Richard Ford - Herald of the Storm

Finally, she placed the quill in its well and looked up, her rheumy eyes regarding them from beneath heavy wrinkled lids. The Matron Mother wore the plain white smock of the Daughters, but not the usual veil, and her dry, silver hair was tied back in a simple clasp.

‘Thank you for coming,’ she said with a smile that creased her entire face. She looked like a kindly old woman, one who might spend her latter years gifting alms to the poor or knitting shawls for street urchins. Kaira knew otherwise; the Matron Mother was a stone hard and powerful icon, whose words must be obeyed, whose example revered. ‘You are probably wondering why I have summoned you here.’ She paused, but neither Kaira nor Samina spoke. ‘The fact is, I have called for you both because you are the finest warriors of this temple, perhaps even all the temples in the Free States. As such you are to receive an honour.’

For the briefest moment Kaira felt her heart leap. This was a mission, perhaps an opportunity for them both to leave the city and act in defence of the country.

‘Word has reached us from the Temple of Winter in Ironhold. The High Abbot is making his way to Steelhaven to visit us and attend the Feast of Arlor at the royal palace. He will require a bodyguard while he is here — the finest warriors we have to offer.’

As quickly as it had soared, Kaira’s heart sank. Though guarding the High Abbot was a great honour, fighting at the front with the armies of the Free States was all she had ever trained for. She wanted to protest, but knew the decision had been made. Nothing she could say would change it. Samina, however, was not above complaining.

‘Surely the High Abbot has his own guard of honour, the Sons of Malleus?’ she said, her voice doing nothing to mask her disappointment. ‘Why does he need us? We have duties within the temple. Our recruits are at a crucial stage of their training.’

‘Your students will still be waiting once this duty has been fulfilled. It is unlikely the High Abbot will be staying long.’

‘But surely the Exarch would rather we concentrated on our training than guarding visitors?’

If the Matron Mother was shocked by Samina’s petulant question she didn’t show it. ‘The Exarch agrees with me, that the High Abbot must be protected by our best. It is a great honour, one you should both relish.’

‘We shall, Matron Mother,’ Kaira said, before Samina could say anything further. The Matron Mother’s placid mood could change without warning, and the last thing Kaira needed was Samina landing them in trouble.

The Matron Mother smiled. ‘I realise this must come as something of a disappointment to you both. Menial duties within the Temple are beneath the pair of you. You want nothing more than to head north with our armies, that much is clear, and so you should. You are warriors born. To fight in defence of your nation and religion is what you were raised for.’

‘We live to serve,’ Kaira answered, though she agreed with everything the Matron Mother said.

‘I know you do. And we are grateful. It is how I know I can trust you with this duty. And fear not — when it is fulfilled there will be more for you to do. Things more suited to your skills. If King Cael’s army cannot stem the flood from the north you may well be called upon to aid his forces.’

‘We only wish to fight in defence of the Free States,’ Samina said. ‘To do what we were trained for.’

The Matron Mother nodded wryly. ‘You should be careful what you wish for, Shieldmaiden. The High Abbot will be here within three days. I expect you to be ready and waiting for his every command.’

‘We shall, Matron Mother,’ Kaira said. She bowed, as did Samina.

‘Very good,’ the Matron Mother replied, before turning back to her parchments. The Shieldmaidens took this as their signal to leave.

As the two warriors retraced their steps through the corridors of the temple it was clear the Coldeye could keep her peace no longer.

‘Guard duty?’ she said furiously, scattering a group of Arlor’s Daughters who had been unlucky enough to cross her path. ‘Guard duty? What is the Exarch thinking, allowing this? The High Abbot has his own warriors-’

‘Enough,’ said Kaira, glancing up and down the corridor. ‘This is not the place.’

Samina was angry, but gritted her teeth. The pair of them remained silent as they made their way back to the chamber of arms. Once inside, Samina flung her gilded helmet at the wall where it bounced with a clang.

‘I’m as annoyed as you are,’ said Kaira. ‘But it is our duty.’

‘It is our duty to defend the temple. Not act as handmaids.’

‘It is a great honour, sister. That is why we were chosen.’

This seemed to calm Samina slightly, though her annoyance was still obvious. ‘We’d better be richly rewarded for this. We should at least be allowed to take the Shieldmaidens north to aid the king. That’s all I can say.’

‘I’m sure it’s not,’ replied Kaira with a grin.

There was silence for a moment, before the two of them began laughing. But, as they unbuckled their ceremonial armour, the words of the Matron Mother seemed to nag at Kaira — be careful what you wish for .

It was a sad unwanted building in the shoddier part of the city, an old disused chapel, a remnant to the Old Gods that just hadn’t got around to collapsing yet. Birds had taken to nesting in the rafters, rats under the floorboards and termites in the walls. In a city long past its best, this was one more relic of bygone days, evidence of a golden age now all but rotted and dead. It was perfect for Merrick Ryder’s needs.

He checked his attire one last time, self-consciously adjusting collar and cuffs. Merrick was going for a particular look; as if he’d come from money but fallen on hard times. This was crucial to his act and explained the silken shirt, masterfully tailored jacket and britches, not brand new, but not moth-eaten either. Like a master angler, he could select just the right bait and present it in just the right spot. All he needed now was the old trout.

And in she came.

Lady Elina Humburg glanced around the chapel, eyes wide and fearful. In her fine frock and with her painted face and her glittering jewels, she was clearly unused to being in this part of the city.

Merrick could have shown himself straight away, could have spared her the fear, but where was the fun in that? Besides, he wanted her nervous, afraid. It would make this subterfuge that much easier to pull off.

He watched her for several moments, letting the tension build, and just when she looked as if she might flee in fright, he stepped out of the shadows.

‘My lady,’ he breathed, ‘I cannot thank you enough for coming.’

She turned with a jangle of jewellery — a sound that never failed to fill Merrick with excitement — and rushed into his arms. ‘Oh, my Lord Franco, how could I ever stay away?’

He embraced her, holding her close, making her feel safe, feel wanted. An easy act, at which he was well practised. Hells, he’d done this more than a dozen times, but Merrick Ryder was nothing if not proficient.

‘It’s like a dagger to my heart to think you might put yourself in danger,’ he whispered into her ear. She shuddered at the nearness of his lips and he felt her grip him all the tighter. ‘The Sultan’s spies could even now be watching us, waiting to strike.’

‘The danger is worth it, Lord Franco,’ she answered, gazing at him. ‘And I know there is nothing to fear when you are close.’

He paused for a second, his lips hovering near hers, letting the expectation build. Then he kissed her. She responded vigorously; a truly passionate kiss — he had to give her that — but then Lady Elina was a passionate woman. Just a shame such passion was wrapped in a body so clearly partial to sweetcakes and honey wine. Luckily, Merrick wasn’t courting the woman for her looks — but rather for her seemingly endless riches.