A Day of Fallen Night (The Roots of Chaos)

The promise of spring was thawing the frost. In another, softer time, Wulf would have savoured being in Inys to see it. He would have watched the green return to the trees and bluebells freckle the haithwood. He would have picked parsley and garlic with Mara while the birds threaded their nests. He might have joined his father for a lambing, as he had as a child.

Not this year. All was hushed in the Lakes, as if even the birds could sense the danger, which they likely could. So far, there seemed to be no sign of plague.

Summerport was closed by order of the Lord Protector. Not wanting to risk the causeway again, they had ridden first to Merroworth, where some ships were still permitted to fish and coast in Inysh waters, though not beyond. A karve had taken them past the Fens, to the port of Queens’ Lynn. Now they approached the haithwood, and the manor at its threshold.

That forest had always struck trepidation into Wulf. Today, it filled him with burning resolve.

‘Very quaint,’ Thrit observed as the three of them reached Langarth. ‘The chimneys are smoking, at least.’

‘Doesn’t mean Father is home.’ Wulf dismounted. ‘The servants keep the fires burning.’

‘Must’ve been strenuous, roughing it with the Hróthi churls when you had servants, Lord Wulfert.’

‘Ah, quit your jawing.’

‘On that note, how do I address your father?’ Thrit said with interest.

‘He’s Lord Edrick, or Baron Glenn,’ Mara said. ‘And Pa is Lord Mansell.’

‘And your brother, the heir?’

‘Roland. Master Roland, if you want to be courteous, but Rollo isn’t one for airs or graces.’

‘So he’s not a lord, but Helisent Beck – the heir to Goldenbirch – is a lady. How so?’

‘Lady Helisent is the only child of an earl. Our father is a baron, a lower rank. None of his children receive titles.’

Thrit nodded sagely. ‘In Hróth it’s much simpler. Chieftain or not.’

Finding no ostlers, they stabled the horses themselves. ‘So,’ Thrit said, ‘we’re here to tell your father that we want to spy on the most powerful man in Inys, to see if he’s a heathen.’

Wulf gave his rouncey a pat. ‘That’s the essence of it.’

‘Does it matter if the man honours a few of the old ways, if it doesn’t distract him from his work?’

‘I don’t care overmuch about his private beliefs. Bardholt was a heathen once,’ Wulf said. ‘I do care about my oath to Einlek. If I’m to make sure Queen Glorian is safe before we leave, I need to be certain what sort of man her regent is.’

‘Fine by me.’ Thrit took off his fur hat and smoothed his hair. ‘Better here than in that grim capital.’

‘Aye,’ Mara said. ‘Things will go awry there before long, with so much in ruin.’ They crossed the moat, and she used her key to unlock the main door. ‘Father, Rollo, are you here?’

No one answered. They split up to search the lower rooms, meeting again in the Great Hall.

‘Can’t see a soul,’ Wulf said, stumped.

‘Sanny is here. Our cook,’ Mara added to Thrit, who shook his head. ‘She says Father is with the Countess of Deorn, but he should be back by tonight. Rollo and Pa are off calling the people to arms.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘I’ll see to it that there’s enough supper. You two should get some rest. Show Thrit to a room, will you, Wulf?’

Wulf took Thrit through the cloisters and up the stairs, to the guest bedchamber he liked best, which protruded over the moat.

‘So this is where you grew up,’ Thrit said, looking about with interest. ‘A fine place.’ He set his pack and weapons down and rolled his shoulders. ‘When you talked about the haithwood, I didn’t think it was right on your doorstep.’

‘I do sometimes wonder why Father kept me so close to it. Rathdun Sanctuary takes bairns now and then. He could have stuck me in the foundling wheel and had done with it.’

‘Foundling wheel?’

‘A hatch in a sanctuary, for abandoned bairns. Keeps them from dying of exposure before the sanctarian finds them.’ Wulf loaded the hearth with firewood. ‘Our parents never let us go beyond the treeline. Roland would, because he was the eldest, and liked to prove how fearless he was. When Father saw, he was so livid I thought he’d skelp Rollo.’

