The Whisperer (11 page)

Griff awoke to find his brothers looming over him. ‘What happened?’ he asked, blearily.

‘You tell us,’ Phineas replied, grinning.

‘You fainted, like a swooning lady who’d just caught sight of Wolfboy,’ Matthias mocked.

Wolfboy was a young man who roamed on all fours and, with soft downy hair covering all of his body, he really did look like a wolf. He was one of their major attractions, particularly as he never uttered a word, simply barked and growled, dog-like. Tyren had found him caged in the northernmost point of the realm. His father claimed a starved wolf had stolen him as food for his brood but that the baby—Tyren didn’t even know his name—was taken pity upon by the she-wolf and the family ended up raising him as one of their cubs.

Tess shouldered through and shooed the jeering brothers out of the way. She looked flushed, worried even. ‘Davren carried you here to the wagon.’

‘Davren? But he was tied up.’

She gave a sheepish shrug. ‘He can untie himself, and Elph has sharp teeth. They were worried about you.’

‘Don’t worry, Tyren didn’t see. In fact few of the show folk did…we’re lucky. The centaur is back in the copse, apparently secured again,’ Phineas assured him.

‘How are you feeling?’ Tess asked, taking his hand.

Griff was uncomfortable with all of this attention. He sat up. ‘I’m fine. I really don’t know what happened. Fainted you said?’

‘Out cold,’ Mat replied, making a swooning noise again and earning himself a glare from Tess.

‘What do you remember?’ she pressed.

Griff shook his head. ‘One moment I was stroking Elph and then everything went dark.’ He didn’t want to mention he’d been talking to Davren.

The door opened without anyone knocking and a familiar portly figure was outlined in the sunlight.

‘Hello, Griff. I hear you’re not well. Feeling better?’ the showmaster asked.

‘Er yes, Master Tyren, much.’ He tried to stand but felt shaky and remained where he was.

‘Good. Because I’ve put you on the bill for tonight.’

‘Is that a wise idea, he’s been—’ Tess began.

But Tyren cut her off with a glower. ‘I decide on the show’s line-up and we’ve already put the word out that The Great Griffin will be using his natural skills to read minds tonight. So hurry up lad, look lively. Madam Tyren wants to kit you out with a costume. Don’t dilly-dally,’ he ordered and left the wagon.

The boys turned, looked at Griff and exclaimed in unison, ‘What?’ wearing identical expressions of disbelief.

Griff groaned. ‘I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet. He’s got me in the show.’

‘Surely you didn’t tell him? I thought you were always going to keep that secret,’ Mat said.

‘He discovered it by accident. I had to tell him,’ Griff said, skirting the truth. ‘I didn’t have a choice.’

‘But, Griff,’ Phineas began.

‘What’s done is done, Phin. I can’t change it.’ He shrugged, not ready to tell them anything yet. He needed a plan first. ‘I’d better go. I’ll see you both later. Go practise.’

Tess grabbed a shawl. ‘I’ll come with you.’

On the way over to see Madam Tyren, she glanced at him. ‘You weren’t saying everything back there, were you?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Phin and Mat are too trusting. They’re happy because they have each other, full bellies and big crowds who clap at their act. They reckon that their lives are simple, and that’s fine and how they want them. And I don’t want to be the one to tell them it’s about to get a lot more complicated.’

‘What do you mean?’

He told her about Tyren and his threats.

‘Why didn’t you come and find me this morning?’ she asked, aghast at the news.

‘It was still dark, Tess. How do you think that would have looked with me knocking on your wagon in the small hours? It would have started tongues wagging. I didn’t even plan to go to the copse—I just found myself there.’ He smiled. ‘The creatures were lovely…Helys is green but she flashed orange—that’s good, right?’

‘Yes, orange is great, but this fainting spell of yours is not.’

‘Can you keep a secret?’ he asked, pulling her suddenly behind one of the wagons.

‘Of course I can,’ she said earnestly.

Griff bit his lip. He remembered the sound he’d heard and then the frightened voice. ‘I didn’t faint for no reason. I think I passed out because I was touched by magic.’

‘Touched by magic?’

He nodded, his thoughts spilling over each other. ‘Listen to me. When I’m in the copse with Davren, Elph and Helys, even Rix, all the voices that normally interrupt my thoughts and rattle around in my head stop.’

