The Tower of Ravens (16 page)

Edithe did not like being ignored. She pressed her lips together, then said sharply, “But ye? Ye have no‘ even sat your First Test o’ Powers, that most sit at the age o‘ eight. How auld are ye now? What makes ye think ye can just turn up at the Theurgia and have them welcome ye with open arms? Have ye any Skills at all?”

Rhiannon did not answer, being still absorbed in the box.

Edithe leant forward and tapped her sharply on the knee. Rhiannon jumped violently and almost dropped the box.

“I said, do ye have any Skills at all?”

Every muscle in Rhiannon’s body stiffened. She stared at Edithe warily, then slowly shook her head.

“Ye do no‘ go for training in witchcraft and witchcunning then? Ye are naught but a common student? Are ye no’ far too auld?”

“Dinna ken,” Rhiannon said, through clenched teeth.

“I see,” Edithe said. “No Skills at all, and no learning either that I can see.”

“Edithe,” Nina said warningly.

Edithe smiled sweetly at her. “I’m sorry. I’m just curious. Is the Theurgia really so desperate for students that they will accept just anyone?” She turned back to Rhiannon, running her gaze up and down the dress which had so obviously been made over to fit her. “Your family must be eager indeed for ye to learn what ye can, and make many new friends and associates, if they are prepared to carry the costs of sending ye all the way to Lucescere to go to school.”

Lilanthe drew her brows together.

“Have no family,” Rhiannon said tersely.

“No family? But then who… ?” Edithe glanced round at the small, simply furnished room, clearly wondering how Niall and Lilanthe could hope to pay for both their son and their strange guest to attend the Theurgia. “Have ye a private independence?”

“Uh?”

“A private independence? Money o‘ your own? How do ye expect to pay for your board and tuition at the Tower?”

“Dinna ken.”

Edithe glanced at Felice, who shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I see,” Edithe said again with such a nasty innuendo in her voice that Lewen took a quick step forward, though he had no idea what he could say in Rhiannon’s defence.

Before he could speak, his mother said in a chilly voice, “Rhiannon shall be sitting for a scholarship. She shows unusual potential that we are certain shall flower into a true Talent. I have already written to the Keybearer about her and I am sure she shall be most pleased to welcome Rhiannon to the Theurgia. Isabeau is always excited at the discovery o‘ a possible new Talent.”

Edithe stared at her, both brows raised. “Indeed?” she asked coolly. “Ye ken the Keybearer well, do ye?”

“Ye must realise that Lilanthe is the Keybearer’s dearest friend, Edithe,” Nina said. “They have kent each other since they were lassies. Lilanthe once taught at the Theurgia. The Keybearer would love her to return and teach again but Lilanthe does no‘ care for cities.”

“Oh, I see,” Edithe cooed, pulling her chair a little closer to Lilanthe. “I dinna realise. Och, please tell us more, madam. I would love to hear tales o‘ the Keybearer as a lass. I believe her powers were extraordinary even then?”

“Indeed they were,” Lilanthe said, “but more extraordinary still were her kindness and compassion. Even today, when we are at peace with all, such consideration for the feelings o‘ others is rare.”

It was so clearly a snub that colour flamed into Edithe’s cheeks and she sat back, at a loss for words. Lilanthe turned back to Nina, saying eagerly, “Tell me, how is Dide? Is it true he has finally given up the travelling life?”

As Nina answered her with a laugh, Edithe excused herself stiffly and came over to the fire. To Lewen’s surprise, Edithe did not join the laughing group round his father but came straight up to him, smiling sweetly. Up until this moment she had paid him no attention at all, but he soon realised that she had revised her earlier opinion of him as an unimportant country clodpole.

“I had no‘ realized your parents were so well acquainted with the court at Lucescere. Tell me, have ye visited there often?”

“Aye,” Lewen answered curtly, not wanting to tell her he waited on the Rìgh at table every night, and ran his messages, and carried his cloak and hat.

“Indeed? Tell me more,” she purred. “Have ye met the Rìgh?”

“Aye,” he answered again, feeling torn between amusement and embarrassment. After a moment, realising she would find out in the end, he said reluctantly, “I am one o‘ the Rìgh’s squires, when time permits. I attend court every evening, after I have finished my studies, and I often ride out with him.”

Edithe leant closer. “Ye must ken the young prionnsachan too, then? Donncan and his brother Owein?”

“Aye, and the Banprionnsa Olwynne too,” Lewen said, irritated by the way she mentioned only the two sons of the family. Lewen was very close friends with the royal twins, being less than a year older than them, and in the same class at the Theurgia.

