“Your sword, Warlord?” Rafe paused by the door. “Do you wish me to see to it?”
“It’s well enough. I will see to it myself.”
Rafe nodded and slipped out.
Keir watched the fire. I moved closer, licked my lips and drew in a breath. He glanced my way. “You wish to point out my mistake.”
I closed my mouth. His blue eyes glittered in the light of the fire and I waited for that temper to flare. Instead he gave me a rueful smile. “So much for my talk of change, eh?”
I didn’t understand, and would have asked, but a knock at the door brought Rafe into the room with the others, talking quietly among themselves.
The moment was lost. I might risk the truth in private, but not in front of others. As Keir stepped away, I looked for a friendly face and found it in Joden. “You have a wonderful voice, Joden.”
His smile was wide and a relief to see. “My thanks, Warprize.”
“Come,” Keir gestured us to the door. “Show us this stone tent of yours.”
I took them to the highest point, in the tallest turret, to start. The young guard at the top almost dropped his spear, startled to find himself hosting the Warlord when normally his only company were the bees that buzzed in and out of the skeps that Anna kept on the heights. The sun was down, but in the fading twilight, we could still see.
The battlements fascinated Keir. The views from this height allowed one to look clear into the valley below, and even beyond their camp. Keir, Rafe, and the others pressed themselves against the outer wall, trying to look down as far as they could. The breeze that always blew at this height whistled past, catching at our hair and clothing. Prest, on the other hand, pressed himself against the opposite wall by the door, his eyes wide, the whites showing, his dark complexion turning ashen. He seemed quite grateful when I pulled them away from the views and we headed back down.
They asked question after question about the building, about how I could stand to be surrounded by walls all the time. Some of the narrow corridors made them nervous, and I’d see them all looking up, as if searching for the sky. Some of their questions I knew the answer to, some I didn’t. They admired the thick walls, wrinkled their noses at the privies with their small holes, and mock fought on the circular staircases. I showed them the places where old kings had started building, and young kings had built on. Impressed as they were with its age and fortifications, I gathered that Keir did not care for the length of time it had taken for the castle to rise to its current heights.
The halls and corridors were strangely quiet as we proceeded, empty of the normal traffic of servants and nobles. It made me uneasy even as I led them into the castle chapel.
The room was lit with hundreds of candles, and behind the altar, the white marble statute of the Goddess gleamed brightly. She was lovely, her arms holding a basket of herbs and flowers, her face serene and peaceful. I paused in the center aisle and smiled.
“So it’s true. You worship people.” Surprised, I turned to see Joden standing behind me, looking around in amazement.
“This chapel is dedicated to the worship of the Goddess, The Lady of the Moon and Stars.” I fumbled around for the right words. “She is more than a ‘person.’”
“He means no offense,” Keir spoke softly as the others gathered around us, gaping and gawking. There was a general sense of disapproval. “It’s odd to see, that’s all.” Keir waved his hand to encompass the room. “Another difference between us.”
“A big difference,” Yers muttered, his crooked nose twitching.
On that note, I turned and lead them out, before one of the Priestesses should appear. Tensions were high enough without a religious debate.
“Your Goddess, she is a healer?” Keir moved up beside me.
“Yes,” I decided to show them my old room and headed in that direction. “She is the Goddess of Healing and Mercy.” I looked over my shoulder. “Not the kind of mercy granted on a battlefield.”
Keir grunted.
“There is a temple in the city to the God of the Sun, who is the God of Purity and Strength.”
“You worship the sun as a man?” Joden asked, his disbelief apparent in his voice.
“How did you come to be a healer?” Keir changed the topic so smoothly I had to smile.
“I was playing with one of my friends in the castle gardens, chasing him down the paths. We were very young and the kitchen maids lost track of us. We were running and laughing, and suddenly down he went, tripping over a huge… porcupine?” I wasn’t sure if they knew what the creature was, but a few people winced in sympathy.
“Needle-rat,” Rafe clarified, and now everyone understood.
“His face and arms were filled with quills and he started screaming and crying, and the kitchen maids came running, Anna came running, everyone was screaming and crying, so I started screaming and crying too.”
“A man appeared, a tall man who looked like a gray lake bird, tall and quiet. With a few words he calmed everyone down, and had my friend giggling as he dealt with the quills. Like a miracle, peace was restored.” The memory was a good one and I smiled at Keir. “He restored my world with his quiet voice and gentle skill.”
“As you wish to do.”
I nodded as I opened the door to my old room.
The room had been stripped down to its simple furnishings. Keir looked around and frowned. “This was your bedroom?” Prest and Rafe crowded in with us, the others watched from the door. Keir continued. “ Seems small for a Daughter of Xy.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t need a lot of room. Besides, I had other rooms to play in. I will show you.”
Keir looked at me and slowly smiled in response.
Rafe stood by the fireplace. “Guess they are using it to burn trash now.”
I turned. There in the fireplace were the ashes of books and papers. The pile looked familiar.
It was.
I could still make out the cord I had used before I had left. The fire must have been huge. A wonder that it had not caught the chimney on fire. I knelt and reached out, but the ash collapsed at the touch of my fingers. A lump rose in my throat.
“Something important?” Keir asked.
I stood. “No. Nothing important.” I wiped my hands together as I moved woodenly toward the door. “ We should move on. There is much more to see.”
Othur was standing in the hall when I emerged. The lump in my throat grew tighter when he saw my pain. “He burned my books,” I whispered.
Othur reached out a hand, his eyes crinkled in sympathy, but let it drop when Keir appeared in the doorway. “Seneschal, your presence is not required. The warprize is guide enough.”
Othur bowed his head. “Warlord, forgive me. I was told that you had no need of me, but I have served two kings in this castle, as my father did before me. Excuse an old man his pride.”
Keir paused. “Did you ‘inherit’ your place?”
“No, Warlord. Xyron selected me for my skills, and Xy-mund chose to retain me as Seneschal.”
“And your son?”
“My son has no interest in serving in this capacity, Warlord. He prefers the way of a warrior.” Othur smiled. “I would be honored it you would permit me to show you the castle defenses.”
“Lead on.”
Othur did, and was soon explaining about battlements and murder holes. I fell back, not really paying attention to what was being said. Why had he done that? For certain, Xymund burned my notes and books. I couldn’t imagine it. I’d done as he commanded. Why was he so angry? So furious that he couldn’t even greet me, or note my presence in a room.
Othur led us to the rooms above the castle’s main entrance, and everyone was enthralled with murder holes and the winches for the portcullis. I drifted to the back, and Othur managed to slip to my side. “ Durst?” I whispered.
“He lives, but barely. Eln is with him.” Relief surged over me as Othur continued, keeping his voice low. “ Warren’s clearing the castle and the courtyard of hot-tempered fools. He’s got things under control for now. I had Degnan locked in his rooms, under guard. Can’t decide if he’s angrier over the attack or the loss of his inheritance.”