Ravens, Owls and a nightingale

16. Prisoners & Guests

The entire castle was in festive garb, from the tiniest servant to the flagpoles that were proudly flying Lord Rhodan's black and yellow flag, and everyone was bustling about and panting with anticipation. Oh, they had been in this position countless times before – waiting to welcome the Lord back home from a successful campaign – but this was still something special. This had been a true war between two powerful castles, and now the victors were on their way home.

Moydherr Castle was also flying Deleon's colors, so the messenger had proudly announced on the day before. Captain Krisyorr, a loyal brother-in-arms to Lord Rhodan for over fifteen years, was now holding it for his overlord, and he would in all likelihood also stay there as its commander. Lord Theren was dead, killed in the heat of battle by none other than Count Daynar. His troops had been soundly beaten and were now scattered all around; some of them had already chosen to offer their swords to the service of Deleon instead, while others had simply fled. Lord Rhodan had taken a slight wound to one arm but was essentially unharmed.

When the first lookout yelled on top of his voice that he could see the approaching army, the place electrified even further. Everyone knew of course that it would still take a good while before the troops actually reached the gates, but at least they wanted to be there in time to ensure themselves a place with at least some view. And thus, when the first riders entered the courtyard, the crowd was ready to raise a resounding cheer that made the battle-hardened horses flicker their ears.

Benella, Bengor and Bailenn rushed down the big stairs to greet their road-dusty father as soon as his feet touched the ground. He gave them a firm but only one-armed hug and kissed each of them on the cheek.

"Well done, father!" Bengor announced proudly. "Now we won't have to worry about Moydherr any longer!"

"Indeed not, though I'm sure that there will be enough to worry about once Eregal and its allies get to hear what has been happening here..." Lord Rhodan looked at his son with undisguised delight. "And Bengor my boy, you have again got stronger even though it's not that many days since I last saw you!"

The boy preened, but his father's attention was already elsewhere: an obviously heavy, tightly curtained carriage was rumbling to a halt behind him.

"My darling daughters, and especially you, Benella... I have a task for you."

"Yes, father?" the older girl asked smartly.

"As the current Lady of Deleon, you'll be looking after the comfort of our prisoners."

"Prisoners?" Benella echoed, eyes going round. Her father pointed at the carriage.

"Yes. We have brought Lady Bialka an-Moydherr and her daughters here with us. I'm sure you understand that they couldn't very well stay there..."

Benella raised her chin proudly and nodded. Yes, she did understand. Lady Bialka was now in exactly the same position as she and her sister would have been if they'd stayed in the hands of Lord Theren. She was a valuable asset in the likely case that her mighty relatives in the East decided to exact revenge for the loss of one daughter and one son-in-law in the hands of another. Moreover, Moydherr was no place for its former Lady now that it had been overrun by Deleon and was run by soldiers. Of course Benella, like everyone else around her, knew that the true mistress of Deleon was its chatelaine. And yet Benella was the eldest daughter, nearly a woman already, and old enough to act as the Lady in such matters.

"Of course, father," she said with great dignity, then gathered her wide skirts and walked closer to the carriage. "Lady Bialka, welcome to Deleon. I feel great compassion for you, but let me assure you that here you will be safe, and we'll do our best to make your life here as pleasant as we only can."

Schean, who was standing higher up on the stairs among the servants, saw the approving nods and appreciative glances that many of the people were exchanging; Lady Benella was indeed behaving like a true lady of a castle should. Then his eyes went round when the curtain protecting the travelers from sun and rain and dust was raised slightly, and a very blond head peeked out.

"Fair and honored Lady Benella," said a pleasant, flowing voice, "the Lady Bialka is –"

"Mioll!" Benella cried out and a huge smile spread on her face. "Oh, Mioll the minstrel, you're here too! Is Lady Bialka all right?"

"Otherwise yes, but she's rather tired, I'm afraid," the minstrel replied. "Her child is due very soon, and the journey here has taken its toll, especially after all the tension and grief in the castle. But she is very happy to be here now."

