Ragwort, Stone Root, & Coltsfoot
with The Seed of a Flame-Plume Tree
Thorn reached the door at the end of the corridor and placed his ear to the wood. He could hear footsteps echoing against the mortar. The distance was good. If he was careful, he could open this door without alerting the guards. The cougari searched the set of keys, before reaching for the door handle to find it was unlocked. The cougari slipped through the gap in the door and closed it behind him. The corridor before him was a storage area for food and drink with three recessed alcoves on either side. Staying to the left wall, Thorn moved into the third alcove. From here, he could see into the adjoining room. Listening again, he could tell the man had stopped moving. Thorn’s nose twitched as he caught the smell of wrapped strips of salted pork from the alcove opposite him. He was reminded of his hunger.
What harm, he thought, moving into the alcove to find the meat.
There was a lot of pork and Thorn’s eyes lit up as he unwrapped the package. He could almost taste the salt on his tongue. Too late did he hear a slight scrape of footsteps behind him. Turning, he faced the blades of a guardsman’s swords levelled at his neck.
“What took you so long? I was on my way back for you,” the guardsman said. Thorn looked into the hardy face of the bald Captain of the House Shield, Drell, and smiled.
“I should have known it was you,” said Thorn. “The only other person who could sneak up on me went missing under mysterious circumstances last winter.”
“It is a good thing I helped you then, or I might have ended up missing in mysterious circumstances myself,” returned Drell. “Here, I swiped your gear. I am going to go on ahead and make sure the coast is clear. I would have opened the cell back there but two of the boys followed me down here to ask questions about duty rosters. I sent them away but there are often lads in here at night.”
Thorn handed back the keys to the captain. “Thank you, my friend, I don’t know how I –”
“Shut your whiskers, it’s nothing,” said Drell. “It’s not long since you were welcome in this house. I just hate to see things keep changing for the worse. You remind me of happier times. I know you will do everything you can for His Honour.” The old soldier felt uncomfortable with his honesty. “And get some new clothes, you look like you crawled through a briar patch.”
“And your head finally looks like an egg,” teased Thorn, smiling.
The cougari glanced at the meat, then back to Drell.
“May I?” Thorn asked.
“Of course. Why do you think I left it there? Not to distract you or anything,” replied Drell with a wry smile.
Thorn extended his claws and dug them deep into the mound of pork before shoving it into his satchel. Drell made his way through the rooms and up the stairs to the courtyard. The cougari followed at a distance, listening for sounds behind him. As they passed a sleeping soldier, Thorn restrained Drell from shouting at the man and deriding him for his lack of professionalism. The veteran captain decided to punish the man at some other time as he returned to Thorn’s side.
“His Honour’s chamber was moved to the third floor of the East wing,” said Drell. “Since her ladyship passed, he has not set foot in their room. Your presence must have made Ulrik nervous, as he has tripled the Shielder duty roster for tonight. Luckily most of them are by the hall. The guards are in teams of three on the first and second floor, as well as extra teams for the grounds. I could pretend to be conducting a late-night inspection, but we cannot make it together.”
Thorn appraised the surroundings. “In that case, this is where I leave you, my friend. If you can keep the men out of the courtyard, then I can climb this wall to the third floor.”
Drell nodded, adjusted his uniform cloak, and strode out into the courtyard to begin inspections of the night shift. Thorn waited before beginning his ascent. Finding many footholds and handholds in the rock and attached vines, the climb to the third floor was short and easy. As he was trying to open the window, a Shielder entered the courtyard below. Thorn remained still. The soldier stepped further into the courtyard. He scanned the building in front of him, then arched his gaze upward. He was about to patrol again in Thorn’s direction when Drell’s voice lifted from the far entrance of the square. “Shielder on me! Present front!”
The startled soldier spun on his heel and marched toward his captain. Thorn had already gained access to the window and continued inside.
