Free Queen (Brotherhood of the Throne) by Jane Glatt Page B

proof that the guilds
understood the situation. He’d counted on it of course - after all they were only
ever looking to make a profit. Why would they care who sat on the throne as
long as they benefited? He smiled at Guild Master Brunger, who had followed the
last of the goods into the hall.
    “Guild Master you have
outdone yourself, I think,” Thorold said.
    Brunger stopped and bowed
low before him. The man’s daughter, a pretty young woman, curtsied before she
rose and met his gaze. She was prettier thatn the weaver but he remembered that
she’d danced with his son a few times. Had Beldyn been doing more than dancing
with the wench? Ah well, soon enough Beldyn would be betrothed and he’d have to
put aside any mistresses. Which reminded him - he must make sure his son hadn’t
left a trail of bastards that could cause trouble later.
    “It’s a momentous
occasion,” Brunger said, smiling grandly. “The guilds are honoured to play our
own small part. You will let me know if there is anything you’d like for your
own personal use, won’t you?”
    Thorold smiled and his
eyes flicked to the young woman with the wool. She was approaching Beldyn now,
her head bent over her burden.
    “I’ll be sure to, Guild
Master,” Thorold said letting his gaze rest on the man’s daughter before he met
the other man’s eyes.
    Thorold scanned the room
as Brunger went over a detailed list of every item the guilds had gifted him.
Once Beldyn was formally crowned he would have anything he wanted, including
the Guild Master’s daughter. But the other girl, the weaver, he saw no need to
wait for her.
    When the Guild Master finished
speaking Thorold waved him off and went to join his son. He frowned - Beldyn was
pale. He supposed it could be from being forced to stay inside for fittings of
formal clothing. A new king needed a fine wardrobe, after all, but he did look a
little wan and tired. It would not do to have him faint during his coronation.
Perhaps he’d release the boy from his duties for the rest of the day. Yes, that
was it. A little rest would ensure that his son was ready for the strain of the
next few days.
     
    Brenna looked around and
smiled. It was perfect. She could already see where the infirmary would be set
up and there were some excellent spaces for teaching. She’d spoken to the
highest ranking priest, Cleric Azel, a practical man older even than Gwylym. He’d
been more than a little relieved when she’d outlined her proposal. There were
less than half a dozen priests living here, he’d said, and they were too old
and frail to properly look after themselves.
    It made Brenna angry and more
than a little sad, to know that the church had all but abandoned these men. The
priests who had gone to Kingsreach should be back right after the coronation
but that meant over four weeks of struggle for those who were left behind.
    Brenna promised the best
of care for the elderly residents - they could take their meals with the
healers and with an infirmary operating, a little more laundry and cleaning
wouldn’t be a burden. The priests would move to one small area of their
quarters and let the healers use the rest of the space as they saw fit.
    “Cleric Azel, you realize
that many of the women follow the old gods?” she asked.
    The elderly man had just shown
her their food stores. There were dried beans and cheese, along with fruits and
vegetables from the fall harvest, but they had no meat left at all.
    “Yes I do, Mistress
Brenna. I also understand that you are training healers in preparation for
war.”
    Brenna looked up at him in
surprise and he smiled.
    “I’m an old man but my
mind works just fine.” He sighed and looked around. “There was a time when it
was assumed the church would help the poor and ill regardless of their beliefs,
but that sentiment seems to be in the past. In the last dozen years I’ve seen
the church become an instrument of intolerance and I’ll say to you that I am
glad to remain in