Part 3 (2/2)
Hahle gave no indication of the reason for his invitation. He chatted amiably with Relys about the gathering of the new wartroops, about the s.h.i.+p building and the readying of the invasion fleet; and he grew nostalgic as he told some tales of Marrget's training, though at times he seemed uncertain whether to refer to the captain as man or as woman.
”It was the first time Marrget had bested me,” he was saying as his girl cleared the table and refilled their cups. ”He tumbled me right into the dirt and laughed . . .”He shook his head. ”He was usually so serious. But when he ... ah ... when she laughed ... it was like . . .” He fell silent suddenly.
Relys nodded. ”She is gone.”
' 'Aye. And cursed be them that slew her.'' Hahle's jaw tightened. ' 'Killed in her bed. Not even a warrior's death. The death of a commoner, or of a . . . a . . .”
Relys's eyes flickered to the councilman. Hahle had turned crimson. ”Or of a woman?” she offered quietly. There was no rancor or anger in her voice. Slips these days were common. Had she avenged every one of them, she would have killed a hundred men since January.
”Forgive me, lady. As I said, I am a rustic.”
”Errors are greatly preferable to insult,” said Relys. ”No pardon is necessary.”
Hahle seemed to be sorting out his feelings about dining alone with a woman who was neither his wife nor a potential mistress. To cover his uncertainty, he drank from his cup. ”Do you . . . receive much insult?” he asked after a time.
Relys allowed himself a thin smile. ”Some of the younger men of the Guard think themselves ent.i.tled to the privileges of their fathers. They are angry that times have changed.”
”They have changed for all of us.” Hahle sighed. ”Marrget came to Quay's gate with her companions. I had heard ... I mean, I knew of her transformation, but I ... I did not recognize her at all.”
Relys heard confusion and sorrow in his voice. ”We are all very different,” she said simply.
”I was ...” Hahle pa.s.sed a hand over his face. ”I did not make it easy for Marrget while she was in Quay,” he said. ”I was thoughtless. She was so different. And . . .” He bent his head suddenly. ”And that was her last memory of me.”
”Councilman,” said Relys, ”a warrior knows that any parting might be his or her last. Marrget knew that better than anyone.” She noticed, chagrined, that her voice had turned light and soft, even comforting, but she went on. ”She always spoke well of you, and I am sure that any memories she took with her into death were tempered by all your previous words and deeds.”
Hahle did not speak for a time. Then: ”My thanks, lady.”
”No thanks are needed, sir.”
”She will be revenged.”
Relys glanced across the room. Her sword leaned against the wall, ready. ”She will be well revenged. They will all be well revenged.”
”Indeed,” Hahle nodded. ”The s.h.i.+ps are all but ready-I could die tonight knowing that the invasion will proceed as planned.” After a moment's pause, he continued, but his voice had lost some of its heart. ”The G.o.ds cannot help but favor us, I think, for our actions are just.” He paused again. Hesitated. ”I think.”
Relys set down her cup. ”You think?”
”Aye, I ...” Hahle dropped his eyes and spoke quickly, as though he were confessing a shameful act.
”That is why I asked you to have dinner with me, captain. I spoke with Cvinthil this afternoon about some concerns that I have had for some time. Lately they have been growing.”
”What concerns?”
”Helwych.”
The sorcerer had been mending slowly. Pale, scarred, he still had to lean on a stick when he walked or stood for any length of time; but though his advice to Cvinthil had been invaluable, Relys had never quite trusted him. Mernyl had been an odd man, too circuitous and too veiled for her taste, but he had been a good man nonetheless, and in the end had given his life for Gryylth and Corrin both. Helwych, even in health, was a feeble little thing, and he seemed to hide more smirks than smiles, more prejudice than power. He appeared to be always within earshot of anything that was said about him, and he constantly gave the impression of knowing more than he ought.
Hahle had leaned forward, waiting for her reaction. But she only shrugged. ”I do not like him, either.”
”It is not that I do not like him,” Hahle insisted. ”Though in truth I do not. You have a clear head, captain. You are rightfully outraged by Marrget's death, but you can think as a warrior, also.”
Relys laughed in spite of herself. ”No talk here of women's gullible hearts?”
”Will you hear me out?”
”Tell me. Please.”
Hahle spoke softly. ”Helwych's story about the conduct of the Vayllens is reasonable, considering all that has happened. Now, over the weeks, I have noticed small inconsistencies and contradictions in his tale- the matter of the missing days, for example-but they have all been explainable. More or less. But there is one that is not, and it gnaws at me.”
Relys waited.
”Helwych,” said Hahle, ”told us that he killed the Vayllen fisher in order to steal his boat, and that the crossing to Quay took three days. Now, I will not question the fact that the Vayllen was still in the boat when he docked, because I myself would have had a difficult time hoisting a body out of a boat were I wounded as badly as Helwych. Nor will I question his comment about the weather being bad: Helwych is no sailor, and cannot be expected to know bad weather from good. But the Vayllen . . .”He fell silent, musing, as though he wished to be sure of his words.
The serving girl appeared, refilled their cups, and departed, her steps silent, her hair long and dark, her eyes downcast.
Hahle still had not spoken. ”Master?” said Relys.
”Aye.” Hahle straightened up, resolved. ”I felt the body just after Helwych's boat beached.”
Relys's brow furrowed. ”And?”
”It was warm. Quite warm. It takes at best a day and a half to cross the White Sea, and Helwych insisted that the voyage took twice that; but the man in the boat could not have been dead for above an hour.''
Relys turned the fact over in her mind. ”It does not make sense,” she said. ”If Helwych killed the man to steal the boat, the corpse would have been cold. But the only other possibility is that the Vayllen fisher brought him to Quay willingly, and then was killed by Helwych when just offsh.o.r.e.”
Hahle was nodding. ”Exactly.”
”What did the king say?”
Hahle shook his head. ”He is angry at the Vayllens. When I spoke to him of this matter, he shouted at me and asked whether the loss of Bandon and Quay and the lives of my friends were not enough. In truth, I wonder at my own thoughts, but Helwych . . .” He shook his head. ”It should make sense. But it does not.”
”What do you want to do?”
”I am not sure that there is anything we can do. I have only a suspicion that something is amiss. And the king will not hear it.''
”Are we being betrayed, do you think?”
Hahle spread his hands. ” Helwych's wounds are genuine enough. He nearly died of them. What but a monster would do such a thing to a lad?''
”Does Helwych know of your suspicions?”
”I think not. Nor does anyone else. Cvinthil, you have noticed, is surrounded mostly by youngsters these days. And the veterans are all angry and spoiling for a fight. I have no one to talk to save you.”
Relys deliberated. ”Without the will of the king,” she said slowly, ”we can do nothing. But if Helwych has erred once-he might well err again. My lieutenant, Timbrin, knows how not to be seen. I will have her watch him closely and report any further anomalies. That, I am afraid, is all we can do for now.”
The night was very dark when they finished their talk, and as Relys prepared to depart, she noticed that Hahle took up a cloak and a stout stick as though to accompany her. ”I have no need of an escort, though I thank you,” she said. But she recalled the three young men, and her mouth tightened.
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