‘Thought you were headed for the Ministry?’
Koll worked his neck out, scratching hard at the back of his head. ‘For a long time so did I, but there’s all kinds of ways a man can change the world, I reckon. My mother told me … to be the best man I could.’ His eyes were suddenly swimming, and he laughed, and tugged at a thong around his neck, something clicking under his shirt. ‘Shame it took me this long to work out what she meant. But I got there in the end. Not too late, I hope. You going in then?’
Raith winced towards the window, and cleared his throat. ‘No.’ He used to have naught but contempt for this boy. Now he found he envied him. ‘I reckon your errand comes first.’
‘Not going to butt me again, are you?’
Raith waved at his broken nose. ‘I’m nowhere near so keen on butting as I was. Best of luck.’ And he slapped Koll on the shoulder as he passed. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow.’
But he knew he wouldn’t.
Evening time, and the shadows were long on the docks as Mother Sun slipped down over Skekenhouse. The last light glinted on glass in Raith’s palm. The vial Mother Scaer had given him, empty now. It’d been foreseen no man could kill Grom-gil-Gorm, but a few drips in a cup of wine had got it done. Koll had been right. Death waits for us all.
Raith took a hard breath, made a fist of his hand and winced at that old ache through his broken knuckles. You’d think pain would get less with time, but the longer you feel it, the worse it hurts. Jenner had been right too. Nothing ever quite heals.
He’d been a king’s sword-bearer and a queen’s bodyguard, he’d been the first warrior into battle and an oarsman on a hero’s crew. Now he wasn’t sure what he was. Wasn’t even sure what he wanted to be.
Fighting was all he’d known. He’d thought Mother War would bring him glory, and a glittering pile of ring-money, and the brotherhood of the shield-wall. But she’d taken his brother and given him nothing but wounds. He hugged his sore ribs, scratched at the dirty bandages on his burned arm, wrinkled his broken nose and felt the dull pain spread through his face. This was what fighting got you, if it didn’t get you dead. Hungry, aching and alone with a heap of regrets head-high.
‘Didn’t work out, eh?’ Thorn Bathu stood looking down at him, hands propped on her hips, the orange glory of Mother Sun’s setting at her back, so all he could see was her black outline.
‘How did you know?’ he asked.
‘Whatever it is, you don’t look like a man it worked out for.’
Raith gave a sigh right from his guts. ‘Did you come to mock me or kill me? Either way I can’t be bothered to stop you.’
‘Neither one, as it happens.’ Thorn slowly sat, her long legs dangling over the side of the quay beside his. She was silent a while, a frown on her scarred face. A breeze blew up and Raith watched a pair of dried-up leaves go chasing each other down the quay. Finally she spoke again. ‘Life ain’t easy for the likes of us, is it?’
‘Doesn’t seem to be.’
‘Those who are touched by Mother War …’ She stared out towards the glittering horizon. ‘We don’t know what to do with ourselves when Father Peace gets his turn. Those of us who’ve fought all our lives, when we run out of enemies …’
‘We fight ourselves,’ said Raith.
‘Queen Laithlin offered me my old place as her Chosen Shield.’
‘Good for you.’
‘I can’t take it.’
‘No?’
‘I stay around here, all I’ll ever see is what I’ve lost.’ She stared off at nothing, a sad half-smile on her lips. ‘Brand wouldn’t have wanted me pining. That boy had no jealousy in him. He’d have wanted new shoots in the ashes.’ She slapped the stones beside her. ‘So Father Yarvi’s giving me the South Wind.’
‘Handsome gift.’
‘Don’t think he’ll be sailing anywhere for a while. I’ve a mind to take her back down the Divine and Denied, all the way to the First of Cities and beyond, maybe. If I leave in the next few days, I reckon I can stay ahead of the ice. So I’m putting a crew together. Got my old friend Fror as helmsman, my old friend Dosduvoi as storekeeper, my old friend Skifr to pick the course.’
‘You’re surely blessed with friends for a woman as unfriendly as you are.’ Raith watched the gold glint on the water as Mother Sun sank behind them. ‘You’ll row away, and leave your sorry self here on the docks, eh? I wish you luck.’
‘I’m not a big believer in luck.’ Thorn gave a long sniff and spat into the water. But she didn’t leave. ‘I learned something worth knowing, the other day.’
‘My nose breaks easily as anyone’s?’
‘I’m someone who sometimes needs to be told no.’ She looked sideways at him. ‘That means I’m someone who needs someone around with the guts to tell me no. Aren’t many of them around.’
Raith raised his brows. ‘Fewer than there used to be, too.’
‘I can always find a use for a bloody little bastard, and I’ve got a back oar free.’ Thorn Bathu stood, and offered him her hand. ‘You coming?’
Raith blinked at it. ‘You want me to join the crew of someone I always hated, someone nearly killed me a couple of days back, to sail half the world away from all I’ve ever known or wanted on the promise of nothing but hard work and bad weather?’
‘Aye, that’s it.’ She grinned down. ‘Why, you beating away better offers?’
Raith opened his fist and looked down at the empty vial. Then he turned his palm over and let it fall into the water. ‘Not really.’
He took Thorn’s hand, and let her pull him to his feet.
The Rise
‘There!’ bellowed Koll, stabbing his open palm towards the drover to halt the dozen straining oxen, the great chain creaking and twitching. There was a grinding, then a mighty clonk as the feet of the vast gable dropped into their stone-carved sockets.
‘Stake it!’ shouted Rin, and teams of carpenters who not long ago had been warriors, and not long before that farmers, began to hammer posts into the ground, hauling tight a web of ropes that would keep the great truss from falling.
Skara stared up, neck aching it reared so high above them. It stood over the ruined steps of different-coloured marble where Mother Kyre had once greeted visitors to Yaletoft. Just where the great gable of her grandfather’s hall had stood. The one she had watched fall the night Bright Yilling came. Could it only have been a few months ago? It felt a hundred years and more. It felt as if a different girl had watched it happen in a different world, and Skara had only heard the story.
Blue Jenner showed his gap-toothed smile as he stared up at it. ‘Stands just where the old hall did.’
‘But higher, and wider, and far more graceful,’ said Skara. Each of the two posts and two rafters had been fashioned from a spear-straight pine-trunk, floated downriver from the high hills above Throvenland where the trees grew oldest and tallest, stripped to the pale wood and beautifully shaped. ‘It’s fine work.’ And Skara set her gloved hand on Rin’s shoulder. ‘I swear I could not have found a better smith and carpenter anywhere in the whole Shattered Sea.’
Rin grinned over her shoulder. ‘A well-known fact, my queen. You’re lucky we were tired of making swords.’
‘All this and modest too?’ murmured Mother Owd.
Rin twitched her apron straight. ‘Modesty’s for folk with nothing to boast of.’
‘Hold them here!’ Koll called to the drovers, catching the long chain that linked their yoke to the very top of the truss and swinging underneath it.
Rin started towards him. ‘Where the hell are you going, you fool?’
‘Up!’ he called, and swarmed off underneath the chain with his legs crossed over it, nimble and fearless as a squirrel, soon far overhead and swinging in the breeze.
Rin clutched at her head with both hands, hair sticking out between her fingers, the two keys she wore rattling together on her chest. ‘Get down from there before you kill yourself!’
‘This is an excellent chain!’ called Koll as he climbed higher and higher. ‘You should be proud!’