The Gathandrian Trilogy 02 - Hallsfoots Battle

he wasn’t a great friend of the river-wolves, though they were unlikely to cause anyone harm. She decided to aim for the more positive side of honesty. Was sensible lying what parenthood was about? “Really, it could be any one of these things, or perhaps all of them. It’s hard to say. But he’ll get up soon. And then we can plan properly how we’ll win this war so the mind-executioner won’t ever hurt any one again.”
    There followed a pause and she cursed herself for saying too much. Talus had lost his own family in the mind-wars. That was why he was here. Still, she could sense, without making much of an effort, the workings of his mind under his pain as he took in this information.
    Then the atmosphere of his thoughts lightened and he smiled, his eyes dancing at her. “You could ask Johan Montfort for help. He’ll know what to do.”
    Annyeke only wished this was true, and that she had the same confidence in the ability of the Gathandrian menfolk to help that Talus still held to. She knew in her mind that Johan, like the scribe, was exhausted. His long journey with Simon from the Lammas Lands had been fraught with difficulty, dogged as they’d been by the tricks and attacks of the mind-executioner. She suspected he hadn’t had much time for meditation on the way and he was paying for that neglect now. And on his return, he’d had to face the reality about the Elders’ treachery. How had they betrayed so many Gathandrians to their deaths simply in order to bring Simon back to them? The very fact that they had imprisoned the mind-executioner for so long and then let him go in order to bring destruction was beyond anyone’s grasp, though she still had to explain the full story to Johan. Gods and stars above, there was another task she was not looking forward to.
    And of course, Isabella, Johan’s beloved sister, was dead—a mystery to them all that she had betrayed them so. Annyeke blinked away tears and pretended to smile at Talus, though she did not think he was fooled.
    Perhaps it was best if she concentrated for a while on Simon. Though the situation did not look good in this particular hour-cycle, he might well turn out to be the easiest of her problems to deal with.

    Simon
    The scribe knew he was in Annyeke Hallsfoot’s one public room in the small house she owned near the Gathandrian parklands. She had curtained it off to provide a makeshift bedroom and to afford him a sense of privacy. The thick velvet of the pale green curtain certainly cut down on the noise of his landlady and her young charge going about their everyday business, but it did little to soften the sense of mind-activity, not only indoors, but outside in the city itself. It felt as if people were waiting. For him, Simon knew it but had no wish to enquire further into that thought.
    Annyeke had provided him with a bed made from blankets piled together, a set of manuscripts she thought he might like to read, a basin of water that she refreshed on a half-daily basis, and a change of clothes. The latter two items he assumed were to encourage him to get up and face what he had to. So far, they’d proved unsuccessful. Right now the scribe refused even to open his eyes. If he did so, he knew what he would see. Already he could hear its background hum, demanding attention, attention he didn’t want to give. For the last two night-cycles, he’d tried to hide the mind-cane where he wouldn’t see it, or be forced to deal with the thing. Each morning, when he’d opened his eyes to the sun, it had found him again.
    He didn’t want to touch it, even though it had saved them all in the battles with the mind-executioner, and it had been his hand that had wielded it, his eyes that had witnessed its gold and silver strength. He couldn’t comprehend its power and, if he faced the truth, he was afraid.
    Beyond all this, the fact he was in the mysterious city of Gathandria wasn’t giving him the comfort he’d anticipated. For so long, on the wild, dangerous and wonderful journey he’d taken with Johan from the Lammas Lands, it had been like a mirage, something to aspire to, where all would be well and everything bad about himself, of which there was much, would be healed.
    But now, he was here and, as far as he could tell, any healing had failed to happen. Odd how he’d felt so brave at the height of the battle, or as brave as a coward could feel, but now he felt nothing. No, this wasn’t true either. He felt tired, hungry and