“Och, o‘ course,” she said now, smiling. “I imagine we shall see a lot o’ them once we are at the Theurgia.”

“I doubt it,” he answered. “They are very busy with their own concerns. And the Theurgia is very large.”

She tried another tack. “And the Keybearer, do ye see her often too?”

“No, no‘ very often,” he answered, looking for some way to escape.

“Oh? I had thought your mother was good friends with the Keybearer Isabeau NicFaghan? Did I misunderstand? Or perhaps their friendship was no‘ kept up?”

“Aunty Beau comes here often,” Lewen said unwillingly. “She travels about a lot, ye ken. She’ll always come by if she’s in Ravenshaw.”

Edithe looked skeptical. “But ye live so far away from anywhere here! It took us three days’ hard riding to get here from Ravenscraig and the MacBrann told us there is nothing beyond your farm but the wild mountains.”

“Aye, that is true,” Lewen said. “But Aunty Beau can take any shape she chooses, remember. It is no‘ far to come if ye are flying in the shape o’ a golden eagle.”

Edithe was impressed despite herself. She leant even closer, laying one white hand on Lewen’s sleeve. “I am so glad to ken someone who will be able to teach me how to go on at the Theurgia.” She glanced down coyly, twisting the small moonstone ring on the middle finger of her right hand, symbol of her acceptance into the Coven as an apprentice. Lewen wore a ring very like it, as did all of the young apprentices. “It will be so very large and overwhelming at first. It will be nice to have a friend, to help ease my first days there.”

Lewen was aware of Rhiannon’s gaze fixed upon them, and blushed. He was saved from answering by Lilanthe, who stood up and said, “Shall we go and eat? I can smell all is ready. Ye must be hungry.”

At once everyone stirred and looked up, beginning to make appreciative noises, for indeed the smell coming from the kitchen was delicious. They all followed Lilanthe eagerly, though Lewen noticed both Felice and Edithe looked rather affronted at having to eat in the kitchen.

Their look of outrage deepened as all three of the young men showed a marked inclination to sit next to Rhiannon at the dinner table. Openly eyeing the voluptuous curves threatening to split the seams of her dress, Cameron scrambled to pull out her chair for her and then, when she sat, took the opportunity to gaze over her shoulder and down her cleavage. While he feasted his eyes, Rafferty slid deftly into the chair beside her and tried to engage her in conversation, much to Cameron’s chagrin. Cameron hurriedly took the seat on her other side, pushing the young poet Landon out of the way. Dejectedly Landon made his way round the other side of the table to sit next to Maisie, who smiled at him shyly in commiseration.

Edithe slipped her hand inside Lewen’s arm and smiled at him, saying sweetly, “Do ye always eat in the kitchen? How very quaint. Please, tell me where I should sit? I can see ye have no order o‘ precedence here.”

He pulled out a chair for her and then tried to make his escape but she was ruthless, pulling him down to sit next to her. Felice at once took the seat on his other side and both young ladies spent the whole meal laughing at every remark he made, leaning close to him so he could smell their perfumed hair, and generally making him very uncomfortable.

His only hope was that their attentions would make Rhiannon jealous, but she did not seem to notice, focusing all her attention on her food as if she had not eaten twenty-three griddle-cakes earlier in the day. Edithe and Felice exchanged a horrified roll of the eye when they saw her cramming her food into her mouth with both hands. Lewen managed to catch Rhiannon’s eye and gently shook his head, showing her as unobtrusively as he could how to wield a knife and spoon. She scowled at him but tried to copy his actions, her elbows stuck out so far sideways the two boys had to lean the other way to avoid being poked in the face.

They were not put off, however, continuing to be assiduous in offering her more bread or another serve of pie. She did not soften with all their attention, answering only curtly, and often staring at them with scorn as if she thought their questions or comments more than usually stupid. The older boy, Cameron, was particularly attentive, leaning so close to her at times that Lewen had to grind his teeth together to stop himself from leaping up and protesting.

“I have no‘ seen ye at court afore. I ken I would remember ye if I had,” Cameron said with a winning smile.

She flashed him a glance but made no reply, being too busy eating.

“Am I right?” he said, leaning closer. “If ye had been to the court at Ravenscraig, I am sure I must have noticed ye.”

She cast him a quizzical look, gave a perfunctory shake of her head, and reached for another bread roll.

“Never? Are ye a country lass then? Did ye grow up round here too?”

