The Gathandrian Trilogy 01 - The Gifting

left after Simon tasted his mind and its wildness. The Lammas Master asked him to attend his home in the morning and, before it was fully light, he had already packed his small belongings. The rising sun found him waiting outside the castle gate, trying to make sense of what he saw.
    The building itself was impressive, taking up almost the area of four corn fields, to his untutored gaze. Maybe more, but without walking around the walls, it would be hard to say, and Simon was anxious not to be late for his meeting with Lord Tregannon. The outer stone walls on the other side of the moat were more than three times the height of a man, and had recently been fortified with iron spikes that glistened in the sunlight. It was unusual to see such defences, especially as many year-cycles had passed since the wars of the mountains, and he wondered at the Overlord’s caution. The villagers did not strike him as likely to cause trouble, no matter how unreasonable their master.
    Beyond the walls, the central building rose up, a tall tower with patterned stone, strong enough to withstand whatever weapons could be thrown against it and elegant enough to show the riches and taste of its owner. Spreading out from this, Simon knew, would be the living quarters of the household, the servants and the soldiers who were billeted here, each layer away from the central core becoming rougher and more practical to suit the status of the resident. In some households, it was customary for the soldiers to live amongst the livestock, but he did not believe Lord Tregannon would do this. Simon imagined he would understand the need to treat his men well in order to keep their loyalty.
    As he watched, the sounds of the castle began to herald the new day—the grunting of pigs, the occasional cock-crow, the laughter of the maidservants. Along with all these came the smell of baking bread, and his mouth began to water. He had nothing left from the previous day’s supper, so had not yet eaten.
    When Simon judged it would not be too early to make his presence known, he walked towards the nearest manned booth. The soldier on guard blinked and yawned, his grizzled face crinkling into a riot of lines and scars before relaxing again. Behind him, the moat sparkled in the dawn light. He was not one of those who had searched for Simon the night before.
    “Greetings, sir,” Simon said, lifting his cloak so the guard could see he was unarmed. “I come early in response to a summons from your Lord. May I pass?”
    “What business have you? Lord Tregannon rarely sees any associate this early.” The soldier yawned again, causing the smell of stale beer to waft over the scribe’s face, and then narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you the herb trader? The travelling man?”
    “Yes, that’s right,” Simon said quickly. “Your master sent a message to me yesterday. I believe he wishes to use my skills. For herbs to improve his battle training?”
    This last statement was nothing more than a wild guess. It wasn’t common for rich landowners to play the soldier when they had their own men to do it for them, but the sight of the fortified walls made Simon think Lord Tregannon might be different. The assumption was right, as the guard shrugged, spat once on the ground at the side of his booth, and allowed him to pass.
    “You’ll find the entrance to the living quarters on the other side of the mound,” he said. “The guard on duty will show you the way.”
    “Thank you.”
    Simon’s feet clattered over the cobbled stone bridge. On the moat, the swans were gliding through a small gathering of ducks and wild geese, and, on the bank furthest from the castle, a water-vole scrabbled for food. If he’d had the time, he might have tried to catch it to eat later, but he didn’t want to look too desperate. Entering the wooden gate, the ground turned to dry soil and discarded hay. He made his way across the large bailey, noting the stables and soldiers’ quarters, the bakeries—now just coming to life as he had thought—and the storehouses, kitchens and small dwellings. The air was rich with the scent of horseflesh, men, and bread.
    Most of the activity he saw was very much as would happen in the few other castles dotted over their world, although even in his travels Simon had only skirted the edge of them. Early tradesmen stoked their fires and made their wares ready, servants hurried to obey familiar orders, and women tended to their animals and children.
    Beyond