Read Online The Path of Flames (Chronicles of the Black Gate Book 1) by Phil Tucker - Free Book Online
Authors: Phil Tucker
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the noble family, but held Lady Kyferin in special regard for her being a Sigean and thus one step above him in Ascension. “I am sorry for your loss, my Lady.” His voice was sonorous, rich with compassion and redolent with the authority of his office. “Yet even in sorrow we must rejoice. Know that your Lord husband is now one step closer to Ascension. He travels before us to the peak of the Triangle. Scant comfort, I know, but our grief is but the stepping stone to joy.”
These last words were murmured by everyone but the Lady and Asho. Even Kethe whispered them silently to herself.
Lady Kyferin opened her eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Father.”
He bowed. “Shall I prepare the chapel for tonight’s Mourning?”
Lady Kyferin nodded. “Yes, though Kethe and I shall hold the vigil in my chapel upstairs.”
Father Simeon hesitated, as if about to protest, and then bowed again. “As you wish.”
“A week,” said Lady Kyferin, turning back to Asho. “Seven days since my Lord husband and his Black Wolves perished. Tell me, were either Lord Laur or Lord Lenherd at this battle?”
Asho shook his head. “No, my Lady. Lord Kyferin thought that his brothers were still on the road behind us when the order to attack was given. I never saw them.”
“So, their forces remain intact.” She leaned back in her seat, her smooth brow marred by a slight frown.
Brocuff cleared his throat and stepped up next to Asho. “My Lady, when news reaches the families of the Black Wolves, they’ll no doubt ask that their men stationed here at the castle be sent back to their homes.”
Each Black Wolf had been a landed noble with enough wealth to arm himself and answer Lord Kyferin’s call with retainers and soldiers of his own. Their families and properties formed the quilt that was Lord Kyferin’s land; their simultaneous deaths would throw the entire countryside into chaos, as brothers and uncles and sons began to contest for the now empty seats of power. The next few weeks would see numerous deaths take place, as the less scrupulous and more ambitious relatives ensured that they would gain the title by any means necessary.
Kethe stepped forth. “Surely we don’t have to release them.”
“No,” said Brocuff, rubbing his jaw. “You’ve the right of that. We could order each man to stay at his post. But there would be consequences. The families that demand the return of their men would be gravely offended. They’re going to want as much strength as possible over the next few weeks as they fight off rivals and seek to consolidate their power. They’ll remember our leaving them undermanned at this crucial time, and harbor resentment.”
Bertchold scowled. “They owe their loyalty to Lady Kyferin in hard times as well as good. We can’t strip the battlements of our men and send them home.”
“How many soldiers do we have right now?” Lady Kyferin’s voice remained quiet, almost calm.
Brocuff didn’t have to think. “We’ve sixty-two men, all told. The vast majority of our forces rode out with our Lord.”
Lady Kyferin watched her constable with half-lidded eyes. “How many of these might we expect to be recalled?”
“Thirty, most like.” Brocuff nodded. “Replacements may straggle in as they return from the war, and some requests might take longer to reach us than others.”
“This is not a time to be generous,” said Bertchold, smacking his fist into the palm of his other hand. “We’ve no knights—”
“That’s not true,” said Asho.
Bertchold faltered and then turned to him. “You said the Black Wolves died with Lord Kyferin to a man.”
“They did.” Asho felt his heart begin to hammer. “But I was knighted after the fighting.”
Everyone stared at him. Lady Kyferin raised an eyebrow. “Knighted? By whom?”
Asho swallowed. “By the Grace himself, my Lady.”
Bertchold snorted and Father Simeon smiled. Brocuff frowned at him, and Menczel strummed his lute with a mocking
These last words were murmured by everyone but the Lady and Asho. Even Kethe whispered them silently to herself.
Lady Kyferin opened her eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Father.”
He bowed. “Shall I prepare the chapel for tonight’s Mourning?”
Lady Kyferin nodded. “Yes, though Kethe and I shall hold the vigil in my chapel upstairs.”
Father Simeon hesitated, as if about to protest, and then bowed again. “As you wish.”
“A week,” said Lady Kyferin, turning back to Asho. “Seven days since my Lord husband and his Black Wolves perished. Tell me, were either Lord Laur or Lord Lenherd at this battle?”
Asho shook his head. “No, my Lady. Lord Kyferin thought that his brothers were still on the road behind us when the order to attack was given. I never saw them.”
“So, their forces remain intact.” She leaned back in her seat, her smooth brow marred by a slight frown.
Brocuff cleared his throat and stepped up next to Asho. “My Lady, when news reaches the families of the Black Wolves, they’ll no doubt ask that their men stationed here at the castle be sent back to their homes.”
Each Black Wolf had been a landed noble with enough wealth to arm himself and answer Lord Kyferin’s call with retainers and soldiers of his own. Their families and properties formed the quilt that was Lord Kyferin’s land; their simultaneous deaths would throw the entire countryside into chaos, as brothers and uncles and sons began to contest for the now empty seats of power. The next few weeks would see numerous deaths take place, as the less scrupulous and more ambitious relatives ensured that they would gain the title by any means necessary.
Kethe stepped forth. “Surely we don’t have to release them.”
“No,” said Brocuff, rubbing his jaw. “You’ve the right of that. We could order each man to stay at his post. But there would be consequences. The families that demand the return of their men would be gravely offended. They’re going to want as much strength as possible over the next few weeks as they fight off rivals and seek to consolidate their power. They’ll remember our leaving them undermanned at this crucial time, and harbor resentment.”
Bertchold scowled. “They owe their loyalty to Lady Kyferin in hard times as well as good. We can’t strip the battlements of our men and send them home.”
“How many soldiers do we have right now?” Lady Kyferin’s voice remained quiet, almost calm.
Brocuff didn’t have to think. “We’ve sixty-two men, all told. The vast majority of our forces rode out with our Lord.”
Lady Kyferin watched her constable with half-lidded eyes. “How many of these might we expect to be recalled?”
“Thirty, most like.” Brocuff nodded. “Replacements may straggle in as they return from the war, and some requests might take longer to reach us than others.”
“This is not a time to be generous,” said Bertchold, smacking his fist into the palm of his other hand. “We’ve no knights—”
“That’s not true,” said Asho.
Bertchold faltered and then turned to him. “You said the Black Wolves died with Lord Kyferin to a man.”
“They did.” Asho felt his heart begin to hammer. “But I was knighted after the fighting.”
Everyone stared at him. Lady Kyferin raised an eyebrow. “Knighted? By whom?”
Asho swallowed. “By the Grace himself, my Lady.”
Bertchold snorted and Father Simeon smiled. Brocuff frowned at him, and Menczel strummed his lute with a mocking
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