us can show up your next notion for the nonsense that last one was, perhaps there might be something we can do."
"Thank you." Tathrin grinned despite himself.
"Go and buy your maps, lad." They reached the turn that would take Tathrin back to the bookstalls by Misaen's shrine. "Enjoy your festival." Gruit walked away without further ado.
Tathrin made his way slowly back to the booksellers and managed to agree a fair price for a book charting all the major roads. It wasn't new, but it didn't look too out of date and he could make his own amendments. He walked slowly back to Master Wyess's counting-house, deep in thought.
"I thought you weren't going to the hangings." Eclan caught up with him, cheerful and flushed. Tathrin smelled liquor on his breath. "I saw you, when the debtors were having Raeponin's bell rung over them. What were you doing with Master Gruit?"
"Talking about wine," Tathrin said carefully.
Eclan shook his head. "My father says he's lost all real interest in the trade since he buried his wife and married off his daughters."
Tathrin recalled the unpleasant furrier Kierst saying the same. But Master Gruit didn't strike him as a man who'd given up on life.
"He was a wild one in his youth." Eclan laughed. "My grandma told me he tried to raise a mounted troop to go and drive the mercenaries out of Marlier when some warband took the old duchess hostage on account of not being paid. The old duke, he just said they could keep her and welcome." He rubbed his hands together. "Anyway, there's going to be cockfighting at the Golden Spur. Coming?"
Tathrin hesitated. He'd been about to go and see Aremil. He had no real taste for cockfighting, but how much more might Eclan tell him about Gruit with his tongue loosened by drink? He held up the book of maps. "I should put this safely away first."
"Till later, then." Eclan broke into a run.
Tathrin turned into the courtyard gate. As he climbed the stairs to the dormitory floor, a thought struck him. Sitting on his bed, he opened his book and leafed through the maps until he came to one depicting all of Lescar.
Aremil had long lamented the impossibility of getting news from all the dukedoms. The two of them had scant understanding of the quarrels between Sharlac and Marlier. But Lady Derenna was from Sharlac and Gruit was from Marlier. Whatever Reniack might say about a free enclave, the Duke of Parnilesse ruled the port of Carif. Aremil was born of Draximal blood and he was from Carluse himself. Between them, they represented all the dukedoms of Lescar, except Triolle. That would interest Aremil.
Putting the book in the chest under his bed, he walked thoughtfully back down the stairs. Might Gruit know some trustworthy exile from Triolle? A meagre place, it was still part of Lescar. He'd see what Aremil thought about asking the wine merchant such a question, once he'd learned all he could about him from Eclan.
Chapter Seven
Litasse
Triolle Castle, in the Kingdom of Lescar,
2 nd of Aft-Spring
Was it only eight days since she'd last had a chance to walk the battlements? It felt like half a season. Litasse stood motionless, gazing at the distant horizon, league after league away; reminding herself that there was a world outside these grey castle walls. The bracing wind carried a welcome breath of spring, albeit a damp and marshy one in this bog of a dukedom. It was all so unlike the high wolds of home.
"Your Grace." Valesti's voice was sharp with disapproval.
"A few moments won't leave me irredeemably weather-beaten." Litasse shot the woman a sharp look to remind her who was maid and who was mistress. Then she offered an apologetic smile. With so few allies in the castle, she'd be a fool to alienate any of them. Especially one who kept her secrets. This was her home now. She mustn't forget it. "Forgive me--I've been shut indoors too long."
The spring festivities had been tiresome enough, as she spent endless hours in tedious conversation with Triolle's
"Thank you." Tathrin grinned despite himself.
"Go and buy your maps, lad." They reached the turn that would take Tathrin back to the bookstalls by Misaen's shrine. "Enjoy your festival." Gruit walked away without further ado.
Tathrin made his way slowly back to the booksellers and managed to agree a fair price for a book charting all the major roads. It wasn't new, but it didn't look too out of date and he could make his own amendments. He walked slowly back to Master Wyess's counting-house, deep in thought.
"I thought you weren't going to the hangings." Eclan caught up with him, cheerful and flushed. Tathrin smelled liquor on his breath. "I saw you, when the debtors were having Raeponin's bell rung over them. What were you doing with Master Gruit?"
"Talking about wine," Tathrin said carefully.
Eclan shook his head. "My father says he's lost all real interest in the trade since he buried his wife and married off his daughters."
Tathrin recalled the unpleasant furrier Kierst saying the same. But Master Gruit didn't strike him as a man who'd given up on life.
"He was a wild one in his youth." Eclan laughed. "My grandma told me he tried to raise a mounted troop to go and drive the mercenaries out of Marlier when some warband took the old duchess hostage on account of not being paid. The old duke, he just said they could keep her and welcome." He rubbed his hands together. "Anyway, there's going to be cockfighting at the Golden Spur. Coming?"
Tathrin hesitated. He'd been about to go and see Aremil. He had no real taste for cockfighting, but how much more might Eclan tell him about Gruit with his tongue loosened by drink? He held up the book of maps. "I should put this safely away first."
"Till later, then." Eclan broke into a run.
Tathrin turned into the courtyard gate. As he climbed the stairs to the dormitory floor, a thought struck him. Sitting on his bed, he opened his book and leafed through the maps until he came to one depicting all of Lescar.
Aremil had long lamented the impossibility of getting news from all the dukedoms. The two of them had scant understanding of the quarrels between Sharlac and Marlier. But Lady Derenna was from Sharlac and Gruit was from Marlier. Whatever Reniack might say about a free enclave, the Duke of Parnilesse ruled the port of Carif. Aremil was born of Draximal blood and he was from Carluse himself. Between them, they represented all the dukedoms of Lescar, except Triolle. That would interest Aremil.
Putting the book in the chest under his bed, he walked thoughtfully back down the stairs. Might Gruit know some trustworthy exile from Triolle? A meagre place, it was still part of Lescar. He'd see what Aremil thought about asking the wine merchant such a question, once he'd learned all he could about him from Eclan.
Chapter Seven
Litasse
Triolle Castle, in the Kingdom of Lescar,
2 nd of Aft-Spring
Was it only eight days since she'd last had a chance to walk the battlements? It felt like half a season. Litasse stood motionless, gazing at the distant horizon, league after league away; reminding herself that there was a world outside these grey castle walls. The bracing wind carried a welcome breath of spring, albeit a damp and marshy one in this bog of a dukedom. It was all so unlike the high wolds of home.
"Your Grace." Valesti's voice was sharp with disapproval.
"A few moments won't leave me irredeemably weather-beaten." Litasse shot the woman a sharp look to remind her who was maid and who was mistress. Then she offered an apologetic smile. With so few allies in the castle, she'd be a fool to alienate any of them. Especially one who kept her secrets. This was her home now. She mustn't forget it. "Forgive me--I've been shut indoors too long."
The spring festivities had been tiresome enough, as she spent endless hours in tedious conversation with Triolle's
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