Dark Magic (4 page)

With that, and never a glance at Gudrin, he rose up and departed the chamber. When he had gone, everyone buzzed. Several other clanmasters made lengthy pronouncements, but Gudrin knew they would amount to nothing. None had the standing or the guts to confront Hallr. Nothing would be done.

She gathered her Teret and headed back to her chambers. There, she took up a lavender quill and dipped it into a cup of black ink. She penned a message in the spidery script for which her hand was well known. She wrote in the language of the River Folk, one of the dozen or so languages in which she was literate. When she had finished, she rolled the message up tightly, sealing it with the print of her ring in hot crimson wax.

Now, she thought, to find an appropriate messenger. She winced at the first name that came to her mind. But there was no choice. Speed was of the essence in this matter, she knew.

Chapter Five

The Messenger

Brand felt deflated and a bit embarrassed after the axe had been returned to his pack and they left Old Tad’s ruined shack behind. They walked up from the docks and through Riverton proper. As they went, people quieted and whispered at their approach. Had news of his outburst traveled so quickly?

They soon exited Riverton and left the awkward stares behind. They walked through a wooded patch on the way to the smithy. Brand planned to let his new horse feast on oats they sold there while he visited the apothecary who might help with some balm for the animal’s injured hide. If there were no more spurs stashed under the saddle, he might manage to ride the beast yet.

Jak whistled long and low when they were past prying eyes and whispering townsfolk. “That was quite a show, Brand,” he said, almost laughing but not quite managing it. “I thought the Silures were going to have to elect a new clanmaster tonight.”

“Yeah, things went further than I had intended.”

“Well, I think he got the message at least. So did everyone else.”

“What message is that?”

“Not to make fools of the Rabing boys, of course.”

Brand halted and looked at his brother. “Was that all it was about? Did I destroy a man’s home for making a fool of me?”

Jak shrugged. “He might have killed you if you’d landed badly.”

Brand waved away his words. “I don’t like that. I don’t like the idea that I can’t take a prank. Sure, it was a dirty trick, but men do such things. Old Tad had some reason to feel annoyed with us. I overreacted.”

“Well…” Jak said, but could not seem to find words to argue against the point.

Brand fished out the lock of silver hair he kept in his tunic still. It was from the head of Oberon’s daughter, who he had wrongly slain in another place. “I might have killed him, you know. Or Slet.”

“No, Brand, you wouldn’t have.”

“It’s happened before,” Brand told him. He showed him the silver lock of hair, and the way it shone in the sunlight, none could look upon it and not know that it came from a different place. No son or daughter of the River Folk had ever had such hair.

Jak looked at it with big eyes. “I didn’t know.”

“Her face haunts me still,” said Brand.

“Is that why you worry about Telyn?” asked Jak, catching up to him. “Is that why you have yet to speak to her?”

Suddenly, before Brand could answer, the snow-laden brush beside the roadway rustled. The thicket that lined the south side of the road moved as if a deer bounded through the center of it. Brand felt his axe stir on his back, but he ignored it. His hand twitched, but he resisted the urge to reach back for his weapon. They halted and watched the thicket. Everything fell quiet. The big roan threw his head and nickered.

Telyn stepped out into the road and smiled at them. “You were about to say something about me, Brand?” she prompted sweetly.

“What?” asked Brand, smiling for the first time in hours upon seeing her pretty face. “Oh, yes. Jak did ask me something about you, didn’t he?”

“Indeed he did. Something about speaking with me?”

“But we are speaking now, my sweet,” said Brand, smiling and stepping close to her.

Jak rolled his eyes as they all but kissed in front of him. He snorted. “How long have you been following us, girl? Did you witness Slet’s near-death or Old Tad’s? Perhaps, you sat out both of them? What kind of a ‘second’ are you, girl?”

“I only just found you two, but I’ve heard the tales,” she said. Telyn chewed her lip and nodded, “it’s true, Brand. You do seem to get into trouble when I’m not around to calm you.”

Brand grinned. “You simply must follow me more closely then.”

