Read Shadowfell Page 30


  The others were looking at me now, as if they expected me to say something – to ask how this had been done, or to express the shock and disgust a loyal subject of Keldec would feel required to show after witnessing such an open demonstration of canny work.

  ‘That’s a useful talent,’ I said quietly. ‘I had thought perhaps I was to be put to the test with a cold bath. In fact, any kind of bath is a luxury for me, as you can probably see. Since I didn’t earn my place by fighting, I’ll go last.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said Milla with a grin. ‘Get on with it, girls, supper will be ready before you are at this rate.’ She glanced at me, sizing me up. ‘Eva and I will fetch you some clothing, that’s if we can find anything that won’t swamp you. Slip of a thing, aren’t you? What have you been living on, twigs and leaves?’

  ‘Thank you,’ I murmured as the two of them went out, taking their buckets with them.

  The preternatural chill that had gripped the chamber when Sula worked her charm soon dissipated, allowing the fire’s heat to warm us again. Since I was to be last, I need not finish undressing yet. While the others bathed, I would lie down for a little. I stretched out, my head on the pillow. Somewhere, a long way away, I could hear the other women talking, accompanied by the splash of water and the clank of the bathtub as one got out and the next took her place. My mind drifted, floating away to another realm, a place without blood and fear and hard choices. I slept.

  Despatch: To Owen Swift-Sword, Stag Troop Leader (to be passed from hand to hand)

  Summerfort or district of Rush Valley

  Time of the first snow

  The king is aware that your current mission is of some delicacy and requires extended periods of absence from formal duties. You will understand, in your turn, that this approach is open to misinterpretation both amongst the local populace and amongst our retainers at Summerfort.

  The king is concerned by some inconsistencies between the information that has reached us through our observers and the content of certain recent despatches in your hand. He believes this can only be resolved by your personal attendance at court.

  King Keldec anticipates your return to Summerfort before snow closes Three Hags Pass. You will then ride on to Winterfort in company with Boar Troop. On your arrival at court, you will provide a full account of your activities since the Cull began in the west. Your king is a patient man. Do not stretch that patience too thin.

  (signed by King’s scribe) On behalf of Keldec, King of Alban

  Owen, come home, curse you! I need you here.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The north wind harried him forward, whistling in his ears. Too late. Too late. There was no forgiveness, of course; a man who did the things he did could not expect that. But if only she had said something, if only she had let him know with a word, a gesture, a look, that she understood, then he could have left without this heavy stone in his chest, this burden that grew harder to bear with every passing season. If only he could have stayed a little longer, given her another day, two days. If only he could have seen the colour come back to her wan cheeks, and the haunted look leave her as she realised that finally, at Shadowfell, she could be safe. They would not meet again until spring, and only then if Keldec gave him leave to return to the north. By then . . . by then, who knew how many more ill deeds he would have done, how many more orders he would have forced himself to obey, all for a cause that sometimes seemed as remote as the stars in the night sky? He shivered, casting his glance from side to side, eyeing the shadows under the rocks, the dark places where trees huddled close, the many boltholes where an enemy might be concealed, ready to pick him off with an arrow. Neryn, he thought. Her name was a charm to hold back the dark. Neryn, I’m sorry.

  I woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in the dark. Flint. Gone. Gone without a word. But no, I was here in my bed at Shadowfell, with sleeping women all around me, and it had only been a dream. A vivid dream, conjured by my own confusion and the tale he had told me as we climbed the hill. Sorry? There was nothing to be sorry for.

  The fire was down to ashes and the chamber was bitterly cold. Someone had piled blankets on me; under their warmth I had slept soundly, until the dream shocked me awake. I had missed both bath and supper. But no, my hair was damp and smelled of herbs, and I felt wonderfully clean, as if I had been scrubbed from head to toe. I was wearing a capacious nightrobe whose sleeves came down over my hands and whose folds were tangled around my legs under the blankets. The others must have bathed and dressed me when I was asleep.

