The Wildkin’s Curse (20 page)

‘Mumps!' Zed suddenly crowed. ‘She cursed you with mumps!'

Two spots of colour rose in Zakary's thin, white-powdered cheeks. ‘Adora! That cow! She wrote to you?'

‘No, no, just a lucky guess,' Zed said, still grinning broadly. Merry and Liliana both had to fight to keep their mouths from twitching.

‘Well, it
sounds
ludicrous, but I promise you it's no laughing matter. I thought I would die! And of course, it did mean some of the young bloods made sport of me at the palace. Indeed, it was almost a relief to retire to the country for a while. Just till a new scandal popped up and everyone forgot how that witch had humiliated me!'

‘We are so looking forward to getting to the palace,' Merry said, not liking the malicious look that had crept over Zakary's face. ‘We have heard it is truly amazing.'

‘A palace built all of glass,' Zakary said dreamily. ‘I must admit, I can hardly wait to return. No insult intended, my dears, but country hicks do not amuse me at all. I could only wish this leaky old boat would sail along a little faster. I am sure I shall die of boredom.'

‘I wish the ship would sail faster too,' Liliana said, looking up at the drooping sails. She whistled softly, and at once the breeze freshened and the sails billowed out. The ship rose and plunged through the green waves, and Liliana lifted her face to the wind, smiling.

T
HAT NIGHT
, M
ERRY LAY AND LISTENED TO THE ROPES
creaking and the sails flapping, wondering about Liliana's Gift. Clearly she had the ability to call the wind. The ship was now sailing so fast all the sails threatened to tear from their rigging.

It was difficult to sleep, for although Zed had been given a cabin below, both Merry and Liliana had to sleep on deck with the other soldiers and servants. The wooden boards were hard beneath his body, Tom-Tit-Tot snored, and the wild plunging and rocking of the ship made him feel ill. Every half-hour, the ship's boy struck the bell to mark away the sailor's watch. The first half-hour the bell was struck only once, but by midnight it was struck eight times, with the sequence being repeated for the next four hour watch. It seemed to Merry that he had just drifted back into sleep each time the ship's bell was struck again, jerking him awake. By four o'clock, as he lay listening to the eight strikes on the bell, he felt sick and angry and exhausted.

He got up and staggered to the bucket the sailors used as their chamber-pot, the deck pitching wildly underfoot. The lantern swung as regularly as a metronome, casting swinging shadows everywhere and occasionally illuminating a wild and angry sea. Spray lashed his face, tasting of salt.

On his way back, Merry saw Aubin the Fair, lying on his back, snoring, his sword tucked down beside him like a child's doll. To Merry's sleep-bemused eyes, it looked as if an immense black spider was crouched on Aubin's lip. He squinted and rubbed his eyes, and saw, with a sudden spurt of amusement, that the old man had wrapped his moustache in some kind of snood for the night.

Merry spent the rest of the night wrapped in his cloak, watching the white spume of the waves that rose and crashed all around the ship, Tom-Tit-Tot asleep in his lap. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and cold squalls of rain tormented him, while all the time the sails billowed overhead, ropes creaking with the strain.

Gradually the sky lightened, and Merry stood stiffly, tipping Tom-Tit-Tot out of his lap. He went to the rail to look out. The sky and the sea were the colour of mother-of-pearl. White foam crested each wave, and clouds were heaped high on the horizon. To the east was a high rock pinnacle rising from the grey-green waves. White birds swooped and soared all about it, and he could hear the distant sound of their calls.

Wanderer's Rock,
Merry thought.
Oh, how I wish we could see one
. . .

He stood watching until the albatrosses' roosting place had almost disappeared behind them, then sighed and went to wake Zed and Liliana.
She will be disappointed,
he thought unhappily.

He heard a high, strange, eerie call, and glanced up. Behind the ship flew a great-winged white bird, silent and motionless, hanging in the air as if suspended from an invisible wire.

‘An albatross,' Merry breathed. He watched it for several long moments, then raced to wake Zed and Liliana. She was exultant, hanging over the rail, her hands stretched out to it.

