She let her arms drop, the fire vanishing from her hands. Her gaze settled on Frentis as the binding forced him to his feet, making him come closer. Great pain dominated her features and fresh blood streamed from her nose and eyes, but still she smiled, fierce and exultant, the flames gleaming red in her eyes. “There’s always a price to pay, my love.”
CHAPTER SIX
Vaelin
The office of the King’s Notary was free of other petitioners on this the first day of the Summertide Fair, but Vaelin was still obliged to wait for almost an hour before the clerk looked up from his ledger book. He was a youngish man with the harassed air of the overworked and underpaid. “My apologies, sir,” he said. “We’re short-staffed today, what with the fair.”
“I fully understand.” Vaelin rose from the bench and approached the young clerk’s desk, so piled high with papers and ledgers he resembled a badger in an untidy den. “When I was last in the Realm the Fourth Order had charge of the King’s records,” he said.
“Not these days. These days the brothers of the Fourth Order are more like the Sixth, swaggering about, swords and all.” The clerk reclined in his seat, stifling a yawn and giving Vaelin a curious glance. “You’ve been travelling then, sir?”
“Indeed, far and wide.”
“Anywhere exotic?”
“The Meldenean Islands most recently. Before that the Alpiran Empire.”
“Didn’t think they even allowed our ships to land any more.”
“I took a roundabout route.”
“I see.” The clerk reached for a blank piece of parchment. “So, good sir. What brings you here with the delights of the fair but a short walk away?”
“I require a Warrant of Acknowledgment, for my sister.”
“Ah.” The clerk dipped his pen in an inkwell and jotted something onto the parchment. “Complicated families are truly the life-blood of this office. Fortunately, the procedure is fairly straightforward. You simply swear to your sister’s legitimacy in my presence, I will inscribe the warrant, we both sign and the deed is done. The fee is two silvers.”
Two silvers. It was fortunate Reva had agreed to sell the fine Realm Guard knife she acquired on the road. “Very well.”
“Excellent. Now, your name sir?”
“Lord Vaelin Al Sorna.”
The nib of the clerk’s pen made a loud crack as it snapped, ink splattering across the parchment. He stared at the black stain for a moment, swallowed and slowly raised his head. There was no doubt in his expression, just awe.
Pity, Vaelin thought. I was starting to like him.
“My lord . . .” the clerk began, rising and bowing, low enough for his forehead to bump the desk.
“Don’t do that,” Vaelin told him.
“They said you were dead . . .”
“So I heard.”
“I knew it was a lie. I knew it!”
Vaelin forced a smile. “The warrant for my sister.”
“Oh.” The clerk looked down at his desk, then around at the empty office, sweaty hands leaving a stain on his tunic. “I fear this is above my station, my lord.”
“I assure you it isn’t.”
“My apologies, my lord.” He backed away from the desk. “If you could wait just one moment.” He fled into the shadowy depths of the office. There was the sound of a door being thrust open, a bark of annoyance then a hushed conversation. The clerk soon returned followed by an overweight man somewhere past his fiftieth year. He faltered for a moment at the sight of Vaelin but gathered his composure with admirable speed.
“My lord,” the man said with a formal bow. “Gerrish Mertil, formerly of the Fourth Order, now Chief Notary for the City of Varinshold.”
Vaelin bowed back. “Sir. I was explaining to this man . . .”
“A Warrant of Acknowledgment, yes. Might I enquire your purpose in seeking this document?”
“No, you might not.”
The Chief Notary flushed a little. “Your pardon my lord. But I am aware of the King’s Order regarding your late father’s property and the Magistrate’s judgement in your sister’s case. A Warrant of Acknowledgment will negate the judgement but not the King’s Word, which as you know, is above the law.”
“I am aware of that, thank you.” He reached into his purse and extracted two silvers, placing them on the desk. “Nevertheless I wish to acknowledge my sister. I believe I am merely exercising rights enjoyed by all Realm subjects.”
Gerrish Mertil nodded at the young clerk who hurried to prepare the documents.