Benella nodded, once more remembering her worthy role. "Bailenn, come here. We will take our cousins inside, and perhaps you, Mioll, could assist Lady Bialka."

Schean hurried to their aid as well, and was overjoyed to see how Mioll's face lit up when the older minstrel saw him. Together they helped the now hugely pregnant and exhausted woman upstairs and into a comfortable room big enough to accommodate her and her three wide-eyed children.

Looking after their so-called prisoners' comfort took up most of the evening for both of the girls as well as the minstrels, and it was getting late when the two men finally stood alone in the corridor, looked at each other and then hugged heartily.

"I was so worried for you!" Schean switched immediately to their own language. "I really feared the worst when I realized how soon it all started after I was gone... I was sure you hadn't managed to leave."

"Believe me, after you warned me I was praying for any chance to take to my heels," Mioll laughed. "But of course there was no way to do that, and then the girls just disappeared... Lord Theren was spouting fire, believe me! I was sure that if I even tried to get away, he'd dig me up from anywhere and have me roasted for dinner. What on earth actually happened to them? One day they are there and then – poof! – the next morning they were just gone!"

"It was Karos who brought them home," Schean said, and Mioll's eyebrows jumped up.

"Karos – the tall, dark and handsome one, right? Well well... and how did he do that?"

"He was there," Schean explained, "I caught a glimpse of him as I was leaving, but I –"

"In Moydherr? Brave fellow," Mioll interjected. "Why was he there? To rescue the girls?"

"He'd come there to spy, so he told the Lord. He'd been worried that I might not come back, and wanted to –"

Schean snapped his mouth shut when Mioll's eyebrows began to waggle above a highly meaningful grin. "Ah-ah-ah, he followed you there, did he? Hmmmm..."

"Please!" Schean knew that his face had turned beet red. "He's concerned for Deleon, not me! And I really ought to kick you for putting such idiotic thoughts into my head, you... now that we share a room, it's –"

"Ooh!" Mioll clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "What did you say – you share a room with him? And no doubt a bed as well! Congratulations, little brother!"

Schean huffed and wished that he could be seriously cross with Mioll. But there was just something too genuinely warm and disarming about the man, no matter how irritating he could be. Moreover, Mioll once again displayed his uncanny ability to know exactly when to stop, and hugged Schean tightly.

"Must be tough, though," he said sympathetically. "How are you getting along with him now?"

"Oh, we're civil," Schean assured him. "He's not too happy about the whole situation, though, but that's mainly because – hm, I'll explain it all to you later. Now I'll take you to my old room, it's cozy enough and you can have that one for yourself... can't invite you to my room, now that my privacy is gone."

"You must miss it, especially if you're sleeping next to a tall, dark and handsome you mustn't touch," Mioll agreed. "Damn, that's not a nice situation... oh, hallo, might that be him?"

Schean looked in the direction of Mioll's nod; Karos had emerged in the other end of the corridor and stopped to look at them.

"Yes," he breathed, "that's him all right – Karos, wait! I want to introduce you to someone!"

The tall young man waited as the two minstrels hurried closer, then he nodded.

"Mioll, minstrel of Moydherr," he said. "I remember seeing you a couple of times from a distance."

"Karos-Daleot of Deleon," the long-haired minstrel replied and bowed. "I'm honored to meet the man who saved Lord Rhodan's daughters from their vile uncle."

"Just Karos-Daleot, please," Karos said. "I can hardly call myself 'of Deleon', because I have no position in the family. And even that so-called rescue was really just desperate scrambling after some nasty surprises. I'm no hero."

"Heroic deeds don't nearly always arise from ingenious planning and meticulous execution," Mioll said sagely. "Very often they arise from simple courage and cunning when faced with a sudden challenge... and nothing can change the facts. Not too long ago the young ladies were held in Moydherr by a powerful man who wanted very much to keep them there, yet a few days later they are here, safe and sound. Like it or not, Karos-Daleot, to me that smacks of an adventure well worthy of a ballad or two. Much smaller deeds have been dignified by songs."

