Winter Heart, page 27
"Sure." Fane gave her the peace offering of a warm smile and shut the door before she could think of any protests.
The last thought he had before falling into his dreamless sleep was of the rings that still sat in his bedside drawer, reminding him of his forgotten task.
IT WAS LUNCHTIME THE next day before Niamh awoke, completely disoriented by the high, bright sun streaming into her window. Niamh's eyes were crusty with sleep, and her hair was a tangled, dirty mess. This has to be remedied right now. She thought to herself. Sleep had apparently cured nearly all her ailments, and she rose from her bed a refreshed and renewed woman. Very uncharacteristically for herself, Niamh left her bed a rumbled pile of blankets and gathered some of her most comfortable clothes with her as she dashed from the room. There was only one thing to do, and that would be waiting for her in the bathing rooms.
Niamh arrived at the main entrance, the men's room on the right and the women's on the left, steam rising from under each door. She ran into a hard chested man as he was coming from the right side.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” She said. Niamh looked up to see Fane’s silver eyes widened in surprise. There were no longer bags under his eyes, and he, too, looked far more refreshed than she had seen him last.
There was a strange awkwardness between them, almost as if everything they’d gone through together seemed far away and foreign to the day-to-day interactions. Niamh blushed and stepped past him, “Sorry.” She repeated. He looked at her for a moment longer, the expression in his eyes as soft as they had been the night before.
“Are you feeling better?” He asked, watching her carefully. She nodded shyly, smiling over her shoulder as she opened the door to the women's bathing rooms. Steam enveloped her, warming her whole body in seconds. "Much better, thanks to you." She said, watching him open the door across from her.
He really was handsome, Niamh admitted, and it was no wonder that Maewyn adored him so. His blond hair was grown out, but long enough to be tied back to reveal his high forehead, tanned skin, and straight, pointed nose. Why are you noticing that now?
"I'm glad to hear it." Fane said. Something had definitely changed between them. They stood there in awkward silence for a moment longer than was comfortable.
"Um-" Niamh started, "Tomorrow is the beginning of the Festival, so you might not see me around for a few days."
"Festival?" Fane looked genuinely intrigued. Does he not know what that means? Niamh thought to herself with a laugh.
"Yes? The Festival of Lights?" Has he really not heard of it? Perhaps they don't celebrate it in Aridia? Niamh immediately felt a pang of guilt for thinking him ignorant only a moment ago.
Fane still looked rather perplexed, as if hearing a word for the first time.
"It's tradition for the king to visit among the townspeople for the day. All of the servants and anyone who works in the castle are free to go home, if they want to."
"Isn't this your home?" Fane asked, his brow furrowed.
"I'm from Wolfrau, near the border." Niamh elaborated. They had just survived a harrowing, life-endangering journey together and Niamh realized that they knew virtually nothing about the other.
"Oh." Fane muttered. Niamh couldn't tell what feelings might have been behind that word. She decided to venture a chance.
"Um- You could come with me." Niamh offered, meeting his eyes. "If you wanted." She added quickly. What am I doing? Everyone is going to notice he's with me and then they're going to ask questions! I already know what Eithne is going to say. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all.
Even as her internal monologue continued; Niamh couldn't help but melt a little bit inside at Fane's excited smile. She wished she’d invited him sooner.
"That sounds wonderful. I would love- I mean- It would give me great pleasure to join you." Fane ran a hand through his tangled hair. If Niamh looked close enough, were his ears turning red?
Niamh tried to hide her own blush as she turned and faced into the bathing room, adding over her shoulder. "We're meeting in the courtyard at first light to leave." Niamh dashed into the steam room to disguise her own excitement.
40
MOONLIGHT GLINTED OFF of the neat metal sign above the door which Fane now found himself standing in front of. The Bright Kettle. It squeaked on its hinges blown by the slight breeze. This is a strange meeting place. He thought to himself.
He’d asked Kjellfrid and Rohyr to meet with him, and they had both, unfortunately, agreed. The few times in his life he had presented any sort of idea to his father, or even to his brother, it had never gone over well.