“Would it be presumptuous, Lord Vaelin,” the Chief Notary said, “for me to be the first official of the Realm to welcome you home?”
“Not at all. Tell me, how does a former brother become Chief Notary?”
“By the King’s grace. When he decreed the crown should resume stewardship of the Realm’s records, His Highness was wise enough to recognise the value of skills possessed by so many brothers of my Order.”
“You left your Order at the King’s command?”
Mertil’s expression became sombre. “It was no longer the Order I joined as a boy. The ascension of Aspect Tendris brought many changes. Instead of bookkeeping, novice brothers were being taught sword play. The crossbow instead of the pen. May the Departed forgive me, but I and many of my brothers were glad to leave.”
The young clerk hissed an obscenity, crouched over a sheet of velum at a writing desk, the quill shaking in his hand. “Oh give it here.” The Chief Notary nudged him aside, blotted away the spilled ink and began to write in smooth-flowing letters. “In my day they used to whip us if the flourishes were not all exactly the same length.” It was quickly done, signed by the Chief Notary himself. Vaelin appreciated his silent patience as he laboured over his own signature.
“I hope all is to your satisfaction, my lord.” Mertil bowed, handing over the scrolled warrant, tied with a red ribbon.
“My thanks, sirs.” Vaelin held out the two silvers but the Chief Notary shook his head.
“I had a nephew in the Blue Jays,” he said. “He was with you at Linesh. Thanks to you his mother got to welcome him home.”
Vaelin nodded. “Fine regiment the Blue Jays.”
The Chief Notary and the young clerk were both bowing as low as they could as he made for the door, resisting the impulse to run.
He found Alornis and Reva at the cross-roads of Gate Lane and Drovers Way. The streets were largely empty thanks to the fair but his experience at the notary’s office made him keep his hood in place. A large marble plinth was positioned in the centre of the cross-roads, covered in scaffolding from base to top. Alornis was standing on the highest platform, dressed in a mason’s apron, holding a rope threaded through a block and then to ground level where Reva placed various implements in the basket it was attached to.
“The big hammer!” Alornis called from the platform. “No the other one.”
“Your sister’s even more a tyrant than you,” Reva grumbled as Vaelin approached.
“Vaelin!” Alornis greeted him with a cheerful wave. “Master, my brother’s here!”
After a moment the head of an old man appeared over the edge of the platform. He was heavily bearded and dressed in the green robe of the Third Order, his brow furrowed like a ploughed field as he regarded Vaelin, grunted something then disappeared. Alornis gave a weak smile of apology.
“What did he say?” Vaelin asked.
“He thought you’d be taller.”
Vaelin laughed and held up the scroll. “I have something for you.”
She descended to street level by the expedient of taking a tighter hold of the rope and jumping off the platform, the heavy basket of tools acting as a counterweight. The old man’s surprisingly muscular arm appeared to haul the basket onto the platform above.
“So,” Alornis said after scanning the scroll, “ink and paper make me your sister where blood does not.”
“And a fee of two silvers, but they let me off.”
“So we can eat tonight?” Reva asked.
“I still need to petition the King,” Vaelin told Alornis.
“You really expect him to reverse his Word?”
His efforts will be wasted if he doesn’t, though I doubt I’ll like the price. “I’m certain he will.”
Something fell to the cobbles nearby with a loud clang followed by a bellow from above. “Wrong chisel!”
Alornis sighed. “He’s tetchier than usual today.” She raised her head to the platform. “Coming Master Benril!” She began to gather tools together from the base of the plinth. “You two should go home. I’ll be a few hours yet.”
“Actually, sister, I was hoping you could take Reva to the fair. She’s never seen it.”
Reva gave a quizzical grimace. “Couldn’t give a snot for your heathen celebration.”
“But my sister does. And I would feel better if she had protection.” He tossed her his purse. “And you can choose tonight’s dinner.”
“I can’t,” Alornis insisted. “Master Benril needs me . . .”
“I’ll help Master Benril.” Vaelin undid the ties on her apron and lifted it over her head. “Off with you both.”
