The Gathandrian Trilogy 03 - The Executioners Cane

the snow-raven accompany him. Simon thought of offering the truth that the snow-raven was highly unlikely to take anyone’s side; the bird’s role seemed so far to be that of observer, and protector of the cane rather than himself. Indeed at their first meeting, the raven had taken him to a strange place, tested him and attacked him. Although of course the attack had brought about a partial healing. He mustn’t forget that either. In which case, Jemelda was right.
    Now he looked her right in the eye.
    “I’ll do exactly as you wish,” he said. “When do we start?”
    From outside the door, a humming sound became apparent. Simon had the sense it might have been going on for some time but had been until now too low for them to notice it. As he glanced towards the outside, he saw the colours around Jemelda grow darker.
    “I can’t control the mind-cane’s song,” he said. “I can only sometimes control its actions.”
    Frankel reached for his wife’s hand. “Will it come in?”
    “I don’t know,” Simon replied. “But I think it might be trying to gain my attention. If so, it’s succeeded. May I …?”
    He gestured at the thick curtain which failed to keep out all the winter draughts, and Jemelda nodded. He could see the tightness round her mouth and the frown on her forehead. He could not blame her for any of these things; the cane – although it appeared to be his, for the time being – made his heart beat faster also. Though he knew to the core his identity as the Lost One, the mind-cane nonetheless made him wonder who was the true master, and what it might be waiting for. It seemed to be waiting for something. If only it – or the raven – might divulge what that something might be.
    Outside, the courtyard was as empty as it had been when he arrived. The raven had vanished but one glance upward revealed the bird’s location in the skies. His gaze moved to the high-up window of the Lammas Lord. Now it was empty, though before he’d been sure …
    But no, he couldn’t focus on Ralph and the unfinished issues which still hovered between them. He had other more pressing matters to consider. He reached out and grasped the mind-cane though, in truth, it had already leapt halfway into his fingers of its own accord.
    The moment he touched it, the humming stopped and again that strange warmth eased upwards through his skin. He blinked and felt the presence of it settle into his thoughts. For the first time, he realised he’d missed its closeness, and not just because of the confidence it filled him with. He’d missed its silent companionship too.
    “What will you do while we are waiting?”
    The question jolted Simon out of his pondering and he swung round. Frankel was standing in the shadow of the doorway to the castle, shielding his eyes from the winter sun.
    “Is there anywhere I may stay?” Simon asked.
    Frankel considered this. While he did so, the scribe noticed the glances his companion was giving the cane and tried to hold it to one side of him, as far away from the old man as possible.
    Finally Frankel spoke. “There are one or two rooms in the castle which remain habitable, but I am afraid comfort is meagre.”
    Yes, Simon had assumed it would be. Comfort everywhere, even in distant Gathandria, was meagre. They would have to do the best they could, until life began to improve.
    He followed Frankel across the courtyard to the main entrance to the castle. Memories filled his blood, both bad and good. Memories of the murders he’d caused here, of the way he’d helped destroy the villagers, taken away their trust and their lives. Memories of how he’d been hated, and rightly so, and how Ralph and Gelahn had tried and failed to kill him. At the same time, as his feet tramped over the shattered slabs, the good memories flowed through him also, the ones he’d tried to dampen down in his quest to do the right thing for once, by the gods and stars above. He could remember the first time he’d met Ralph, the Lord of the Lammas Lands, how much he’d wanted him from the beginning, though he’d refused to name his emotion until much later. He could remember the first time Ralph had touched him, and how he’d always been willing to do whatever it took to keep his interest. Gods and stars, how this truth had undone him. How it had shown him both how low he could fall and the darkness of the person he would become. It hadn’t taken long, had it? And still, he carried his feelings for