The Tower of Ravens (67 page)

Rhiannon lay in Lewen’s arms, feeling warm and comfortable and at peace, despite the iron chain that weighed down her wrist and rattled whenever she moved.

Firelight flickered over the trees, which seemed to lean over the camp like protective guardians. Nina sat on the far side of the flames, Roden leaning against her, her arms about him as she whispered silly jokes in his ear to make him giggle. Lulu was curled against him, one paw nestled in his hand. Both looked as if they never wanted to let him go again. At the sound of Roden’s laughter, Iven looked up from the guitar he was gently strumming and smiled.

The other apprentices were playing cards by the light of a lantern propped on a box. All except Edithe. She sat by herself, reading a spell book and looking very sour. She felt the arrest of the lord of Fettercairn to be a slur on her perception, and was adamant that it was all a dreadful mistake and the lord would be cleared as soon as they reached the royal court.

More than a week had passed since Rhiannon had snatched Roden from Fettercairn Castle. She had managed to stay on Blackthorn’s back long enough to see Nina clasp her son in her arms. Then she had fallen.

The next seven days were nothing but a hideous blur. Strange nightmarish visions stalked her imagination. She was first burning with fire, then tossed in an icy waterfall, then dried out with merciless heat like a lizard on a rock. Her limbs seemed to grow like tentacles, reaching for miles across the countryside, and then she was very tiny, a pale crustacean pried from her shell and held dangling above an open mouth. Dark walkers haunted her dreams and bent over her waking hours, pinned to the heels of those who tended her.

They had tried to put her to bed at the Linlithgorn inn but she had fought so viciously against being taken inside stone walls that Nina had had to care for her in the open, with no more shelter than the leaves of the trees and a canopy of oilskins strung up with rope. In her rare moments of lucidity, Rhiannon was able to stare up at the shifting green pattern of sunshine through the leaves, or the great vault of the night sky starred with familiar constellations. Gradually, her soaring temperature cooled, the crippling headache faded, and the dark walkers stepped back into the shadows, leaving Rhiannon weak and useless as a newborn kitten but aware of who she was and where she was.

Nina said she had suffered from sorcery sickness, a very dangerous illness that could overcome anyone who drew too deeply upon the One Power. It was a wonder, she said, that Rhiannon had survived it. Many wild Talents, who had not been taught how to use their powers properly, died after such a display of magical strength, or at the least were left broken in mind and body. Rhiannon must have great inner reserves of strength, Nina said, for she had wielded powerful magic by wresting the iron bars out of the stone. Rhiannon had already been weakened by the poison Dedrie the nursemaid had forced down her throat, and worn out by the desperate chase after Roden, and the loss of blood from her injured arm. “Indeed I think Eà was watching out for ye, my dear,” Nina had said, “and I am so glad. I could no‘ have forgiven myself if ye had died rescuing my laddie, after all ye’ve been through this past week.”

Nina had insisted that the whole company wait until Rhiannon was strong enough to ride again before they left Linlithgorn, and she had not allowed anyone to talk to her about what had happened at Fettercairn Castle. At first Rhiannon had been grateful for this, for her dreams were still disturbed with visions of creeping hands, pickled babies, bloody puddles, the unhappy ghosts of murdered children and the dreadful scream of an old lady as she fell to her death. She was content to spend a few days sitting in the leafy glade, enjoying the tender ministrations of Nina, who could not do enough for the rescuer of her son, and watching the sorceress as she called birds and small animals to her hands, and sang quiet songs of peace and healing over Rhiannon’s head.

Once Rhiannon had been strong enough to walk about the clearing, or to ask after the others, her peaceful time was over, though. Iven had come with the chain and shackles in his hands, and a most apologetic look, to fetter her limbs again. Nina had protested angrily, and Iven had said, “I’m sorry, my dearling, I’m sorry, Rhiannon, but naught has changed. I still must take ye to Lucescere to face the Rìgh’s justice. Ye ken I wish I could just leave ye be, and pretend I do no‘ ken ye were the one who killed Connor, but I do ken and so does the Rìgh. I canna take the risk that ye will decide to fly off once more.”

“But Iven!” Nina cried, almost in tears. “If it were no‘ for Rhiannon, we would no’ have our own boy back again. We are in her debt!”

