THE MESTER

31

Trials and Tribulations

Arthwg greeted the Mester anxiously as she strode through the halls of Gwavas Keep. She barely acknowledged him; her head was abuzz with ideas and plans for the castle's defence. Everything she looked at gave her new ideas as her fresh understanding of the barbarian's weapon systems rolled around her head. She would have to shore up the curtain walls with earth, at the very least, to try and deaden the impact of the cannons. Taking out the cannons would need to be a priority... Likewise, she realised that longbows would have limited impact on barbarians wearing plate armour. She needed to get to her office and reformulate her battle plan immediately.

"Are the others back?" she asked, absently, as she marched through the echoing stone halls.

"De and Goron only," said Arthwg, breathing heavily as he struggled to keep up with her pace. Eisheth frowned, slowing. She had made sure all of her Own had been well away before she had loosed herself on the barbarians. Why had they not returned? She had already ascertained that two nights had passed since the confrontation at Sterlester. They should all be back. She noticed Arthwg was still bobbing anxiously and did her best not to snap. "Yes? Is there something else?"

"Lady, there are representatives from the Kenning."

She came to an abrupt halt, grinding her teeth. Of course, they would want to know the outcome of her meeting with the Lochlanach. She should have expected them; she wasn't thinking clearly with her head full of so much new knowledge. Usually, after killing, she made excuses and took herself into the fell for a few days to work off the edge with exercise and devotions. She needed to watch herself. It would not help anyone if she accidentally disembowelled some uptight aetheling Lord to make a point. Decades of carefully built trust would be destroyed in an instant. Control, she must be in control.

"My Lady," said Arthwg.

"What else?" she snapped. She was always...on edge afterwards. Arthwg meant well and knew her habits having served her since his initial incarceration more than sixty years ago. He would not waste her time without good reason. "Sorry," she muttered, and he shook his head, smiling as if it did not matter and handing her a bundle. She took it, mechanically blinking at the fresh shirt and tunic. She stared at it for a second, then looked down at her blood-stained shirt.

"Ancestors bless you, Arthwg," she said and ducked into a room to change out of her soiled clothing. Arthwg had more sense than she did. She could not go into a meeting with the Kenning with her emotions writhing all over the place, and she could not go in covered in blood. The rulers of the Realm were sensitive creatures, and she did her best to keep them that way. The less they knew about the dirty work that went into keeping them all safe, the better.

Freshly clad and emotions more or less under control, she emerged. Nodding her thanks to Arthwg, she arranged her face into her usual pleasant, bland expression and strode into her office.

Inside she found about a third of the Kenning, seated uncomfortably on her austere furniture. She was impressed they had come to Gwavas at all. They must truly be concerned. Usually, the aethelings preferred to pretend the Ancestors Own did not exist.

"Syrs," she said, by way of greeting, as if she had expected them.

"Will there be peace?" asked Lady Jowanet, a tall aetheling lady from Hammett. There was a distinct wobble to her voice. Eisheth resisted the urge to slam her fist into the woman's face. Or the wall. She was harmless, Eisheth reminded herself. Harmless and well-meaning.

"No, I'm afraid not. The barbarians were not interested in talking. They attacked our party at the behest of a Teurek Shaman. I have just this minute returned."

Lord Enys, Candle's father, rose to his feet, his face solemn. Here was one who was not harmless or well-meaning. The man deserved to burn, she thought, privately. Oh, how she wished she could give him to Moloch. Maybe one day she could arrange an accident, but for now, she needed to tolerate him.

"Lady Dantalion," he said formally. "In the light of recent events...and in the light of this most recent failure, we will require your presence at the Lizard -" He paused dramatically, glancing around at the other Lords and Ladies, "for a trial in front of the full Kenning. There have been some allegations that need to be addressed, about your fitness to hold office." Cue the shocked gasps from one or two of the witless fools. Idiots, all of them, for playing with the fate of their nation, as if it was some political game. She kept her face bland, with some effort. She needed to work with these people.

"While we appreciate your service," he said quickly, more to the aethelings than to her, "and that of your family historically, we need you to come with us quietly." She almost laughed at that; instead raising one quizzical brow. Did he really expect his guards to be a match for her? But of course, he would expect her to go calmly, he would not even consider violence as a possibility, and so she would go calmly. Any day now the Lochlanach might discover the location of their hidden fortress, and if Gwavas fell, there was nothing to stop the Lochlanach. Nothing to prevent them from destroying the whole of the Reaches. She didn't have time for nonsense with the Kenning.