Telyn laughed and they all began walking again toward the smithy.

“You are not going to tell me what you were talking about, are you?”

“No,” he said.

* * *

Tomkin took Gudrin’s message into his possession without enthusiasm. Was he nothing more to her than a servant? Was that all the importance the bearer of the Blue Jewel meant to her? Tomkin the messenger-boy, swift of foot, worthy of no better task than that of running hither and yon with love-letters and garden-party invitations. It was insulting.

She told him the message was urgent, of course. She reminded him of his sworn friendship to the Kindred and the River Folk. This only deepened his scowl. There was never a Wee One born that wanted to hear a lecture about his past promises.

She had moved on, as he had known she would, to threats. She wouldn’t be teaching him how to control Lavatis, if he failed to cooperate in this matter. He had hissed in frustration at this point, crossing his thin arms and thrusting out his pointed chin in disappointment. She had a lever upon him, and as sure as the sun rose each morning she was going to use it.

And so Tomkin took the letter and examined it, finding it sturdily sealed with shiny red wax as bright as fresh blood.

“The Haven is a full day’s run to the east. Have the Kindred no servants for such duties?”

“None as swift as your kind,” she answered. “It would take nearly a week for one of my folk to make the journey. Time is critical in this mission.”

“What would it be saying, then?” he questioned.

“None of your affair. Just get the letter to Brand’s hands, and I’m sure you will learn of its contents then.”

Tomkin rustled the parchment and weighed it in his hand. He eyed one end of the rolled paper and then the other. He could not make out a single word.

“Is this seal absolutely necessary?”

“The note is addressed to Brand, Champion of the River Folk. Make sure that it gets there unopened, please,” she said pointedly.

He took up an offended stance and frowned at Gudrin. “What are you suggesting? Naturally, it will reach the hand of the recipient unmolested. Have a care with your insults. Do you believe all Wee Folk to be nothing other than rogues and snoops?”

Gudrin gave him a look that indicated that was exactly her opinion, but her words were softer. “The letter is from the Kindred to the River Folk. It is none of your direct concern. Oh, and one last point.”

“Yes?”

“The seal is enchanted. It is a minor magic, but if the letter is opened by any other than the addressee, it will disintegrate.”

Tomkin growled in frustration.

* * *

The day had gone perfectly, to Brand’s way of thinking. He applied a balm to the horse and bandaged the cut in its hide. Telyn spent the most time with the animal. She soothed it and spoke quietly into the stallion’s ear. Brand smiled and watched her, wondering what she told the beast. Soon, the roan was wandering around them munching contentedly on the feedbag of oats Brand had provided.

Jak had left them alone with the horse, going back to Riverton supposedly to check on Uncle Tylag and Aunt Suzenna, who were still staying at the Drake mansion. Brand knew, of course, Jak wanted an excuse to visit Lanet Drake, but he didn’t mention it. He was more than glad to be left alone with Telyn.

“You’ve tamed him,” Brand said, eyeing the horse and shaking his head. No longer was the beast stamping and snorting. There was no fury or fear in his eyes, which didn’t roll in his head, but instead were calm and half-shut. “I’m impressed, I had been wondering if it could be done at all.”

“Your bag of oats has done as much in that direction as my soft words. But it is true, I’ve had an easier time with wild stallions than I have had with you,” she commented.

Brand snorted and grabbed her. She struggled, but giggled. He kissed her until she finally broke away. Brand didn’t chase her but instead sat down to eat from the basket of goods they purchased. Sometimes, with pretty girls, the best strategy was to not appear too eager.

They sat together on stumps and consumed Ginger beer, snapdragon eggs, preserved fluff-greens and a large jar of melon-jam with a loaf of fresh, thick-crusted bread. He felt glad Corbin wasn’t around to eat most of it.

“Now is the time,” she said when they had finished their lunch.

“To go home?”

“No,” she said, scowling. “Now is the time to tell me what you and Jak were talking about.”

“If you wanted to know that, why didn’t you just stay in the bushes and keep listening?”