  Somewhere beyond the doorway of this chamber I could hear voices. Was it morning? The shutters were closed fast, but lamplight from out in the hallway illuminated the room dimly, showing me the forms of the other women: Sula, curled up neat as a cat under her covers; Andra, sprawled on her back; Dervla, visible only as a tuft of fair hair and a mound of blankets. Tali’s pallet was empty. So perhaps it was almost day. I should seek out Fingal and get the makings of the poultice I had promised. And I must talk to Flint.

  A set of clothing lay over a stool beside my bed: woollen leggings, a shift, a plain blue gown, a warm shawl. There was even a comb, though one of the women must have done a thorough job on my filthy, tangled hair last night, for it was not only clean but fastened into a neat braid down my back. I must indeed have been weary.

  Evidently they had not managed to feed me any supper. My belly felt hollow and my mouth dry. I scrambled into the clothes, which were only a little too big, slipped my feet into my shoes and ventured out into the hallway.

  I followed the voices. A look in the first doorway showed me two men in states of undress and several others sleeping. I averted my eyes and hurried on past. I turned a corner, thinking the place was a little like a rabbit warren, and came to a sudden halt. A set of stone steps spiralled sharply downward, apparently into a bottomless well. A chill draught eddied up from the depths, and I stepped back hurriedly, remembering Odd’s Hole.

  ‘Careful,’ someone said right behind me, making me start in fright. It was Fingal, fully dressed and carrying a covered bucket. ‘It doesn’t pay to walk about backwards here, there are too many twists and turns. Looking for breakfast? It’s this way.’

  ‘How is Garven?’ I made myself ask.

  ‘Still alive.’ With a glance at me, he added, ‘No point in feeling guilty about what happened. It’s war. People get hurt. What you did saved lives. Remember that.’

  He led me to a chamber with a broad hearth on which a fire burned. As in the bedchamber, the windows were shuttered. The place housed a long table, benches, shelves holding various platters, bowls and utensils. It all looked surprisingly ordinary. There was Milla with her sleeves rolled up, stirring something in a big iron pot which, it seemed, had just come off the flames, for the contents were steaming. A savoury smell filled the place. Eva was setting out bowls and spoons. Two men sat at the table, talking in low voices. Neither of them was Flint.

  ‘Ah, you’re up,’ Milla said, giving me a smile. ‘And looking a great deal better, I must say. Now sit down and let me feed you. Nobody expected you to fall asleep quite so suddenly or quite so soundly. No, you don’t,’ she added as I opened my mouth to protest that there were other things I must do first. ‘Sit, eat. Don’t say a word until it’s all gone.’

  Hungry as I was, I could not finish the helping she gave me. The food was wonderful, a thick broth with real meat in it, but so rich I knew I would be sick if I ate it all. As I sat there, the table filled up with men, all of them looking somewhat grave, though Milla got a few smiles as she ladled out the food. I remembered that some would have kept vigil over the dead last night, and that today they would be laying their comrades to rest.

  Fingal did not sit down with us, but handed Milla his bucket and went off carrying a pile of clean, folded cloths. He looked too busy to be asked about the poultice, or about anything. All of a sudden I felt very much alone.

  ‘One more mouthful, Neryn,’ Milla said, watching me. ‘Good. That’
s enough; I see you won’t get through all of it. Little and often, that’s what you need. Build up your strength slowly. If you need the privy, it’s down there.’ She pointed through yet another doorway. ‘Good idea to knock before you go in. Men greatly outnumber women here.’

  I cleared my throat, feeling awkward. ‘Do you know where I might find Flint?’

  She shook her head. ‘Can’t tell you. He and Regan were in early for breakfast. If you find one, maybe you’ll find the other.’

  ‘Is there anywhere I shouldn’t go? I don’t know how this place is laid out or what rules there may be . . .’

  Milla smiled. ‘You won’t go anywhere you’re not allowed, because there’ll be someone to stop you. If you want my advice, the best place for you is back in bed. Take things one step at a time.’ After a moment, she added, ‘But I see you won’t do that. Go down that passageway there, turn right, then right again before you reach the men’s sleeping quarters. Our dead have been laid out in the practice area. You might find your man there.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I felt a flush rise to my cheeks; ridiculous. Everyone seemed to be leaping to the same conclusion about Flint and me.

