David Coe - Shapers of Darkness

Aindreas merely stared at the boy. It was the last day of Amon’s Turn. Tonight would be Pitch Night after all. He glanced about the chamber, as if expecting to see Brienne once more. How had he managed to lose track of the days? Apparently even Ioanna had known, though she had barely left her bedchamber since the Night of Two Moons.

As the boy said, there would be floods this night all across the Forelands. Atop the tor, of course, none in the castle had cause for concern, and even in the city there was little risk that the rains would do serious damage. But in the surrounding countryside, particularly near Harrier Fen, and in the northern baronies of his dukedom nearest the Heneagh River, many would be forced from their homes until the waters receded. Hundreds from the closer villages would seek refuge in the city this night. No doubt they would be heartened to see their duke and his duchess in the city with them, offering what comfort was theirs to give. He and his wife had gone to the city every year since his investiture as duke. The previous year, Brienne had gone with them. But this year. . Aindreas wasn’t certain that Ioanna was fit to be seen in public by so many, nor did he have it in his heart to be there himself.

“Father?”

He now realized that Ennis had been saying something all this time, though he had no idea what.

“I’m sorry, son. I was thinking of something else. What did you say?”

“I asked you whether the castle has ever flooded.”

Aindreas made himself smile. “No. We’re up on the tor. Water runs down to the lands below and eventually to the Tarbin. There’ll be no flooding here tonight.”

Ennis nodded gravely. “That’s good. I don’t want a flood.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.”

“Will you and Mother go down to the city again?”

Aindreas looked away. “I’m not certain. We might.”

“I think you should.”

“You do? Why?”

Ennis shrugged, looking so much older than his nine years. “I think Mother should be out of the castle for a time. I don’t think she’s left it since. .” He dropped his gaze. “You know.”

He was uncommonly clever, and far wiser than most children several years his senior.

“You’re right, she hasn’t,” the duke said. “And it might well do her some good to walk among her people.” I just don’t know if she can do so without humiliating herself . “I’ll think about it, all right?”

“All right.”

“Now, don’t you have lessons to attend?”

“Not until midmorning bells.”

But even as he spoke the words, the bells in the city began to toll. Ennis covered his mouth and laughed, his eyes wide once more.

Aindreas couldn’t help but grin. “You’d best be on your way.”

“Yes, Father,” the boy said, scrambling off the throne and running to the door.

Brienne stood by the doorway, watching her brother leave. Then she turned her gaze accusingly toward the duke.

“You must do something, Father.”

Aindreas closed his eyes tightly, refusing to look at her. “You’re not real. I know you’re not.”

“But I can be.”

At that his eyes flew open, but the apparition was already gone. The duke felt dizzy, and he wished that he’d eaten before drinking all that wine.

I can be .

A short time later, Villyd came to the duke’s presence chamber, as he did most mornings. Aindreas expected the usual dull report on the day’s training, but as soon as the swordmaster entered the chamber it became clear to the duke that this discussion would be different. Villyd looked unusually grim, his stout frame coiled and tense, a troubled expression in his pale blue eyes. He bowed to the duke, but then began to pace rather than standing at attention near the hearth, as he often did.

“Something’s troubling you, swordmaster,” Aindreas said after a brief silence.

“Aye, my lord,” the man said, clearly distracted.

“Do you care to tell me what it is, or shall we just remain here in silence for the rest of the day?”

Villyd halted, meeting the duke’s gaze, an embarrassed grin on his face. “Forgive me, my lord. I’ve only just received the tidings myself. I’m still trying to make sense of them. Seems there’s been a good deal of movement along the south bank of the Tarbin.”

“The Aneirans have been gathering men there for more than a turn now. It’s not that surprising, is it?”

“This is more than just men, my lord. We have reports of carts leaving Mertesse this very morning, of laborers marching from the city as well.”

“Do you trust what you’re hearing?”

“Normally I would, my lord. These reports come from peddlers we’ve trusted in the past-several of them, mind you; not just one or two. But with the rains coming tonight, it makes no sense. They have time yet to cross the river, but Pitch Night in Amon’s Turn is about as poor a time to begin a siege as I can imagine, especially one that’s likely to begin so close to the Tarbin.”

“Maybe the peddlers were wrong this time.”

“Perhaps,” Villyd said, in a way that made it clear he didn’t believe this for a moment.

“Do you think they were trying to deceive us?”

The swordmaster nodded, resuming his pacing. “That did occur to me. If they were, if we can’t depend on them anymore, it makes it far more difficult to guard against an assault from the south.”

No doubt that was the point. Aindreas muttered a curse, then stood and opened the shutters that darkened his window. It was a windy day, cold for so late in Amon’s Turn, though clear. He could see no sign of the dark clouds that would cover the sky by nightfall, though there could be no doubt that they would come.

“There will be no attack today,” the duke said at last, knowing in his heart that it was so. “But soon, tomorrow perhaps, certainly within the next half turn.”

“I agree, my lord.”

Aindreas turned to face him, leaving the window unshuttered. “Begin your preparations for a siege, swordmaster. Tell the kitchenmaster and quartermaster that you’re to have their complete cooperation, on my orders.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“How goes your training of the men we’ve added since the last siege?”

“Well, my lord.” The swordmaster smiled faintly.

“They remain a bit raw, do they?”

The man nodded, his expression souring. “A bit, my lord. I intend to work them twice each day until the attack comes. They’ll be ready.”

“I have no doubt of that. We’ll speak again later, Villyd. Let me know if you have any trouble making your preparations.”

“Very good, my lord. Thank you.” The swordmaster bowed and left the chamber.

Once he was alone, Aindreas fell back into his chair, rubbing his eyes. A siege. He had been expecting it; he was no fool, after all. Nor did he have much doubt as to what the Qirsi would expect of him. He opened his mouth to call for more wine, but then thought better of it, choosing instead to seek out Ioanna. She would be wanting to speak with him.

He found her in the great hall with the prelate, surrounded by piles of blankets, no doubt intended for the unfortunates who would crowd into the city after sundown.

Aindreas crossed to where she stood and bent to kiss her cheek. She looked in poor health, her cheeks sunken and her skin sallow. Aindreas could only imagine what the city folk would think upon seeing her. But she smiled at the sight of him, and appeared to have regained a good deal of her strength.

“I want to bring them food as well,” she said, as Aindreas glanced about at the blankets. “I’ve already sent word to the kitchenmaster.”

“He can give you some,” the duke said, sighing and facing her. “Not a lot.”