And what of Owen Odell during this period? I had no place in
the new government, and Mace did not speak to me for weeks following the incident by the lakeside. I had no niche, no specific role. I helped Wulf and Piercollo with the organization of food, and I worked alongside Astiana in caring for the sick; the Gastoigne sister had moved into Ziraccu to help the survivors of Golgoleth’s brief reign. There were orphans to be cared for, families to be found who would take in an extra child during the harsh winter months. And she founded a school, where each day she taught unwilling youngsters the principles of letters and arithmetic.
But for the most part I idled away my days thinking of Ilka and playing my harp. I lived then in Megan’s cabin and continued her work of curing meats, preparing geese and poultry for the table, and gathering herbs which Astiana used to draw out infections and fevers.
With the coming of spring, however, the mood of the people began to change. The talk was all of the coming war and the ferocious reputation of the Battle King.
One bright morning, as I sat on a hillside overlooking the lake, I saw a rider gallop his horse into the settlement square. People swarmed around him as he sought out Brackban, who was visiting the town. I did not go down; I knew by the chill in my blood the news the rider carried.
The Battle King was coming.
The snows were melting on the hillsides when I was summoned to Ziraccu. And as the riders came, bringing a spare horse, I was sure that Mace needed my counsel. I had felt somewhat aggrieved during the winter when he did not call upon me, nor seek my advice. And now, as I rode a tall stallion, I practised in my mind the manner of my rebuke to him for his lack of courtesy. I would be gentle and ultimately forgiving, but nonetheless send a shaft that would strike home.
Mace had not taken up residence in the palace; it was closed now and none ventured into it. The Vampyres had gone but the memory lingered and the evil done there had according to local legend, seeped into the walls. Instead the Morningstar had taken over a house in the rich merchants’ quarter. There were fine
gardens around it, hemmed in by high walls. I rode with my escort to the front gates where grooms led our horses away and servants ushered us into the main hall. The two riders who had accompanied me bowed and left me there and it was Brackban, not Mace, who moved out to greet me. He led me through to a small library and we sat in comfortable chairs of padded leather set beside a fireplace. The sun was hot outside, yet here in this room of stone it was cool, and a fire had been lit.
‘Take off your boots and relax,’ said Brackban, moving to a wide table of oak on which were scattered documents, scrolls and letters, wax and a seal bearing the mark of the Morningstar. He looked tired, I thought, and thinner, and his long blond hair had been harshly cut close to his head. Wearing a long robe of dark green, he looked more a cleric than a warrior. There was a jug of wine on the table and Brackban filled two silver goblets, passing one to me. Then he sat opposite and quietly drained his drink.
‘Where is Mace?’ I asked him.
He said nothing for a moment, then sighed. ‘He is gone, Owen. I don’t know where.’Gone?’ I echoed, mystified.
Three days ago he was reported to be heading for Ziraccu. He should have been here late yesterday. I can only think that he has been waylaid, or taken by agents of the King. God alone knows where he is now.’I looked away from him. I knew instinctively that Mace had not been waylaid nor captured; he had done what he always promised -he had cut and run now that the end was in sight. But what could I say to this strong, loyal man who had been left to pick up the pieces?