Silvermay (21 page)

Ansuela made a face. ‘I try not to count them. We have no choice in the matter. The women of my family have always cooked and cleaned for this household and to refuse would be an insult. I'm sure you know the consequences of insulting a Wyrdborn. So Marelle will take over from me one day, and her daughters after that.'

‘I'm sorry. It can't be very pleasant work.'

Ansuela sat down beside me. ‘That's what makes your arrival so welcome. Theron rarely has guests and
they are always Wyrdborn. At first, they tell boastful stories to impress my master, who is just as vain in return, and for a day they enjoy each other's company in a ribald kind of way. Then the mood changes. Suspicions begin, petty squabbles erupt, and the air of these rooms turns even colder than usual. Marelle and I stay out of sight as much as possible then, so we're not chilled by their miserable ways. Within another day or two, the guests have stormed away in fury or else Theron has thrown them out. Only my mother knew anything different and that didn't last long.'

‘Your mother worked for the Redwing family before you —'

‘Don't use that name, Silvermay,' Ansuela snapped, cutting me off. ‘Theron might let you speak it while you interest him, but his temper can change in an instant.'

She saw how the sharpness of her warning had startled me. ‘I'm sorry, but I don't think you quite understand how you are goading my master with talk of his grandfather. For a Wyrdborn to lose his powers is something to be deeply ashamed of. Others in the same family wouldn't want to speak about it. We are commonfolk, you and I, so we can't understand. Amid the Wyrdborn, pride is everything. Once you are open to ridicule, you are lost, not just among other Wyrdborn but among commonfolk, as well.'

I thought of Tamlyn and how he had answered my question about surrendering his powers. He had spoken of being defenceless against his father, but was it more than that? Was it pride? Was it shame? Ansuela was right. Commonfolk like us couldn't understand.

She leaned forward and said in a low voice, ‘Theron's grandfather was attacked in the street, did you know that? Robbed by commonfolk.'

‘Robbed!' Arnou Dessar's teacher hadn't written about that in his book.

Ansuela nodded sadly. ‘It happened before I was born, of course, but my mother told me about it. Once the commonfolk knew Haylan Redwing couldn't defend himself any better than others in the street, they weren't afraid of him. Worse still, some cruel wit made up a song about him and soon it could be heard in every tavern in the city. Other Wyrdborn lost respect for him, even his own family. Shame, you see. They were ashamed of him, and angry at the shame he'd brought on them. After his death, the family dropped the name Redwing so that all would be forgotten. Only people like my mother remember it.'

Part of me pitied Haylan Redwing, but the rest of me was alive with a fabulous possibility.

‘Your mother worked here in the time of Haylan Red … of Theron's grandfather, didn't she?' Without
waiting for Ansuela to confirm it, I rushed on with the most exciting idea of all. ‘She might have seen the special talisman. Please, Ansuela, take me to meet her?'

‘I'm sorry, Silvermay. Theron's orders are to give you all you need, but not to let you leave.'

‘I'd come back afterwards. You have my word.'

She shook her head, looking even more unhappy. ‘I don't doubt your promise, but if Theron returned suddenly and found you gone, he would kill me without waiting for an explanation. And it's not just me I must protect. He would kill the rest of my family, one by one, right down to the youngest niece and nephew. I cannot take that risk.'

She went off to do the cooking and cleaning, leaving me utterly defeated.

‘We're worse than prisoners,' I told Ryall. ‘We could get innocent people killed.'

‘It's the way the Wyrdborn work,' he replied. ‘They have no heart. They are evil to the bone, every one of them.'

All but one, I wanted to say.

Ryall went off to explore the house once more, and Lucien was content to play on his blanket, so I was left alone to think of Tamlyn. Was he still alive? No, that wasn't the way to start. I would think of meeting him again and the playful promise we had made. When
would it be? Tomorrow? Even this afternoon? Not unless we escaped from this house. But we had come for the talisman, and Theron might well bring it to us. That was why we had come to Ledaris in the first place. No, we couldn't leave Ledaris, not yet.

 

Theron didn't return until Ryall and I were getting ready to sleep. What he had to tell us was going to make sleep impossible.

‘Good news,' he said, doing his best to smile and failing noticeably. ‘My cousin knows about this object you're so keen to find. His mother was Haylan's youngest daughter and still a young girl when he died. It seems she saved it as a keepsake, unaware of what it was. My aunt doesn't live in Ledaris any more but I've sent a man to fetch back the talisman. Wait here a few more days and it will be yours.'

‘What is it?' I was desperate to know.

