Bloodheir Read Online Free PDF Page A

child, though Roaric had never paid him much heed then. Now, the Kilkry-Haig Bloodheir was a brooding, intense presence. Wherever his eyes fell, they seemed to find fault and to gleam with accusatory anger.
    “The Palace Shield certainly haven’t fought any battles in my lifetime,” Taim Narran said.
    “They wouldn’t want to mar the shine on their breastplates,” said Roaric. He and Taim had an easy manner in one another’s company. Orisian assumed that it sprang from their recent shared service in the war against Igryn oc Dargannan-Haig, and their shared anger and resentment at what they had seen –
    and suffered – there. A bitter kind of mutual sympathy seemed to lie at the root of it.
    “How is your father?” Orisian asked the Bloodheir. “This must be hard for him.”
    Roaric glanced down at the ground.
    “He presses on, as do we all,” he said. “He blames himself for Gerain’s death, and will not hear any argument. And now he must smile for Aewult, and pretend we are honoured to receive the High Thane’s son.”
    “Honoured or not, we may need the swords he brings with him to drive the Black Road from our lands,”
    murmured Taim.
    “I don’t think so,” said Roaric, with a grimace. “And I don’t believe you truly do either. Your lands –
    Orisian’s lands – could be reclaimed by Lannis and Kilkry marching together. It hardly matters, though, which of us is right. It won’t be you or me making the decision. Not now that Aewult’s here. My father’s a better man than me: I could find no words of welcome for that ill-born creature.”
    “It’s one of the curses of being a Thane,” said Rothe. “Having to wear one mask or another all the time.”
    Roaric nodded at Orisian’s shieldman. Rothe’s face was rather colourless, his skin a little slack in appearance. One arm and shoulder were bound up in a sling. There was a suggestion of weariness in his stance.
    “You, Rothe Corlyn, look like a man who should be somewhere else,” Roaric observed.
    “Resting,” agreed Orisian, “under the care of healers. I can’t even make my own shieldman do as he is told.”
    “I’ve seen enough of healers these last few days,” Rothe grumbled. “Good air will serve me just as well.”
    “How’s the arm?” Roaric asked.
    Rothe glanced at his bandaged limb. “Of little use – for the time being, anyway.”
    “And the shoulder?”
    “Better than the arm. It’ll take more than one Horin-Gyre crossbow bolt to put me down.”
    “Here he comes,” said Taim Narran quietly.
    The gates swept open and Aewult’s Palace Shield rode in. They sat tall on massive warhorses, pennant-topped lances held erect. Their breastplates gleamed. Drummers rode with them, unleashing a flurry of beats and then falling silent as the shieldmen flanked the path up from the gate towards the Tower and the waiting crowds. Outside, beyond the encircling wall, there was a mounting tumult of hoofs and voices.
    The Haig Bloodheir entered the gardens at a canter, wrestling to control his mount, the biggest horse that Orisian had ever seen. It tossed its head and strained at the reins as Aewult turned it in a tight circle. A dozen of his Shield fell in behind him and followed him up the path. There was a murmuring amongst the assembled dignitaries, whether of unease or admiration Orisian could not say. He saw one or two people at the front of the throng shuffling backwards, as if alarmed by these great horses and the men who rode them.
    Aewult nan Haig rode to within a few paces of Lheanor and Ilessa. He towered over the old couple, his horse still unsettled. It was almost as if he expected the Thane of the Kilkry-Haig Blood to take hold of the animal’s bridle so that he might dismount. Lheanor gazed silently up at the Bloodheir, his expression placid and empty.
    “See who comes now,” Taim Narran murmured to Orisian.
    Looking back to the gate, Orisian witnessed an altogether more subdued entry. Riding a quiet bay horse,