Shadowless: Book 1 of the Ilmaen Quartet

by Helen Bell

  ‘I'll bring you some clothes later. You'll have to have a jacket of mine and a pair of my old boots, I'm afraid – yours were lost or ruined in the sea,’ Vel told him. ‘I’m back to work now, I only came in for a knife.’

  ‘Till later then. Oh, Vel, did you find…’ But the young man had already gone. No matter. If they’d seen his badge, they’d have said. Kerin was growing ever more confident of their honesty and there was no mistaking the badge’s value.

  oOo

  A few hours later Vel was back, helping Kerin dress while the table was laid and, when he was ready, giving him an arm to lean on.

  Kerin took his support as far as the curtain. When Vel pulled it back to reveal Melor and Renia seated at the table with expectant faces turned towards them, pride got the better of Kerin. Letting go of Vel, he tottered like a drunk towards the table and sat down heavily in his seat. He was touched when the others cheered and gave him a round of applause for his efforts.

  ‘I barely walked five steps,’ he said dismissively.

  ‘Just days ago we thought we’d be taking you out of that room feet first. Those five steps are quite an achievement, especially when those boots are about three sizes too big for you,’ Vel assured him as he slapped him on the back. Kerin beamed across the table at them all. He’d not realized how far removed from family ties he had become, nor how much he had missed them.

  Dinner today, for a change, was rabbit. As he ate, he looked around. They were sitting in the main room of the house; parlour, kitchen, dining room and scullery combined. Small, considering all the purposes it served, but cosy. There were curtains across the entrances to two more bedrooms. All these rooms had been dug straight out of the rock, except for the front wall, which was built from sandstone blocks – presumably carved out when the cave-rooms were made. In one corner was a cooking range. On it a flat iron stood warming, and beside it some clothes hung drying. Beyond that was a wooden porch with a sturdy door that stood open to the daylight. From the sounds and the light, that door faced the sea. Everything about the place was simple but comfortable, and Kerin felt another pang at the realization. Stupid. He’d be leaving soon, no point in getting too comfortable.

  He finished his stew. Melor took his bowl from him, tidied the dishes to one side and started the tea brewing. Then he settled himself and turned to Kerin, who had expected something like this; Renia and Vel were suddenly intent as they leant forward.

  ‘Sir,’ said Melor, ‘now that you're rested and fed, perhaps you'd tell us a bit about yourself. We’ve kept your presence here from the village, as you asked, and please understand that you're welcome to both our food and your privacy, if you feel you must choose so; but we’re all a little curious. Who has the sea has brought us, and in such strange circumstances? A body, yet no wreck.’

  ‘No, no wreck.’ Jastur sprang into his mind again. ‘And no other bodies, you’re quite sure?’

  Melor put his mind at rest with a firm shake of his head. Kerin weighed up how much of the truth he dared tell them. They waited, not pressing him. At length he sighed and brushed his hair back off his forehead.

  ‘Sorry. You must forgive me, but it’s been as much for your benefit as mine that I’ve kept quiet. Once you know my story, I think you’ll understand why.

  ‘I’m going to keep back my name still, but some things I can tell you. Where I come from, for instance. I’m Ilmaenese.’ They looked at each other. ‘You know the country?’

  ‘Before I was a farmer I was a sailor,’ Melor replied, ‘so I know the north coast. And these two are orphans, but their father was Ilmaenese. We’d assumed, from your clothes, that you came from the west, not the south.’

  ‘I was sailing from the west with Jastur Hed Sarol, Ilmaen’s Crown Heir. He was in Federin, finishing his education – and avoiding the fever on the continent – but then Crown Sarol died. That was about two months ago. As his eldest son, that made Jastur Crown-Designate. To take the title in full, he had to return and name himself Crown – traditionally that’s done in the presence of the Council.’

  ‘And this makes you…?’

  ‘I’m in the service of Jastur – his bodyguard, if you will.’

  Which was no lie. He pressed on with his story.

  ‘When Sarol died, his brother Maregh sent for Jastur, and despatched a man called Lemno Tekai as escort. Neither of them ever intended Jastur to make it back to Ilmaen. I believe Maregh has usurped the Crown, and Lemno was sent to kill Jastur along with any supporters loyal to him.