Tess didn’t seem to mind the sudden change in topic. She looked at him, puzzled. ‘But isn’t that helpful?’

‘Very. It was wonderful to hear only silence beyond my private thoughts.’

‘So?’

‘Well, I think the peace came as a result of being around your friends. I think their magical presence somehow protected me, or
at least cancelled out all of the thoughts that normally flood into my mind from outside. Their magic forms a sort of barrier.’

She beamed. ‘But that’s marvellous. Doesn’t that make you happy?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Griff said eagerly. ‘And everything was fine for a while but then suddenly I heard this terrible scream in my mind. It was like…like…’

‘What?’ she queried, frowning.

‘Well, it sounded shrill, like a whistle, but so much more fierce. It was as though someone was blowing this loud, panicked whistle directly into my head.’

‘They say when you faint you hear ringing in your ears, perhaps—’

‘No, it wasn’t like that. This was definitely a whistle being blown. And that wasn’t all. I heard someone call to me. A voice I don’t know. If I were to guess I’d think it was a boy. He sounded as though he was whispering.’

‘What did he say?’

“‘Help me.” That was it. Just two words.’

‘Then you fainted?’

‘Yes. It wasn’t like the other voices I hear. Those are thoughts. I can’t be certain, but this felt as though he was speaking to me. I’m not saying he knew he was doing it, or that he was calling to me specifically, but it was a voice, not a thought. There is a difference.’

Tess looked at him with curiosity. ‘Only you can tell, I suppose. Perhaps he
was
speaking directly to you. Perhaps this talent of yours is not as simple or unimportant as you think. Perhaps you can communicate with people in the same way that I talk with my creatures and they talk back.’

Griff looked at her doubtfully. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I don’t talk with people through my mind.’

She shrugged. ‘Maybe you should try it. Come on.’

‘Tess, there’s something else I need to tell you.’

‘Not now, Griff. Let’s not get into trouble. Later?’

He nodded but he was anxious now. Suddenly he felt responsible for Tess, her creatures, his brothers, his father; and
he was worried—very worried. He had to formulate a plan and escape before Tyren made good on his threats.

And now this boy, the Whisperer. Who was he?

They had been travelling in silence for some time now and all the while Pilo had steered Bruno carefully alongside the ravine. But with the initial shock of what had happened wearing off, Lute was thinking more clearly.

‘What do you mean, it worked?’ he asked.

Pilo obviously didn’t need reminding of what he meant. ‘I heard the whistle. What I didn’t mention to you earlier is that this piece you wear around your neck was crafted by a silversmith who was said to be a wizard. He laced it with magic.’

Lute opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. This was not news he’d anticipated.

Pilo didn’t seem to notice and continued talking. ‘I had it made for my daughter.’

‘Your daughter?’ Lute asked, his voice filled with surprise. ‘But—’

‘She died before I could give it to her. She and her mother were killed in an accident. It was a long time ago,’ he said as a way of steering Lute away from the topic, but Lute heard the pain in his friend’s voice. This was not a wound that had healed. ‘I want you to have it.’

‘I couldn’t keep it now that I know—’

‘I want you to. It is fitting that it is used for its purpose and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see wear it than the future King of Drestonia.’

Lute felt a pain knife through his heart at Pilo’s words. ‘Thank you. I will treasure it, keep it safe.’

‘And make use of it. As long as I’m alive, I am yours to command, highness. I should add that its sound has been fashioned with magic to reach my ears alone. No-one else can hear its call but me.’

‘But that’s amazing.’

‘Magic usually is,’ Pilo said dryly.

‘I’ve never believed in magic.’

‘Until now, perhaps? I have always believed in magic.’