“I ken, dearling, and believe me I shall make sure the Rìgh kens it. He is a fair man, and fond o‘ ye and Roden. I am sure he willna let the courts hang Rhiannon when he understands—”

Nina was aghast. “Iven! Surely there can be no question o‘… Iven, ye canna allow…”

Iven’s face was troubled and unhappy, but still he clasped the shackles around Rhiannon’s wrists and fastened the chain to the tree. “I’m sorry. Believe me when I say I will do all in my power to make sure the courts deal fairly with ye, my dear. Your help in rescuing Roden and your testimony against the laird o‘ Fettercairn—these will no’ mean naught, I promise ye.”

Rhiannon had not fought him, or protested in any way, but she had felt a heavy mantle settle over her shoulders, a sort of weariness and fatalism she had not previously felt. Nina was worried about her, she could tell, and had tried to argue that they must stay a few more days until Rhiannon was stronger. Iven had shook his head, though. “We must ride on, my love, ye ken that. We have been delayed far too long already.”

So Lewen and the other witch-apprentices had at last been allowed to join them, and the obvious affection in the faces of most of them had bolstered Rhiannon’s spirits, and made it easier to bear the heavy chain that rattled every time she moved. Lewen had brought Blackthorn with the other horses, and the sight of the mare had given her fresh strength and courage.

The apprentices had spent the afternoon fussing over her, giving her little gifts of flowers and honeyed cakes, and telling her how brave and clever she was. This had been sweet. Sweeter still was the sight of Lewen’s steadfast brown eyes and the warmth and strength of his hands, which he found impossible to keep away from her. She was able to lean against his broad shoulder, and rest her head on his chest, and feel his fingers entwined in hers, and felt a warm glow of happiness she would have thought impossible earlier that day. Lewen had, without the need to speak, unshackled the chain from the tree and clasped it round his own wrist and Rhiannon had understood this gesture as it was meant—he would stand by her, and support her, and help her bear her fate.

The company planned to ride on again the next day and Nina had prepared a feast to celebrate. The village of Linlithgorn had provided them with fresh fruits and vegetables and ripe cheeses and newly baked bread, which everyone had enjoyed very much, and now Rhiannon was replete and drowsy, and ready to hear at last what had happened while she had been lost in nightmares.

“So what did ye do then?” Rhiannon asked Lewen.

“Well, it was just as Iven predicted. The gatekeeper opened the gate and was surprised to see us. He told us there must be some mistake, no-one had been in or out of the gatehouse all day, but he sent his lad to fetch the laird when Iven insisted. The laird made us wait for ages, which made Nina furious, and she marched into the castle. When the gatekeeper tried to stop her, she sang a spell o‘ sleep, which was rather funny, particularly since Cameron did no’ heed her warning to cover his ears and so he fell asleep too. She ensorcelled half the castle garrison and quite a few servants too, and at last found the laird in his library, much to his dismay. Ye should’ve seen his face when he called and called for his servants, and then found them all snoozing!”

“What did he do?” Rhiannon asked, grinning.

“He was all honey and poison, looking Nina up and down as if she was a madwoman and speaking to her very soothingly. I must admit she looked rather wild, being barefoot and dressed in a torn and bloody nightgown, with her hair looking like she’d ridden through a whirlwind. Nina didna care, though, she looked and acted like the countess she is. I do no‘ ken what would’ve happened, if the auld lady’s servant had no’ come bursting in, sobbing and raving about Lady Evaline. That must’ve been so horrible, seeing her fall like that.”

“It was,” Rhiannon admitted. “I wish she had no‘ done it. I canna help feeling it was my fault. If only I’d been quicker, happen I could’ve caught her or something.”

“Ye probably all would’ve fallen then, Blackthorn’s no‘ strong enough to carry such a load.”

“Aye, happen so… still, I wish she hadna done it.” Rhiannon pressed Lewen’s arms about her more firmly, the star amulet pressing into the tender flesh between her breasts.

Lewen kissed her temple and went on. “Anyway, after that, the laird had to change his tune. He acted all shocked and distressed and pretended he kent naught about it all. He put the whole thing onto Lady Evaline and her companion. Miss Prunella confessed to helping the seneschal kidnap thirty-four boys over the past twenty-five years, and to helping him dispose o‘ them when they failed to make Lady Evaline happy. That was why they did it, she says. To make the auld lady happy.”

“And the laird is trying to pretend he’s innocent in all this?”

“Very persuasively,” Lewen replied grimly. “He has the reeve o‘ Linlithgorn more than half-convinced.”