‘There won’t be anything in there, Wulf. Just like there was nothing in the frozen lakes of Hróth.’

‘There are some things. Wolves and cave bears and such.’ He took out his firesteel. ‘That’s how I got my name. When Father found me, there was a wolf close by. He scared her off, but later, he wondered if she was guarding me. He named me wolf heart in Old Inysh.’

He sparked the kindling. As soon as the flame appeared, he dropped the firesteel, seeing the fire on the ship, on her.

‘Wulf?’

‘I’m fine.’ His brow dampened. ‘Thank you, Thrit, for coming here.’ He picked up his firesteel and stood, hooking the tool back on to his belt. ‘You could have sailed with Sauma.’

‘And miss a grand adventure in the woods?’ Thrit snorted. ‘No chance.’ Wulf smiled a little. ‘I have no plans to leave your side. You bury things, Wulf Glenn – you always have – but no matter how deep you bury what you saw on the Conviction, it will come back up. You shouldn’t be alone when it does. Even Bardholt needed to talk about the war.’

‘I know.’ Wulf took a deep breath. ‘I still can’t believe he’s gone.’

‘Aye.’ Thrit leaned against the bedpost, arms folded. ‘How is Queen Glorian?’

Wulf watched the fire take hold of the wood. ‘I said I’d lie with her.’

‘What?’

‘I said I would lie with her,’ he said again, almost too softly to hear. ‘That I’d help her get with child.’

Thrit huffed a disbelieving laugh. Wulf glanced at him, and the smile dropped off his lips.

‘Wulf—’ He rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I know what happened with Regny.’ Wulf tensed. ‘You’re less subtle than you think. You got away unreprimanded, but Glorian is the Queen of Inys, the blood of the Saint. You’d be executed. Wake your wits.’

‘Inys needs to wake its wits. The Virtues Council is pressuring her to have an heir now.’

‘A legitimate heir, presumably, begotten in wedlock.’

‘Aye, and Lord Robart has married her off to a prince nearly sixty years her senior.’

Thrit stared at him. ‘Saint.’ He sat on his haunches. ‘That’s why you suspect Lord Robart.’

Wulf nodded stiffly. ‘Einlek told me to see her safe, and I will.’

‘Saint, Wulf, I don’t think he meant to swive her.’

‘It’s not about that,’ Wulf said quietly. Thrit raised an eyebrow. ‘Aye, she’s bonny. I’m not claiming it would be some great hardship. But me and her – it’s not that way. We made a vow, as bairns, that we’d always be friends. What sort of friend would I be if I let some old man plough her?’

Thrit grimaced. ‘A sound argument,’ he said, ‘but for the love of the Saint, Wulf, be careful. Adultery with her is high treason. Your head is far too handsome to be on a spike.’

‘I will. She may not choose me, either way.’

‘I think we both know that’s a lie.’ Thrit hitched up a smile. ‘She’d be a fool not to.’

Wulf frowned as he looked into those dark eyes. Thrit cleared his throat and turned away.

‘We should both get some rest,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you this evening.’

‘Aye.’

Standing in the corridor, Wulf was left to wonder if he had just missed something.

He thought of going to his own room to sleep off the long journey. Instead, he returned downstairs to find Mara tucked into the inglenook, as he had often found her in the past, with a tome in her lap.

It occurred to him that this might be his last visit to Langarth. When Fýredel returned with its flock, there would be no mercy, and no end to the destruction.

He sat beside his sister and wrapped her into his arms, planting a kiss on the crown of her head. ‘What was that for?’ she said, looking up at him.

‘Nothing.’

Mara reached up to pat his cheek. ‘I love you as well,’ she said. ‘I wanted to tell you – because I never have, and I bitterly regretted that fact when I thought you’d gone and died – that the day Father brought a bairn from those trees was the best day of my life.’

Wulf swallowed, heat in his eyes. Mara leaned into him and slept.

****

At first, he thought the row of hailstones on the shutters had woken him. Mara stirred at his side, eyes opening. They both stilled when they heard footsteps and voices in the entrance hall.

