Aloren (2 page)

“Mothers see them,” said Tem.

“Did ours?”

“Yes.” He had on his stern face, and I knew not to bother him further.

Two

On the day the Queen came, Mordan and Arin locked me in the privy. It began with a rat. I’d discovered it––a large, handsome, but dead specimen––floating in a pail of milk in the pantry.

It was a while yet before supper. I held it well away from my gown so it dripped into a cauldron full of Nilsa’s chicken stock. “Big sea rat like him,” I said, “he’ll be happier in brine.” But what I really wanted was for Arin to pull a rat tail out of his bowl. Just yesterday he’d ground horseshit into my pillow.

I looked back at Floy, who was sidling nearer and glancing at the kitchen door every minute.

She gave a great, hopeless shrug. I dropped the rat into the cauldron.

“I’m not hungry, anyhow,” I said.

“You’re going to get me whipped,” said Floy. “Not that you’d care a whit.”

“Not so,” I said, “not unless you tell. It’ll look like chicken in three hours.”

Floy looked into the cauldron. “She’ll know. It’ll taste bad.”

“It’ll taste better.”

“Excellent, I’ll warrant,” said Nilsa.  She’d crept up behind us while we were looking into the cauldron. Floy turned round, face tucked in, prepared for a slap. I hid my nose in my shoulder––Nilsa always smelled of fish. “But I wouldn’t have to toss rats in my soup for excitement if ninny-hammer got her onions chopped when she’s told.”

Though Nilsa was old, she was built like an ox, and she picked poor Floy up by her collar.

Nilsa’s face was redder than I’d ever seen it––it must be the heat, I thought. But she hooked Floy on the wall next to the cloaks and stripped a pot of its leather thong.

“Oh, ma’am.” Floy hid her arms in a cloak: they were still bruised from her last beating. I felt a prick of guilt

“If you’re going to belt Floy,” I said to Nilsa, “you’ll have to do me as well, and you can’t belt me.”

Nilsa bent so close to me I could see the boil under her left eye. “I’m sore tired of your voice, madam. Sore tired of you, in here, tramping and jawing about like the Queen of Quabberqetzle. I’ve had enough.” She took hold of my arm, so tightly my eyes watered. “Given me grey hairs in my nose, armpits, and arse, but I won’t have any more.”  She flung me into a cupboard.  Bowls spun about me like tops, and I sat where I’d fallen, too shocked to get up.

But Floy was spared the beating, because right as Nilsa raised the thong, a cat wound through her legs and knocked her over.

Close behind were my brothers Mordan and Arin, who both did their best to prevent Nilsa from rising by tripping over her, one right after the other.

The cat sought refuge under a chopping block. There was a bird in her mouth, flapping wildly.  My brothers must’ve been trying to rescue it.

I didn’t much care; I unhooked Floy from the wall, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her out the door.

We ran up the back stairs, and I thought vaguely about the punishment I was likely to receive when Father arrived. It was the afternoon of Leode’s seventh birthday. Father never missed birthdays.

We reached the second landing, and Floy took a deep breath and said, “Why’d I listen? Why do I always listen? By the blessed Mother––”

“Shut it.” I pulled her along the second-floor corridor and flung open a big chest. “In here.”

“It smells like mushrooms,” Floy said.

Her head was already inside, so I pushed the rest of her in and slammed the top down. “If you stay in there long enough, maybe she’ll forget.”

I heard the thunk of boots running along the corridor. The cat ran by, and then the boys, so fast that my skirts blew out. “Is Nilsa coming?” I asked them.

“I hope not.” Mordan took big, wheezing breaths.

“We’re going to be thumped.” Arin shook the hair from his eyes and he and Mordan followed the cat into the privy.

“She’ll lock me in the garret with the bats,” wailed Floy.  I gave the chest a thump and walked after my brothers.

The door was flung wide. I invited myself in, and the cat set to clawing through my skirts. Arin grappled round us with his gangly arms, caught her, hoisted her over the latrine. She let the bird loose, and he let go the cat to shoo the bird away. The yowling cat plummeted down the latrine chute.

