by Kate Forsyth
‘Young Landon fancies himself a poet,’ he said. ‘He’s quite harmless and Nina thinks him very Talented. Och, no’ at writing poetry. He stinks at that! But he is clear-seeing and clear-hearing, and very sensitive to atmosphere. Nina thinks he’ll make a grand witch in time. Come, Sure, come, Steady.’ He clicked his tongue and the carthorses followed him placidly like two big dogs, the caravans trundling along behind them.
‘What about the others? Are they all apprentices too?’ Niall asked, leading the other horses.
‘Aye. Cameron is one o’ the MacHamish clan and wants to be a Yeoman. He kens ye need to do your witch’s training first, so he’s submitting rather gracelessly to having to go to school for a few years. He’s auld for it, being nineteen already, but he’s been squire at Ravenscraig for four years or so, and trained as a soldier, and he has his heart set on serving the Rìgh, so the MacBrann is sponsoring him for the next few years to give him a chance.
‘Rafferty is the son o’ a clock-maker who shows some witch-talent, much to his family’s surprise, nothing like that ever cropping up in their family afore. His father is hoping a few years at the Theurgia will help him climb a few rungs o’ the social ladder. He’s a good lad, though rather quick to throw a punch. They were rubbing along grandly till we picked up Lady Fèlice, but since then we’ve had a few punch-ups.’
‘Is that the lass in the crimson?’ Niall asked.
‘Aye. She’s the daughter o’ the Earl o’ Stratheden, one o’ the MacBrann’s courtiers, and has apparently caused some havoc with the hearts o’ the young men in Ravenscraig. We picked her up there, and it’s put the cat among the pigeons, I can tell ye. Until Lady Fèlice came, Lady Edithe o’ Avebury queened over all o’ us, but now her nose is quite out o’ joint. She comes from the MacAven family, one o’ the first families in Ravenscraig and famous for their witches. Edithe thinks herself quite the sorceress and far too good for us mere jongleurs.’
‘Does she no’ ken who Nina is?’ Niall asked in surprise.
Iven shook his head, quirking his lip. ‘She doesna think to look beyond the surface o’ things, that one, and ye ken Nina would never tell her. I think Nina’s taken a dislike to her ladyship and quite enjoys watching her make a fool o’ herself. I must admit I find it rather amusing too. One minute, Lady Edithe’s trying to ingratiate herself with Lady Fèlice because o’ all her contacts at court, the next minute she’s furious at all the attention she gets.’
‘What about the lassie in the clogs?’ Lewen asked.
‘Och, aye,’ Iven said, as if in sudden remembrance. ‘Maisie. She’s the granddaughter o’ a village cunning man and a sweet wee thing. She’s never been away from home afore and is quite overwhelmed. Nina says her Talent is quite strong, though.’
Iven’s easy flow of conversation suddenly dried up, as he came to an abrupt halt just inside the stable door. The sturdy brown mare nudged his back with her nose. He did not seem to notice. He was staring at the winged mare, standing untethered in the wreck of her stall, contentedly lipping at a bucket of warm mash. At the sound and smell of the strange man, she flung up her horned head and shied away, showing the yellowish rim of her eye in sudden alarm.
‘Easy, lassie,’ Niall said in his low, warm voice. ‘No need to fear. Easy now.’
The horse shook her head, hurrumphing, ears twitching back and forth. The black wings lifted and unfurled with a flash of iridescent blue at the tips.
‘Eà’s green blood!’ Iven whispered.
‘Aye, she’s a bonny one, isn’t she?’ Niall said. ‘Nervy, though. As ye can see, she’s already kicked out the walls o’ her stall. Happen we’d best untether the horses in the yard. They can graze in the garden and ye can leave the caravans there under the tree. It’ll be cold tonight but they’ll be fine once we blanket them.’
‘What are ye doing with a winged horse?’ the jongleur exclaimed. ‘Ye canna be trying to tame it, surely?’
‘Och, no’ us,’ Niall said. ‘I do no’ think I’d dare. Nay, we have a guest staying with us, a lassie named Rhiannon. She’s the one that has dared cross her leg over the mare’s back.’
‘I do no’ think I’ve ever heard o’ a woman thigearn afore,’ Iven said in interest. ‘Is she one o’ the MacAhern clan?’