She smiled and nibbled at some more of their lunch. “That would have been rude.”

He laughed. “That’s never stopped you!”

“Oh yes, it has.”

“I see,” he said, running out of banter. He was unsure how to proceed. How did he tell her he was thinking about asking her to marry him, but wasn’t sure that he should. How could this be welcome news? How could this information do anything but wreck their time together? He sighed and took another bite snapdragon egg.

“Not talking? Then it must be something important.”

Brand shook his head and chewed.

“It must be about me and something important. And don’t try to tell me you are thinking of my birthday, that’s six months away. Not about some winter festival gift either, because that’s just past.”

Brand could see she wasn’t going to give up on this one. Every distraction he tried only served to make her more interested. “Don’t try to reason it out,” he said.

She made a snorting sound. “That exactly what I’m trying to do! And telling me that is only going to make it worse!”

Brand gathered up their picnic and caught hold of the roan’s bridle. “You want to try to ride him? That cut was small and it’s all bandaged now. You don’t weigh much, and he likes you. I bet he’ll let you do it.”

“Another distraction?” she asked, but she looked interested. She approached the horse and talked to it soothingly. She fed it a treat and removed the feedbag.

The River Folk are not master horsemen. Almost any of them could ride, of course, but they spent so much of their time on boats or in forests that horses were mostly used to pull carts. Telyn, however, had always had a delicate touch that worked with beasts, horses in particular.

She checked the bandage and decided to remove the saddle entirely, against Brand’s better judgment. He could tell his admonishments were going to be completely ignored. She wasn’t getting information out of him, so he could forget about her listening to any of his cautions and worries. He tried to remind himself that the horse had been unfairly goaded when he tried to mount, but he still worried. They didn’t even have a corral to keep the beast from running off with her.

Telling himself that she was far from fragile, he put out his hand to boost her up onto the roan. She ignored his hand and vaulted up onto the surprised horse’s back unaided.

The roan threw his head and stamped, but did not bolt. She took care not to lay her leg across the bandage. There was plenty of hide on the animal’s wide back, she had no trouble avoiding the injured spot.

Brand let the horse have his head and it backed away, throwing its head from side to side. But it didn’t buck. Brand dared to relax fractionally. He put his hands on his hips and nodded with approval.

“See?” said Telyn, clearly proud of herself. She leaned forward to speak softly in the nearest flicking ear.

Then there was a sound, a loud clang from inside the dark regions of the smithy nearby. Perhaps the smith had dropped a hammer upon a sheet of metal.

The horse startled and bolted. Brand grasped for the reins, but the horse dodged him and he missed. Thundering down the road, the roan galloped with Telyn riding bareback, clinging to the flowing mane.

Brand ran after them, cursing. For a dark moment he wished he had removed the beast’s head in his previous moment of white hot fury. Perhaps he thought, if the horse hurt Telyn badly, he would do it yet.

The horse vanished with Telyn up the snowy, muddy road where it turned into the forest. He trotted after, huffing, but when he got to the bend they were gone. He considered for a moment drawing the axe for strength and speed, but he knew that would never be enough to catch a galloping horse. Maybe this entire idea was a foolish one. Perhaps he was meant to be a footman after all, he certainly had no eye or mind for judging horseflesh.

After a few long minutes while he stood in the road, calling out Telyn’s name, he thought to hear a crashing in the trees. He saw something coming his way, kicking up snow and black clumps of earth and snapping low-hanging branches.

It was Telyn and the stallion, pushing their way back to the road from the west. He must have taken her for a long detour.

She laughed when she saw his face. “Brand, you look so worried!”

“There’s blood on your face.”

“Only a few scratches. He took me for a merry ride in the woods, that’s for certain. But look at him now, he’s calm.”

Brand looked at the horse critically. It was lathered and stank of sweat. Its sides heaved with heavy puffs that blew twin fountains of steam out into the cold winter air. The roan looked back at him calmly and chewed at the bit in its teeth.

“I don’t think he likes the bit,” she said, stroking the animal’s neck. “You should ride without one.”