Arin looked down the hole.

“What’ve you done?” I breathed. I was thrilled about it, almost ecstatic, and I made toward the door to tell Biador or Tem. One of them was perhaps close enough to hear.

“Reyna––” said Mordan.

“Biador!” I called. Before I could progress further Arin, who had just last month got caned for dropping my kitten in the river, put his hand over my mouth. Mordan grabbed my flailing arms and twisted them behind my back.

In two blinks of an eye they had shut the door and were somehow bolting it from the outside. “Just calm down,” said Mordan through the keyhole, “and we’ll let you out.”

“Mordan!” I pummeled my fists on the door. “You jackhole.”

“Mind you take extra care to hold your bladder,” said Arin. “Puss doesn’t like the wet.”

Biador shouted something up the stairwell—I could hardly make it out,  but the boys exchanged whoops of excitement. Father must be here.

“You’ll get your hides tanned black,” I said.  I heard the knob rattling from the outside, and Mordan’s voice:

“It’s stuck.”

“Let me try.”

“You idiot, you tied it too tight.”

The door shook, and Floy’s voice came through the keyhole: “Reyna?”

“Let me out!”

“Give it a minute.”

I heard them rustling around. “Hurry up,” I said. “It reeks something awful.”

“Knot’s slippery as a fish,” said Floy.

“Floy, go get a knife,” said Mordan.

“A knife?” said Floy. “Nilsa’s in the kitchen, and you almost cracked her head open.  I’m getting your father.”

“No, you’re not,” said Arin.

Floy didn’t answer, but I heard her boots running down the hall

The boys rushed after, leaving me alone.

***

Later, when I was wet from the river and Floy was a sparrow, she told me everything.

She’d gone out the pantry door with Mordan and Arin, and raced them all the way to the place where my eldest brother, Temmaic, was teaching my littlest, Leode, how to thrust and parry with staves.

Tem, fourteen, threw down his pole. “He can’t be here yet, it’s too early.”

Arin pointed at the rider on the south road.  “Biador said—”

“It’s probably the supplies man,” Tem said. “The dogs haven’t even come out.” The wind whipped his words about, and he blocked the sun with a hand.

The rider was a woman. A tall woman with black hair unbound and falling over her grey mantle. She crossed the rickety bridge of pine masts, sitting sidesaddle on a brown palfrey. The bells on the halter sang like stars.

She reined in the horse and they all gawked at her. Floy saw that she was human––her eyes shone gold in her white face.

“You’re not Father,” said Leode.

“No,” she said. “But I know him well, I think. Are you the Lauriad children?”

Tem gave a tiny shake of his head.

“Yes,” said Arin, flattening his hair. “Who are you?”

“Faiorsa. Your father sent me. How funny you shouldn’t know my face at all.”

Arin tilted his head, scratched it. “You’re supposed to look something eviler than you do.”

“Arin,” whispered Mordan. The lady gave a gay laugh

“We must start anew.” She demounted in a fluid motion, and the palfrey shook her head and snorted. “I have a gift for all of you.” She took a bundle of satin from her mantle. “From the south.”

“The real south?” Leode swept hair from his brow to better see. “Across the oceans?”

“Yes. Where the sun is so bright it fills every shadow and never sets.”

“That’s impossible.” But Mordan’s grey eyes widened in his thin face. She had unwrapped the fabric. It held five flowers, colored the deep warning red of poppies. They shimmered slightly, giving off a faint heat.

“Stand back a bit.” Tem took Arin by the arm. Arin jerked out of his grip.

“Do you want to fly?” She bent over them so that the gown hung loose on her chest and hair slipped over her shoulders.

“No,” said Tem.

She ignored him. The rest of them did, too. “Do you want to touch the top of the sky, where you can dip your toes into the sunlight and cup it in your hands like water?”

“Arin,” said Tem, “take Leode and go home.”

“I want to stay,” said Leode.  Arin never turned his head.