Karos snorted and actually smiled a little. "You're a talker," he said. "But you'd better hold your tongue in front of Lord Rhodan. He wouldn't be too pleased to hear you lauding me too volubly... and I think I must be going now. The Wizard wants to see me."

He turned to go, and Mioll winked to Schean.

"Oh boy, what a delectable young beast!" he whispered, then frowned. "But what did that bit about Lord Rhodan mean? I should've thought that the Lord would be praising his bastard son to high heavens!"

"I'll tell you everything," Schean sighed. "Let's go get ourselves some food, and then we can start talking for real! I'm sure nobody will terribly mind even if we aren't there tonight to play for them. The Ranea and young Ladies will be too tired from all the fuss today, and they'll understand very well if you just want to crash after the journey. Come, let's go and bathe, and then we can go to the kitchen."

The two minstrels managed to get themselves washed amid all the brawn and muscle that filled the bathhouse almost to the point of bursting, then escaped with their sanity barely intact.

"Woof!" Mioll grinned and rolled his eyes as they slipped out of the door and into the courtyard. "Oh the sweet torture, to be crushed in the middle of all those big guys and not be allowed to touch... but goodness me, do they brag!"

"Well, they can afford to," Schean replied. "There were quite a few of Count Daynar's men, and everyone I could recognize for sure was from the Lord's regular troops. Experienced soldiers, all of them."

"Oh, no doubt about that, none at all," Mioll agreed. "Besides, from what I was able to see of the battle, they did a spectacular job of it. Your Lord is certainly no mean commander... and yes, Count Daynar sure lives up to his fame, as do his men."

"Did you actually see the fighting?" Schean gasped.

"Unfortunately yes," Mioll grimaced. "Once Deleon's troops had got the upper hand, they were steadily pushing Moydherr's soldiers back towards the castle, and I actually went to the walls to see what was happening. It was damn ghastly, and I've never been so much afraid in my life. But then, by the time they actually got inside, Lord Theren had already got his head chopped off by the illustrious Count, and the invading army didn't take long to rearrange itself. There was no damage done; Lord Rhodan wanted the castle in good condition, and that's what he got. The Lady and her kids and myself, we were treated with great civility throughout."

Schean heaved a deep sigh. "I sure wouldn't have wanted to see it..."

"I wanted to know what was going on." Mioll shrugged. "And now let's just hope that there won't be anything like that happening here in near future – though I say that anyone trying to force their way inside this castle is out of their mind."

"What are you talking about?"

"I had the opportunity to listen to Lord Rhodan and his captains on the way back," Mioll explained. "They were pretty sure that Moydherr has allies in the East, and that at least Eregal won't just sit back and do nothing once they get wind of what's been going on here. Eregal is where the Ladies Berissa and Bialka are from, as you no doubt remember."

"Do they actually think that there might be another army coming to attack here?" Schean asked weakly.

"Well, from the sound of it your Lord would consider it a true miracle if there were no repercussions from this. I've actually been around there, not in Eregal but in a couple of neighboring castles, and I believe Lord Rhodan is right. Those folks won't take it very kindly that an ally of theirs has been snubbed in such a way."

Schean looked uneasily at his companion but held his tongue in check for a moment, for they were nearly in the kitchen. They switched back to Revnashi and went boldly in to ask for some dinner. Merania the chatelaine nodded to them, busy but with a friendly smile, and they soon exited once more with a nice catch without any protests from the kitchen maids.

"I like this place more by the minute," Mioll declared happily. "Truly, Schean Lyennam, you are one lucky fellow. I might almost envy you."

"Why bother? You're here too, now, aren't you? And besides... if there's going to be a war, then I'm not quite sure if I want to be here or not." Schean sat on his old bed and his shoulders slumped unhappily. Mioll shook a finger at him.