‘Let me talk to him first,’ Mara whispered. ‘He’ll go into a nervous shock if he sees you.’

She left to meet their father.

‘Mara,’ Lord Edrick said in surprise. ‘I thought you’d be with Lady Marian. How long have you been here?’

‘Not long. I’ll explain later, I promise,’ Mara said. Wulf slowly followed their voices. ‘Father, I brought the most wonderful news, but I think you might want to sit down.’

Wulf could see Lord Edrick now. He looked even older, damp from the downpour. ‘I can’t imagine how there could be any.’ After handing his cloak to a servant, he let Mara guide him to a settle. ‘But it’s a comfort to see you, hen. What brings you north?’

Mara glanced over her shoulder at Wulf. He stepped into the light. Lord Edrick saw him and sank back, his face turning pale.

‘Mara,’ he said hoarsely, groping for her hand. ‘I see an apparition. Saint, it is from Halgalant.’

‘No, Father. It’s me,’ Wulf said, worried he might be about to die of fright. ‘I survived.’

Lord Edrick had frozen stiff. When he finally cracked his jaw to speak, he whispered, ‘Is it truly you?’ He got to his feet, almost wheezing. ‘Wulfert. My son.’ He seized him in a tight embrace, and Wulf gripped him back, trying not to weep yet again. After all the hardship, it was a relief he could never articulate, to be held tight by his father.

It took some time to soothe Lord Edrick. Mara and Wulf ushered him to the warmth of the Great Hall and got him a goblet of barley wine, to quell his trembling. Wulf sat at his side and told him everything.

‘The Saint intervened,’ Lord Edrick rasped, when he was finished. ‘It’s the only explanation. It’s true you never seemed to feel the cold when you were young, but the Ashen Sea—’ He drained his goblet. ‘I’ll have to call Roland and Mansell back.’

‘Not yet.’ Mara poured him some more wine. ‘Father, Wulf and I need your help with something.’

‘Anything.’

Between them, she and Wulf recounted their meeting with Lady Helisent Beck, and her fear about Lord Robart. Their father calmed as they spoke, clearly sifting the facts.

‘Do you know,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘Lord Ordan did tell me of those lamps, all those years ago. I never saw a thing, so we both assumed the matter had been put to rest. Strange to hear otherwise from Helisent.’ He drank. ‘Our prince consort. Do you know his name?’

‘Guma Vetalda.’

‘The Hermit of Hart Grove?’ he said, surprised. ‘Saint, I didn’t realise he was in his seventies. I’ve no idea why he would marry this late in life – he’s rich and comfortable as it is, with those mines. Mind you, they do say he’s wanted more power for decades. He was born a few breaths after his sister, else he would have been King of Yscalin.’

Wulf watched his father think. Lord Edrick had always had a weakness for mysteries.

‘All this is pulling at some thread in my mind,’ he murmured. ‘I assumed Lord Robart had returned to Ascalun, having instructed us up here. If he’s still at Parr Castle—’ His brow pleated. ‘I suppose there’s no harm in the two of you keeping watch on the place, to see what he’s doing, and whether he does go into the haithwood for the Feast of Early Spring.’

‘We could follow him,’ said Wulf. ‘We might even catch him in the act.’

‘To accuse him, you’d need an anointed witness. Someone from the Virtues Council.’

‘Could we get one?’

‘Perhaps.’ Lord Edrick glanced at them both. ‘I am glad the two of you came to me with this, rather than probing alone, but you know Lord Robart has a great deal more power than I do.’

At that moment, Thrit appeared in the doorway in fresh garb. Wulf beckoned him.

‘Father,’ he said, ‘this is Thrit of Isborg.’

‘Ah, the famous Thrit.’ Lord Edrick addressed him warmly. ‘Fire for your hearth.’

‘Joy for your hall, my lord.’ Thrit held a fist to his chest. ‘It’s good to finally meet you.’

‘And you, son. Wulf has sung us your praises for years.’

Thrit glanced at Wulf with a smile, arching an eyebrow. ‘Has he, indeed?’