“The blooms of
Cam Belnech
will lift your feet from the ground.” Her voice swelled musically, her eyes widened, and Leode was first to reach for a flower. Made foolish by his bravery the others, except for Tem, moved closer.

The woman’s teeth pulled blood from her lip, and the grass dried under Tem’s feet.

“She means us harm.”  Tem plucked at Floy’s dress.  “Don’t touch them.”  Floy took a flower. The others did, too, and the woman caught Tem by the wrist. She drew him into her chest, and ground a bloom into his palm with the kerchief.

The juice ran down his arm. The rest dropped the flowers, palms stained red.

She laughed. “Take to the air all of you,” she said. “Forget the ground and fade away.”

She turned to her palfrey and mounted, astride this time. The stain sank into Floy’s hands. Inside Floy a desire grew: a desire to stop her heart, to draw back into nothing, and melt into the air. But something was off; her flesh stayed solid.

The boys gave the woman’s command no such resistance. Lauriad feet turned to ash, and Lauriad hands melted away.

Never turning round, never seeing Floy’s stubborn, solid body, the woman leaned into her saddle and fled. Dust blew around Floy, and she threw her arms over her face.

Then the miracle happened. Pain teased through Floy’s arms, and the boys stopped crumbling. A strange thing, a divine hand, hollowed bones and pinched fingers to pinions. The ground flew up and Floy crouched over toes gone hard and horny.

A solid sparrow rose first, then four black birds made of dust. They beat wings north, too thin against the blue to catch the eye of the lady rider.

She mistook my brothers and me for dead. And how she could have mistaken a pot girl for the only daughter of Daonac Lauriad was incomprehensible. But she did.

***

I ripped up the old tapestry that hung in the privy.

There was a swan on it.  Her wings were raised and she held her chest aloft with such haughtiness that she made the mistake of resembling Arin.  I caught a loop of thread with my finger and pulled.  The weathered stuff tore easily. 

“Arin,” I cried, ripping the swan’s head off, “were you to turn into a great, stupid bird, I would be the happiest girl on earth.”   I ripped it down the middle.  “And Mordan, I wish the same fate upon you.”  I pulled it from the wall, and used shoes to maul as well as hands.  “All of you may have it.” 

Tem, Leode, and Floy had rarely done me any wrong, but such was my passion that I treated them all the same.  I threw the pieces of tapestry against the door. “I wish you would all sprout wings and fly away.”

And even as I spoke I had a vision: a girl, running in a wood.  She stopped and looked around as though she’d heard my voice.  Her eyes were big and black, and her feathery hair whirled around her face, becoming wings––the great, white wings of an albatross, beating, beating, making a wind.

I fell silent.  Something had heard me.

Our house was deep in the
Vara
––a place in the mountains where the air was thin enough and the ground high enough to catch the interest of strange beings. 

I felt bones hollowing, lengthening.  I looked at my fingers: there was nothing odd, no feathers.

But I knew in my gut something was wrong.  The blood hammered in my ears, and I knelt next to the toilet.  The cat’s mews rang below––she must have caught hold of a crack in the wall.

I sat down, sticky and cold, and heard a noise behind me.  A sibilant hiss, growing louder.  Almost a whistle now, and I turned round just in time to see it shoot through the privy window.  It stuck, vibrating, in the bottom of the doorframe. 

An arrow. 

There was a flaming rag wrapped around the shaft. 

The fire licked down, set the tapestry alight.  I watched the flames snake through the wool, caressing new life into the shredded breast and wing.  The door ignited, and I jumped to my feet.  “Wildmen,” I said.  The shutters caught fire from another arrow, and my breath turned ragged.

The shutters groaned.  I pulled at the door-handle; it was hot to the touch.  Another arrow hissed round and seared my ears, and the wood flowered red above my head.   I turned, palms pressed to my neck.  Already the room glowed like the belly of a forge. 

The hills just south of us were thick with brigands; and I thought of the tales Arin and Mordan told, of bloodthirsty ruffians hacking and burning their way through the wilds.