Lute nodded quietly behind Pilo’s broad back. He realised he actually knew very little about this man. Oh, he knew he was loyal, of good heart, and above all someone he trusted. He knew he was tall and that his lean frame fooled people into thinking he was weak because he was not fleshy, but even now, leaning against Pilo’s body, he could feel how hard it was. He liked that he shared similar colour hair with his friend but where his own eyes were as dark as the black marble from the Florian quarries, Pilo’s eyes were light and usually filled with amusement and sparkle. He knew Pilo’s features were angular with hollowish cheeks and he had a dark beard he kept very closely cropped. He’d overheard his mother describe Pilo’s face as closed. It had taken him a while to work out what she meant but he understood now; Pilo rarely offered any change in his expression. The truth was he did carry a serious countenance and the man always seemed to be thinking. That said, it would be a mistake to assume he was not hearing and noticing everything. Pilo was extremely sharp and had worked hard to teach Lute those keen observational skills: how to use not only his eyes but also his other senses to pick up information about people. Most important was being a good listener because people, Pilo advised, often offer a lot more information than they mean to if you remain quiet. Yes, he knew all these aspects of Pilo and yet he had never known, never even suspected that Pilo might have had a family. The fact that his friend had offered an insight into his life prior to joining the palace staff was a shock, but it made Lute realise he now wanted to know everything about Pilo. This, however, was not the time to ask.

Instead Lute voiced the other matter that was troubling him. ‘This is slow going sharing a horse, and why are we heading towards Billygoat Beacon?’

‘Because that’s precisely the direction they won’t think to look in,’ Pilo replied. ‘By now the Duke will have sent his men to find your body and they’ll head down the hill, not up it. Soon
we’ll have the cover of those trees ahead although everything will start to thin out shortly. We just have to buy some time.’

‘But where are we going?’

‘It’s a place called Cave’s End.’

‘I don’t know it.’

‘Nor should you. It’s used by thieves and highwaymen.’

‘What?’

‘If we get separated—’

‘We’re not going to be separated, we’re going—’

‘I said
if
, your highness. We must be prepared for all events. If, for any reason at all, we are separated, I want you to get yourself up to that rocky crag that you can see about two miles away.’ He pointed into the distance. ‘There, can you see where I mean?’

‘Yes,’ Lute admitted reluctantly. He didn’t like where this was going.

‘Beyond that crag you will follow the river. Stick close to the trees. Travel at night if you must, no matter how scared you are. But keep out of sight.’

Lute frowned. ‘That would take me towards Tarrow’s Landing, wouldn’t it?’

‘Good boy. Yes indeed. Get to the landing and take the ferry. Here, keep this pouch of money in case you need it.’

‘Pilo, I don’t want to—’

‘You must, Lute! You must. Your survival is all that matters right now, to all of us who are faithful to your father.’

Lute swallowed. This was already sounding like a farewell. ‘Alright. Take the ferry and then what?’

‘On the other side, head away from the town and on that road you’ll find an inn. It’s called “The Shepherd’s Rest”—can you remember that?’

Lute nodded.

‘Good. Take a room and don’t take any notice of what anyone thinks. Keep your money hidden and keep Bruno stabled. He’s far too fine a horse to be tied to a post.’

‘He’ll draw attention, you mean?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Well, how do I explain him away?’

‘Tell anyone who is rude enough to enquire that you are a stablehand from the palace and that you are transferring this horse from Floris to Copley on behalf of Pilo.’

‘And that will give me protection?’ Lute asked.

‘In those parts it will,’ Pilo answered but revealed no more. ‘I want you to ask around for a man called Bitter Olof.’

Lute couldn’t believe the name. A nervous laugh fluttered into his throat. ‘Bitter Olof?’ he repeated. ‘How did he get that name?’

‘You’ll see. And don’t worry, just dropping his name around means he’ll find you before you find him. When he does find you, tell him what’s happened but not who you are unless it’s unavoidable. Tell him I need you to have his full protection and that you’re to be kept at Cave’s End.’

‘And then?’

‘I’ll find you.’

‘Do you promise?’

Pilo nodded solemnly. ‘I give you my word.’ To prove his point, he dragged a dagger from his boot and drew the blade swiftly across his palm. ‘There. Shake hands.’ Lute did so. ‘I give you a blood promise.’ Pilo pointed to Lute’s jacket. ‘Now get that off.’

‘Too royal?’ Lute asked.

‘Yes, you need to look like a stablehand. Your breeches are fine quality, as are your boots, but they’ll pass. The jacket, unfortunately, marks you as a person of rank. We need to make your shirt look dirty, too.’

Lute didn’t know what to say but Pilo filled the pause whilst he helped remove his jacket and pulled away the soft lace at his neck. ‘I haven’t mentioned it to you but I should probably tell you now that a moment ago we were spotted.’

‘What?’ Lute responded, swivelling in the saddle, his alarm spiralling again.