Kjellfrid had suggested the meeting place before he could even think to. If Fane had his way, they would have sat in their normal booth at the tavern down by the docks. Kjellfrid hadn't looked impressed with this idea, saying something about how he had "forgotten that the Fade frequents that tavern too." Somehow, Kjellfrid's admonishment had stung more than Rohyr's ever did. Perhaps because Rohyr did nothing but criticize him. Fane knew Rohyr would have something to say about this plan he was about to present.
Fane awkwardly waited outside, looking to the left and right occasionally to make sure he wasn't followed. After a few moments, Kjellfrid appeared inside, opening the front door to the shop. Her blond hair was tied into braids circling her head, and she had forgone the wolf mask that Fane had grown accustomed to her wearing.
"Fane." She said, checking behind him. "Come in."
He wasn't worried about Kjellfrid. Rohyr was who he was going to have to work hardest to convince. And he knew it.
Fane stepped over the threshold into a dark, but pleasant smelling room. There were several tables scattered around, shelves lining the walls, and many plush chairs and couches in various places. It looked nothing like any of the taverns that he and Rohyr had been frequenting previously. It was much too clean and quiet for that. Kjellfrid lit a lamp on one of the tables, illuminating a clean white tablecloth.
"What is this place?" He asked finally.
Kjellfrid only smiled without looking at him as she fussed about with setting out mugs for the three of them. "It's a tearoom."
"And how did you know about it?" Kjellfrid didn't strike him as the type to enjoy an outing with a gaggle of giggling friends as they gossiped over fancy tea and sandwiches. Fane had never seen any such gathering for himself, but he could imagine that's how it usually went.
"Oh, I know the owner. Very well." She said, simply.
Before long, there were three steaming mugs of what Fane could only assume to be tea, considering their surroundings. He sat down on one of the soft chairs.
Rohyr emerged a moment later from the shadows at the back of the room, as was his habit. Fane had given up jumping in surprise at that point. Rohyr, too, pulled up a soft chair and took a place at the table. He nearly propped his feet up on the pristine white tablecloth, but a stern glare from Kjellfrid deterred this.
After Rohyr grabbed the mug in front of him and took a swig, Fane realized that it was not tea in their hands, but a hot spiced ale. Where did she get all of this? Fane wondered, watching Kellfrid take her seat between them.
“You’re blond again.” Rohyr stared at him flatly, raising an eyebrow.
Fane’s hand flew to his hair. He hadn’t noticed in all the events since the cabin, but Rohyr was correct- his hair was the same golden blond as when he’d arrived. Niamh’s magic, healing everything apparently, must have canceled out Hael’s. Or Hael’s had worn off. Fane honestly had no idea. It’s not like he knew how magic worked.
"What is it that you wanted to meet for?" Rohyr asked, looking entirely disinterested already. He took a long drink from his glass.
"I think we should infiltrate the Fade."
Rohyr snorted a laugh, foam spurting from the rim of his mug. Kjellfrid looked doubtful, her eyebrows furrowing.
"Getting your ass handed to you one at a time isn't enough for you?" Rohyr said, still amused.
Fane ignored him. "It would be beneficial to know how they work. We don't even know what they want. If we go right to the heart, we can find out what they are after." Fane paused. "I think they are connected to the sickness."
Rohyr and Kjellfrid's faces darkened.
"Why do you say that, Fane?" Kjellfrid asked delicately. Rohyr cleared his throat.
"I've been up to a...Dark Tree. When Niamh touched it, something happened to her." Fane pulled the same piece of bark that he had shown Hael from his pocket, unwrapping it from the handkerchief it was in. Now that he was seeing it a second time, further removed from its source, it looks rotted and sickly, dark sap making the fabric stick to it. The fine gold embroidered FS on his handkerchief was, thankfully, ruined by the sap. They stared at it with interest. It seemed to blend in with the shadows around them despite the bright lamp on the table. "And as we were traveling, more and more people were getting sick as we got closer to the Tree.That one member mentioned something about ‘the black stuff’. Something tells me that this is what he was referring to.” Fane said.
