‘I will, Mrs Orcombe.’
‘We need to discuss certain matters then, for I run no charity here.’
Normally Alterith Shaddler found himself nervous in the company of women, and experienced great difficulty in focusing his thoughts. But something snapped in him now. ‘Indeed not, madam,’ he said. ‘In fact you are as renowned for your lack of charity as you are for the squalor of your property.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘How dare you?’
Alterith stood. ‘I would continue this conversation, madam, save for the fact that it is both boring and annoying. Please have my bags packed. I shall be quitting this pestilential place upon my return.’ Sweeping past her he returned to his room, wrapped a heavy scarf around his neck, put on his frayed topcoat, and left the house.
It was bitterly cold outside, and he slipped and slithered on the icy street.
He had been’walking for around twenty minutes when a pony and open-topped trap came into sight. It was being driven by Banny Achbain. He waved at Alterith and drew on the reins. ‘I have been sent for you, sir,’ he said. ‘There are blankets by the seat.’
Gratefully Alterith opened the side door and climbed in. He was too cold to make conversation and wrapped one blanket around his shoulders, another over his thin thighs. When he had thawed out a little he called out to Banny, ‘Do you know why Mrs Ring wishes to see me?’
‘No, sir.’
‘What is she like?’
‘Frightening,’ replied the boy.
Time was running out for Maev Ring. Already there were whispers in Eldacre about the highland woman and her burgeoning wealth. She heard them through her workers, and from warnings offered by two of her oldest partners, Gillam Pearce and Parsis Feld. It would not be long before the Moidart’s cruel eyes turned towards her. Perhaps a month, perhaps a year. It would be so much simpler to be poor, she thought. Yet everything she touched turned to profit, and with no opportunity to spend her wealth on extravagant homes or jewels she continued to invest in businesses, both large and small.
Last night she had a dream. She was riding upon the back of a huge and terrifying bear. At any moment it could throw her off and devour her, so she fed it honey cakes to keep it friendly. The honey cakes made it grow. And soon it was big as a house, its claws like sabres. She could not get off, for the fall would kill her, and she was running out of honey cakes.
Shula Achbain was preparing breakfast for Jaim. She could hear them chatting amiably in the kitchen. Shula was normally shy and stuttering in company, but Grymauch had won her over, and she teased him, making him laugh. Maev liked to hear Jaim laugh. It was a sound full of life. He had just returned from a trip to the north, and the news he brought back was worrying. The colonel of the beetlebacks had been killed, supposedly during a meeting with the Rigante leader, Call Jace. Jaim had told her that Jace knew nothing about the killing. The new colonel was a former captain named Ranaud. He was known to be a Kilt hater.
Kaelin, however, was doing well at Ironlatch. He was in love with Call Jace’s daughter Chara, and, if all went well, they planned to marry on Kaelin’s seventeenth birthday next year. Time is flying by, thought Maev, moving to a mirror on the tall cabinet. There was more grey in her red hair now, and a deepening of the tiny lines around her eyes. ‘You are getting old,’ she said aloud.
‘Aye, but still the most beautiful woman in the highlands,’ said Jaim Grymauch.
‘You shouldn’t sneak up on people,’ she snapped. ‘A big man like you has no business moving so silently. What do you want?’
He grinned at her. ‘Nice to see you blush, Maev,’ he said.
‘You are an irritating man, Grymauch, and I don’t know why I keep you around.’
‘Old White-Wig is here. He looks like an icicle.’
Then go and make him welcome. Offer him breakfast.’
‘They say he’s broke and ruined,’ said Grymauch.