‘She’s no’ a NicAhern, nor a thigearn, nor even a woman,’ Niall said. ‘I said a lass and I meant it. She canna be much more than seventeen or eighteen.’
‘Eà’s green blood!’ Iven said again. He shook his head in wonderment, unable to take his eyes off the mare, who was still dancing about on dark feathered hooves, ears laid back. ‘We sing songs o’ the black winged horses o’ Ravenshaw. I thought it was only a story. I never thought I’d ever actually see one. Ye say this lassie has tamed it?’
‘So it seems,’ Niall said.
‘Och, there’s a tale in that, to be sure. Where is this lass?’
‘Putting Lady Edithe and Lady Fèlice’s noses out o’ joint in the sitting room would be my bet,’ Niall said rather dryly.
Iven raised an eyebrow. ‘Bonny, is she then?’
‘Aye, though no’ in the manner o’ your fine misses. She’s bonny like a falcon is, or even yon winged horse. Wild and fierce and dangerous to cross. Ye’ll see what I mean when ye meet her.’
‘I can hardly wait,’ Iven replied.
Lewen thought of Rhiannon, sitting stiff and uncomfortable in her too-tight dress with her hands clenched in her lap and her bare feet set exactly side by side. His throat was suddenly dry. He wondered if he had done the right thing suggesting she come to the Tower of Two Moons with him. What would they make of her, those pretty fashionable girls, those rough and ready young men? He could not imagine any of them being as kind or accepting as his parents.
‘Happen we’d best get the horses settled and then we can take Iven back to meet her?’ he suggested.
‘Aye, good idea, laddie. I’m sure Iven would care for a nice mug o’ foaming ale.’
‘To be sure,’ Iven grinned.
They worked swiftly and competently to unharness the horses. The two sturdy carthorses were left free to graze where they willed, but the six other hacks were put into halters with a long rein that fastened to a spike in the ground. Although Lewen was eager to get back to the house, he gave them all a good currying, especially the tired brown mare with the painful welts on her side. As he brushed away the sweat and mud, he thought he too had conceived a strong dislike of the fair-haired girl with her whip and spurs. He wished he did not have to travel with her.
At last the horses were settled and the men walked back through the gardens towards the house, Iven bringing them up to date with news of the country. The biggest tidbit of gossip he had was that a date had been set for the wedding of the young heir to the throne, Donncan, to his cousin Bronwen, daughter of Maya the Ensorcellor.
The cousins had been betrothed as young children as a condition of the peace treaty between the Rìgh, Lachlan MacCuinn, and King Nila of the Fairgean, which ended decades of bloodshed. King Nila was Maya the Ensorcellor’s half-brother, and had maintained a close interest in his niece, who had inherited the Fairgean ability to shapeshift in water, along with the smooth scaly skin, silvery eyes and finned limbs of the sea-dwelling faeries.
‘They’ve set the wedding date for Midsummer’s Eve, a most proper date,’ Iven said. ‘O’ course His Highness wants Nina to sing at the wedding, so we have to make sure we’re back in time.’
‘Aye, I suppose it is time. Prionnsa Donncan would have turned twenty-four at Hogmanay, wouldn’t he?’ Niall looked at Lewen.
Lewen nodded. ‘Aye. He would’ve sat his Third Test then. He canna join the Coven, o’ course, being heir to the throne, but they will have wanted him to finish his studies afore he and Bronwen were married.’
Iven shrugged. ‘The Banprionnsa Bronwen finished at the Theurgia last autumn, and by all accounts has been turning the court upside down with her tricks. Did ye ken it is all the fashion now for the young ladies to
smear their skin with some kind o’ silvery shimmering gel, to mimic the look o’ Bronwen’s scales? And they cut their dresses very low now, like Bronwen does, even though they have no gills to flaunt like she does. Some even go so far as to make false fins from muslin that they attach with ribbons to wrist and elbow. She has quite a clique o’ her own now, that do naught but play and sing and dance, and stir up trouble. I heard one tale that she and her ladies have parties where they all swim naked in her pool, and do tricks like performing seals for the crowd.’
‘Surely no’!’ Niall was shocked.
Iven shrugged. ‘Ye ken those ladies o’ the court, all they do is clishmaclaver. Some say she’s already with babe and she and Donncan need to be married afore the babe is born, which could be true. Others say the young prionnsa is hot for her, but she turns a cold shoulder on him, and His Highness wants to tie the knot afore she unravels all his treaties by running off with someone else. Who kens?’
