Against her better judgement the Wyrd opened her spirit eyes, and floated back along the wave, peeling back the curtain of time. She saw the giant Grymauch standing at the top of the cathedral steps, Maev Ring in his arms. She heard the muskets roar. Saw him stiffen as the lead shot ripped into his back.
A choking sob came, and she fled back to her body. For a long while the tears flowed. When they faded away the Wyrd was exhausted, and the sun was setting. With trembling hands she lit her fire.
The magic of Jaim Grymauch was strong in the Wishing Tree woods, and tomorrow she would resume her life’s work. The perils were still great, but the Rigante were about to be reborn. There would be battles ahead, and triumphs and tragedies.
But now there was a glimmer of hope.
EPILOGUE
FOUR VARLISH ATTENDED THE FUNERAL OF JAIM GRYMAUCH: ALTERITH Shaddler, Huntsekker, Taybard Jaekel and Shula Achbain. More than fifteen hundred highlanders gathered to see him laid to rest in a small plot behind Maev Ring’s house. Maev herself placed the first shovel of earth upon the coffin.
The following morning she harnessed a wagon, and prepared to set off for the north.
Huntsekker offered to go with her, but she refused. She lifted the reins, then glanced down at the powerful Varlish. ‘I thank you, but you have a farm to run,’ she said. ‘People rely on you.’ Then she had paused. ‘I am glad Jaim did not kill you,’ she added.
‘He was a good man, Mistress Ring.’
For a moment she did not answer, and Huntsekker saw she was fighting for control. ‘He was . . .’ She faltered then took a deep breath, her eyes full of tears. ‘He was a rogue, you know. A drunkard who stole bulls for enjoyment. But he was always true, Master Huntsekker. Always. I think … I think that I shall miss him greatly.’ Unable to say more she flicked the reins and the wagon moved away.
There were fires in Eldacre that night. The Feld forge went up in flames, with all the stock destroyed in the process. Jorain Feld and his brothers were ruined. Several other businesses owned by witnesses against Maev Ring were also destroyed.
The most shocking news to surface after the death of Jaim Grymauch explained the absence of the bishop from the execution. His body was found stretched out upon the Judgement Table of the Holy Court. His neck had been crushed. There were no witnesses to the murder, though a priest talked of seeing a large man with a twin-spiked silver beard walking away from the building.
The King’s Regiment withdrew from the north, as did half of the Moidart’s soldiers, and an uneasy truce developed between the beetlebacks and the Black Rigante.
When news of Grymauch’s death, and the manner of it, reached the north Call Jace had walked away alone to Shrine Hollow, carrying with him a jug of uisge. He had sat there drinking it as the sun set over Sorrow Bird Lake. He had grown to manhood in the company of Jaim Grymauch, and many was the jug they had shared. He recalled the sound of the big man’s laughter, and remembered the many escapades of their youth.
Call bowed his head, and realized that tears were dropping from his eyes. He wiped them away, cursing himself for a soft fool. Then a sob broke clear of his control, and he wept for a while. Only then did he remember the words of the Dweller.
‘For the clans in the south will rediscover their pride and their manhood . . . One spark will ignite them, one glorious spark, one moment of true Rigante greatness. It will break my heart to see it, and at the same time gladden my soul.’
‘What are you speaking of?’
‘You will know when the moment comes. You will hear of it. You will even weep, Call Jace.’
‘I have not shed tears since I was a wee lad and my father died.’
‘I know. Too much of your Rigante heritage is locked away, buried deep. But remember my words when the day comes.’