‘Oh, that's hard for me to say since I haven't seen it,' he replied quickly. He fell silent a moment then spoke again. ‘According to my cousin, it's a medallion. Like this.' He touched his forefingers and thumbs together to make a large circle. ‘Made of bronze, I believe, and with a ruby at the centre.'

I pictured it in my mind, the ruby sparkling from every facet, the bronze shining in the light from the
candles. It was exactly what I'd imagined hanging from a cord around Haylan Redwing's neck as the circle of sorcerers on Erebis Felan looked him up and down.

‘Thank you, Master Theron. This is all very generous of you,' I said rather formally.

My words hid others that echoed from days before, in the boat as Tamlyn rowed us away from Nan Tocha.
The Wyrdborn do nothing unless there is some reward in it for themselves,
he had warned. I had to ask the question.

‘What will you ask for in return?'

‘In return?'

‘Yes. You've gone to a lot of trouble. We have nothing but the two royals in my pocket …'

‘Keep your coins,' said Theron with a wave of his hand. ‘Generous is not a word anyone uses to describe me. It's enough that you take the talisman far away from my family. Let that be your payment.' And he gave a stiff bow.

Ryall and I turned to one another and I read my own thoughts in his face. Something wasn't right. A Wyrdborn would surely bargain harshly for a higher price simply because he could. But the image of the talisman lay vividly behind my eyes. I longed to hold it in my hand, as well. And, since the price seemed firmly settled, I let myself hope.

As for escape, there was no need to put anyone in danger now. We would simply walk out the front door with Theron eager to see us go.

L
ucien slept through the night and didn't even wake when the sun began to stream through the barred window. When he did finally open his eyes, he opened his mouth, too, demanding as many pots of Ansuela's mashed concoctions as she could bring from the kitchen.

Ansuela wasn't as talkative this morning. In fact, she seemed nervous. Perhaps she was worried Ryall and I would try to escape despite what she'd told us; and, since Theron was preparing to leave the house, she would once again be responsible for us.

‘I haven't seen Marelle,' I said. ‘Has she gone to help your mother again?'

Instead of bringing a smile or even a nod, my words caused Ansuela to glare at me, as though I'd caught her out somehow. She turned to get her day's orders from Theron, before he left.

When Theron had been gone for half an hour, a tentative knock came at the door. Ansuela hurried to answer it.

Ryall had been prowling the house restlessly, but now he joined me at the table and together we watched as Ansuela and Marelle helped a stooped figure across the hard stone floor.

‘The place hasn't changed,' said a voice that sounded too strong coming from such a frail body. The remark confirmed what I'd already guessed.

Ansuela's mother slumped into a seat beside me, and smiled at Lucien while her daughter and granddaughter settled cushions behind her back and covered her legs with a threadbare blanket. There were no teeth in her mouth but her eyes were sharp enough to bite.

‘This is the girl, the one who's come asking about my old master?' she said.

‘Yes. Haylan Redwing,' I said bluntly.

Those clear eyes flicked to her daughter and then back at me. ‘You're a brazen one to use his name like that. Haylan's been dead for fifty years and his name buried along with him, although now that I remember, they didn't bother with his body, just his name.'

There was both a hint and a warning in the way she told me this, daring me to ask more.

‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean they threw his body out through the city gates and left it for the wolves.'

‘Who did? The religo?'

‘No, girl, the religo don't meddle in disputes among the Wyrdborn, especially when it's just one family settling their business.'

I couldn't believe what she was suggesting. ‘It was Haylan's family who fed his body to the wolves!'

‘Oh, they did worse than that. Haylan Redwing didn't die a natural death. He was murdered by his own son, and with his own wife urging the wretch on. Pitiless, the pair of them, like all Wyrdborn. Haylan was the same once, then something happened. He changed, became more like the commonfolk.'

‘That's when serving in the Redwing house became easier for you, wasn't it? You told Ansuela about it.'

She sat remembering quietly for a few moments, the loosening of the muscles around her eyes answering my question as effectively as the words that followed.

‘Yes, life was different. There was praise, even thanks, for our work and an extra coin at the end of the month. It didn't last long, though. The other Wyrdborn despised Haylan. Said he'd become weak. When he was robbed in the street, his son wanted to slash his sword about, killing the innocent along with the guilty. It's the Wyrdborn way, of course, but Haylan wouldn't have it.'

‘He'd lost his powers, hadn't he? That was what changed him.'

The old woman explored my face. I could sense her probing, thinking, guessing. ‘You know a lot, it seems, young miss. Why do you need me to tell you these things if you know already?'