Lewen listened with great interest. He knew the young heir to the throne very well, being only four years younger and seeing a great deal of him in the course of his duties as one of the Rìgh’s squires. He knew Bronwen NicCuinn too, as well as anyone could know that cool, haughty young beauty.
‘It’s all the talk o’ the countryside, though, which must relieve the pressure on the MacBrann,’ Iven continued. ‘Now he’s inherited the crown o’ Ravenshaw there’s a good deal o’ pressure on him to be marrying too and producing an heir. Ravenscraig was awash with eligible young ladies when we left. I fancy that is why Lady Fèlice is with us. I hear she tried her feminine wiles on him and was mortified when the MacBrann paid her no mind. Which is no’ surprising, all things considered.’
At this last comment Lewen frowned and looked to his father, not liking to hear gossip about the MacBrann being repeated. Although Dughall MacBrann’s lack of interest in women had been sniggered about for years, it was disconcerting hearing a friend of his father’s discuss it so openly.
Niall smiled at him. ‘Och, my lad, I ken ye think Iven as full o’ clishmaclaver as the court ladies but indeed, his tongue does no’ always run on wheels. It is his job to gather information for the Rìgh and he kens I’m still interested in court doings, although I live so far away. He can be the very soul o’ discretion if needs be.’
‘Indeed I can,’ Iven said solemnly. ‘All I’m telling ye is what ye could hear in any village inn. I ken far more than I’ve said, I promise ye.’
Lewen smiled but thought he would be sure never to confide any secrets to the fair-haired jongleur. His father must have read his expression for he put his hand on Lewen’s shoulder and said quite seriously, ‘Och, I mean it, laddie. Iven has worked in secret for the Rìgh since long afore Lachlan won back his throne. He was one o’ Dide’s men, and faced much danger in the days o’ the Ensorcellor, when rebels and witches faced death by fire if they were caught. A single careless word would’ve been enough to condemn them all.’
Iven’s face had darkened. ‘Och, they were bad days. Let us hope we never see days like them again.’
‘Eà turn her bright face upon us,’ Niall said, just as sombrely.
They came silently through the kitchen garden, all busy with their own thoughts. Wood-smoke scented the cool, fresh air. The clouds on the mountains were slowly blowing down over the valley. Ursa ambled along behind Niall, raising her snout to sniff the air. Niall could hear voices from the sitting room, and then the sound of laughter.
Suddenly the nisse Kalea shot out of the sky like a maddened hornet. She tweaked one of Ursa’s soft ears, so the old bear moaned in distress, tugged Niall’s hair, and then grabbed hold of the two ends of Iven’s long, plaited beard. She spun so fast in the air she was nothing but a blur of light. Iven cried out in pain and put up his hand to try to catch her. As suddenly as she had come, she was gone again. Iven’s forked beard was now twisted into a spiral. He picked it up in his hand and looked at it ruefully. ‘That hurt,’ he said.
‘That’s nisses for ye,’ Niall said. ‘We get plagued by them a lot. They think o’ the bairns as some kind o’ pet, especially Lewen. Notice she did no’ pull his hair?’
‘Aye, so she dinna,’ Iven said in mock resentment. ‘That hardly seems fair. Doesna she ken I’m a guest and to be treated with deference?’
‘What about me? I’m the master o’ this wee domain and she pulls my hair and tugs on my nose all day long.’
‘Aye, but she almost pulled my beard out by the roots. A man’s beard should be sacred!’
‘Would a nice cool ale make it feel better?’ Niall asked, opening the door into the kitchen. ‘Or happen a wee dram?’
‘The sun is over the midline, make it a dram,’ Iven said. ‘Then take me to see this bonny lass that dares ride a winged horse. What a shame we canna bide a wee so I could have a chance to put her story into song. It’s been a long while since we’ve had a new tale to tell.’
‘We plan to send her with ye to Lucescere,’ Niall said with a grin. ‘Ye’ll have plenty o’ time for song-writing.’
‘Will she be bringing her horse?’
‘Just try to stop her.’
Iven tossed back his dram of whisky with a deep sigh of satisfaction. ‘My beard and the Centaur’s, I can hardly wait,’ he said contentedly. ‘I can tell it’s going to be an interesting journey!’