  ‘We travelled by sea despite the risk of storms because Lemno had taken over a month to make the journey by land, through Mhrydain. I’ve worked out now why it took him so long: he was setting up a network of spies. That’s why I have kept my own counsel. Lemno is a very clever and very dangerous man. His father was an Ilmaenese LandMaster – the lord of a province. Lemno should have inherited that province, but it was forfeited through his father’s treason, long before I was born. Lemno holds a grudge against the Crown and his family because of it. He may have remade his fortune in the service of Maregh, but he knows he’ll never hold a province, not at least while Sarol's heirs hold the Crown.

  ‘Lemno has put Maregh up to this. He doesn’t have the guts or the imagination to mastermind a coup on his own. The whole business stinks of Lemno's scheming.

  ‘So, five – no, six – nights ago, when our ship passed near here, Lemno caught me unawares and dumped me overboard. Just to make sure of the job, he tried to brain me with a barrel. As it turned out, that barrel probably saved my life; I was able to hang on to it and must have floated ashore on a current. And that, presumably, is when you found me.’

  ‘It seems that way,’ Vel agreed, ‘although there was no sign of the barrel. It must have floated out to sea again.’

  ‘I’m just glad you found me. It could easily have been someone who would take what they could and leave me for dead – or if they were one of Lemno’s spies, make sure I was dead. Ah, thank you.’ This last was to Melor, who had brought mugs of freshly brewed tea to the table.

  ‘I’ve told you all this because while up to now you were better off not knowing, things will change. If Lemno learns that I still live, he’ll stop at nothing to kill me. He knows I won’t rest until I find out what’s happened to Jastur. I was keen to leave at first because I couldn’t be sure how isolated this place was, and if it was safe – not just for me, but for all of you too, since you’re harbouring me. When it was plain it was secure – and that I didn’t have the strength to leave anyway – I kept quiet, because the less you knew, the more peace of mind you’d have. But now I have to ask if I can stay here a while longer, just until I’m stronger. I promise it won’t be for long. I must get back to Ilmaen, and find out what’s happened to Jastur. I can’t rest easy till I know.’

  They sat in thoughtful silence, interrupted only by the sipping of hot tea. Finally Melor broke it to ask, ‘You said Jastur is the eldest son – that suggests there are others. Surely they stand in this Maregh’s way too?’

  ‘There’s a brother, but he’d make a poor Crown. Besides, if they manage to get rid of Jastur, they’ll remove any other claimants too.’

  It must sound like a madman’s story to them, but no doubts were voiced. Still, it would have made him feel better if he could prove his words. There were the clothes he had washed up in, of course, they must have noted the quality of them...

  But wait – there was his badge. Solid gold and clearly not the possession of a madman or a teller of tall tales; that would prove his story was true. His hand went to his collar – and he let out a groan, remembering he had lost it.

  ‘Damn!’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘The Golden Eagle would have been proof.’

  Renia nearly spilt her tea in her lap, and he was on his guard immediately.

  ‘The what?’ she asked faintly. She had gone astonishingly pale. He chose his words carefully and delivered them nonchalantly, trust gone in an instant.

  ‘The Lestar Eagle. It�
��s the badge of office for the LandMaster of the Province of Lestar. It was in my safekeeping. It would have proved the truth of my tale – but too late now. The sea has it.’ He spoke dismissively, but scanned their reactions carefully.

  ‘No. Your Eagle’s safe,’ said Vel. ‘I took it off you when we found you. It’s stored with our valuables.’

  ‘Well, I'm glad to hear that.’ Kerin's relief was tempered by horrid suspicion over Vel's motive for taking it; he had seemed – what, guilty? – as he spoke.

  ‘I had wondered,’ Kerin added, ‘why you didn’t question my—’

  ‘You knew.’ Renia’s accusation interrupted him – but it was aimed at Vel, who almost squirmed with guilt now.

  ‘All along you knew! It’s started, hasn’t it? And you let me look after him and never said a thing!’

