Chapter 6

5 Noel 1061

Naeldric led Kathe out of the Waes Langhaus (Great White Hall) along a narrow hall that rose up several steps. He walked briskly. His hand clasped on her elbow. His grip felt like steel, unyielding. She walked just before him, he steered her. Kathe tasted the wine on his breath. This part of the Aechtung spanned the width of the keep, from sea to courtyard. The hallway hugged the cliffside, lined by windows, lit by torches that flickered and waved as they fought the night that poured in through the windows. Only one of the moons (Sanavaal) was visible outside the window, it sat above the horizon, half bright, half dark.

Naeldric ushered Kathe into a small prayer room to an old god. On the far wall a relief of the god Kane was carved from the stone of the keep. A single eyed face with a subtle smile. It was worn, and the edges smoothed which gave it the effect that the relief was a natural feature of the wall rather than a carving.

Naeldric closed the door, and fell back against it. Kathe turned to face him. He looked at the floor for a moment. He wore black with silver embroidery, like the flashings of moonlight reflecting off his garments. It was how he liked to be seen at formal occasions. On his breast hung a silver medallion of a half sun. It may have been a rising sun, or a setting sun. It wasn’t clear. Kathe thought it was both.

“Right,” he said. Then came a silence. At last he looked up and met her gaze. He held her still and silent with just a look. Naeldric scared her. His large, clear eyes reminded her of the vacant stare of an animal except for the spark of cunning in his gaze. She imagined he saw things no one else could. Primal things, deep things that moved within a person beneath their thoughts. As if their instincts could take a shape, and he saw that shape, and from it he could take a measure. Others confided in her that he was unpredictable, and coupled with the unopposed power of a Dux, they found him frighteningly dangerous. Kathe disagreed. She thought he was predictable, that if she could see what he sees, she would have all the parts that form his motivations and know them. This notion of unpredictability was not what frightened her. It was how he saw the world. He was alien to her. He moved cloaked in secrets. He trusted but never entrusted. The only glimpse to his thoughts came in the opaque commands he gave.

When Naeldric spoke, his voice was deep, soft. “Kathe, has your Sanavaal blood come this month?”

“Are you asking if I’m pregnant?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, “I don’t think so.”

“Think?” His brows raised. He looked impatient, stricken, like a person who asked for answer he already knew and offended someone offered something other than what he expected.

“My blood last came a twelve-day ago, it is hard to say if ...” her voice trailed off. She didn’t know how pregnancy worked. She had never been pregnant. She had no sisters. She was the youngest in her family. Her mother died before she could be taught these intimately female things. All she knew was that when her blood didn’t come she would be with child.

His gaze amplified the ignorance she felt, and she couldn’t bear it. She looked away, then at her feet.

Naeldric sighed, he looked to the ceiling exasperated. “Kathe, I need a prins.”

She remained silent. She held her hands together in front of her womb. She wrung her fingers nervously, a tangle of flesh and bone.

“Are you...” The next word came slowly, as if that wasn’t his first choice and he carefully picked from a list, “Trying?”

“No,” she said it without looking up.

“Medwyn’s spear, Kathe.” He pushed himself off the door, and walked past her, his fingertips pressed to his temples. He stopped on the far side of the room. His back to her. He leaned his head against Kane’s lone eye. “Get him to try, Kathe.”

“There’s only so much -“

Naeldric cut her off, his voice low. It had an edge, strained like the tearing of a sash. “Or ... I will get this done.”

“What do you mean?” Just after she said those words she worked out for herself what he meant. “Oh.”

“That’s right, Kathe.” He turned, passed her, opened the door, left. The door remained opened. She was left alone.