Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

ROLAND

Roland watched their new companions. Something wasn’t right, there was something that didn’t ring true. There was no darkwood here, nothing to call the shadow kin in such numbers. They had seemed to focus entirely on him and the more he thought about it the more convinced he was. And this was before addressing all his other questions, about Vambray, Robin and Lark and whatever was going on at the College of Winter.

Reason argued that he was on edge and exhausted, that he was jumping at shadows – a thought which amused his bitter humour far more than it should really – that all would be explained once they had reached safety.

But Roland rarely put his trust in reason alone.

Elodie would know what to do, what to say to these people. She would charm them, or astound them with her abilities and her intellect. She would set the sky alight and they would beg to follow her.

Instead, there was just him. And he needed their help.

Led by the party from the College, the Paladins reached a ravine in the hillside and from there entered a tunnel. At least they were protected from the driving snow in here, though it didn’t seem to be any warmer than outside. The blindfolds were removed. The witches held up their hands and flames formed above their palms, lighting the way. Whether they were captives or guests was a moot point, Roland thought. They had no choice but to follow.

The College of Winter was a fortress embedded in the mountains and from the moment they stepped within its walls, Roland felt the itch of unchecked magic worrying at the back of his neck. It was everywhere, in everything. They used magic like breathing here.

That sense of wrongness persisted. It was in the way the witchkind looked at him as he passed. From every wall, from the corners of the courtyard where the horses were stabled, from windows and walkways overhead, they studied him.

Roland was used to drawing attention wherever he went. This was different.

He wasn’t the only one to notice. Anselm and Olivier took up position as close to him as possible, perfect bodyguards should he need them. ‘Grandmaster, I believe we have a problem,’ Anselm said in a low voice.

‘Agreed.’ Roland was loath to admit it but there was no doubt. ‘Your assessment?’

‘I’m not sure. Not yet. But we can’t trust them. Olivier?’

‘This entire place…’ was all the other knight would say. ‘Something is wrong. The children wouldn’t even consider coming inside the walls.’

‘And yet they brought us here,’ Roland replied. ‘There must have been a reason.’

‘They weren’t just children, were they?’ Anselm asked.

‘They were children,’ Olivier said. ‘Maybe they’ve been children for a very long time. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. They have more sense than we do, I think.’

That wasn’t exactly helpful, but Roland couldn’t find the words to express it himself. And Olivier was not mistaken.

‘Stay alert,’ Roland told them. ‘All is not as it appears here.’

They were witchkind and he was certain that the rebel witchkind of Garios they had heard so much about were ultimately centred here. He’d never be able to prove it, but somehow, he knew it.

Roland felt an undercurrent of fear running through this place. It didn’t help that there was magic everywhere, spilling up through the ground. It wasn’t the thrumming of the Aurum as it ran through the Sanctum. He felt that like his own heartbeat but this…it felt wild.

He watched the way Tobias moved through the College, the way his people looked to him. Some of them anyway, far more than Roland would have expected given he was no longer their leader. How had he lost power as chancellor? What had happened?

Tobias might be offering to help and might have saved him from the shadow kin attack but Roland still felt there were many things the witchkind were not eager to share with him. Nor did he blame them. Not really. Tobias had that furtive, almost feral edge to him. Perhaps they all did, each and every one. This was their place, their haven. They had been hunted, and coerced all their lives.

Usually by people like him.

And now he was intruding here as well.

It was the way of the Aurum, to draw people to that light, to demand service. He knew that better than anyone. It had called him and he had knelt and swore his vows gladly. But now he wondered what might have happened had he not been so willing.

No true knight would turn away from the Aurum. They were called and some men did not have the calling at all. Others felt it but had other priorities and duties, and some born with magic couldn’t bear to give it up, to surrender that part of themselves. Maidens were trained from a very young age to serve and Roland had never questioned that. But other women were not powerful enough, or preferred exile.

Some went to the College of Winter and that was that. And others…

He was suddenly ashamed to realise he had never questioned what happened to the others. Or how much choice was really presented to the children brought before those flames. They were young, very young. Did they even have the capacity to make an informed choice?

It felt like the edges of his world were slowly being chipped away and he did not like it one bit. He thought of the way the twins had watched him, the things they had said, and felt a savage surge of shame and remorse.

The people of Pelias spoke of rebel witchkind as a great threat, but there’d never been many who caused trouble. They were easily dealt with, the dangerous ones, and others of their own kind often turned them in. A threat was always a threat when it came to magic running wild. Now Roland wondered if they really were no more than hedge witches and wanderers, exiles, the lost.

And he had been complicit in driving them into the wilds. As much as the families who abandoned them, or the good people of their towns and villages who drove them away. He hoped enough of them made it here, to the small safety this place offered. Where else was there?

If he ever made it home, if Asteroth was ever safe again, it would have to change. He would see it change.

‘We had word of the attack upon your queen,’ said Tobias. ‘We feared retribution. We have heard what happened to the Earl of Sassone as well. How he kidnapped and tried to execute the queen? And how there was another assassination attempt, a maid used as a puppet in the attack? News like that spreads fast, and Carlotta was witchkind.’

Carlotta, Roland thought. He knew her name and used it with familiarity.

‘You sent her? As what, a spy?’ He didn’t say assassin. One step at a time.