‘Because I'm taking this baby to Erebis Felan so the wizards there will take away his Wyrdborn powers, like they took Haylan Redwing's.'

‘You're a fool, then. The last woman who dreamed of such a thing paid with her life.'

This was something new and I became excited that I may finally learn more than what I'd already been told. She could see as much and went on without prompting, although, to begin with, not quite as I was expecting.

‘You're a strange one, girl. I tell you of the peril in your way and all you do is stumble towards it, keener than ever. Well, you may as well hear all I can remember so you'll at least know why you died. It's Theron's mother I'm speaking of. She wasn't a Wyrdborn like the rest. Haylan's son, Darnie, had married her for her beauty, so he could show her off before the others of his kind. She loved her husband all the same, poor thing, even though Darnie gave her little reason, and when Haylan came back from his adventures with laughter where there had
never been any before and a kind word for the likes of me, she wanted Darnie to go off adventuring so he'd come back the same way.'

While I listened carefully, I traced the family connections in my mind. ‘How old was Theron when this happened, then?'

‘Theron was born just before Haylan returned. His mother wanted her newborn to take after his grandfather, which was another reason she urged her husband on.'

‘Did Haylan's son go to Erebis Felan?'

‘No!' the old woman cried, as though this was the craziest thing she'd ever heard. ‘He was against the whole thing. The more Haylan showed his good nature, the more the son hated him. He wouldn't listen to his commonfolk wife, even when she kept on at him about it. “Hold your tongue,” he shouted at her more than once, but she wouldn't let up, and in the end he killed her.'

‘You mean he killed his wife because she nagged him once too often!'

She waved this suggestion away as too silly for an answer. ‘There is more to the tale that I can tell you. I heard them arguing and some things stuck in my mind. There was something special a Wyrdborn needed if he was to be freed from his powers.'

When she said this, I shot forward in my chair. ‘A talisman! Yes, did you ever see it? It's made of bronze
with a ruby in the centre. Haylan might have worn it around his neck like a medallion.'

The old woman watched me as I rushed through the description, then burst into laughter. ‘What are you talking about, girl? There was no medallion.'

‘A talisman,' I insisted. ‘Haylan told a scholar about it when the man came to hear the story of what happened to him in Erebis Felan.'

She laughed again, a cruel cackle it seemed to me, as though her years in this Wyrdborn house had left their mark on her. A terrible dread seized me. Had Haylan Redwing lied to Arnou's teacher? Was the story made up to mask a more shameful way of losing his Wyrdborn magic?

The old woman saw the distress in my face and let her laughter drop away to reassure me. ‘There was something. You call it a talisman, but there's a simpler name for it, one that lacks the same promise of magic, perhaps, but one that everyone knows. Tattoo. That's what it was. The tattoo of some kind of bird. I saw it once on Haylan's chest. Never seen a creature like it, and don't ask me to draw it for you now because the memory is gone. But that's your secret talisman, girl, and that's what killed Theron's mother.'

‘How could a tattoo kill someone?'

She rolled her eyes at my stupidity. ‘I've told you already, her husband killed her, but that tattoo was the
cause. When he refused to have it marked onto his skin, she plied him with drink — laced with a potion from the apothecary, too, most likely — and while he was out of his senses, she copied the strange bird onto his arm. In the morning we could hear him from every corner of the house. He was furious. He wouldn't give up his powers, despite what she'd done to him. When a Wyrdborn is like that, only a fool dares defy him, and that was the mistake she made. I never heard the final thing she said to him, just the scream that followed, and after that, silence. I was sent home, and the next morning there was no sign of Theron's mother. She was never mentioned in the house again, except by Haylan who seemed to grieve for her, and he was dead himself within the month.'

This was the end of the old woman's story, and just as well since she was at the end of her strength, too. Ansuela and Marelle stood by anxiously, more aware of this than I was.

‘A tattoo,' I muttered, barely aware of my surroundings. The gleaming picture of a bronze and jewelled medallion disappeared from inside my head. It had never existed. It was nothing but a Wyrdborn lie. The talisman was a tattoo.

‘Silvermay? Silvermay, are you listening?'

It was Ryall. He had taken the old woman's place on the chair while Ansuela and Marelle helped her to the
door. It closed after them, and the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the house. I looked at Ryall, aware that he'd already asked a question, one that simply wouldn't stick in my ears. He asked it again.

‘What does all this mean? I thought the talisman was with Theron's aunt or cousin or someone.'