  Last night’s dream clung close around me as I made my way through the hallways. It had been like another person’s dream; clear proof, I might once have believed, that I was an Enthraller’s victim. I had walked in Flint’s shoes. I had thought his tender thoughts. I had felt his hurt and his loneliness as if they were my own.

  Now, in the clear wakefulness of morning, I felt the profound truth of that dream, and knew that it had proved quite the opposite. He had not lied to me. He had never wished me ill. Always, he had been my protector and guardian, my friend and companion. He understood me. He even understood why I found it so hard to believe in him. I had fallen victim to the malady that beset all of Alban, turning neighbour against neighbour and friend against friend. After the massacre at Corbie’s Wood, I had been unable to trust anyone. In the years that followed, the years of flight and hardship, I had lost my clear-sightedness, the inner sense that allowed a person to know right from wrong. Flint’s honest eyes, his gentle, capable hands, his kindness and his courage were not parts of an evil plan to make me believe in him, they were real. If I had trusted my instincts I would have known this long ago. What had brought him walking through my dreams was no fell charm, but something quite different.

  And now I must find him and tell him. I must give him the words he needed so badly to keep him warm through the long winter to come. It was a small enough gift after all he had done.

  The passageway opened to an expanse of hard-packed earth surrounded by a high stone wall. Half the area was roofed, half open to the sky. It was bitterly cold. The six dead men lay in the covered part, each on a blanket. The sun was not yet up, but lanterns illuminated their still forms. Their faces were washed clean; their hair had been combed; cloaks wrapped their bodies, concealing the terrible damage of that hard fight. Beyond the roofed area, the lantern light caught, here and there, a softly falling snowflake.

  Two silent guardians kept vigil over their comrades. Regan’s arms were folded, his eyes distant, his handsome features grim. Tali leaned on a spear. Her gaze was on Regan. While he guarded the dead, I thought, her job was to guard him. There was a look on her face that made me wonder if I had been wrong about her. Perhaps there was more to this warrior girl than hard edge and hostility.

  I halted, reluctant to intrude on them. The dead men had fought their last battle alongside Regan and Tali. They had likely been good friends, for the community at Shadowfell was small. That dining area would accommodate forty people at most. Not a great army. At least, not in numbers.

  I cleared my throat. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt you,’ I said. ‘I was looking for Flint. Milla said he might be here.’

  Regan’s shrewd blue eyes and Tali’s fierce black ones turned toward me in unison. There was a moment’s silence. Then Tali said, ‘Flint’s gone.’

  I felt my heart skip a beat. Gone? He couldn’t be gone. But my mind showed me the dream, and Flint heading back along the valley toward the Three Hags without saying a word to me. ‘It’s not even light yet,’ I found myself protesting. ‘He wouldn’t leave without telling me.’

  ‘He said not to wake you.’ Tali’s tone was flat and final.

  ‘But why? Why so soon? He came all the way up here to talk to Regan, what difference would it have made to wait just a little longer?’

  ‘Some information was found on one of the dead.’ Regan spoke evenly, as if practised in calming the agitated. ‘Flint believed it best that he head straight back to Summerfort. He’s been gone some time now.’

  No. Wrong. This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t go, I hadn’t said what I must say, I hadn’t spoken the words he needed to hear. ‘I can catch up with him, I’ll run all the way,’ I babbled, trying to remember how to get out through the branching passages. ‘I must speak to him, I won’t hold him up, I’ll just –’

  ‘He’ll be far down the mountain by now.’ There was no sympathy in Tali’s voice; this was a plain statement of fact. ‘Well out of sight. He moves fast when he’s on his own. You won’t catch him.’

  ‘I will. I must.’ I turned tail and fled before either of them could speak again. I ran this way, that way, blundering down wrong turnings, almost bowling an unsuspecting man over. I found the chamber where I had slept last night, slept all too long and soundly. I ran past the doorway and down the passage toward the outside.

  There were guards at the entry, of course. They stepped out and blocked my headlong flight before I could reach the open air.

