Shadowfell (31 page)

‘You spoke of maps,’ I said, dropping a few pinches of dried herbs into the heating water. ‘I was given three maps. I’d say one was for the west, one for the north, and one for the east. Water, Earth, Air. I think I need to journey to each and find . . . a certain very powerful entity who may not especially want to be found. Someone who might be reluctant to get involved in a struggle that mostly concerns my kind, not theirs. I need to ask them for wisdom. Teaching.’

‘How cautiously you speak.’

‘When one wrong word can bring death, caution becomes a habit.’

‘And yet you jumped without hesitation. I did not think you would do it.’

‘I surprised myself.’ I still did not understand why I had obeyed a command that seemed an invitation to death by drowning. I had not stopped to weigh up the risk. I had simply acted. ‘Will you tell me the rest of the rhyme now? Down in Odd’s Hole I saw my family, each of them in turn. Spoke with them. Made peace with them. Was that my final test?’

‘I’ll give you the rhyme and you be the judge. The last part goes like this:

To your lost, your slain, your broken

Grant forgiveness, set them free.

Rise in strength, in truth and honour

Live for Alban’s liberty.

‘Stirring stuff. A call to arms. What do you think?’

My spine tingled with the strangeness of it. I wanted to weep. Farral would have loved those words. ‘I think it is very curious how an ancient rhyme can fit so well,’ I said, keeping my voice calm. ‘Almost as if it was written for me. But others must have been required to prove themselves in the same way.’

‘Maybe the rhyme is different every time,’ my companion said, offhand, and accepted a cup of the steaming brew. ‘Maybe it changes, fits itself to each Caller, who knows? It does appear you’ve met the requirements: six virtues in the first verse, only one in the second, but perhaps that one is the most difficult. As for
rise in strength
and so on, it’s your choice whether you obey those words; it’s what a Caller does, but not everyone with the gift chooses to follow that path. For some it’s too much; too hard. As for what you were shown, it’s odd that there were only three maps, not four. What about the south?’ He grinned, and for a moment his teeth were those of a predator, shining white and sharp as knives.

I swallowed, not wanting to show my ignorance. I might well be wrong about him. ‘You haven’t told me who you are,’ I said, ‘and I haven’t asked. But it seems to me perhaps I don’t need to travel to the south, because the south has travelled to me.’
Master of Shadows guard my sleep
, those were the words of the old song. I could not think of anyone less likely to induce peaceful sleep than this volatile being.

‘Good brew,’ said the old man. ‘Reminds me of a woman I knew once, can’t recall her name, but she’d a rare gift with herbs. Short-lived, like all your kind, more’s the pity. I liked her. As for the south, don’t think you get off so lightly. We’ll meet again some time, you and me, and it won’t be over a friendly cup of tea. There’s a long journey ahead of you, much to learn, and some stubborn old creatures to persuade. Me, I don’t play by any rules but my own, and I change those when the mood takes me. Before you next encounter me, practise your tricks. I like tricks.’ He glanced at the charcoal drawing again. ‘You didn’t do so badly.’

I nodded, trying to convey gratitude without saying thank you. To utter such words to a fey being was to place oneself under an obligation that could later prove troublesome. I could hardly believe that I was sitting here talking to one of the Guardians in the flesh.

As if he could read my thoughts, the man said, ‘The others won’t be so easy to find. They’re hidden deep, and that’s by choice. You’ve quite a journey ahead of you.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Come, dog!’

I unwrapped the garment he had given me from around my shoulders. It was no more than a black rag. ‘You’ll be wanting this back.’

‘Keep it,’ he said, downing the rest of his tea in one gulp and clicking his fingers to the dog. ‘I’ll be off, then. Make sure your fire stays burning, lassie.’

