Exodus of the Xandim (GOLLANCZ S.F.) (23 page)

‘No!’ Fear jolted through her, and she clutched tightly at Osella. ‘Don’t tell anyone where I am. I’ll be in danger.’

‘In danger?’ The woman frowned. ‘What do you mean? How can you be in danger from people knowing where you are?’

‘I don’t know. I still don’t remember. But when you talked about asking around, I just got this feeling, as if danger were near.’

‘What are you saying? Surely you don’t think someone tried to drown you deliberately?’

‘I don’t know. It’s a feeling, nothing more. But it’s a very strong one. Please don’t ask anyone about me until my memory comes back, if it ever does.’

‘Of course it will,’ Osella soothed. ‘You just give it time. What about finishing your soup and taillin, then you can have a nice sleep?’

‘But I’ve only just woken up,’ Brynne protested. Then she considered. ‘But I think I could sleep a bit more.’

The next time she awoke it was evening. The darkening sky was a deep, rich, luminous blue, with a single bright star looking down through her window like a sentinel. Brynne blinked and
stretched. There was less stiffness in her muscles and she had fewer aches and pains, though the catch in her breathing and the tightness in her chest still remained. In her mind, however . . .
Brynne shuddered. There it was still, that blank, impenetrable barrier between her future and her past that, try as she would, she could not push her way through. Behind that wall terror prowled.
That was all she knew.

Best to stay here. Best not to risk what lay beyond. Best to remain on this side, where it was safe and warm and comfortable. She pulled the bedclothes over her head and tried to will herself
back to sleep – only to find herself high on a clifftop. She wasn’t alone. There was someone else, just a quick flash of a beautiful face, contorted by jealousy and resentment, then the
face became her own and she was falling, falling . . .

‘Wake up, my pet. Wake up now.’

Brynne fought against the entangling bedclothes, struck out at the arm that was shaking her shoulder.

‘There, now. Steady now. That’s a good girl. Wake up now, it’s just a dream, a bad dream you were having.’

Gasping, wheezing, Brynne pushed her face clear of the covers and opened bleary eyes to see Osella. ‘Why, there you are.’ The woman’s smile was strained and her brow was
furrowed with concern. ‘That surely was some nightmare you were having. But you’re fine now, you’re safe here. We’ll take care of you.’ She stacked up the pillows
behind Brynne’s back so that the girl could sit up comfortably. ‘There. Better now?’

Brynne nodded, though she still couldn’t take in quite enough air when she breathed.

‘Here you are. You have a nice warm drink.’ Osella pushed a mug into her hand. Brynne sipped gratefully. It was some kind of taillin, but with honey masking the bitterness of some
strange and pungent herbs that had been added.

‘Go on,’ Osella prompted. ‘Drink up, it’ll help your breathing. I don’t know how your lungs weren’t full of water—’ For an instant she hesitated,
and Brynne thought she saw a flicker of speculation in her eyes, but then she continued breezily, as if nothing had happened. ‘But your chest’s still weak because of the fever you
contracted from being chilled for so long. Don’t worry. It’ll pass.’ She ran a rough, callused hand over the sweat-damp tangle of Brynne’s hair. ‘You were lucky to end
up with an old fishing family. We know, none better, how to deal with near-drownings.’ She hesitated for a breath. ‘You still don’t remember what happened to you?’

Brynne shuddered, trying to keep her thoughts away from that blank grey wall in her head, and the horror that stalked beyond. ‘I can’t recall anything, but I had a nightmare where I
was on a high cliff. I saw this face, beautiful but nasty, then it turned into my own and I was falling . . .’ She put her hands over her face as if to blot out the disturbing images.
‘It was just a dream, a horrible dream. It didn’t make any sense.’

Seeing the girl’s fear, Osella pushed away the frown that had been forming and changed it to a reassuring smile. ‘Well, dreams often make no sense. Now, do you want to go to sleep
again, or would you rather get up for a while, and sit with me by the fire?’

‘It would be good to get up for a while.’ Brynne didn’t want to sleep again. Didn’t want to dream.

Osella found some of her own clothes, a green shirt and black skirt, for Brynne. They were loose on her, and the skirt was far too long, but she rolled the waistband over a few times and held it
all in place with a belt.