  ‘Let me through, please!’ With every passing moment, with every breath I took, Flint was moving further away. Heading out into the cold, cruel world that was Keldec’s Alban; walking straight back to his perilous, lonely life as a spy at the heart of the king’s court. Facing choices fit to break the spirit of the strongest man. Without a single kind word, I had let him go. ‘I must catch up with Flint, I must talk to him!’

  The guards looked me up and down. ‘On a day like this, with no cloak?’ one of them asked, not unkindly.

  ‘Flint’s been gone a good while,’ said the other. ‘You’ve no hope of catching him now.’ Neither of them moved. Both were big, solid men.

  ‘Please,’ I begged, beyond caring what anyone thought of me. ‘Please let me try. It’s important, or I wouldn’t ask.’

  They looked at each other. ‘No going in or out without Regan’s say-so,’ one of them said. ‘And certainly not on your own, dressed for indoors. That would be foolish.’

  ‘Here.’ A voice spoke behind me, and I felt a thick cloak drop around my shoulders. The voice was Tali’s, crisp and authoritative. ‘It’s all right, Donnan, I’ll go with her.’ She stepped past me, giving me a sidelong look. ‘Fasten that cloak and put the hood up; it’s cold out there.’

  She still had her spear; it had been joined by an axe on her back and a knife in her belt. She looked sufficiently menacing to scare off a horde of enemies.

  ‘Thank you,’ I murmured as we made our way out.

  ‘He’ll be too far ahead, I told you.’ Tali set a fast pace; I scurried to keep up. ‘There’d be no point in lying about a thing like that. But there’s a certain point on the hillside where you might catch a glimpse of him. If anyone can spot him, I can.’ A pause, then she added, ‘I have sharp eyes. Sharp enough to cause me trouble in certain quarters, if it’s noticed.’

  So she, too, had a canny gift. If I stayed here, I would probably find that Shadowfell housed a number of unusually talented men and women. Sula with her ability to draw heat into water; Tali, not only a fearsome warrior but possessed of unusual eyesight. And Flint, a mind-mender. ‘I must talk to him, Tali,’ I said as we crossed the Folds. This morning, under the falling snow, the place seemed no more than the featureless fell on which we’d emerged the day before. No traps, no tricks, no sudden sharp descents. An easy passage. Had my urgency communicated itself to the very
earth beneath our feet? No human woman had so much power, surely.

  ‘It’s not going to happen, Neryn,’ Tali said bluntly, not looking back at me. ‘It’s too late. And maybe that’s just as well.’

  ‘What do you mean, it’s just as well? He needs to hear this, it’s important –’

  She stopped walking and turned abruptly, and I almost crashed into her. ‘There’s something you should understand,’ she said. There was a new look in her dark eyes now, not quite compassion, but the very slightest softening of their combative glint.

  ‘We must keep walking! Don’t just stand there!’

  ‘You listen first, then we walk on.’ She folded her arms. ‘This is a war. A long, hard war. When you’re fighting a war, there’s no place for softness. There’s no time for personal feelings. When you do the work we do, you can’t afford to develop attachments. That kind of thing must wait until the war is won. A wife, a husband, a sweetheart, a child, each of those is a chink in a warrior’s armour. Each is a weapon in the enemy’s hands, a key to extracting vital information. A man like Flint will sacrifice his life before he gives up secrets. He might not be so ready to sacrifice yours.’

  Great gods. How long before this war was won, half a lifetime? ‘Tali, please walk on,’ I said. ‘I understand. I’m not about to make some kind of declaration to Flint, I just need to . . .’ I need to put my arms around him and tell him that it will be all right. I want to kiss him on the cheek, and hold him for a little, and share some of my warmth. I want to say thank you. I need to see that terrible sadness leave his eyes.

  She walked on and I followed. ‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘I am nothing like a sweetheart to Flint. We are friends, that’s all. Comrades of the journey. Now that I am safely delivered here, he can forget me.’

  Tali turned her head to give me a penetrating look. ‘You didn’t hear him last night, telling Regan the story of your journey all the way from Darkwater,’ she said. ‘You didn’t see the look in his eyes. And you can’t see the expression on your own face right now. Come on then, let’s make this quick.’