‘He has. I am so very sorry for your losses – the king and your lith. A cruel thing. But perhaps we can assist Queen Glorian, between us.’ Lord Edrick rose, taking Mara by the arm. ‘Join us for supper, Thrit. From what I heard on the road, there won’t be good fare on our tables much longer.’

****

Glorian was ensconced in the Royal Chancery when the bonesetter came to see her. All day, she had been combing through old treasury records, trying to wrap her mind around them.

One of the palace mousers sniffed at her skirts, mewing. She picked it up and stroked it as she took a break. The sun had vanished, and the candles burned low in their holders.

She had never understood figures, but Helisent and Julain did. From what they could tell, Lord Robart had told the truth. Queen Sabran had been frugal, helping to fix the ruin of the Century of Discontent, but her marriage had been for peace, not riches. King Bardholt had brought no dowry. His family had been paupers when he took up arms for Skiri Longstride.

Glorian had known the situation must be grave, but this was worse than she had feared. Her ancestors had stabbed holes in the coffers and let the gold run out. There was evidence of past embezzlement, too, ignored or unnoticed by the three worst queens in Inysh history.

Prince Guma was the answer. He was said to be so rich that he ate off plates crusted with emeralds. Glorian glanced down at the ring on her finger, yellow gold from the Saurga Mountains.

She had told Wulf that she knew what happened in the bridechamber. True to a degree, but no one had ever brought her abreast of the fine details. In the end, Julain had given up on subtleties and asked her mother.

Now Glorian understood why Wulf had been so ready to prevent the consummation. She had thought for days on his offer, weighing the risks.

He was her friend, and she trusted him. The thought of doing that with him, the thing that sounded so embarrassing and intrusive – it made her feel shy, but not sick enough to crawl out of her skin. She thought she might endure it with him.

Adultery was the worst possible affront to the Knight of Fellowship. It would go against everything her mother had taught her – that she had to be perfect and virtuous, always.

The danger to Wulf troubled her. A queen might not be punished for an affair, but her lover could.

‘Queen Glorian.’

She looked up. ‘Yes, Sir Bramel?’

Her guard wore full armour. ‘Mastress Bourn desires an audience.’

‘Let them in.’

Almost at once, the bonesetter appeared, clutching what Glorian thought, at first, was a dead fox.

‘Your Grace.’ Usually composed, Bourn now quaked with restrained anger. ‘Forgive me, but I have already gone to the Regency Council, and they will not listen to me.’

‘I will help you if I can, Mastress Bourn.’

‘Inys must take harder action against this sickness in the Fens. We are being too lax. I have just visited the launderers, and they were blowing white wine on to clothes by mouth.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘It’s how wet furs are revived,’ Florell said from the corner. ‘Is there a problem, Mastress Bourn?’

‘Yes, my lady, a grave one,’ came the sharp reply. ‘Sickness can be spread by bodily expulsions, whether breath or blood or the milk of the breast. Such practices must be stopped immediately.’

‘Then how are furs to be refreshed after rain or snow?’

‘Not with—’ Bourn took a deep breath. ‘Brush them, Lady Florell. Warm them by a fire.’

‘You are a bonesetter, not a physician,’ Florell said, defensive. ‘What does Doctor Forthard say?’

‘Forthard still deals in toothworms and toadstones, like most Inysh physicians. I do not.’ Bourn put down the fur. ‘Your Grace, I have learned from healers across the world, as far away as the East. Lord Robart made a fair start by closing the ports, but he is away, and the other Dukes Spiritual are not taking this matter seriously. The people must wear cloths over their mouths and noses.’

‘Wait. You have been to the East?’ Glorian shut the ledger she had been reading. ‘Truly?’

Bourn hesitated. ‘I was born there,’ they finally said. ‘My mother was Inysh, my father an Ersyri coppersmith. He wanted to sell in the East, so they sailed to join a small Southern enclave. I first saw Inys when I was sixteen, when my mother returned home.’

‘Where in the East?’

‘Mozom Alph, in the Queendom of Sepul.’

‘I thought no ship could cross the Abyss,’ Glorian breathed. ‘How did your parents get so far?’