‘And we’d better take care to keep you warm enough.’ The kind woman tucked a thick woollen shawl around her shoulders and began to lead her down the narrow wooden staircase.
‘Come along now, sit by the fire and I’ll get you something to eat. You woke up at just the right time – I’ve got a lovely big meat pie keeping warm in the oven. My brother
and the youngsters are due back at any minute—’

Before Brynne even had time to start feeling nervous at the thought of meeting new strangers, in they came. Osella had barely finished speaking when the cottage door banged open and a deep
voice, like honey poured over gravel, bellowed out: ‘Ho there! Where is everybody? Is supper ready?’

Brynne tried to draw back but Osella put an arm round her shoulders and swept her into the kitchen. There stood a big man; tall, broad and bearded. His hair, which was a shade or two darker than
his sister’s, was bound back into a rough braid, and his eyes were blue and powerful as the ocean itself. His shirt and britches were the tough, thick weave favoured by working men, a
colourful red and blue bandana was knotted round his throat, and he wore a sturdy jerkin of stained black leather. On either side of him, and a little behind, stood a young man and woman; by the
look of them, only a year or two older than Brynne herself. They both were tall – clearly a family trait – and the woman’s rangy body held more than a hint of whipcord strength.
Her hair, cut short and businesslike, had a coppery tint among the brown, and her eyes were large and green in a bony face. The man’s hair was dark, almost black, and again clipped short, as
was his beard.

‘Brynne, this is my brother Valior, his son Derwyn and my daughter Seema,’ Osella said. ‘They were the ones who picked you up out of the ocean.’

When Valior smiled his weatherbeaten face lit up, and his tough, uncompromising mien was softened. ‘Prettiest fish I ever caught. I hope you’re feeling better.’

‘Come along, Brynne, sit here at the table,’ Osella prompted, pulling out a chair. ‘You still haven’t much strength for standing about.’

The fisherman kept looking at her as she settled herself, his vivid blue eyes fixed steadily on her face. ‘So how did it come about that I had to fish you out of the sea, my little
mermaid?’

Brynne found her face growing hot with a blush. ‘I can’t remember. I can’t even be sure that Brynne is my name. It just came into my head when Osella asked me. When I try to
think about who I am, or about my past, or what happened to me, there’s this wall in my head . . .’ A quaver came into her voice, and her fingers knotted in the woollen shawl.

‘All right, you don’t have to think about it right now,’ Valior said hastily. ‘If you can’t remember it’s plain that asking you a lot of questions is going to
do no good at all – in fact it’s just upsetting you. So I suggest we sit down and have our supper. It’ll be welcome, let me tell you.’ He smiled again. ‘We had a busy
trip, which is all to the good, but we worked all through last night so we’re cold, dead tired, and we’re hungry as bears.’

The fisherman was right. Brynne felt much more comfortable sitting around the table and eating Osella’s delicious meat pie and vegetables from the garden, followed by baked apples. Derwyn
and Seema spoke of the fishing and the boat, with a great deal of good-natured chaffing of one another. They had nothing to say directly to Brynne, but they seemed friendly enough, and she felt so
shy that she didn’t mind.

Valior also talked of the recent fishing trip at first, then his expression grew more grave as he told them of the gossip he’d heard concerning the tensions in the city. ‘We came up
with the
Northstar
, on her way back out from dropping off a catch in Tyrineld port,’ he explained, as he mopped up the gravy from the pie with a large chunk of bread.
‘According to Captain Galgan there’s a rumour of trouble brewing in the city – if you ask me, those damn idiot Wizards have lost their minds. Because the Archwizard’s son
was murdered, his soulmate has decided to go to war against the Phaerie.’

Osella gasped, and turned pale. ‘War! But what will that mean to us?’

‘Well in the short term, it could be good. Prices are sky-high at the docks. They need our fish to help feed the army Sharalind is raising. But in the long term . . .’ He shook his
head. ‘It’s insanity. They had better be damn sure they can win, because if they don’t, and those mucking Phaerie come swarming down here, they won’t tolerate free mortals
like the fisherfolk. I tell you, if the Wizards lose, I’m loading us all into the boat and I’m going to keep right on sailing until we’re far away from here.’

