“I am Isolla.” She seemed relieved when her name elicited no reaction from him. “I suppose we may as well travell the rest of the way together. It’s not so far. Is Golophin expecting you?”
“Yes. And you?”
A slight hesitation. “Yes. You may as well dismount, instead of staring down at me.”
“You can ride my horse if you like.”
“No. I only ride sidesaddle anyway.”
So she was well-born. He could have guessed that from her clothes. Her accent intrigued him, though. It was of Astarac.
“You know Golophin well?” he asked her as they walked side by side leading their mounts.
“Well enough. And you?”
“Only by reputation. He is looking after a sick friend of mine.”
“Are you all right? You have a strange gait.”
“I have not ridden a horse in a long time. Or walked upon solid earth for that matter.”
“What, do you possess wings that take you everywhere?”
“No, a ship. She put in only this morning.”
He saw a light dawn in her eyes. She looked him up and down again, this time with some wonder. “Richard Hawkwood the mariner-of course! I am a dunce. Your name is all over the city.”
“The very same.” He waited for her to give some fuller account of herself, but in vain. They strolled together companionably enough after that, the miles flitting by with little more conversation. For some reason Hawkwood was almost disappointed when they finally knocked on the door of Golophin’s tower. There was something about this Isolla that finally made him feel as though he had come home.
I’ve been at sea too long, he told himself.
“Curiosity,” Golophin said, annoyed. “In a man it is a virtue, leading to enlightenment. In a woman it is a vice, leading to mischief.” He looked at Isolla disapprovingly, but she seemed unabashed.
“That’s a saying dreamt up by a man. I am not some gossiping lady’s maid, Golophin.”
“You should not be behaving like one then. Ah, Captain Hawkwood, I thank you for delivering our princess safe and sound, since she was pig-headed enough to come out here.”
“Princess?” Hawkwood asked her. Some absurd little hope died within him.
“It’s not important,” she said uncomfortably.
“You are looking at the next Queen of Hebrion, no less,” Golophin said. “As if the world needed another queen. Make yourself useful, Isolla. Pour us some wine. There’s a jug of it cooling in the study.”
She left the room, undismayed by the old wizard’s disapproval. And indeed, as soon as she had left the room a smile spread across his face.
“She should have been a man,” he said with obvious affection.
Hawkwood disagreed, but kept his opinion to himself.
“So, Captain, we meet at last. I am glad you came.”
“Where’s Bardolin?”
“Asleep. It will speed his healing.”
“Is he… has he-?”
“The beast is dormant for now. I have been able to help him control it.”
“You can cure him, then?”
“No. No-one can. But I can help him manage it. He has been telling me of your voyage. A veritable nightmare.”
“Yes. It was.”
“Not many could have survived it.”
Hawkwood went to the window. It looked out from the tower’s great height over southern Hebrion, the land green and serene under the sun, the sea a sparkle on the horizon.
“I think we were meant to survive it-Bardolin was anyway. They allowed us to escape. I sometimes wonder if they even guided our course on the voyage home. Bardolin told you of them, I suppose. A race of monstrosities. He thinks some of them are in Normannia already, and more are coming. They have plans for us, the wizards of the west.”
“Well, we are forewarned at least-thanks to you. What are your own plans now, Captain?”
The question took Hawkwood by surprise. “I hadn’t thought about it. Lord, I’ve only been back on dry land a day. So much has happened. My wife died in Abrusio, my house is gone. All I have left is my ship, and she is in a sorry state. I suppose I was thinking of going to the King, to see if he had anything for me.” He realised how that sounded, and flushed.
“You have earned something, that much is true,” Golophin reassured him gently. “I am sure Abeleyn will not be remiss in recognising that. Your expedition may have been a failure, but it has also been a valuable source of information. Tell me, what think you of Lord Murad?”
“He’s unhinged. Oh, not in a foaming-at-the-mouth kind of way, but something has gone awry in his head. It was the west that did it.”
“And the girl-shifter, Griella.”
“Bardolin told you of that? Yes, perhaps. That was a queer thing. He felt something for her, and she for him, but it harmed them both.”
Isolla came back with pewter mugs of chilled wine. “Your Majesty,” Hawkwood said as he took his, eyes dancing.
She frowned. “Not yet.”
“Not for several weeks.” Golophin grinned. “I think she grows impatient.”
“With you, yes. Sometimes you are like a little boy, Golophin.”
“Is that so? Abeleyn always thought of me as an old woman. I am a man for all seasons it seems.”
Hawkwood dragged his gaze away from Isolla and set aside his tankard after the merest sip. “I’ll be going. I just wanted to make sure all was well with Bardolin.”
“I’ll speak to the King on your behalf, Captain. We’ll see you are recompensed for your losses, and your achievement,” Golophin promised.
“That won’t be necessary,” Hawkwood said with stiff pride. “Look after Bardolin; he’s a good man, no matter what that bastard wizard turned him into. I can take care of myself. Goodbye, Golophin.” He bowed slightly. “Lady.” And left.
“A proud man for a commoner,” Isolla said.
“He is not a common man,” Golophin retorted. “I was a fool to phrase it so. He deserves recognition for what he did, but he’ll turn his back on it if he thinks it smacks of charity. And meanwhile Lord Murad is no doubt standing on his hind legs as we speak, relating the marvells of his expedition and reaping as much of the credit as he can. It’s a filthy world, Isolla.”
“It could be worse,” she told him. He glanced at her, and laughed.
“Ah, what it is to be in love.” Which made her blush to the roots of her hair.
“You’ll make him a grand wife, if our stiff-necked Captain doesn’t steal you away first.”
“What? What are you saying?”
“Never mind. Hebrion has her King again, and will soon have a worthy Queen. The country needs a rest from war and intrigue for a while. So do I. I intend to immure myself here with Bardolin, and lose myself in pure research. I have neglected that lately. Too much of politics in the way. You and Abeleyn can run the kingdom admirably between you without my help. Just be sure to keep an eye on Murad, and that harpy, Jemilla.”
“She’s finished at court. None of the nobles will give her the time of day now.”
“Don’t be too sure. She still bears a king’s child who, although illegitimate, will always be older than any you have.”
“We had best hope she has a girl, then.”
“Indeed. Now get back to the palace, Isolla. There is a man there who has need of you.”
She kissed the old wizard on the cheek. In Hebrion she had found a husband, and a man who had become like a father. Golophin was right: the worst was over, surely. The country would have its rest.
PART TWO
DEATH OF A SOLDIER
Soon a great warrior
Will tower over the land,
And you will see the ground
Strewn with severed heads.
The clamour of blue swords
Will echo in the hills;
The dew of blood
Will lace the limbs of men.