Roslind awoke with a shudder, as if she had just fallen from a cliff. The baron’s room was still in darkness, with mere hints of greyish light peering around the window drapes to form an ominous outline. The chair she had been sleeping in beside her father’s bed was hard, uncomfortable, and caused an ache in her neck and back. Habit caused her to stretch to ease her discomfort. When she did, she received a painful reminder of her encounter with the cougari. The pain in her jaw and shoulder from the fight made her cut short her stretch. The events of the previous day and evening came rushing back, drawing her from her weary state:
After the baron had stopped moving, Shielders had gathered up the unconscious cougari and dragged him to one of the cells underneath the house, with Kitsvanna still shouting for it all to stop.
Roslind noticed Ulrik signal to one of the Shielders to restrain Kitsvanna – the idea horrified her – and she rushed to her sister and gathered her in her arms. “Enough!” she had bellowed.
She remembered the word sounding like it had come from the depths of the ground, directed more at her brother than anyone else; but it had the desired effect. With some help, Roslind had overseen the baron being brought to his rooms and placed in his bed.
When she met her sister a short time later, Kitsvanna was pacing around her room, occasionally kicking one of the stone walls or the expensive furniture. The back of her hands, where she had protected her father’s head from the dirt and sharp stones, had been bandaged by a healer from the Olnsraum.
Roslind tried to console her as she engaged in a tirade of frustration and anger at Ulrik, loath to even use his name. She did not reveal why she had been out of the city earlier, although Roslind guessed it was related to what had transpired.
The evening wore on and those who had been summoned started to arrive in an almost endless procession of sycophantic ‘well-wishing’. The council members found themselves alongside the Gothi from the Temple of Oln, offering prayers for the baron; and the veteran physicians from the Seven Pillars University.
The healers examined the baron, proclaiming he was suffering from the mysterious illness which had been affecting some people who lived close to the river, but they could not detect the swelling of the tongue and throat which had occurred in other patients. They admitted after their examination, however, that they did not know what was ailing him.
Kitsvanna took on the role of lady of the house, receiving the guests and organising the house retainers to provide them with food and wine in the meeting hall. Kitsvanna said it would not be right for a knight to serve the guests, that Roslind should bathe and keep a watchful eye on their father. When she was not performing her duties, Kitsvanna returned to her father’s room to speak with Roslind. Most of the conversation surrounded the concern for her father, followed by a plea to have Thorn released which also articulated her resentment toward Ulrik. Roslind could tell her sister was determined to do something, but the girl fell asleep on one of the larger, more comfortable chairs. Roslind lifted her to her chamber.
“Rest little swan, all will be well,” she had uttered as she placed her on her bed and pulled a blanket about her shoulders before returning to her father.
The house became quiet around the darkest time of night and Roslind had drifted off into an exhausted sleep…
Now she was awake, sitting and contemplating the entire situation. She eased herself out of her disagreeable resting place and disturbed her sword, which had been slung by its belt over the back of the chair. It clattered to the floor, breaking the silence of the chamber. Her eyes shot back to the figure in the bed, but it remained still. After the silence filled the room again, she moved toward the grey outline of the table in the centre of the room, where she strained her eyes and fumbled for the remaining tallow candle. Forcing it into an ill-fitting holder, she made her way to the bedroom door. Light still flickered under the door and it crawled into the room as Roslind pulled the door open and stepped out.
A candelabra fashioned from deer antlers burned at the far end of the corridor, matching the mounted animal heads placed at various intervals along the walls. The candles were tall and looked like they had been replaced recently. Moving down the hallway, Roslind again stretched her limbs and neck, causing a crack and pop sound as she arched her head to either side. She lit the candle she held and noticed something moving out of the corner of her eye. She surveyed the corridor with caution. Everything appeared still.
The only sound was the consistent low hiss of the candle’s burning wick. Raising it to further illuminate the corridor, she saw cloth on the wall being disturbed by one of many drafts in the old mansion. The young knight released her breath and moved back to her father’s room. When she entered and closed the door, she noticed the candlelight’s reflection burning back at her from a pair of silver-green eyes across the room, right next to the baron’s bed. Roslind sought her weapon, but it was no longer on the floor where it had fallen.
“Please be calm, there is no need –” began Thorn.
“What are you doing here? So, you are here to kill my father, after all!”