“Near enough,” she answered after a moment, cramming another wedge of cheese and leek pie into her mouth.

“So is this your first journey away from home?”

She nodded and elbowed him away so she could reach the jug of iced bellfruit juice. He sat back for a moment, disconcerted, then fortified himself with several large gulps of the juice and tried again. “Ye must be rather daunted at the idea o‘ travelling all the way to the royal court at Lucescere then.”

“I think that’s the understatement o‘ the day,” Edithe said to Felice, who giggled, then looked a little shamefaced.

“Ye must no‘ be nervous. I’ll be happy to show ye round and tell ye how to get on,” Cameron continued.

“Like ye’d ken,” Edithe said with a snort of contempt.

Cameron glared at her. “I may no‘ have been to the royal court afore but I’ve been a squire at Ravenscraig for years now.”

Edithe looked down her nose. “Ye think anyone at Lucescere will care?”

Cameron turned his shoulder against her. “Do no‘ listen to her,” he said warmly to Rhiannon. “She hasna been to Lucescere either, she just likes to put on airs.”

Rhiannon stared at him blankly, shrugged and kept on eating. Cameron edged his chair closer to hers. “So ye must no‘ be afraid,” he said in a low, confidential voice that Lewen had to strain to hear. “I promise I’ll keep an eye on ye. Ye shallna be lonely while I’m there to watch out for ye.”

Rhiannon laid down her knife and spoon. “Me no afeared,” she said angrily, “and me no lonely. Me have my horse.”

Cameron laughed, startled, then leant even closer, speaking in such a low voice that Lewen could not hear a word, despite all his efforts.

Rhiannon curled her lip. “Rather have my horse,” she said.

Cameron sat back, colour rising in his cheeks. He looked dumbfounded.

Rhiannon grabbed and another handful of roast potatoes, ate them hungrily, then wiped her greasy hands clean on her bodice. As she gulped down the rest of her juice, Rafferty took advantage of Cameron’s sudden silence to try his hand at engaging her in conversation.

“I havena travelled much afore either,” he said. “I’m so looking forward to it. I’ve always wanted to travel the world. What are ye looking forward to seeing the most?”

Rhiannon shrugged. “Dinna ken.”

“I canna wait to see an ogre,” Rafferty said confidingly.

Her lip curled. “Why? Ogres ugly, mean and stupid.”

“Ye’ve seen one afore?”

“Aye, o‘ course.” She spoke as if ogres were as common as dandelions.

“Well, I’ve never seen one. I come from down by the sea, though. I’ve seen the Fairgean come into harbour, riding on the back o‘ their sea-serpents.” He spoke rather defensively.

“Really?” Maisie squeaked.

“Aye, really.” Rafferty looked across the table at her.

“I’d love to see the Fairgean.” Maisie clasped her hands together. “They’re said to be bonny indeed.”

“If ye like that sort o‘ thing,” Edithe said cuttingly. “Personally I find the idea o’ scales and gills quite loathsome.”

“The Banprionnsa Bronwen is said to have scales and gills and they say she is the most beautiful girl at court,” Felice said. “I canna wait to see her! I’ve heard her clothes are just divine.”

Cameron snorted in derision. “Is that no‘ just like a lass? Who wants to look at clothes? It’s the changing o’ the guard that I’m dying to see. I hope the Rìgh’s captain is there and no‘ off fighting somewhere. I’ve heard so many stories about him and his cursed sword.”

“Och, me too,” Rafferty said excitedly. He turned to Rhiannon. “Have ye heard the tales? They say once he has drawn his sword, he canna sheathe it till all the enemy are dead. It doesna matter how many o‘ them there are, he’ll just keep on fighting till nary a one is left.”

This sparked her interest and, encouraged, he went on. “They call him Dillon o‘ the Joyous Sword, for the sword takes such joy in battle. He was one o’ the League o‘ the Healing Hand, ye ken.” At Rhiannon’s blank look, he said, “Ye must’ve heard o’ the League? There are so many stories about them. Ye ken, the band o‘ beggar children that helped the Rìgh win his throne?”

“Do ye think Jay the Fiddler will be at court?” Felice said with a sigh. “I’d love to hear him play his
viola d’amore
. They say no-one can play the songs o‘ love like he can.”

“Very true,” Nina said with a mischievous smile. “But I doubt whether Jay will be at court. He and Finn the Cat will be off somewhere on the Rìgh’s business. Ye would think they had jongleurs’ blood in them, those two, the way they travel around.”