Winterbirth
And when I demand recompense, he imprisons my Steward and denies my authority. The gold Igryn has bought you and your warriors with is mine, little whore-soldier.
    'Whatever cave or hovel he is hiding in, my armies will have him soon and he will learn the price of betrayal. As will all who stand against me. Not one stone of the fort above us here will stand. Not one of those within its walls will see another dawn after I have torn them down, and you will be brought before me with your hands struck off and your eyes put out. I will gut you myself and send your head back to your kingling in Dornach.'
    'But . . .' stammered T'erin, 'I will give you An Caman. You need spend no more of your people's blood upon it . . .'

    Gryvan laughed harshly.
    'You think a High Thane is so feeble a thing, so fearful or soft, that the sight of blood would concern him? Has Dornach forgotten so easily the mettle of the True Bloods? If I have to swim through the spilled blood of my own men to do it, I will see every living thing within those walls dead and laid out at my feet. Go back and tell your people they can expect nothing from me but a swift journey to the Sleeping Dark.'
    The mercenary held out his hands and started to speak. Before he could do so, Kale seized his arms and pushed him from the tent. The High Thane sighed and sank a little deeper into his chair as his bodyguard returned. He sent the footman away with a flick of his wrist.
    Gryvan beckoned Kale closer and the warrior stepped forwards, inclining his head a touch that he might hear the Thane's soft-spoken words.
    'Our friend from Dornach is unfortunate to find himself in a more tightly woven web than he knew. In other times his would have been a welcome offer, but Dargannan is not the only Blood with lessons to learn. I am not done with Kilkry and Lannis. I will see their strength spent and broken on these slopes yet.'
    'That strength is all but gone, my lord,' said Kale. 'They sent two thousand men apiece to campaign with you. Less than half that number could now take the field.'
    'Still, that is more than I will send back to them. They may conceal them better than Igryn, but their instincts are still those of rebels.'
    The Thane pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes.
    'Ah, Kale,' he said, 'my bones are too old for plotting in the depth of the night. I long to be back in Vaymouth. It's been too long this time.'
    'Your bones are not so old,' said his bodyguard unsmilingly, 'and to be always plotting is the fate of the Thane of all the Bloods. Igryn is almost finished. He cannot hide forever. We could be back in Vaymouth in a month, I think.'
    Gryvan yawned, putting his hand to Kale's shoulder for a moment.
    'No doubt,' he said. 'Well, I'll not sleep again now I've been woken. Slumber's an unreliable companion as the years go by: irresistible when you're in its embrace, then irrecoverable when you're parted from it for a while. Send for our loyal northern captains, and have someone bring me clothes more fitting to receive them in.'
    Kale gave a shallow bow as he backed away, then turned and passed out into the night.
    Taim Narran dar Lannis-Haig, captain of Castle Anduran, was ushered into the council tent by Kale.
    The two exchanged a loveless glance. Close behind him came Roaric nan Kilkry-Haig, the younger son of Lheanor, Thane of the Kilkry Blood. Gryvan awaited them on his wooden throne, now wearing a fine ceremonial cape and with his sheathed sword across his knees. On either side of him stood Shield guards, resplendent in formal dress as they stared ahead.

    'A cold night to be making plans,' said Gryvan, 'but war makes harsh demands upon us all.'
    Taim said nothing. Roaric shifted uncomfortably at his side.
    'Too cold for pleasantries, I see. So,' continued the High Thane, 'when light returns, we attempt the walls again. Your companies shall lead the assault.'
    Taim lowered his eyes, his teeth clenched and his knuckles showing white as he gripped the hilt of his

Similar Books

Slide Trombone

David Nickle

The Scottish Bride

Catherine Coulter

The Book of a Few

Austen Rodgers

Ever After

Jude Deveraux