  ‘We both knew, cariad. We decided not to say anything to you till we found out a bit more.’ Melor had risen and gone to stand behind Vel.

  Renia stood up herself, and shot a look at Kerin. ‘We have to tell him. He has to know.’ Then her face crumpled and she ran from the house.

  Vel was on his feet by now, but Melor sat him back down again.

  ‘No, let her go. She'll be all right. Sit, lad, sit.’ But Kerin didn’t move, husbanding the little strength he had and fearful of what he might now have to do with it.

  ‘What did she…’ he began. Melor signalled him to wait, brought a bottle of something stronger than tea out of a cupboard, and sat down opposite him at the table.

  ‘Now we owe you an explanation. If it helps you to know it, our secret will put us in your hands just as much as you are in ours.’

  Melor poured them all a drink. Vel took his glass as though it was a life preserver, knocking back a mouthful, and dropped his head into one hand. Kerin took his warily, with no plans to drink it. Why had Renia reacted as she did? What had he said to frighten her so? He thought back over his words.

  It was the mention of the Eagle. As soon as he’d mentioned it she had known who he was, had known he was a man she should be afraid of – nothing else could have provoked such a response from her. His wariness was justified; these three were in Lemno’s pay. Where did that leave him now?

  But wait. She was scared of him; the others were not, even though they knew of the Eagle. They did not know what it meant, who it was they faced, or they would have done away with him while he was in his fever and defenceless.

  So what was she scared of? What was this secret they were keeping?

  Melor threw back his drink. Kerin put his down in front of him untouched.

  ‘Sir, would you say you were open-minded?’ Melor asked. Kerin spread his palm in a so-so gesture.

  ‘Reasonably open-minded, yes.’

  ‘Do you believe in witchcraft?’

  It was just about the last question he had anticipated. He thought before he gave his answer, knowing his opinion was not the conventional one – but who knew what the right answer was in this situation?

  ‘No, I don’t. It’s just a superstition put about by those who want to justify their abuse of others, fuelled by people who don’t understand what they see. It’s a tool used by evil men, and by believing in it, fools let them triumph.’

  ‘Then how do you explain the Catastrophe?’ Melor challenged him.

  ‘The Catastrophe? That was some kind of human madness, but it wasn’t witchcraft.’

  ‘You don’t have the dreams, do you?’ Melor surmised.

  ‘What… of the cities being destroyed? No, but I don’t dispute it happened. I just maintain it wasn’t by witchcraft.’

  Melor gave a slow approving nod. Vel raised his head. They glanced briefly at each other, Kerin noticed, before Melor asked his next question.

  ‘Then what would you say, if I told you that the people of the nearby village think that Renia’s a gwrach – a witch?’

  Kerin responded with stifled laughter.

  ‘If she’s a witch, I’ll eat my boots… I’m sorry, Vel, I’ll eat your boots. What the hell is this about? Does she think me a witch hunter or some such?’

  ‘She thinks,’ Vel told him, ‘that you're a danger to my life.’

  ‘How so?’

  Vel looked at Melor.

  ‘Go on. You had the story first hand,’ Melor prompted, pouring himself another glass.

  And so Vel related Renia's history, down to her vision a few days earlier. Kerin, sceptical at first, found himself struck dumb as the latest vision unfolded.

  Into the long silence that followed his account, Vel added: ‘Mind you, we don’t see where the sun fits in – maybe it’s some clue to a place, or a date…’

  ‘No, to another person. Jastur, the Light of Ilmaen,’ Kerin replied. They looked at him. ‘It’s a title given to the Crown.’ But while everyone used the title, only the very highest in Council used the symbol of the sun, a secret code known only to them. Suspicion rose briefly in him again. Could the information have been passed on by Lemno, to help these people win his trust? But no. He recalled Jastur saying that Sarol had not thought his brother Maregh trustworthy enough to give him the code, and Lemno would not have learnt of it from anyone else in Council. There was no way these people could have known what the sun symbolized to him.

  He glanced down at his drink, thinking he was ready for it now, to find he had nearly finished it. He drained what was left.

  ‘You seem to take your sister’s prediction seriously,’ he observed, and Vel nodded.