‘You can't reach it,' Zed said, standing barefoot in breeches and shirt, his fair curls blowing away from his face. ‘It's too far away. I wonder how we can get that feather?'

‘If we threw some fish down on the deck?' Merry suggested.

‘It's worth a try,' Zed said. ‘Go and grab some from the galley.'

But when Merry came back with a bucketful of fish heads and fish guts, Zakary and Priscilla and Count Zygmunt were all awake and watching the albatross too, along with the constable and half-a-dozen soldiers. Merry did not dare try to entice the bird down, in case someone wondered what he was doing. So he threw the bucketload overboard and watched the bird fold its wings and dive. Zed raised an eyebrow, and Merry muttered, ‘Too many people. I'll try again tonight.'

‘Look at the length of those feathers,' Zakary said. ‘Wouldn't they make a simply divine fan?'

Liliana scowled at him.

By noon, the wind was so strong it seemed as if the ship would be torn to pieces. Waves rose high above the stern and crashed down upon the deck, and still the albatross soared above the ship, its wings motionless.

Many of the hearthkin servants looked at it askance, striking one finger against the other in the age-old sign of protection. Aubin the Fair was one of those who seemed most troubled. He yelled at it, waving his sword, trying to scare it away, but the bird was impervious, riding the winds like a winged canoe, its dark eye fixed and remote.

‘A storm's blowing up,' Count Zygmunt said, leaning on his stick and looking at the sky. ‘A bad one, by the looks of it.'

‘I knew that bird was an evil omen,' Aubin said, wrapping his precious sword in an oilskin and tucking it under his coat. ‘Liah protect us!'

By midafternoon, the wind was howling and foam flew from the tops of the waves, crashing over the side of the boat and cascading down the decks. Rain slanted down from angry black clouds, drenching them all.

By evening, it was all hands on deck, struggling to keep the ship from being overwhelmed by the shrieking wind and crashing waves. All was confusion, the captain issuing order after order as they worked to keep the boat from capsizing. Count Zygmunt took a frightened Priscilla below deck again, and Zakary followed, tottering ludicrously from one side of the deck to another in his high heels as the ship bucked and swayed.

One towering wave knocked Merry off his feet, almost washing him overboard. Liliana seized him and held him steady, and he said irritably, ‘I think you might have overdone it, Lili. Do you think you could rein in the wind a little?'

She stared at him in open-mouthed surprise. ‘You . . . you know?'

‘I'm not blind,' he snapped.

Still she stared at him, then very quietly she said, ‘No, I guess not. I should have realised.'

‘So can you keep it under control? I really don't want to be shipwrecked.'

‘I do want to get there quickly.' She looked out at the wild sea with joy and exultation on her face, and Merry realised she had no fear of the storm at all.

‘Better to get there alive than not at all,' he replied, wringing out the hem of his cloak, and she gave him a quick flash of a smile.

‘The thing is, I don't really know how to make the wind go away,' she confessed. ‘I've only whistled
up
the wind.'

‘Well, whistle the wind
down
,' Merry suggested, staggering as the ship lurched violently. Liliana grinned, and tentatively whistled a tune of descending notes. At first nothing happened, and she whistled the tune again, louder and more forcefully, and then again for the third time.

The wind suddenly and unexpectedly died away. Liliana looked at Merry in triumph.

All the sailors stopped their frantic work and heaved a sigh of relief. Zed combed back his wet hair and stretched, regarding his raw palms wryly. Count Zygmunt, Zakary and Priscilla came up from their cabins, exclaiming at the sudden silence.

A curious gloom hung over the ocean, the sky between the water and the clouds pale and radiant. Long rays of sun struck the albatross, illuminating it as it soared high above the ship, even while rain slanted down dark and straight against the turbulent sea on either side.

‘It's not natural,' Aubin said. ‘It's a faery thing, sent to curse us and drag us down.'

‘Then by all means rid us of it,' Zakary said.