Beyond the creepers that screened the cave, the sky had turned to violet-grey. Evening shadows lay over the land. I helped the old man get the bundle of wood onto his back and watched him walk away across the fells into the dusk. The little dog scampered ahead, turning every now and then to check that he was following. When they were lost to my eye, I went back into the cave and sat down very carefully by the fire. If not for the obvious signs that it was almost night, I might have been inclined to think the journey into Odd’s Hole had been a mad dream. Somewhere inside me there was a burning will to reach Shadowfell, to march into battle, to wave the banner of freedom. At the same time I felt like an old cloth that had been soaked, boiled, thumped on the stones and wrung out hard.

‘I can’t tell him,’ I murmured to myself as I sipped at my drink and stared into the little fire. ‘Not this. Not yet.’

When my cup was empty, I got up and wiped the charcoal marks from the cave wall, turning the striking profile into nothing but shadow.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Despatch: To Owen Swift-Sword, Stag Troop Leader (for his eyes only)

District of Corbie’s Wood

End of autumn

Owen, sent in haste. Keldec has recalled Stag Troop to Winterfort under my command. Boar Troop heads up the Rush Valley in response to rumours of rebel activity. It is late in the season for such a venture, but the king’s councillor overruled my protests. Sending this with Dugald, who leads them
.

I hope to see you in the east before winter closes in. Be careful, friend.

(signed) Rohan Death-Blade, Stag Troop

B
EFORE FULL DARK
I saw Flint coming along the ridge from the nearest stand of pines. He’d checked a trap on the way in; the limp form of some small furred creature hung from his hand, swaying to and fro as he approached. His expression was carefully guarded. It was only when he had come into the cave, set down his bag, his weaponry and the little corpse he carried, that I saw the look in his eyes.

‘I’m happy to see you back safe,’ I said, keeping my tone steady and reassuring. The day had been momentous for me. After my visitor was gone, I had wept alone by my fire, but they had been good tears, shed for the past I had let go. Now I felt like a weapon new-forged, shining, eager. But Flint . . . What had he seen today to set such darkness on his face?

‘Mm.’ He took out his knife, squatted down and began skinning the creature.

‘Did everything go to plan?’

‘Mm.’

I kept quiet while he finished his butchering job. He did it untidily, as if his mind were elsewhere. When he had reduced the catch to a few chunks of meat, he threaded them on a sharpened stick, using more violence than was quite necessary.

‘I did cook a meal,’ I said. ‘We can save part of that for the morning.’

Flint made a sound that might have meant anything and sat back with his bloody hands around his knees. I set the cooking pot on the fire and found a stick to stir the oatmeal mixture with. Outside, it was already night. The days were growing short indeed. I found a cloth, trickled water on it from the skin, passed it to him. ‘Clean your hands,’ I said.

It was only then that he seemed to notice the blood. He gave his hands a cursory wipe, then reached to turn over his skewered meat. ‘There’s a change of plan,’ he said, not looking at me.

I was suddenly cold. So close to Shadowfell, with my tests passed, and now this. Had the Enforcers found out where I was? Had his comrades started to suspect him? ‘What change?’

‘I can’t take you on straight away. You’ll need to stay here awhile. Another three days and it should be safe to move.’

‘Three days?’ After today, the prospect of a delay was hard to bear. ‘Why? No, don’t answer that.’

‘I’ll need you to lie low. I’ve picked up a few more supplies for you today. If you’re careful, there will be sufficient to last you until it’s safe to go on. Stay in the cave. You’ll have to go out to the stream for water and for your ablutions, but try to keep that to once a day if you can, and while you’re out there be constantly alert. Keep the knife with you. No other forays, you understand? The risk is too high.’

I sat there staring at him. ‘You mean you’re not staying.’

Flint was avoiding my gaze. ‘I’ll be here tonight, then I must be gone. There’s a matter to attend to, something I don’t want you involved in. Do as I bid you and you’ll be perfectly safe. I will come back for you. Three days, perhaps four.’

After a lengthy silence, he said, ‘You’ve managed on your own before.’

I bit back a retort. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t be leaving me if he didn’t need to. ‘I can remember you telling me I was making a pretty poor job of it,’ I said, struggling for a light tone.

