided few answers.
But if he wanted to draw a veil over the time since the fall of Caulderon, that was his right. She’d had a number of experiences in the past weeks that she never wanted to think about again. Though, as it happened, Rix did not ask her about her time with the chancellor, how she had escaped, or how she had found him.
Shortly a serving maid came in, bearing a heavy tray.
“Glynnie!” Tali cried.
Glynnie set down the tray and turned to her, smiling, though rather formally. Tali, who had been intending to embrace the girl, shook hands instead.
“You look different,” said Tali.
She seemed taller, and the slender girl’s shape was taking on a woman’s curves.
“I get enough to eat here,” said Glynnie. “Will that be all, ma’am, Lord?”
She shot a glance at Rix, whose jaw tightened. Tali looked from one to the other. There was a tension between them that had not been there back in Caulderon. Rix nodded. Glynnie went out.
“Benn’s dead,” said Rix. “At least, I lost him when we escaped from Caulderon. I don’t see how he can be alive.”
“I’m sorry,” said Tali. “He was a nice boy.”
“Sit down. Eat. And if you have any news, I need to hear it.”
“Wherever we go,” said Holm, “people are desperate for news of the war. Though there’s never any good news.”
“There is here,” said Rix. “We’ve beaten off a besieging force of almost five hundred. Inflicted a heavy defeat, in fact. Though the blizzard helped.”
“A win is a win,” said Tali. “Well done, Rix. Though it doesn’t surprise me. You should be a general.”
“For the moment, I’ve got my hands full protecting Garramide. What news do you have?”
“The chancellor never stops scheming,” said Tali. “But his schemes don’t come to anything. We can’t rely on him.”