‘There is just one sea lane – the Ships’ Bane. One must cross the Northern Plain from west to east to reach the port. It’s a long, hard journey, and most ships wreck on the Bane, but it is the only way to reach that continent. My mother was fortunate to survive it twice.’

Another queendom, far away. For the first time, Glorian wondered. ‘Tell me, Mastress Bourn,’ she said, ‘do the Easterners know any arts that are beyond our ken in Inys?’

‘I’m not sure what you mean, Your Grace. Forgive me.’

‘Ascalun was an enchanted blade. There must be magic in the world. Did you see any in the East?’

Bourn glanced at her ladies, who looked uncertain. ‘No, Your Grace. The Easterners are ordinary people, just like us,’ they said. ‘I saw no evidence of unearthly powers.’

‘Do they have gods?’

‘Most of the Sepuli worshipped gods of the sky and water, which were said to fly on the winds.’

‘Could they speak in dreams?’

‘Glorian, this is heresy,’ Adela said nervously. ‘You shouldn’t—’

‘Hush, Adela.’

‘I don’t know,’ Bourn said. ‘My mother raised me to follow the Six Virtues. I do know the Sepuli claimed the gods once lived among them, but had withdrawn into a deep sleep.’ They held up the wet fur. ‘Please, Your Grace. We need firmer measures. People must keep to their homes as much as possible, use vinegar or wine to wash their hands, and cover their mouths and noses with cloth.’

Florell frowned. ‘For what possible reason?’

‘Until we understand more about how this plague spreads, we must take all precautions, Lady Florell.’

‘I can do nothing without my regent,’ Glorian reminded the bonesetter. ‘I have no authority here, Mastress Bourn. Lord Robart carries it with him. But I will try to convince the rest of the Regency Council.’

Bourn looked grim. With a bow, they retreated, leaving Glorian in the quiet with her ladies.

‘What a peculiar person.’ Florell shook her head in exasperation. ‘Cloths over our mouths and noses – how are we to breathe?’

‘Glorian, we should leave the capital.’ Adela wrung her hands. ‘Before the wyrm returns and the plague comes.’

‘We can’t,’ Glorian reminded her. ‘The Regency Council will not move without orders from Lord Robart.’

‘So we stand about like mommets to wait for Fýredel?’ Julain said, frustrated. ‘The court needs the regent. Why isn’t Lord Robart back by now?’

‘He sent me a letter. He means to remain in his province until the Feast of Early Spring.’

Helisent slowly turned her head. ‘Why?’

‘To inspect the haithwood. He wants to take stock of how much timber could be cut for weapons.’

‘But the barons could do that.’

‘They are busy mustering the people, making sure they’re armed for war.’ Glorian looked at her friend in surprise. ‘Saint, Helly, you look as if you’ve seen an ice spirit. Are you well?’

‘Yes.’ Helisent swallowed. ‘Sorry, I’ve come over . . . a bit faint. May I be excused?’

‘Of course.’

As she left, Glorian prayed her regent would return sooner, so she might hear his plan. She hoped he had one.

Her father had fought a war against his fellow Hróthi. She had seen some of his battle scars, heard his tales of human cruelty – but the enemy had been human. He had known that it was possible to win, matching strength with strength. Glorian had no such guarantee.

Papa, what would you do?

She looked up with a start when screams came from the city. The cat jumped off her lap, hissing. In moments, she was at the window, but found it too dark to see anything but torches. She threw the door open and stepped into the corridor.

‘Sir Bramel?’ she called. ‘Sir Bramel!’

It took him a minute to come from his post. He was followed by his new partner, Dame Rose Suddow, whom Lord Robart had sent from his own household to replace Dame Erda Lindley.

‘Your Grace,’ Sir Bramel said, ‘I just received word of creatures amassing outside the city. The gates have been barred, but it seems some of these fiends have wings.’

‘Wyrms?’

‘Something like them, to be sure.’

Fýredel had been lying. She should have known better than to trust a forked tongue. ‘What is to be done?’ Florell asked Sir Bramel. ‘Did Lord Robart leave plans for a defence?’

‘All I’ve been told is to protect Queen Glorian, and to keep her safe inside.’

