covering. The bedding was even better quality. Brenna had rarely felt such fine fabric and certainly had never slept on anything like it - the mattress and bedding were probably worth far more than the bed.
It was the same with the dresser, desk and chair. All were finely made, but more sturdy and serviceable than opulent. It was the smaller things that showed the expense - the finely crafted porcelain pitcher and washbasin - the artwork that hung on two walls - the fabric of the curtains that covered the room’s two small windows.
She left the bed and padded to the window. She caressed the tightly woven fabric of the curtains before peeling it back to look at the glass window panes. Likely the very finest money could buy - there were no telltale bubbles and the glass was thin and smooth without any distortions. And this was just a guest room - the rooms used by the family would have even finer treasures.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Yes?”
“If it please ye Mistress, breakfast is in the dining room. And the Master would like to know if ye need any extra clothes or such?” Brenna couldn’t imagine what the maid thought of her showing up here and possibly requiring clothes, but there was absolutely no censure in the voice coming through the door. Then again, a man like Feiren Rowse would choose his servants with care, no doubt a requirement during his tenure as Captain of the Kingsguard that served him well for the Brotherhood.
“Um, no thanks,” she replied. “I’m fine, thank you. Please let Master Rowse know I’ll be down shortly.”
Brenna hesitated outside the door to the dining room. Feiren Rowse sat at a cloth-covered dining table, facing the door and she could only see the back of the head of the man he was talking to. Was he Brotherhood as well or should she stay hidden? She stepped back from the door, unsure. But the maid had told her to go to the dining room. She hovered in the doorway. Feiren Rowse spotted her.
“Brenna, very good to see you,” Feiren said. “I hope the room was comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you,” Brenna replied. She took a step into the room and then the other man turned towards her and with relief, she recognized him.
“Pater!” Brenna hugged him. “It’s good to see you!” She hadn’t been aware how tense she’d been until she relaxed. Somehow Pater being here made her feel safe.
“Good to see ye too, lass,” Pater said. “Have ye managed to stay out of trouble since I brought ye yer things last night?”
“I think so,” Brenna said. “And I’m sorry about waking you up. I couldn’t think of anyone else I could trust to do that. ”
“I’m happy ye thought of me, lass,” Pater said and they both sat down.
Brenna turned to Feiren Rowse. “Thank you,” she said. “For inviting Pater.”
“I thought a friendly face would help,” Feiren said. “You’ve been through a lot, after all. Besides, since we need everyone to believe that you’re dead, Pater can pick up anything else you might want from your room and settle up with your landlady. Is there anything that was missed last night that you’d like to have?”
Brenna took a slice of bread and some cheese from a platter in the center of the table.
“There’s not much I want,” she said. “I have my most important books and notes already, but it would be nice to get the rest. Maybe we could simply ask Mistress Dudding to sell them to Eryl? He could send everything to me here.” Brenna slathered a slice of bread with butter and topped it with cheese before she took a bite.
“I’ll get in touch with the lad as well, Mistress Dudding,” Pater said. “Should be able to get yer stuff in the next day or so.”
Brenna sighed. So that was it. She was dead as far as Thieves Quarter was concerned. It would be a long time before she could go back to her old life, if ever. She hated to give up her network of informants, but they were the very last people she wanted to know she still lived. They earned their coin selling secrets such as this. Too many people already knew she was still alive. She could trust Eryl with this, but his gang? Millen hated her anyway - no doubt he’d be happy to sell her out. Most of the time in the Quarter loyalty only went as far as one’s purse.
“I’ll be off then,” Pater said. “Can’t be away from my cart too long. It’d look odd, even with me bein’ Brenna’s friend and all. And I’ll need to hunt down that scoundrel Eryl as soon as possible.”
“Let me know if you need more funds,” Feiren said.
“That I will,” Pater said. He gave Brenna’s shoulder a quick squeeze and then left.
Brenna slathered another piece of bread with butter while Feiren poured himself a cup of tea.
