The Black Shriving (Chronicles of the Black Gate Book 2) by Phil Tucker Page A
Authors: Phil Tucker
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flies in the face of all that is holy."
"And we can trust Asho on this? He is a fine boy, but that was his first battle. Who knows what he saw?" Jander's voice was a harsh hiss. "Whom would you trust: the Ascendant's Grace, an Aletheian of the highest rank, or a Bythian?"
Iskra sat back. "He hasn't proved himself enough for your taste?"
"No, of course he has. He's done admirably." Jander made a chopping motion with one hand. "My point is this: there are times when our lords fail us, fail themselves. It doesn't matter in the end if the Ascendant's Grace has acted righteously or not. What matters is our own conduct. We must safeguard our own souls, and not take their sins as an excuse to sin even more."
"Believe me, Jander, if there were any other way out of this I would seize it in a heartbeat. It sickens me to take this step. Right up until the last, I will search for a different way to defend my people and family. But I will not simply concede defeat. I will not let scheming, corrupt men take advantage of our weakness and use our religion to force our surrender. I don't know if the Ascendant will damn us or understand our actions, but I do know this: my late husband would have fought until the last, and I intend to do the same. So I will go to Agerastos if I can. I will make a deal with their heretical emperor, and I will take back Kyferin Castle and save my son."
Jander stared at her, his mouth a thin slit. Servants and guards sitting around the fires were watching them both out of the corner of their eyes. Had she raised her voice toward the last? Iskra took a deep breath. "Enough. Let's gather the others. I would hold council."
Jander gave a sharp nod and rose to his feet. "I'll summon them. If you'll excuse me, Lady Kyferin."
He strode off without waiting for her nod, and Iskra watched him go. Lady Kyferin. She took a deep breath, sat up straighter, and waited for the others to gather.
One by one, her council stepped in and sat before her. Mæva the Hrething witch with her firecat. Brocuff with his tally in hand, followed by an expressionless Jander.
A moment later Asho approached and bowed. "Good morning, Lady Kyferin." His hair was damp with sweat, his expression grave. A fever? No. Exercise, as befitted a knight.
"Ser Asho," said Iskra, forcing a smile. A lifetime spent by her brutal lord's side had made doing so effortless. "Fetch yourself some food so that we may talk."
"I'll break my fast when we're done," he said, lowering himself to a crouch. "My appetite hasn't awoken yet."
Kethe stomped up behind Asho and sat heavily to his left, pushing her sword's hilt down so the scabbarded tip rose behind her, clear of any obstacles. She had a bowl in both hands and wasted no time spooning food into her mouth. "Morning," she grunted.
Lady Kyferin raised an eyebrow as she watched her daughter, and decided to pick her battles. "In one month the Lunar Portal below will re-open and return Audsley and Ser Tiron to us. With a modicum of luck they will have found a means to contact the Agerastians so that we may forge an alliance. Two weeks after that the empire shall celebrate the Winter Shriving. We've learned that it's called the Black Shriving here, and is an occasion for terror and violence. All who reside in the Hold shall be attacked by supernatural forces and killed. If we survive that assault, we shall face Lord Laur a mere six weeks later. He shall come at us with as many Virtues and knights as he can assemble. Ladies and gentlemen, time is of the essence."
The mood around their small circle became decidedly grim.
"Mæva," said Iskra. "What can you tell us about the Black Shriving? Where we come from it is a time for reflection and penance followed by a day of celebration."
Mæva stirred uneasily. "Your version sounds much more hospitable. The Hrethings know that night as a time to lock our doors and windows, to gather with weapons drawn and beware the evil that comes down from the mountains." She glanced
"And we can trust Asho on this? He is a fine boy, but that was his first battle. Who knows what he saw?" Jander's voice was a harsh hiss. "Whom would you trust: the Ascendant's Grace, an Aletheian of the highest rank, or a Bythian?"
Iskra sat back. "He hasn't proved himself enough for your taste?"
"No, of course he has. He's done admirably." Jander made a chopping motion with one hand. "My point is this: there are times when our lords fail us, fail themselves. It doesn't matter in the end if the Ascendant's Grace has acted righteously or not. What matters is our own conduct. We must safeguard our own souls, and not take their sins as an excuse to sin even more."
"Believe me, Jander, if there were any other way out of this I would seize it in a heartbeat. It sickens me to take this step. Right up until the last, I will search for a different way to defend my people and family. But I will not simply concede defeat. I will not let scheming, corrupt men take advantage of our weakness and use our religion to force our surrender. I don't know if the Ascendant will damn us or understand our actions, but I do know this: my late husband would have fought until the last, and I intend to do the same. So I will go to Agerastos if I can. I will make a deal with their heretical emperor, and I will take back Kyferin Castle and save my son."
Jander stared at her, his mouth a thin slit. Servants and guards sitting around the fires were watching them both out of the corner of their eyes. Had she raised her voice toward the last? Iskra took a deep breath. "Enough. Let's gather the others. I would hold council."
Jander gave a sharp nod and rose to his feet. "I'll summon them. If you'll excuse me, Lady Kyferin."
He strode off without waiting for her nod, and Iskra watched him go. Lady Kyferin. She took a deep breath, sat up straighter, and waited for the others to gather.
One by one, her council stepped in and sat before her. Mæva the Hrething witch with her firecat. Brocuff with his tally in hand, followed by an expressionless Jander.
A moment later Asho approached and bowed. "Good morning, Lady Kyferin." His hair was damp with sweat, his expression grave. A fever? No. Exercise, as befitted a knight.
"Ser Asho," said Iskra, forcing a smile. A lifetime spent by her brutal lord's side had made doing so effortless. "Fetch yourself some food so that we may talk."
"I'll break my fast when we're done," he said, lowering himself to a crouch. "My appetite hasn't awoken yet."
Kethe stomped up behind Asho and sat heavily to his left, pushing her sword's hilt down so the scabbarded tip rose behind her, clear of any obstacles. She had a bowl in both hands and wasted no time spooning food into her mouth. "Morning," she grunted.
Lady Kyferin raised an eyebrow as she watched her daughter, and decided to pick her battles. "In one month the Lunar Portal below will re-open and return Audsley and Ser Tiron to us. With a modicum of luck they will have found a means to contact the Agerastians so that we may forge an alliance. Two weeks after that the empire shall celebrate the Winter Shriving. We've learned that it's called the Black Shriving here, and is an occasion for terror and violence. All who reside in the Hold shall be attacked by supernatural forces and killed. If we survive that assault, we shall face Lord Laur a mere six weeks later. He shall come at us with as many Virtues and knights as he can assemble. Ladies and gentlemen, time is of the essence."
The mood around their small circle became decidedly grim.
"Mæva," said Iskra. "What can you tell us about the Black Shriving? Where we come from it is a time for reflection and penance followed by a day of celebration."
Mæva stirred uneasily. "Your version sounds much more hospitable. The Hrethings know that night as a time to lock our doors and windows, to gather with weapons drawn and beware the evil that comes down from the mountains." She glanced
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