“But I saw him!” Rhiannon said indignantly.

“Aye, but ye’re no‘ the most credible witness, my love,” Lewen said. “The laird has argued most compellingly that ye are trying to deflect suspicion away from yourself. Nina and Iven have had to admit, most unwillingly, that they never actually saw the laird’s face. Ye were the only one.”

“What about his eye?” Rhiannon cried. “How does he explain Blackthorn putting out his eye?”

“He says the seneschal did it. He said he’d been worried and suspicious about Irving for some time, since he was often no‘ there when the laird wanted him, and so he had lain in wait for him that night, wanting to see where he went and what he got up to. Except Irving pulled a sword on him and slashed him, and the laird was so sorely wounded he was unable to pursue him. The laird says Irving had been his brother’s servant and was faithful to Lady Evaline, no’ to him.”

“It’s unbelievable!” Rhiannon was so angry and upset she sat up, and Lewen had to draw her down into his arms again.

“Unfortunately, it’s all believable. For every accusation we’ve made, the laird has been able to come up with a most plausible explanation. And the fact that he has placed himself so willingly in the reeve’s hands has worked in his favour too. All he asks for, he says, is a chance to go to the Rìgh’s court and plead his case. He has offered to pay restitution to the grieving families for their loss, on behalf o‘ his sister-in-law, who he says was quite mad. He has offered to give any assistance he can to the Rìgh’s officers in their investigation. All he asks for is a chance to clear his name.”

“It’s very odd,” Rhiannon said after a moment. “What about the necromancy?”

“Again, ye are the only one who saw that,” Lewen said unwillingly. “Basically, he’s put his word against yours. The reeve did find a chest full of red cloaks, and black candles and so on, but that was hidden under the seneschal’s bed, and so Laird Malvern has been able to deny any knowledge o‘ it. A few o’ the footmen have fled, and the auld groom, and a few others, making it seem as if they were the ones involved.”

“But I saw him! Laird Malvern! He called the ghost his brother.”

Lewen said nothing.

“But I’m a half-satyricorn accused o‘ murder and treason,” Rhiannon said glumly. “And he’s a laird.”

“The worst thing is, Miss Prunella, the auld lady’s servant, canna be questioned about her role in all this anymore.”

“Why no‘?”

“She’s dead,” Lewen said shortly. “She took poison… or someone gave it to her, we do no‘ ken which. We never thought… if we had only guessed what she planned, happen we could have stopped her somehow.”

Rhiannon was appalled. “Ye mean, she just died? And now she canna tell anyone the truth o‘ it all?”

Lewen nodded. “That’s right. I canna help wondering how she got the poison. I swear the nursemaid Dedrie kens more than she’s saying, but she’s shut up tight as a clam and willna say a word, and neither will any o‘ the other servants. They have all been arrested too and face trial with the laird in Lucescere, but they do naught but swear their innocence most convincingly.”

“I guess they all fear the hangman’s noose too,” Rhiannon said in a very unhappy voice.

Lewen kissed her. “They willna hang ye now, Rhiannon, surely? No‘ after ye saved Roden. He’s heir to the Earl of Caerlaverock, after all, the Rìgh’s dearest friend. Nina will testify on your behalf, and His Highness has a real soft spot for her, he’s known her since she was a babe. I’m sure he’ll pardon ye.”

“I hope so.” Rhiannon shivered.

“We ride for Lucescere tomorrow. We’ll be there in a few weeks, and then we’ll ken. Do no‘ fear, Rhiannon. With Nina and Iven and me all vouching for ye, the Rìgh canna condemn ye.”

“Well, we’ll find out all too soon,” Rhiannon said. She looked up at the star-strung sky and the sliver of new moon hanging over the mountain. By the time the two moons were full, she would be in the Shining City, facing her fate. Despite Lewen’s confidence, Rhiannon could not feel the same optimism. Satyricorns believed in dark walkers and fearsome gods. Happy endings were not part of their mythology. She had the space of one moon, though, to grasp what happiness she could. She slipped her hand under Lewen’s shirt and caressed his bare back, her chain rattling.

“Since we are so tightly shackled together, do ye think Iven would notice if we slipped away to the forest? I have had enough o‘ ghosts and death. I want some warmth and loving.”

Lewen’s breath caught and he bent his head and kissed her. “I think he may turn a blind eye… for a wee while.”