"What is she charged with?" asked one of the aetheling ladies. "It is not her fault that the barbarians are so unreasonable; or that they have destroyed Sterlester or Crow's Nest!" One or two of the others muttered their agreement. Eisheth merely waited for Lord Enys to speak. Duty and control, that was the key. She must not lose control. She would go with them, jump through whatever hoops they deemed necessary. It was a small delay, that was all, a small price to pay, compared with what she had already suffered.

"It would be better to keep this discussion for the Lizard," he looked around at all of them, "but know that I have received disturbing news. Lady Dantalion not only failed to broker peace at the meeting with the barbarians, but she is directly responsible for the deaths of several of them." There were loud gasps. Lady Jowanet clutched the edge of the desk as if she might faint. Eisheth breathed out through her nose. It was hard to take their nonsense seriously.

"I'm sure there is an explanation," said Lord Lowen, looking expectantly at the Mester.

"Self defence," she said, "quite simply. As I said, we were attacked."

"Unfortunate, to be sure," said Lord Lowen, "but understandable in the -"

"Be that as it may," Lord Enys interrupted smoothly. "There must be an investigation. Dantalion, we gave you specific instructions not to provoke the foreigners." He looked around at the gathered aethelings as if he had scored a valuable point in a debate. "I feel that Dantalion's overtly aggressive actions, not just at the meeting but in her war-like preparations on the grounds of this... place, must be at least partly to blame for the barbarians actions. We've all seen them... those weapons of death outside." There was a low muttering, and Eisheth resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She blackened her soul so these very flowers of the court could live such a sheltered, privileged existence that the sight of a trebuchet could move them to such distress. She valued their innocence. She just had to keep reminding herself of the fact.

"I'm quite sure there must have been a way to resolve the situation," Lord Enys was saying, "without resorting to murder." He said murder as if it was the crassest, most disgusting word he had ever heard in his life, but then of course to him it probably was. He had never had to kill to survive. He had never had to stand by and watch his family being butchered or tortured, knowing that he had the power to stop it - if he had the strength to lift a blade. He didn't realise that life was in large part thanks to Eisheth and the Ancestors Own. The very people of whom he thought so ill.

"Do you have any proof of this alleged murder?" asked one of the Lords.

"I have an eye witness," said Lord Enys. "My son, Lord Rasmus, witnessed her depravity."

Oh dear. That could be problematic. She met Moloch's eyes, over the heads of the aethelings and subtly shook her head.

"Well these are serious accusations, indeed," said Lady Jowanet, looking distressed.

"We should move this discussion to more civilised surroundings," said Lord Enys. He gestured to his guards who came and stood efficiently on either side of Eisheth, much to her abject amusement. She smiled at the nearest guard, a slight boy, barely out of his teens and he flinched, clutching his staff. She wondered if the city watch at Mires Orth were allowed to train with anything capable of cutting human flesh. She assumed not; it would be too distressing for the citizens.

"Let's continue at the Lizard," said Lord Lowen, nodding stiffly to Eisheth. "There is still the pressing question of what to do about the barbarians and how to keep our people safe."

Arguing amongst themselves the well-dressed crowd of aethelings drifted out of the office in a flutter of rich colours and headscarves. They made for the courtyard of the moongate leaving the Mester and Lord Enys to follow. The Lord smirked at her, and she repressed the urge to sink a knife into his gut. She must have let some of her true feeling show in her face because he stepped back, involuntarily, although she stood still as a statue. His base instincts, long buried by the rich and creamy veneer of culture and good living, warned him he stood before an apex predator. On some level, he knew it, even if his ego could not allow the fact to register.

"How do you expect this to end?" she asked him with an arch smile. "Will you sentence me to the Ancestors Own? I thought I was already serving."

"I'm sure we can find a suitable home for you in one of the cells below," he purred, gesturing to the door, "and I'm sure we can find a more suitable replacement for your position — someone who will follow the code of the Ancestors with more ...integrity. But I get ahead of myself - you will have your opportunity to plead your case before the full Kenning. Let's get going."

"One moment," she said, ignoring the rage on his face as she did not instantly rush to obey him. She beckoned to Arthwg, who was standing discreetly by the door, looking even more distressed than was usual. "Can you find some things for me?" she asked.

"Of course, syr," he said. "Anything, syr."

"Charcoal, sulphur and saltpeter," she said. "Keep them apart - that's important! Leave them in the storeroom across the hall and lock the door. I will want them immediately on my return? Understood?"

Lord Enys coughed.

"I don't think-" She ignored him, handing Arthwg the two matchlock rifles she had taken in Sterlester.

"Keep those safe for me, Arthwg," she said. "It's important! Don't let anyone else touch them."

"Come on," said Lord Enys, impatiently. "Enough of this nonsense. We are keeping the Kenning waiting."

With one last, backwards glance at Arthwg, Eisheth followed him out of the door, flanked by the two young guards.