Alornis returned the bow a little awkwardly; noble manners were new to her. “Thank you.” She offered another sketchy bow to the captain. “And you, sir.”
The captain’s bow was considerably more accomplished and his tone markedly warmer than when he had addressed his new Tower Lord. “My lady is very welcome.”
Vaelin looked up at the tower looming above, a dark mass against the sky, birds flocking around the upper levels. The blood-song rose with an unexpected tune, a warm hum mingling recognition with an impression of safety. He had a sense it was welcoming him home.
The base of the tower was surrounded by a cluster of adjoining stone-built buildings comprising the stables and workshops required for the smooth functioning of a castle. Vaelin guided the horse they had given him through the main gate and into the courtyard where the servants of the tower had been arrayed in welcome. He dismounted and made an effort to speak to a few, finding only clipped responses and a few obvious glares of hostility.
“Friendly bunch, these Reach dwellers,” Alornis muttered as they made their way inside. Vaelin patted her on the arm and kept smiling to all they met, though it was starting to make his face ache.
The Lord’s chamber was situated on the ground floor of the tower, a simple unadorned oak chair sitting on a dais looking out on the large circular space. Against the wall stone steps ascended in a spiral to the next level. “Remarkable,” Alornis said, drinking in the sight of the chamber with evident fascination. “I didn’t think a ceiling of such size could be supported without pillars.”
“There are great iron beams in the wall, my lady,” Captain Adal told her. “They reach from the foundations all the way up to the top of the tower. Each floor is suspended from the beams, counterweights stop them from falling in on themselves.”
“I didn’t know our forebears were such skilled builders,” Vaelin commented.
“They weren’t,” the captain replied. “This is actually the second North Tower, built by my people when we were granted refuge here. The original was only half as tall and had a tendency to list.”
Vaelin’s gaze was drawn to a large tapestry hanging behind the Lord’s Chair. It was about twelve feet long and five feet high, embroidered with a battle scene. An army comprising warriors clad in a variety of armour, and bearing varying forms of weaponry, advanced against a host of men and women clad in furs, all with a savage aspect, standing alongside great cats with teeth like daggers. Overhead birds of prey crowded the sky, an unfamiliar species larger than any eagle, their talons outstretched as they flew towards the polyglot army.
“The great battle against the Ice Horde?” he asked Dahrena.
“Yes, my lord.”
He pointed at the birds. “What are these?”
“We called them spear-hawks, though in truth they’re a descendant of the eagle, bred for war. The ice people used them the way we use arrows.”
He peered closer, picking out the figure of the former Tower Lord, Vanos Al Myrna, a great bear of a man pointing a war hammer towards the Horde. Next to him stood a smaller figure with long dark hair and a bow in hand. “This is you?” he asked in surprise.
“I was there,” she replied. “As was Captain Adal. We all were, every Realm subject in the Reaches old enough to bear arms, fighting alongside the Eorhil and the Seordah. The Horde made no distinction between combatant and civilian, all hands were needed to fight them off.”
“Especially since no aid was forthcoming from the Realm,” the captain added.
Vaelin’s gaze lingered on the war-cats amongst the ranks of the Ice Horde and the blood-song swelled, turning his thoughts to the north-west. So, they found refuge here after all.
Dahrena gave a sudden gasp and he looked up to find her regarding him with a wide-eyed stare.
He raised an eyebrow. “My lady?”
She flushed and tore her eyes away. “I’ll show you to your rooms, my lord.”
“Please do.”
The room was situated three floors up, high enough to afford a clear view of the town and surrounding country. A large fur-covered bed was set against the wall and a sturdy desk stood in front of the south-facing window. A stack of papers sat on the corner of the desk next to a quill and a full inkpot.
“I’ve readied the petitions and reports for your perusal, my lord,” Dahrena said, gesturing at the papers. They were alone, the captain having offered to show Alornis her own rooms on the floor above. “Anything urgent is tied with a red ribbon. You may want to read the letter from the shipbuilders guild first.”
He glanced at the documents, finding a red-ribboned letter on the top of the pile. “My thanks for your thoroughness, my lady.”
“Very well. If you’ll excuse me.” She bowed and turned to the door.
“What is it?” he asked before she could leave.
She hesitated, turning back with obvious reluctance. “My lord?”
“Your gift.” He sat in the chair in front of the desk, reclining with his hands behind his head. “I know you have one, otherwise you couldn’t have felt mine just now.”
Her previously expressionless face became shadowed by fear, quickly replaced by anger. “Gift, my lord? I do not understand your meaning.”
“Oh, I think you do.”
They stared at each other in silence, she with resentment shining in her eyes, he realising the depth of distrust he would find here. “Where do I find my brother?” he asked when it became plain she was determined not to answer his question. “The blond fellow with the pretty wife and the war-cat.”
The Lady Dahrena gave a faint snort of amused annoyance. “She said you would know. That there was no point in lying to you.”
“She was right. Did she also tell you that you have nothing to fear from me?”
“She did. But she knows you, I do not. And neither do the people your King has sent you to rule.”
“I think you mean our King.”
She closed her eyes for a second, sighing in suppressed anger. “Quite so, my lord. I misspoke. Sella and her husband can be found at Nehrin’s Point, a settlement twelve miles to the north-west. I know they will be pleased to see you.”
He nodded, picking up the letter on the top of the stack. “What do they want? These shipbuilders.”
“The merchants guild have reduced the stipend they pay for the upkeep of their ships. They say the drop in trade thanks to the Alpiran war has reduced their profits too much. The shipbuilders request that you reinstate the original price under the King’s Word.”
“Do these merchants speak the truth?”
She shook her head. “Trade in certain goods has reduced, but the price of bluestone has doubled since the war. More than enough to make up the losses in other commodities.”
“The bluestone price has increased due to its rarity, I assume? King Janus once told me the seams were thinning every year.”
Dahrena frowned. “I cannot account for what our late king told you, my lord. But the mines have continued to produce a steady flow of stone for years. In fact my father was obliged to slow production to prevent the price from falling. It’s doubled in price due to the fact that Realm ships can no longer carry it directly to Alpiran ports.”
Vaelin swallowed a bitter laugh. Another strand to the old schemer’s web revealed as a lie. He opened the letter and signed his name to it, feeling her gaze on his hand as he laboured over the letters. “The shipbuilders’ request is granted,” he said. “What else do you have for me?”
Her gaze moved from his clumsy signature to the stack of letters. “Well,” she said, moving to the desk and opening the next petition, “it seems Captain Adal needs to buy the North Guard some new boots . . .”
They held a banquet for him in the Lord’s chamber that evening, a lavish but tense affair attended by the leaders of the town guilds, the senior brothers and sisters from those Orders maintaining mission houses in the Reaches, and a large number of merchants. They were the least taciturn, engaging the new Tower Lord in conversation whenever the opportunity arose, each working in a request for a private audience when time allowed. Dahrena had already warned him her father conducted all meetings in the presence of witnesses, a surety against accusations of graft, and he replied to every request with a statement that he saw no reason why such a wise practice should not continue.