  ‘I do. She made it that morning, just hours before we found you. I suggested we come back along the beach. She couldn't have known you’d be there.’ Vel paused and gave the grain on the tabletop an unnecessary amount of attention. ‘Besides, I’ve never known her to be wrong.’

  Vel had known all this, then hidden the Eagle from her. Little wonder Renia had looked so betrayed.

  ‘But why did you take me in, if you took these portents seriously?’ asked Kerin.

  ‘You were in need of care. I wouldn't have left a sick dog to die like that, let alone another person. Besides, you may be part of this vision, but that doesn't mean you're its cause. We couldn’t judge you until we'd heard your story. And you were so weak, Ren could've knocked you over without trying. You weren't any threat to us, not as ill as you were.’

  ‘But now I could be.’ Kerin assessed the situation coldly. ‘She’ll have no peace while I am here. None of you will. I must move on.’

  Melor raised an eyebrow at this assertion.

  ‘The door is there, sir. The nearest village, the one you have been so keen to avoid up till now, is a mile and a half away. If you wish us to have wasted our time caring for you this last week, you can try and make it there. I’d prefer it if you went back to bed again.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘You need another week to recover, sir, then you can think about it. We two have reached that conclusion, regardless of your story. Renia is the only one who needs convincing now. It’s scared her, that’s all. A little more thought and she’ll see you intend no harm to us. She was quite taken with you before today. I’m sure you can charm her again.’

  As Kerin walked outside, the light of the setting sun struck at his eyes like a dagger. It flared off the whitewashed walls of the house, and glittered fiercely on the sea that stretched out endlessly before it. As Kerin’s eyes adjusted, he saw Renia standing nearby and made his way unsteadily towards her. She offered no help; too wrapped in her own misery, he realized, to notice his fatigue. He sat down where a rocky outcrop made a convenient seat, and gestured to her to join him. She did, reluctantly, and sat staring at the ground in front of her.

  ‘Melor and Vel have explained to me.’ Her head jerked up, but still she did not meet his eyes.

  ‘Everything?’ she asked.

  ‘I think so. I’m not psychic so I can’t be… sorry. That was crass. And I’m sorry to repay your care of me in such a fashion. None of it need signify. Soon I’ll be fit enough to leave and you can all forget I ever ex
isted. This situation wasn’t of my making; please don’t resent me for it. I’ll leave, and when I do, the danger passes.’

  ‘I wish it were so simple, sir.’ She looked directly at him now; he had not thought those sad eyes could look any sadder. He tried to think of a suitable response, because having no way to ease such misery felt intolerable to him.

  ‘You find it hard to live with this talent of yours,’ he surmised.

  ‘Talent?’ The concept surprised her. ‘It’s always seemed more of a curse to me.’

  ‘But isn’t it a force for good – warning you of events to come so that you can prepare for them?’

  ‘Once I thought so. What a wonderful thing it would be, if only I could use it for good! But it uses me. It forces on me visions I can’t avoid, and can’t do anything about, because they won’t let me.’ From the jerk of her head, he took ‘they’ to mean the people of the nearby village.

  ‘I hate the way they fear it… fear me. On the other hand – would I really behave any differently if I were in their shoes? You haven’t seen what one of my fits looks like.’ That thought agitated Renia so much that she sprang up and walked away, towards the sun; he had to shield his eyes against the glare again. When she turned and realized this, she came back so that her long evening shadow fell across his face and let him see properly.

  She wasn’t looking at him, he realized, but at her own shadow. The smile on her face was wry.

  ‘A beautiful sunny evening, and still I’m reminded of it. See that? The villagers say that isn’t really my shadow; gwrachod don’t have shadows. I’ve just conjured it up.’

  He shrugged. ‘They say much the same in Ilmaen: there the word is Eivarjoa, Shadowless. It doesn’t make you one.’

  ‘Ah, but once the name’s been given you must be one, or that’s how most people think. Shall I prove it? I’ll make it go away.’ She made a gesture towards her shadow, as though casting a charm – and like a fool he looked to see if it had any result. ‘Oh, it’s still there? That must mean I’ve used up my power for today,’ she said bitterly.