Leda (The Duellist #3)

Chapter One: Hunger

Halfway up the stairs, Meracad paused, raised her candle and listened. No sound but the wind as it channelled downwards, fluting through chinks around the window panes. Hannac was asleep: every last tenant, servant, child and animal; snoring out the night in beds or on benches, some curled up before the dying embers of the hearth or curled around each other for warmth. Yes, everyone was asleep. Well, almost everyone.

Caught by another chill current of air, the candle flame guttered and died leaving her stranded in absolute darkness. Sighing, she set down her light and then felt her way on upwards, hands outstretched, fingers tracing the rough stonework of the walls.

She knew when she was at the top though, for a dull, amberish light flickered out beneath the door. Meracad knocked twice and then pressed her ear to the wood. Nothing. Not a sound. She eased down the handle and stepped inside.

Burnt almost to their wicks, a few candles lit up the cramped space which had once served as Franc Hannac's private chamber. Now his daughter sat at the same desk which was littered with ledgers, parchment, half empty inkwells and quills. Splintered by the diamond-shaped mullions of the windows, moonlight filtered in, casting a silvery trail upon the floorboards. And it was freezing. With a shiver, Meracad nestled into her shawl.

Hal looked up, her eyes ringed with shadow. She grew paler every day, Meracad observed, worn down with care for her tenants, her face gaunt and sharp. Now peppered with the occasional skein of grey, her hair hung loose and unkempt to her shoulders. And her only concession to the cold was the greatcoat draped across her back, which seemed loose and somehow too big for her: more of a shroud than a garment.

"Hal, come to bed." Her heart heavy, Meracad edged around the desk, sliding her arms around Hal's shoulders.

Hal shook her head. "I can't."

"It's too late to think about this now," Meracad said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Hal's right ear. She kissed her lover's head. "Look at it in the morning. With fresh eyes. You may find a way."

"There is no way!" Hal's voice was hoarse, angry and tired. "If we send tithes to Colvé and Dal Reniac, as we must do, then everything will be gone. All that's left. We were so careless, Meracad. So wasteful."

"But Leda doesn't need our tithes! Marc ensured Dal Reniac was well supplied with grain before he returned to Colvé."

"As I failed to do."

"Hal!" This was an argument they had had many times over the last days and weeks. Meracad was beginning to tire of it. "You have done everything you could have done."

"Franc wouldn't have let his people starve."

"And neither will you." Turning to the window, Meracad peered down into the empty, moonlit courtyard. Hal was wrong. Of course they had not anticipated such a weak harvest. But by all accounts, this was the worst in living memory. First had come a winter so harsh it had transformed the fields to icy wastes, had frozen men and women to the very ground upon which they stood. And when spring arrived at last it brought no relief: no sun to thaw out the land or warmer winds. Instead, it ushered in a season of cold rain, which pooled in the furrows and upon the meadows. The few seedlings which broke the surface drowned, their leaves rotting where they lay. And seeing that, the tenant farmers had ridden back to Hannac, their faces worn with worry, their eyes betraying their fears. Because soon, they said, all that would be left was last year's grain stock. And then the draft animals. And then? They spread wide their hands, shrugged and sat hunched in corners, rain dripping from their hats and cloaks.

"Hal, we still have stocks left. There are beets in the cellars, salted meat..."

"Not enough!" Hal groaned, rubbing at her forehead with ink stained hands. "And if this isn't the first such harvest? Arec told me his great grandfather endured a famine for three years! Half his family died, Meracad. They ate everything ˗ all the animals. They were foraging for grass and roots towards the end!"