Kingarth was only a small house and the sitting room was already uncomfortably crowded when the three men joined the others. Usually this room was reserved for Lilanthe, who did her sewing and the household accounts there, and wrote her letters. Beautifully worked tapestries of forests and gardens hung over the stone walls, and soft padded chairs covered in green velvet were drawn close about a low table. A sofa made comfortable with soft cushions and rugs was pushed against one wall, while a tall bookcase was crowded with books, a rare luxury so far from the city. On the mantelpiece was a collection of wooden animals Lewen had carved for his mother over the years. In moments of idleness he liked to sit and whittle, watching the shape that emerged from the wood as if it had been imprisoned inside.
The sofa and chairs were all occupied by the females, so Iven, Niall and Lewen went to crowd by the fire with the other males. As soon as Cameron and Rafferty saw Niall, they eagerly asked him if it was true he had once been one of Lachlan the Winged’s own guard in the years before he had won the throne. Niall was happy to oblige them with tales of some of the Blue Guards’ more romantic escapades from the days when the Ensorcellor ruled the land and Lachlan had been a young rebel, his wings concealed beneath a cloak of illusions so that all had thought him a poor hunchbacked cripple.
Lewen leant his shoulder against the wall and observed the members of the group with great interest. The young ladies were all drinking tea and listening politely to Nina as she brought Lilanthe up to date with the happenings of the royal court. Maisie was drinking in every word with rapt eyes, while Edithe was quick to express her opinion on everything from accounts of witch-taunting in Tìrsoilleir to the new tax on glass.
Meanwhile, the young poet Landon was absorbed in watching Rhiannon as she fiddled with a wooden box on the side table. Lewen grinned to himself. He had made the box at school and brought it home as a gift to his mother that Hogmanay. It was a cunningly designed puzzle box which looked as if it was merely a prettily carved cube of wood with no lid or hinge or clasp or lock that could be opened. However, it rattled when shaken, revealing something was hidden inside. Most people gave up in frustration after only a few moments, but it was possible to solve the puzzle if one looked long and hard enough. He wondered if Rhiannon would be one of the few to work it out, and by the determined expression on her face, he wagered that she would.
Meriel, Roden and Lulu the arak were busy playing spillikins on the floor, the little hairy creature showing amazing dexterity with fingers and toes and tail. Eventually she did knock over one of the sticks, however, and then the arak shrieked with rage and bounded all round the room, upsetting cups of tea and sending a pla
te of cakes flying. Hurriedly the children tidied up after her, apologising and trying to contain their giggles. When Edithe said haughtily that she would have thought the stable was the place for such a wild beast, and Lulu tipped her head upside down and made a rude face at her from between her hairy legs, Meriel and Roden lost control and fled the room, bubbling over with laughter. Lulu bounded after them, her long tail seizing one of the broken cakes and tossing it deftly into her mouth.
Edithe rolled her eyes and lifted her cup to her mouth, sipping delicately. ‘Really, that animal! As if we were all no’ in enough discomfort already. I must say, I do no’ understand why we all must travel in this way. My father would have preferred me to travel in my own carriage, with outriders and my maid to attend me.’
‘Students are no’ permitted servants at the Theurgia,’ Nina said in a tone of long suffering. ‘Apprentices must learn to manage for themselves. Ye ken the rules, Edithe.’
Edithe sniffed and turned her gaze to Rhiannon, who had lifted the puzzle box to her ear and was shaking it vigorously. Something rattled inside, and she turned it in her hands, searching for a way to open it.
‘So ye are to ride to the Tower o’ Two Moons with us, Rhiannon? What is your Talent?’
Rhiannon shrugged, not looking up from the box in her hands.
‘Ye have no Talent as yet? But ye are quite auld. Ye must have sat your first two Tests o’ Powers. What element were ye strongest in?’
‘Dinna ken.’
‘Ye do no’ ken? Ye mean ye have no’ sat your Tests?’
‘Nay.’
‘But then, surely … what makes ye think ye can attend the Theurgia if ye have no’ even undertaken the First Test o’ Powers? I ken, o’ course, that the Coven are no’ as strict as they once were about whom they allow to attend the Theurgia.’ Edithe flicked a contemptuous glance towards Maisie, who coloured unhappily, and Landon, who did not notice. ‘However, applicants must still have some form o’ cunning, at the very least. I, o’ course, was demonstrating unusually strong powers at a very young age and passed my First Test o’ Powers with flying colours.’