“That’s a large assumption.” Kjellfrid replied, “We need more evidence than that.”
"I know it's not much." Fane said, rather disappointed that he had worked up all that gumption to present his idea and all he had to go on was two pieces of evidence and a hunch. "But if there is a way for us to help; if the Tree, the sickness, and the Fade are all connected, I want to take that opportunity."
“I remember one of those young men.” Fane continued, before either of them could stop him. “When I’d first seen him, he’d been healthy. But the next time we crossed paths, he said something about how ‘they’ made him do ‘it.’ I never knew what he meant.” Fane paused, the weight of that young man’s face in his mind. Whatever happened to him? They’d not seen him again since.
Rohyr paused with his mug halfway to his mouth. Fane took this as encouragement. "If they aren't related, at the very least, we will know how to take them down that much more effectively."
"What do you propose we do, then, prince?" Rohyr asked, his tone not indicating any desire for an answer. "We still haven't figured out how many of them there are. We could follow one wasp and find the whole hive. Are you really willing to risk that?"
"How long do you really plan to be out here every night taking them down one by one, Rohyr? Months? Years? You have clearly seen how the Fade gains strength and numbers faster than we can keep up. The jail is already full." Fane had nearly had enough of Rohyr's attitude. "Why not crush the whole hive instead of killing one wasp at a time?"
The table fell silent.
"All I am proposing is that we do some exploratory work. Find out how they recruit new members, see how they join, what they might want."
“And what if you're wrong? About all of this?" Rohyr all but slammed his mug on the wooden table, making it shiver. Fane had clearly touched a nerve, though he couldn't be sure which one it was. Rohyr had lot of them. "You could be sending us in for the slaughter, all on a hunch that you have?"
Kjellfrid raised an eyebrow. "He does have a point. We can't be sure how many there really are of them. And what weapons they have." She held her chin in one hand, gazing up beyond Rohyr's head. "At least if we fight them in the streets, there's three of us and only one of them at a time." Her eyes turned to meet Fane's. "We can't be sure how it will go in their own territory."
Fane kept himself from bristling. If he had learned anything from the meetings with his brother, sometimes people needed more of a push to be convinced.
"How many people are going to die, if they really are spreading the sickness? How many mothers will lose their young sons before we finally have enough leads?” Though that reasoning would have never worked on his brother, Fane smirked as he saw the spark of interest in Rohyr's eyes. He knew that would get him. If there was anything that could persuade Rohyr, it was the appeal to justice. As much as Rohyr pretended to be an impenetrable wall of mystery, Fane had spent enough time around the man to see those things he let slip through the cracks.
“If there's a way I can keep more people from dying, then I'll take that chance." Fane finished. Kjellfrid looked between Fane and Rohyr as they stared the other down in silent tension. When it came to a battle between them, however, Fane was always the first to crack under the pressure of silence. Rohyr was likely to never speak again if it meant he would lose.
Rohyr thought for a moment, silent but slightly softened. Fane waited. Finally, he said: "There's only three of us, and how many of them?"
Got him. "We aren't going to fight them all- We are only going to get information. See how they function. See if they have anything to do with the Tree." If this were a true war meeting with generals and other such officials, Fane would have rolled out the strategy map as he had often seen Friedhelm do. Rohyr stared at him. Fane could practically see the wheels turning in his head.
"What do we do after?" Kjellfrid piped up. Always wanting to be the most prepared of the three of them.
"We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess." Fane sighed, running a hand through his long hair. "We can't do anything until we know what we are working with." If Fane were honest with himself and the group, he would have admitted that there was a part of him that was tired of the constant, futile running through the city, only to be met with the same lack of information as the night before. He wanted to see an end in sight, and Rohyr's methods were not getting them any closer to that goal.