He looked at me now and his eyes were steady, though the shadow still lurked there. ‘I was perhaps a little unfair in my comment. You were weak, sick. You frightened me.’

‘That meat is burning,’ I said, dropping my gaze. ‘What was it, a marten?’

‘Hardly worth the effort. A mouthful or two each. Just as well you cooked something.’ A fleeting smile touched his lips. ‘I’ll fetch more wood for you in the morning. Any sign of activity today? Friends, helpers?’

‘You mean . . . no, there has been no sign of them.’ After a moment I added, ‘You need not worry that I’ll be tempted to go on alone. You’ve succeeded in scaring me out of any such inclination.’

The smile was gone. ‘I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. Believe me, you’re safer not knowing. I’ll give you some explanations when we reach Shadowfell.’

‘I thought you weren’t staying on there.’

‘I can stay a few days.’

‘I see.’

‘No more of this,’ Flint said. ‘Let us eat this meal, and sit by our fire together, and sleep peacefully, for this one night at least.’

‘You’ll need to leave early, I suppose.’ I hated that look on his face, his mouth tight, his eyes full of unrest.

‘Not so early that I cannot fetch wood and make sure you have what you need.’ Already I was hearing farewell in his voice.

‘I’ll miss you.’ The words were out before I had time to consider how they sounded, what he might take them to mean. I stared down at my hands.

‘Look on tonight as a gift.’ Flint’s voice was a murmur. ‘Time. Quiet. Companionship. I had not understood the value of such things.’

I served the meal without a word, sharing the gruel-like mixture between pot and pannikin, pushing the pot over to Flint. He took the pieces of meat from the skewer and divided them between us.

‘Let us forget the world beyond this cave until tomorrow,’ Flint said.

‘Alban was different once,’ I said, dipping my spoon in the bowl. ‘Before Keldec, people told tales around the fire after supper. Sang songs. Nobody listened to make sure the words were safe.’

Glancing across in the silence that followed this, I met Flint’s eyes and saw there a curious expression; it was almost hungry. I remembered the little boy of my dream. Had that child grown up with harp and whistle and the telling of tales?

‘The year I was born was the year Keldec came to the throne,’ I told him. ‘I never lived in that other Alban. But I did grow up hearing stories. My grandmother knew many, and my father loved to sing. Back then.’

‘Your mother?’

‘She died when I was three years old, giving birth to a stillborn son. Father was heartbroken, but he was a stronger man then. He still had Farral and me, and Grandmother to keep him on a straight path.’

‘Neryn.’

I looked across at him again.

‘Was your father canny too?’

I shook my head.

‘Your grandmother?’

‘She had a gift. The Sight, people used to call it. Sometimes she saw things that were to come. She couldn’t summon her ability when she felt the need. It came of itself, as a vision in a pool or a bowl of water. Or in the flames of a hearth fire. What she saw scared her sometimes.’

Flint looked into the fire as if it might hold mysteries stranger than any tale. ‘Did she tell you about her visions?’ he asked.

‘Not often. She said it was dangerous to know the future. Too much knowledge might set a person on wrong paths. If you knew something bad was coming, you might take steps to try to prevent it. The Sight doesn’t work that way. You can’t know if what you’re shown is the certain future or simply a possible future. She didn’t have time to teach me everything she wanted to. Some of it, she was keeping until I was older. But . . . well, you know what happened.’ I hesitated. ‘When I told you, it was the first time I’d told the whole of that story to anyone. About what they did to her. I was never able to say it before.’

‘You say she was teaching you. Does that mean you share the same gift?’

‘I don’t have the Sight, no. Grandmother was a herbalist, a healer. She was teaching me those skills. Which plants to gather and when; what is effective against certain conditions; how to make infusions, decoctions, salves; how to extract oils. How to set a broken limb or lance a boil. Simple enough skills; they should be no cause for suspicion. But they are. So she taught a very little at a time. I wish I had learned more.’