“No, Roslind, I am trying to save him.” The words half purred from the cougari’s mouth. “I was once a commander in your father’s Night Watchmen. I came to Aksson because of a planned attempt on your father’s life. There is a poison flowing through his veins, causing his mind to be clouded and darkened. It appears he has been suffering from its effects for some time. But I can help.”
“No! Leave him be. Get away from him,” Roslind ordered, stepping toward the bed.
The cougari moved back from the bedside, producing a waterskin.
“In this skin is the mixture I used to heal your sister after the night-bear attack,” said Thorn as he tossed the skin to Roslind. “She had fallen from her horse and might not have survived without it. The effects of the poison within your father have been countered but his mind requires healing. If he is not given this liquid, he may be driven mad.”
Many thoughts raced through Roslind’s mind as she stared at the waterskin. Thorn stepped into the candlelight, allowing Roslind to see his face.
“I know you have little cause to trust me, but you must save your father’s life,” said the cougari. “Trust me as you once did, many years ago on a rain-drenched night in Drottenheim, when you were exhausted, scared and left behind. I saw strength and courage in you then and I need you to be strong again for your father, riddari.”
Roslind opened her mouth to speak when there was a loud and urgent knock on the bedroom door.
“Sir Radsvinn!” came a voice from the other side of the door.
Roslind had another problem to deal with. She looked from the door back to Thorn, who now held the sheathed sword. He bent low and slid it across the floor to the knight.
“If you can’t trust me, trust yourself. Trust what your heart is telling you,” Thorn whispered, as he drew up the hood of his cloak and disappeared back into the shadows of the room. Roslind picked up the sword and paused before the door, shaking her head in disbelief before she exhaled and turned the handle.
“What is the meaning of this?” the knight demanded.
A nervous young Shielder, who looked like he had rushed while putting on his uniform, stood at the door, glancing up and down the corridor and then back to the knight. “Lady Roslind, the prisoners…they have escaped. Is everything quiet here?”
“What? When did this happen? Have the grounds been –? Wait. What do you mean, prisoners? How many were down there?”
“I was not told who else, just that the creature is free. Someone or something was seen in the beacon lanterns from the roof heading toward the offices. We have some Shielders there, searching the area. We are also conducting a search of the house. Lord Ulrik is convinced it hasn’t left the grounds and it will be on its way here.”
And he is leaving me and only one guard to face him, thought Roslind.
“Thank you, soldier, I will guard my father. Stay here and inform me if anyone comes down the hallway.”
“Yes, m’lady,” responded the Shielder, taking up a position outside the door. Roslind turned the key in the door.
“Thank you –” said Thorn.
“Enough! Who are these other prisoners? Did you have anything to do with it?” Roslind asked in hushed tones as she crossed the floor.
“Well, yes, but it is just one other, and he is not a threat to anybody in his condition. We did not speak much, but judging by his appearance I would guess he was a sailor,” said Thorn.
Roslind put up her right hand to silence the cougar. “We don’t have time for this.” She returned the waterskin. “You first.”
Thorn twisted the metal cap and lifted the skin above his mouth so she could see the pour. Thorn swallowed the mixture.
“Now me, and if I feel any ill effects, the guardsman outside will be told where to find you,” Roslind continued, moving back across the room and taking hold of the key.
Thorn raised an eyebrow. “You know you should work on knowing who to trust, young knight,” he said with a wry smile. “If anyone should not trust anyone else here, it should be me. After all, you never delivered on the dinner you promised.”
Roslind held back a smirk but felt foolish for her demeanour. She drank a mouthful of the liquid and was surprised at how sweet it was. After a few moments she could feel the aches in her jaw and shoulder ease. Her shoulder warmed and tingled as the pain subsided for the first time in weeks. Putting her left hand on the right shoulder muscles and pressing her fingers along the top of her arm, she made circular movements, ensuring the pain was gone. The knight looked with surprise at the cougari.
“It can often work fast. But your father needs it. Help me with him,” said Thorn, pointing at the baron.