Tobias grinned, such an innocent expression, and Roland didn’t like it. ‘No. Not to spy. Those of our kind who live and work in Pelias send us news from time to time, tales of their lives, their days, those they meet. Nothing more sinister than that. That’s the way of families, isn’t it?’

Roland had absolutely no idea. His family had dumped him with the knights as a boy and never actually bothered to get in touch again. ‘You have a calling,’ they had said. And that was that. He had never questioned it. There was so much he had never questioned. He felt like a fool.

‘She was just a girl. She befriended my daughter.’

The grin fell away from Tobias’s face. ‘Yes. She was. Just a girl indeed. She was only here briefly, visiting friends and family I believe. Magic was involved in whatever happened to her, puppeting and coercing her. It is a forbidden kind, one which we do not practise. We would like answers as to what happened to her. She was murdered.’

At least they agreed on that.

‘What does your chancellor say?’

For a moment Tobias’s eyes seemed to cloud and Roland couldn’t quite read what he saw there. Dismay, or disdain, or…

‘Master Vambray?’ It was Vivienne again. Her hand closed on his shoulder. ‘Are you all right?’ She took his hand, pressed something into it. Roland couldn’t see what but it looked like straw.

The man swallowed hard and a shudder ran through him. ‘Yes, I…I will be. Thank you, Vivienne. Perhaps we should see to the needs of our guests, find them quarters and some refreshments? Were any of you injured? Vivienne is one of our foremost healers. Truly gifted in that regard. She has charms of protection that are unmatched.’

Though she only looked a few years younger than him, Vivienne blushed like a girl at his words. ‘Chancell— I mean, Master Vambray is too kind, but if I can be of help, I will.’

Anselm frowned and seemed about to say something, but the doors ahead of them opened and they were ushered into a reception chamber that rivalled anything Pelias could offer.

The far-off ceiling was painted dark blue and spotted with gilt stars, while on either side of them marble columns rose like saplings towards that ersatz sky. Gleaming bookshelves lined the long length of the wide-open space, with a central mosaic depicting fantastic beasts and elemental creatures, some of which Roland couldn’t even name.

Elodie would be able to, he thought sombrely. She’d know all about this place. She would have made it her business to find out. Roland had never really given the College much thought beyond ‘ally’ and ‘not a threat’ and he was beginning to regret that now.

Beyond the reception hall, there was a long refectory with fireplaces at either end. The polished tables stretched its length, and in places people were already eating, while others gathered around to talk and laugh. A silence spread through the groups as they entered, all eyes turning on them. Once more they were reminded that witchkind didn’t take kindly to knights. Perhaps they never would and who could blame them? Another thing for Roland to try to fix one day. His list was getting far too long. Vambray spoke softly to one of the attendants, whose eyes widened for a moment but who then bowed and hurried off to arrange a meal for them.

Food was served quickly, roast meats and fresh bread with a sweet wine which rivalled that offered at the royal table. The three knights ate sparingly, watching their host with some care, and didn’t touch the wine. It couldn’t hurt to be careful, no matter how warm their welcome. Or chill, as the case was here. If their caution was noticed, or deemed an insult, no one commented. People came and went with messages for Tobias and Roland thought absently that even if he wasn’t chancellor anymore, people still seemed to be treating him as such. Some of them, anyway. And perhaps he was still fulfilling much of the role. It begged the question of what had happened and why the new chancellor was not doing their job.

‘Your people still look to you for wisdom,’ he said, carefully. Not a question. Not quite. A comment to be dismissed as a compliment, he hoped.

Tobias looked up from what was obviously some kind of accounts of stores and he smiled. ‘Experience, I’m afraid, that’s all. I did this part of the job too well perhaps, and the College must be provisioned still, especially with more witchkind finding their way here.’

‘More witchkind?’ asked Anselm.

‘Oh yes, every day. Old magic is stirring in the land, wakening in people who were only sensitive to it before. They don’t know what else to do and their family and neighbours…well… You must have noticed.’

‘We had other things on our minds,’ Olivier muttered darkly, and clenched his hands into fists. Beside him Vivienne gave him an odd look.

‘Were you hurt?’ she asked.

‘No, it’s nothing.’ He flexed his hands again. ‘Since coming inside your walls, I…it’s nothing. Really.’

‘Let me see.’ Her voice was calm and determined, the kind of voice Elodie used with patients, and Roland knew Olivier would lose the fight. Anselm drew nearer to them, speaking in hushed tones. He saw Vivienne examine Olivier’s hands and then she fished about in the pouch at her belt, handing each of them another of those little twists of straw.

She turned to Roland, her eyes nervous all of a sudden. He thought of the way Carlotta had looked at him, on the rare occasions she tried to make eye contact. Vivienne’s hand extended, with one of those charms in it, trembling against her skin.

Tobias was still talking and Roland hesitated to reach out.

‘Whatever happened in Pelias has echoed through the land itself, I think.’ Tobias put down the papers and leaned forward as if to impart some kind of confidence. ‘And the witchkind have always been attuned to the land, to old magic. It grows stronger. Lark and Robin are evidence of that. These are just for basic protection and Vivienne makes them stronger than most. I have a hypothesis?—’

‘Vambray, what is the meaning of this!’ A voice echoed from the far end of the refectory hall. Vivienne snatched her hand back, the charm vanishing with it. ‘You bring our noble guests within our walls, and then don’t inform me? For goodness’ sake, man! What are you thinking?’