"Well..." Kjellfrid rubbed her chin thoughtfully, "I think we need to approach this more intentionally than we have been, perhaps." She glanced at Rohyr, indicating to Fane that she secretly agreed with him on Rohyr’s methods. "What I want to know is where they keep finding replacements for all of these men that you two keep hauling in to the prison."
Rohyr nodded to her comment, seeming to be deep in thought. The candlelight deepened the shadows on his face, only making his features even harsher than normal.
"Then why don't you work on finding if there is anyone doing the recruiting, Kjellfrid." Fane said, "It's unlikely that scores of men are spontaneously deciding to throw their lives away. There must be some incentive for them to be joining." He had the distinct feeling that Kjellfrid might be more successful at the more nuanced parts of his plans. Rohyr didn't pipe up to disagree either. In fact, Rohyr said nothing else the rest of the evening, downing the rest of his ale in brooding silence.
After some discussion, mostly between him and Kjellfrid, Fane stood from the table once he had finished his presentation. Kjellfrid bid them both goodnight before disappearing into the back of the tearoom, leaving Fane and Rohyr to let themselves out. They stood alone on the quiet city street. The flicker of a flame of the streetlight above them was the only sound in the fog.
"We will discuss this further after the Festival." Rohyr rumbled near him. Fane nodded grimly.
"Stay alive until then." He added. Fane couldn't help but feel complimented by the woodsman's concern. Rohyr turned away from him and disappeared into the fog, leaving Fane to find his way back to the castle alone, as usual.
As far as war meetings went, Fane felt that one was rather successful, and he reveled in his newfound sense of leadership. Perhaps he was more competent than his brother gave him credit for, after all.
41
THOUGH FANE HAD INTRODUCED the idea of infiltrating the Fade, he knew that it would be far longer to truly get the operation off the ground and give it teeth. Everyone else seemed occupied with plans for the upcoming Festival, anyway. Fane had heard of such a thing,though it had been many years since any celebrations had occurred in the halls of his boyhood.
He wasn’t sure if this was because his brother and their father before them had banned them, or if he was simply not privy to what the celebrations of his kingdom looked like outside the castle walls. Fane was curious as ever to participate in this apparently much anticipated event.
He wasn't even sure where Rohyr had run off to. The surly woodsman had disappeared without a word shortly after their meeting with Kjellfrid.
The next morning, as Niamh promised, Fane walked into a full courtyard. Apparently, Niamh was not the only one that didn't hail from Ahealarth. Fane awkwardly approached the group, not entirely sure of what he needed to bring with him. Showing up in only the clothes on his back, Fane mounted his horse and did his best to blend in with the rest of the cavalcade.
It was a mere day's ride from the castle town to reach Wolfrau, though it was much smaller than Fane was expecting. The village blanketed the mountainside, with some houses sitting higher than others. Smoke rose above them all, indicating that there was no house left unattended.
The group had arrived in the village square before Fane could take in everything around him, and all of the servants promptly dispersed to their waiting families. He was surrounded by excited shouting and happy laughter, while he stood alone and awkward in the center. His horse shifted under him, seemingly irritated that he was still there. Don't you have someone to talk to? It seemed to say. Fane was all too aware of his foreign status, more than he had ever been.
Niamh held back from the rest of the party, chatting with what seemed like the entire population of Wolfrau. Fane stayed back with her, watching some of the residents haul tables and chairs out to a large field just beyond the edge of town. Preparations for a bonfire lay in the middle of it, with plenty of seating set far out around the perimeter of the festival area. All manner of food and drink would be going out to those tables as soon as night fell, Fane guessed.
A shout broke through the chaos in the square. A cheerful voice, not unlike Maewyn's, called, "Niamh!"
The beckoned in question turned toward the sound with a bright familiarity on her face. "Eithne!"
A girl, taller than Niamh, came running to her and nearly tackled her to the snow in a hug. "I've missed you so much! Why don't you come home more often?"
Fane suppressed a smile as the taller girl wouldn't let go, opting to squeeze Niamh harder as she said this. Niamh eventually broke free and said something that Fane couldn't hear. She was breathless and smiling.