If these creatures breathed the plague, Ascalun would soon fall. Before she knew it, Glorian had said, ‘Bring me armour.’

‘Your Grace?’

‘I asked you to bring me armour, Sir Bramel.’ When neither of them moved, Glorian squared up to them. ‘I may not have been crowned, but I am Queen of Inys – and when I sit the throne, I will remember those who respected my position.’

Dame Rose glouted, while Sir Bramel only looked thoughtful. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’ll send my squire to the armoury.’

‘Send it to the Queens’ Tower. You may take me there.’

Glorian watched him leave. Without another word, Dame Rose escorted her from the Royal Chancery.

Let them take her for a foolish child, wanting to play at war. She deserved that. The first time she had faced a wyrm, she had soiled her skirts. This time, she would go to battle astride a horse, with sword in hand. She would show her people that she loved them as much as her mother and father had. That she was not Glorian the Less.

Sir Bramel brought the armour to her bedchamber. ‘Your mother never had mail made for you, but my squire found a coat that should fit.’ He paused. ‘You do mean to go out there, don’t you?’ Glorian was silent. ‘Your Grace, I would counsel against it.’

‘Because I have no heir?’

‘Because you are the Queen of Inys.’

‘I am also the daughter of Bardholt Battlebold. I will not shy from a fight,’ Glorian said. ‘I would need a company of knights, willing to disobey the Lord Protector.’

‘That is treason.’

‘I believe he is a reasonable man. He will understand, when I explain why I took this course of action.’

Sir Bramel glanced over his shoulder. ‘We could take the postern gate, cross the river to Fiswich,’ he said. ‘His guards will try to stop us.’

‘The Knight of Courage will reward you, Sir Bramel, as will the Saint in Halgalant.’

Fresh resolve hardened his gaze. He bowed low before he strode away.

When her ladies came, Florell looked first at the armour, then at Glorian. ‘Glorian,’ she said, ‘what is this about?’

‘I mean to ride. Lord Robart left orders,’ Glorian said, ‘but he is not here, and the enemy is.’

‘Glorian, you can’t,’ Adela said, clutching her sleeve. ‘You can’t go into the streets.’

‘Why should my people risk their lives for a craven queen?’ Glorian asked her. ‘Lord Robart rallied the city while it burned. This time, it must be me. I must show myself.’

‘What if you’re killed, or you catch the plague?’ Adela said fearfully. ‘Glorian, please, don’t. You have no heir!’

‘Until I do, I will not cower in a castle.’ Her voice shook. ‘I will give my people heart. I can do this one small thing, before—’

None of them had to obey. She could not yet command – only request. Julain stepped forward first and took her by the hand.

They removed her shift, and instead put on a fine wool tunic, trousers and a gambeson, lighter than the one she had worn in the throne room. After that came the sleeveless coat of mail. She had thought it would feel too heavy on her shoulders, but it made her feel stronger, to bear its weight. Florell covered her hair with a mail coif. Last came the circlet.

‘Stay here, and pack your most precious belongings,’ Glorian told her ladies. ‘If the creatures have come, this sickness may already be in Ascalun.’ She paused. ‘Where is Helisent?’

‘She went for a walk in the orchard,’ Julain said. ‘She was not feeling well.’

‘Find her. We must leave with all haste.’

‘Where?’

Glorian only considered for a few moments. ‘Arondine,’ she said. ‘Father always said it was a good stronghold. It’s far enough from the Fens, it has several walls and a river nearby, as well as the caves at Stathalstan Knott. We will take the people with us.’

‘You mean for everyone to follow?’

‘Arondine cannot house the population of Ascalun – but if each city, each cave, takes some of the people, we should be able to shelter them all. We have been blessed with a land that can hide us.’

She spoke with confidence, and found it gave her confidence in truth. Her father had told her of the tactics he had used in war. He had not completed her education, but he had laid the cornerstone.

Find your stronghold first.

‘Ready the court to move,’ she said. ‘Tell the Regency Council my orders – and that they cannot stop me.’ She picked up the sword her father had given her. ‘All of us must be warriors now.’