"Don't be a fool. If there's a war, then this is by far the safest place to be," he said with certainty. "Not that the soldiers would intentionally harm one of us even out there, but accidents can always happen. I for one am going to stay until they throw me out. And even then I'll dig my claws to the doorframes and howl loudly to make my displeasure known."

Schean burst into laughter, picked up a small pastry and handed it to the other minstrel. "Oh, stuff that into your mouth and be quiet for a while!"

"Wfth pflshfhr..." Mioll munched happily on the treat, then licked his fingers. "Oooh... but now, if you don't mind, I'd like to hear what this business about Lord Rhodan and Karos-Daleot is all about. Isn't the Lord pleased to have such a clever and capable young thing in his service?"

"If only it were that simple," Schean huffed. "I guess he'd be jumping with joy, if only Karos weren't his bastard son. He just can't believe that Karos doesn't have any designs to first wiggle his way into the family and then somehow usurp his brother's position as the heir."

"You sound awfully sure that he doesn't have any such plans," Mioll pointed out, and Schean frowned.

"I believe him," he said simply. "No, I definitely don't claim to know him – at all, in fact. I don't see him that much, and we never really talk about anything. He's a pretty secretive guy. But I just can't see him wanting to be a Lord one day... and he genuinely loves his little brother. It's plain to see."

"Hmph. Maybe the Lord then just needs time to come round to the idea," Mioll concluded. "After all, you told me earlier that he hasn't even known of such a son until rather recently, and it must've been a real shock for him. But I trust he'll see the light one day."

"At least I hope so. It's pretty uncomfortable, especially now that Lord Rhodan is home again. Karos is avoiding him, Bengor and his sisters are insistent that he should be treated as a brother, the Lord is grim and grudging..."

Mioll tilted his head in thought. "Oh well. He's a Revnashi, so he's bound to be stubborn as all hell. But he'll come round, mark my words. And if he continues to be so buddy-buddy with Count Daynar, he just might get some good advice from that direction too. Now there's a sharp and shrewd man. Should be able to see your Karos' worth."

"He's not 'my' Karos!" Schean insisted. "Stop calling him that, will you? Hmm, and what do you think of the Count? Apart from his being gorgeously handsome, and horribly good at what he does for a living?"

"Now, little brother, be careful – he sure is gorgeously handsome, but you'd better forget everything about that!" Mioll winked. "That is, unless you want to pull the wrath of his Angel of Death upon yourself."

"What are you talking about now?" Schean stared at the older man.

"Oh, merely things I've heard said about them..." Mioll pretended to be studying his fingernails. "Such as the fact that Count Daynar and the fair Sorel are never seen without each other. That they even share a bed."

"Well, they do," Schean agreed without missing a beat, then his jaw dropped. "You're not saying... oh, but Sorel is his bodyguard! A man like Count Daynar probably has loads of enemies, and –"

"No doubt. And it must be because of those enemies that he keeps his Angel of Death at hand even in the night, when he's sleeping in a friendly castle and could let himself relax and be entertained by some pretty, buxom maid." Mioll nodded. "Except that it's a well-known fact he never does that."

"Mioll, now you're letting your imagination run a bit too wild!" Schean, careful not to upset the plates on the bed, began to pelt his friend with a pillow. "And I don't want to hear another such rumor or allegation, you understand? I swear, the things you said about Karos back in Moydherr were bad enough! Now I can't even look at him without remembering it, and that's an evil thing because I'm afraid I'll go red and then he'll ask me what it is, or worse, start having some odd ideas, and it's all your fault, and –"

The scuffle degenerated first into a food fight, then into a deep kiss, and before long the two minstrels were locked in a passionate embrace on a bed from which the remaining edibles had been hastily rescued to a table.

Upstairs, in the tower room, Karos turned around under the covers and glared into the darkness. Now, for the first time since moving in to share it with Schean, he had the bed all for himself – so why in the name of all dark gods was it so difficult to actually fall asleep?