He had never known her name, but he knew it now.
Alix was also the lady who had snuck him bandages when DeVaux had forbidden anyone to heal him, and this was the castle where it had happened. His hands gripped the reins, and he felt Dappled’s mood alter along with his. The horse snorted distrustfully.
The poisoner was the lady of the castle now, and the Elder King wanted Ransom to marry her.
Was this why Estian the Black had laughed?
Still no word from Ransom.
The king has returned, and the whole palace is consumed with tales of the fighting. Many knights were lost on the battlefield. A knight cannot be replaced easily. It takes years of training for one to be ready, which is why war is of such consequence. The wounded are being cared for, but some bear wounds that will mark them for a lifetime.
Prayers have been said and coins plopped into fountains. What a waste of good money. Tomorrow has been established as a day of solemnity, but the Elder King is anything but solemn. He brought with him the first payment of the truce terms, which he’s added to his hoarded treasure.
Sir Dalian said that Prince Jon-Landon made a commotion in front of the king’s council. He demands his own lands, his own rights, more than just a single castle. He was angry to have been left behind, to have been “robbed” (his word) of his share of the honor. In all likelihood, the barmy codsockle would have ended up dead had he gone there.
He didn’t ask for Glosstyr. He’s asking for the Vexin. No, he’s demanding it. And from what Sir Dalian implied, the king may consider giving it to him if Ransom takes Bayree.
Who will I get, then?
—Claire de Murrow, Rightful Queen of Legault
CHAPTER TEN
The Fisher Kings
Kerjean castle was a structure with four walls joined in a square around a stone courtyard. The front gate was stone, decorated with sculpted effigies of knights and ladies, with flourishes of waves and fish carved into the design. The courtyard beyond it was thronged with horses and empty wagons, and the smell of manure hung thick in the air. At the far end of the space, a grand entrance stood between two shelves of steps, revealing a stone manor built into the far end of the castle, with enough windows to show that it was four stories tall, including the dormers in the slanted rooftop at the pinnacle. The walls on the eastern and western sides of the courtyard boasted guest quarters with doors leading into them. It was a noisy yard, and Ransom continued to tense as they rode toward the doors, feeling the presence of his nemesis grow stronger.
“What a foul stench,” Dearley said, grimacing. “The duke wasn’t jesting.”
But it wasn’t the smell that made Ransom so uneasy. As they reached the bottom of the platform at the edge of the stairs, he dismounted, then looked at the knights he had chosen to come. Many were gazing up at the decorative manor. As a castle, it was not formidable. Ransom had seen no one guarding the ramparts leading into it.
“Be ready for trouble,” he said to the knights. “Do not let your guard down. We are enemies in this land. Never wander off alone. Keep your heads up and your eyes open. We are not here to cause offense.”
He looked from man to man, letting them see that he was serious about his order. Then he marched ahead and mounted the steps as Dearley fell in beside him.
“Are you very uneasy?” his ward asked him.
“More than you know,” he replied. “I do not trust this place. Keep the knights together as much as possible.”
“What concerns you?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Ransom replied. When they reached the top of the steps, they were greeted by a young man in a servant’s livery. The tunic was blue with the emblem of a fish on the front.
“Greetings, my lord,” said the boy. “Lady Alix is in the hall.”
“Thank you,” Ransom answered. “Take us there, please.”
As they entered, they needed to walk around the men sleeping on the floor of the corridor. The marble floor was filthy with mud. Broken pieces of armor were strewn about. Some of the injured warriors glanced up as Ransom passed. He sensed their pain, their fevers, their sickness. Coughing echoed down the length of the corridor, and the stench of stale vomit hung in the air.
As they walked toward the set of doors at the end of the corridor, he could sense the presence of the poisoner. The boy tugged the handle of one of the doors, but he struggled with its weight, so Ransom grabbed the edge and opened it effortlessly.
The hall was a mirror of the corridor. The furniture had all been shoved to the side, and men slept on pallets throughout the room. Some had bandages wrapped around their heads. Some were missing limbs. Other writhed and groaned in pain. The scene was awful, but Ransom’s senses cut through the injuries to the woman he sought.
Lady Alix knelt by one of the couches, blood up to her elbows as she tended to a dying soldier who moaned with pain at her ministrations. It shocked him to see her like that—out in the open, working to save a life rather than destroy it. The cloak that had concealed her identity was gone. Her golden hair, so much like Queen Emiloh’s, was disheveled. She wore a black-and-gold brocade gown that seemed especially out of place in the gory scene around her.
“This way,” said the boy, and he started walking toward the lady.
As they came closer, Ransom realized she was in the process of sewing the man’s side wound closed. As he approached, she finished and then put a slab of moldy bread on the wound before bandaging it. Seeing the splotches on the bread brought back memories that roiled his emotions. Memories of this woman saving him.
She turned, noticed him, and shook her head. There were bloodstains on the gold of her gown. A smear of it on her breastbone.
“I don’t have time for you right now,” she said wearily. “If I don’t tend to some of these men, they’ll die before dawn.”
“How can we help?” Ransom asked, stepping forward, feeling his concern grow despite his wariness.
“Unless you can gut a fish, you’ll only be in the way,” she said. “We have barrels of rotting fish and no time to prepare and cook them. Some of these men haven’t eaten in days.”
“Dearley,” Ransom said. “Take the men to the kitchens. See that they help.”
Lady Alix’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Thank you. There are servants digging graves beyond the walls. They could use some help as well.”
“I’ll see to it, my lady,” Dearley said. He turned and began dividing up the men.
Ransom noticed Lady Alix had a long strand of pearls wrapped around her left wrist. The pearls were covered in blood, and it seemed odd that she should wear such a thing while treating the men. Was it something she had won from the Fountain on her own quest to the oasis? He knew she’d gone on one, for the deconeus of St. Penryn had told him so.
“What can I do?” Ransom asked, coming closer to her.
“That one is already gone,” she said, pointing to a man who’d collapsed on the floor. “Carry his body to the doors over there. They’ll bring a wheelbarrow and take him to the pit.”
Ransom did as she asked, bending down and hoisting the corpse up over his shoulder. As he looked around the room at the other men suffering, dying, he couldn’t help but think of his own gift from the oasis. With the Raven scabbard, he could help heal these wounded men, one at a time. But if his relic were discovered, it might be stolen from him. Someone might kill him for it. She might kill him for it. It would be prudent to keep it secret, but he could at least help these men with his hands and his strength.