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They ascended the ice-sheathed steps. Braphen edged ahead to open the door. ‘Milord, welcome back.’
Three strides through, in the cloakroom, a grimy child stood as if awaiting them. He stared up at Kagamandra without expression. He was dressed in a tattered deerskin tunic, his lower legs bare and his feet stained black by ash and the greasy stone tiles.
‘Ah, one of my hostages? Very well.’ Kagamandra approached the child and reached out a hand to rest it upon the thin shoulder.
The boy bared his teeth and growled.
Kagamandra snatched his hand back.
‘Jhelarkan hostages, milord,’ said Braphen. ‘This one is named Gear.’
‘Silchas Ruin and Scara, you said?’
‘Yes, milord.’
‘I imagine neither has visited since delivering the hostages.’
‘No, milord.’
‘How many carcasses remain in that cellar?’
‘About two-thirds, milord.’
‘So there’s room for, say, two more?’
Braphen frowned. ‘Mil
ord?’
‘Never mind. Do we have a cook, or do we all eat raw meat now?’
‘Igur Lout commands the kitchen these days, milord. You will find the hearth in the eating hall well lit, as it’s where he passes the nights, mostly. With the orphans sleeping during the days for the most part, it’s safer that way.’ She drew off her heavier furs now, and the contrast of her comfortable excess with Kagamandra’s own gaunt frame was startling. She interrupted his comparison by wiping her nose again. ‘I will inform Igur to prepare you a meal, milord.’
‘Yes, thank you, Braphen.’
Behind them, as Braphen set off for the kitchen, Trout arrived. Seeing Gear, he pointed a finger and said, ‘That’s the lord’s own horse in the stables, you understand? Keep your claws and fangs off it!’
Gear spun and ran off down a corridor.
Trout glared at Kagamandra. ‘Sir, I’m taking captain’s pay, just like the rest of us still here. Barring the castellan, of course. On account of the hostages.’
‘Understood, Trout. Now, join me in the dining room.’
Trout hesitated, and then nodded. ‘Sir.’ He followed as Kagamandra made his way towards the central chamber.
‘And shed that miserable attitude of yours, will you? We’re old friends, you may recall. We fought side by side. We’ve seen the worst the world can offer.’
‘Shed, sir? Can’t be done. This miserable attitude is all I’ve got. Nothing underneath. Just something naked and ugly, and all the uglier for being naked. I’ve not changed at all, sir. And you, well, you look more like you than you ever did before. So yes, let’s have us a drink or two, sir. We can catch up. Shouldn’t take long. Igur’s not a bad cook, sir.’
‘And where is Nassaras?’
‘Don’t know, don’t care, and don’t dare ask, sir. She’s taken a liking to the hostages, you see.’
‘Ah. Tell me, how many hostages did they send us?’
Reaching the long dining table, Trout edged forward to sweep clutter and old foodstuffs from the surface, and then dragged out a chair for himself and sat.
Kagamandra moved to the high-backed chair at the table’s head. He saw that it was sheathed in dust. He sat and looked expectantly at Trout, until the man cleared his throat and said, ‘There were twenty-five to start, sir. Got maybe twenty left.’