‘There is no talisman, not like I'd imagined anyway. Theron made up a story to match what we told him. There is no aunt far away, there's no messenger on his way to get the medallion for us.'

‘Why would he lie to us like that?'

‘He's a Wyrdborn. Does there have to be another reason?' I snapped, as my disappointment gave way to fury.

Ryall wasn't put off. ‘Yes,' he said, challenging me. ‘The Wyrdborn don't play games. If he just wanted to protect his family's pride, he'd have killed us by now. Why wait?'

Yes, why wait?
I wondered.
Why invent a story that would keep us in his house for days?
Tamlyn's warning sounded again in my ears and immediately became words on my lips. ‘He hopes to gain some reward.'

‘For us? We're no use to him,' said Ryall, rather bluntly, and I had to agree.

‘Not you and me. It's Lucien. Has to be. He's heard something, or maybe he thinks we've kidnapped the baby and he wants the ransom for himself.'

‘Why treat us like guests, though?' said Ryall. ‘Wyrdborn aren't famous for their hospitality, or their patience. He could just force the story out of us then take our heads off with a single swipe of his sword.'

My neck suddenly felt vulnerable and I swallowed painfully. ‘Don't say things like that. He wants us here for some reason, maybe so someone can come for us. The hawk!' I said before I'd even worked out what it meant. ‘He's sent a message.'

‘To Coyle!' said Ryall. Like me, he'd jumped immediately to the worst conclusion.

‘Coyle must have sent out the word: look for a baby travelling with a band of vagabonds. By now he knows we're here, waiting for him like a pair of fools.'

‘We have to escape, then,' said Ryall, already on his feet. ‘I saw ropes in the room upstairs. We can climb down from the roof like you said. If we leave now, there's no one to stop us.'

I shook my head. ‘We can't. Ansuela and Marelle will die. We need to wait until Theron comes back — tonight, when he's asleep. Then he only has himself to blame.'

Ryall didn't like it, but he knew I was right.

So we waited, and the terrifying climb from the roof of Theron's house was never far from my thoughts. When I wasn't worrying about this, another matter
taunted me.
All for nothing
. We'd come to Ledaris to find the talisman, which turned out to be a tattoo. Even if we escaped safely, we would be leaving without what we'd come for.

 

Judging when to move was the worst agony. Too soon and a light sleeper would hear us and come to investigate; yet every minute we delayed meant less time to make our escape before dawn made us easier to find. Then there was Lucien to think about. What if he cried out? He snuffled and moved his arm about beside me on the straw, asleep but not as deeply as I'd like.

At least Theron had gone to his bed well before midnight.

‘The talisman can't be far away,' he'd promised, feeding the lie.

I'd forced a smile of gratitude onto my face and hoped it looked right. Inside, I was terrified I'd give away what we had learned.

At last the house became silent.

‘Let's go,' I whispered to Ryall, who was up in a flash.

The moon shone in through the windows, giving us enough light to steer a course to the staircase. This was the heart-stopping part. Would the treads squeak under our weight?

The gods of luck smiled at our shoulders, it seemed, because a mouse wouldn't have made any more noise climbing to the first floor. Ryall led the way along a hall that ended at Theron's bedroom. Thankfully, we didn't have to go past it. A door yielded to Ryall's careful nudge and we slipped inside. The moon through another barred window gave a little light, enough for me to see the ropes Ryall had spoken of dangling out of the darkness above.

He chose one, but it was firmly tied in place and the knot was well out of reach.

‘How will you get it down?' I whispered.

He hadn't thought of this. Silence hung ominously in the air between us until a voice said from behind us, ‘He could cut it free with my knife, perhaps.'

We spun round in fright to find the darkened outline of a figure in the doorway. We didn't need to see his face to know it was Theron.

‘This is how we met, two nights ago — in darkness,' he said calmly. ‘I'd come to kill you, did you work that much out?'

It was a taunt, not a question, and neither of us offered a reply.

‘You might at least be grateful that I changed my mind. Instead, you insult my hospitality by sneaking away in the dead of night.'

‘There is no bronze talisman,' I said. ‘It's a trick to make us stay.'

Theron leaned his shoulder against the doorpost. ‘I must say, it's a relief to have the truth out at last. Some Wyrdborn like to play games with the commonfolk, to pretend they care in order to deceive, but I've never been one for lies. They're for the weak who can't get what they want by force.'

He stepped back briefly into the hall and called, ‘Ansuela, bring candles.' Just as quickly he was blocking the way again. ‘You'll be my guests a little longer yet.'