Convinced there were no ill intentions, Roslind moved to the bed and helped Thorn elevate her father. While she held him in place, Thorn emptied the contents of the skin down the baron’s throat until it had been squeezed flat. “There is no more to be done,” he said. “We can only hope it works in time.”
Roslind stood upright and examined the creature before her. “The poison,” she said as Thorn met her gaze, the flickers of light from the candle seeming to make his eyes dance in silver and grey. “How did you know about it? And how was it countered?”
“When your father stood in front of me, I could smell the poison on his breath. It had been masked by the wine it had been mixed with, but it was still strong to me.”
Roslind lifted the candle close to her father’s face, lengthening the shadows of the baron’s features, which gave him a look of death. She could see red stains on his almost sunken lips.
“Fortunately for your father but unfortunately for me, I am all too familiar with the smell. It is a cougari poison known as Lakdet or ‘the long descent’, and as the name suggests, it is not meant to kill quickly. If you want to find out who did this, I suggest you see to those who had access to the baron’s wine. Servants, cooks, friends or…” Thorn met the young knight’s gaze, “…family.”
This was more than Roslind was willing to accept. She knew what Thorn was trying to suggest. “No, you are wrong. Although I believe him capable of almost anything he sets his mind to, my brother would never set it to these ends. Yes, he is calculating, he has planned things many steps in advance but only ever to the benefit of the city, the laws and the baron. He is not power-hungry or self-serving. No, I must bring this to him. He can be trusted.”
Thorn did not argue. He resisted the urge to enquire how long Roslind had been away from Aksson, playing with swords and horses while her brother was burdened with the responsibility of running a city. A city fallen on hard times. He did not question how it might change someone in Ulrik’s position. He did not raise the well-known issues of the fleet being discredited or the civil unrest the baron and his son were causing, or how someone who plans things many steps in advance might be able to see the baron’s days were numbered. The heir might rationalise killing the baron as beneficial to the city, offering the opportunity to ‘begin again’ with its people. Especially if there were public sympathy for the baron moribund in his bed and being such a burden to the new leader. The young and popular Ulrik might have seen himself as a saviour.
The cougari knew there was a plot against the baron – he had seen the evidence on the baron’s own lips and, despite suspecting he was right about Ulrik, he restrained himself from pointing it out. “Agreed,” he responded, “he can be trusted. You must find him and reason with him. Bring the Shielder with you and I shall sneak out of the grounds. If we meet again, I hope it is under better circumstances.”
“What? No, you need to stay here and explain everything to my brother. If you are not here, Ulrik will dismiss whatever I tell him and use the troops to scour the city and countryside for you.”
Thorn imagined the scenario playing itself out and the situation becoming worse than ever. Besides, he thought, it would be impossible to discover the truth of this while being hunted. There is a chance I am the only cougari in the city, so there is not much chance of blending in.
Thorn took the seat beside the bed and pulled a strip of meat from his satchel. He waved it in Roslind’s direction for emphasis. “If your brother attempts to put me back in a cell, I will not go as easy as I did before.” He bit and ripped the salted flesh.
Roslind looked from Thorn to the baron as the ashen-faced man stirred, which was more movement than he had made since the previous afternoon. It was getting light enough to make out patterns on the rugs and curtains, or the flourish of gold paint or silver handles. Roslind’s eyes moved back to the cougari. She drew a deep breath and exhaled as she moved toward the bedroom door, still unsure what she was going to do or how she was going to convince her brother Thorn was not a threat.
“In case things do not go to plan, a plan I have not figured out yet, the key to the iron bars on the window should be in the left-hand drawer of the desk, although it has been a while.” Roslind looked over her shoulder at Thorn. “If I do not see you again, thank you for saving my father’s life. You deserve a better reward than being hunted. I hope it will not come to it, but my brother can be stubborn when he wishes. I also understand if you wish to take your chances before I try to explain things to him.”
Thorn stepped over to the window, which looked out onto the grounds and the front gates of the estate.
“No, Roslind, I will wait here,” said Thorn. “I believe you can convince Ulrik of your father’s situation, but might I suggest you bring him here alone.”