‘No,' Liliana cried. ‘It's not doing any harm! Leave it alone.'

Aubin looked at her sideways, and then, very deliberately, struck one finger along the other. Liliana gazed back at him steadily, though Merry had to stop himself from leaping at the old man's throat.

Suddenly Liliana screamed and pointed. ‘No! Stop!'

Merry turned in time to see the young starkin soldier, Wilhelm, firing arrow after arrow at the albatross. Most went astray, blown away by the wind, but one pierced the bird's white breast and down the albatross plummeted, to land broken on the ship's deck.

Merry, Zed and Liliana ran, dodging through the coils of ropes and reaching the bird seconds before Wilhelm. Merry crouched over the bird, arms stretched wide. ‘To kill an albatross is to be cursed,' he said.

Wilhelm scowled. ‘Hearthkin nonsense.'

‘Are you so sure? Go down to the galley and ask old Jacob to tell you the story of what happened to the last man to kill an albatross on board this ship,' Liliana said furiously.

Wilhelm made a move towards the bird, as if to seize it by the neck. Merry shoved him away with one arm. ‘Who told you to kill the albatross?'

Wilhelm's eyes shifted sideways. Merry saw he was being observed by a crowd that had gathered quickly. Aubin the Fair stood scowling at the front, his hand on his sword hilt, sailors and soldiers clustering behind him. Zakary observed from the doorway, his eyebrows raised in exaggerated surprise.

‘Tell me who told you to do it, and I'll make sure you aren't punished too harshly,' Zed said.

‘No-one told me to . . . though Lord Zakary said he'd like a fan made of its feathers, and I thought he'd probably pay well for them,' Wilhelm said hurriedly. ‘And Aubin said it was bad luck. Besides, it looked like good eating. I'm sick to death of salt pork.'

‘I just hope you haven't killed it,' Merry said, and turned his attention to the bird. Its size was startling close up. It was as big as a swan or a goose, but its narrow, black-tipped wings were far longer. The wings were open and straining to catch the wind again, but the bird did not have the strength to fly, for the arrow protruded from its breast close under the wing socket. Merry whipped off his cloak and carefully wrapped the bird, tucking the head with its long hooked beak under a fold of the cloak. He then held the bird close and, with the point of his dagger, carefully worked the arrow free. It came out with a gush of dark blood, and he tossed it aside, staunching the flow with the hem of his cloak. ‘I need to bind it somehow. Help me tear my shirt.'

Liliana ignored him, pressing both hands against the wound, sobbing with distress. Zed pulled out his sharp dagger and used it to tear a broad strip from Merry's shirt.

‘Lili,' Merry said in a low voice. ‘I need to bind the wound.'

She nodded and lifted away her bloodstained hands, wiping her face on her sleeve. Merry stared in amazement. The deep, ragged wound was gone. All that was left was a small cut, weeping a little blood.

He met Liliana's eyes. The shock and fear on her face was clear. She was as astonished as he was.

‘How?'

‘I don't know,' she whispered. ‘I just didn't want it to die.'

Zed leant forward, saying in surprise, ‘Not so bad after all. The arrow can't have gone in very deep. Shall we see if it can fly?'

Most of the crowd had by now dispersed. Only Aubin stood by, watching still, his craggy white eyebrows bent down over his hooked nose. His eyes lingered on Liliana. Merry's heart sank, and he wondered how much the constable had seen. Tom-Tit-Tot watched too, his eyes slitted hungrily as if he, too, was sick of salt pork.

They all stood back and the bird launched itself into the wind once more. It was astonishing to see how it took off, without once flapping its wings. In moments it was wheeling far above the boat again, white and taut against the dark rain.

‘Look, it's fine, it's flying again,' Liliana cried, craning her neck to see. ‘Oh, look, isn't it beautiful?'

‘And I've got the albatross feather,' Merry said in a low voice, briefly opening his cloak to show one long white feather, tipped with black, held hidden against his body. ‘That's three we have now.'

She rewarded him with a radiant smile.