Brynne suddenly lost her appetite. All this talk meant nothing to her; she had no memory of Tyrineld and no idea who the Phaerie were. When Valior mentioned the Wizards she felt an odd nudge at
the back of her mind, as if something was trying to break through the wall of forgetfulness, but the barrier remained firm and obdurate, and what might have been a recollection stayed on the other
side. She shuddered, and tried to fight her rising fear. She knew from the demeanour of those around her that the situation was very grave. If Valior took his family and sailed away, what would
happen to her? What would become of her anyway? These people were very kind, but they were not her family and they didn’t know her. Why should they encumber themselves with a stranger?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realise that Valior was speaking to her until she registered the expectant silence, and glanced up from her food to see everyone looking at
her. Valior grinned. ‘You were a long way away, little love.’

Brynne flushed. ‘I – I was trying to remember something. Anything. But I couldn’t.’ She sighed and put down her fork.

He reached over and put it back in her hand. ‘You eat up your pie now. Don’t let me put you off your supper. You’ve been through a hard time, and you need to get your strength
back. Your memory will return in good time, I’m sure – and even if it doesn’t, you’ll soon make some new ones.’ He patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry about a
thing, little mermaid. You’ll always have a home with us, I promise. We’ll take good care of you and keep you safe, and whatever happened to you before, we’ll do our best to make
sure you only have good things to remember from now on.’

Brynne’s feelings were such a potent mix of relief and gratitude that her voice shook as she replied. ‘Oh, thank you. I’m so grateful, I just can’t tell you – I
mean, you don’t even know me, and . . .’

‘You daft girl.’ Osella, sitting beside her, put an arm around her shoulders. ‘You never thought we’d just throw you out to starve, did you? We’ll soon get to know
one another, for you’ll have a home with us, as long as you want it. Why, you seem to fit right in.’

That night things were a little different. Brynne had, she discovered, been sleeping in Seema’s bed, and since its owner needed it back, she was moved into Osella’s room to share
with her.

Osella took a lamp and showed her into the room. ‘Girl, you’ve got that worried look on your face again,’ she said.

‘But it’s such an imposition.’

‘Oh, nonsense. Since my lifemate Evarn drowned, I’ve slept in this big bed by myself, and who needs more than half of a bed that size? You’re more than welcome – and
don’t you
dare
thank me again.’ She held up a hand for silence just as Brynne was opening her mouth. ‘Valior told you at supper and I’m telling you now: from
tonight you’re part of this family. And don’t worry about coming aboard as a passenger. We all pull our weight around here and there’ll be plenty for you to do. You can help me
round the house, and there are always nets to mend and lines to bait. You’ll fit in just fine.’

Brynne sank down on the edge of the bed. ‘Why are you doing this for a total stranger?’

‘Because I have a daughter and Valior has a son.’ Osella sat down beside her. ‘And we would like to think that if some sort of mishap befell them, and they were lost and
afraid, then someone would take care of them. Now, you get into your nightgown and go to sleep. I’ll try not to wake you when I come in.’

Once all the younger members of the household had settled down, Valior and Osella sat, sipping taillin, on either side of the fire, which had now burned down to a bed of glowing embers. They
were content in one another’s company, as they had been for many years, since Osella’s lifemate had drowned and Valior’s wife had died of a winter fever. Now that were alone, they
finally had the opportunity to discuss the newest member of the household.

‘Poor mite,’ Osella said. ‘I can’t imagine how frightening it must be, not being able to remember anything.’

Valior frowned into his cup. ‘You know she isn’t one of us, don’t you? She doesn’t exactly look like a typical Wizard, but I’m sure that’s what she is. There
can be no other reason why she didn’t drown. Maybe we’d better start asking around and see if we can find her real family.’

Osella shook her head. ‘That might not be a good idea. I’m bothered by that nightmare she had, Valior, the one I told you about. If that was some kind of memory trying to force its
way out, then she didn’t fall off the cliff – somebody pushed her.’

‘Surely that can’t be true!’

‘Do you really want to take the risk? Because if it is true, and whoever tried to kill her finds out where she is, then that child could be in very real danger.’

Valior frowned. ‘So we can’t go round asking questions about her, or telling people we’ve found her.’ He straightened up in his chair. ‘Well, that’s no
problem. We’ll keep her here with us where she’s safe, poor little thing, and in the meantime I’ll keep my ear to the ground. Maybe we’ll find some answers. Surely somebody
must have lost her and be looking for her.’