“I’m sure you must have a lot of questions,” Feiren said. “Feel free to ask me anything. We also have many old texts and documents about the Brotherhood.” At her startled glance, he shrugged. “We are an order committed to safeguarding the bloodline of King Wolde. Our own records are rather meticulous.”
Brenna nodded. “All right, first question. How is it that a former Captain of the Kingsguard dines with a fruit seller from Thieves Quarter?”
“As I said, the Brotherhood keeps meticulous records, including our own bloodlines,” Feiren said. “The original members of the Brotherhood came from all walks of life, as they do now. However, in the past two thousand years, a single family may have risen to the upper reaches of society and fallen back to poverty many, many times. For the last five or six generations my family have for the most part been soldiers, but it wasn’t always the case. That is very recent history when you can trace your family back eighty or one hundred generations. It’s very possible that fifty generations ago, my family served on Pater’s family’s estate. My ancestors were mostly labourers and servants at that time. The Brotherhood takes the long term view of things.”
“Yes,” Brenna said. “You’ve been waiting for over two thousand years.”
“It means that we don’t set much stock on someone’s current status and prosperity. To those of us who take it, the Brotherhood oath is much more meaningful than a man’s position in society.”
Brenna sipped her tea in thought. “Does anyone know about the Brotherhood other than its members? I mean, what if you don’t want to join?”
“It’s hereditary - most often a son or nephew, maybe a daughter, is brought in.”
“A daughter? Are women allowed into the Brotherhood?” Brenna had simply assumed that only men could become members of the Brotherhood.
“Originally, there were no women,” Feiren said. “I believe the first woman accepted into the Brotherhood was about one thousand years ago. Her father insisted that she was a much better candidate than his son, and it was either lose that family’s allegiance, or allow her in. Years later she became the first woman to lead the Brotherhood. Ever since, we’ve had women, although they are still outnumbered.”
Brenna nodded. Most women would not have time. They were too busy raising children, looking after home and husband, and likely as not working alongside their men in some trade or other. “What about times when a whole family just, well, dies out?”
“That has happened, of course,” Feiren said. “Then the Brotherhood tries to acquire the family histories. Unfortunately, we haven’t always been successful – we think that’s how the old steel weapons change hands. We’ve been able to recover some of them, and I’m happy to say we’ve not heard of a family history being discovered. But we’re always watchful. Although,” Feiren shrugged, “there does seem to be more movement with the old steel weapons now than there has ever been in the past. If you’re finished your meal, we can move to my study. I’m sure Kayleen would like a chance to clear the table.”
Feiren stood and held her chair as she rose. She followed him down a short hallway to the back of the house, where he opened a door and waited for her to precede him into the room.
She felt it as soon as she entered the room - a gentle tingle, like an itch at the back of her head. Feiren gestured to a chair by the desk and she sat down and automatically searched the room
for the origin of her itch.
The room was large and had a huge window that overlooked an enclosed yard. A door to the left of the window led outside. As in her sleeping chamber, the furniture looked serviceable, but the chair that Brenna sat in was covered with a well-tanned hide that was butter soft under her hands. Another chair that matched hers was placed in front of the desk and Feiren sat in a more worn version of the chair behind the desk. A fireplace took up most of the wall opposite the window, and on the darkly paneled walls were various weapons.
Brenna’s gaze focused on the weapons directly behind Feiren - the two swords and three knives were all highly polished and all, somehow, hummed. She felt Feiren’s eyes on her and she looked quickly away.
“What does it do to you?” His voice was quiet, gentle almost. “The old steel. What do you feel when it’s around?”
Absently Brenna smoothed a hand over the warm, rich leather of the chair. How much could she trust him? Kane had promised her safety and his uncle seemed ready to provide it, but did she really want them to know everything? If she lied and told him she felt nothing would he leave her alone? All she wanted was to go back to her old life. But that life didn’t exist anymore.
She looked over at Feiren Rowse. No, he wouldn’t believe her if she told him she didn’t feel anything. She took a deep breath. She might as well tell