The Tower of Ravens

by Kate Forsyth

  As they rode down the long elm-lined avenue, the sun struck down through the pale green blossoms flowering profusely on every bare twig and branch. The mist was drawn up like smoke, revealing lush lawns and copses of silver-barked birches. Away to the left were the orchards with their clouds of sweet-smelling blossoms in white and pink, while to the right lay the lake, lined with willow trees and flowering rushes.

  Lewen was filled with a bittersweet sadness as he gazed about him, knowing it may be a year or more before he returned to Kingarth again. He turned to have one last look at the little stone house with its steep roof and gables, and saw his parents and sister waving madly. He waved back, then resolutely turned his face away, looking to the road ahead.

  Suddenly a tiny shape came hurtling down out of the sky like a maddened hornet. Kalea caught Rhiannon’s blue tam-o’-shanter and hurled it away, then seized hold of Rhiannon’s hair in two tiny, determined hands and yanked with all her strength. Rhiannon yelped in pain and swatted at the little faery, sending her head over heels. Kalea crashed into an elm branch and hung there, whimpering. Rhiannon lifted both hands to her hair, her face white with fury. Blackthorn danced uneasily.

  A babble of surprised voices rose.

  ‘What is it?’ Rafferty demanded. ‘Did ye see how fast it came?’

  ‘I thought we were being shot at,’ Cameron exclaimed, dropping his hand from his sword.

  ‘What on earth!’ Iven cried, pulling up his grey carthorse. ‘Och, it’s the wee nisse!’

  ‘Kalea!’ Lewen said reprovingly. ‘What in Eà’s name do ye think ye are doing?’

  ‘Look at the wee thing, is she no’ adorable?’ Fèlice cried.

  Kalea showed her fangs.

  ‘Ooh, how horrid!’ Edithe cried and dragged her horse’s head around so the brown mare wheeled sideways, almost trampling Maisie’s fat pony.

  Nina laughed and brought the blue tam-o’-shanter floating up from where it lay on the grass. ‘Happen she’s jealous,’ she said, letting the tam-o’-shanter drop into Rhiannon’s lap. Rhiannon seized it and put it on again, scowling ferociously.

  ‘Kalea, ye must no’ do things like that,’ Lewen said helplessly. He held out his hand and the bright-winged faery came zooming down to cling to his finger, gibbering in distress. ‘I’m sorry, did I no’ say farewell to ye? Do no’ cry. I’ll be back soon enough.’

  High-pitched screeches shrilled from the tiny throat. Lewen winced, but stroked the nisse’s tangled mane of hair and smoothed down her indignant wings. ‘I ken, I ken. Never mind. Ye kent I had to go.’

  More screeches, and the nisse turned and shook a minuscule fist at Rhiannon. Lewen looked a little embarrassed, but did his best to soothe the enraged faery, while Rhiannon merely stared at her coldly, her mouth set hard.

  Suddenly the faery swung away from Lewen’s finger and hurtled towards Rhiannon again. As quickly as a striking snake, Rhiannon reached out and snatched her from the air. The speed and precision of her reflexes was extraordinary, making them all gasp. Imprisoned in Rhiannon’s fist, Kalea shrieked in terror. No matter how she squirmed or wriggled, or how ferociously she sank her fangs into Rhiannon’s hand, the satyricorn girl did not let go. Slowly, deliberately, holding Kalea close before her face, she began to squeeze her fingers closed. Kalea whimpered in pain.

  ‘Rhiannon, let her go!’ Lewen shouted.

  She ignored him.

  ‘Rhiannon, I mean it!’ He kicked Argent forward and the stallion wheeled in close beside the nervous winged mare so Lewen could reach out and grasp Rhiannon’s wrist. Holding her immobile, he used his other hand to prise open her fingers.

  For a moment their strength and wills battled, then Rhiannon gasped and relaxed her hold. Kalea shot out of her hand and went flying to Lewen, nestling behind his ear, peering out to gibber at Rhiannon mockingly.

  Lewen let go of her wrist.

  Rhiannon looked down at the angry red marks on her still-bruised wrist. ‘Ye strong,’ she said in approval. ‘Ye near broke my hand.’

  ‘Ye should no’ have hurt Kalea,’ Lewen said, still furious.

  ‘She hurt me.’

  ‘She should no’ have done that either.’

  Rhiannon shrugged, cradling her abused wrist in her other hand. ‘No’ my fault.’

  ‘No, happen so,’ Lewen said, his anger cooling. ‘But she’s only a wee nisse, ye should no’ have sought to kill her.’

  ‘Tell her no’ to hurt me again or me hurt her,’ Rhiannon said indifferently and bent to stroke Blackthorn’s damp neck, soothing the unsettled mare.

  ‘Very well,’ Lewen said coolly, and plucked the nisse from behind his ear. ‘Go home, Kalea,’ he said sternly. ‘And let this be a lesson to ye!’

  She made a derisive gibbering sound, then leant forward and kissed his nose. While Lewen was still recovering from his surprise and embarrassment, Kalea flew up into the air, made an extremely rude gesture towards Rhiannon, then shot off at high speed, her dragonfly wings whirring.

  For a moment Rhiannon and Lewen were frozen in mutual surprise and consternation, then both broke into laughter.

  ‘Nisses!’ Lewen said, then said awkwardly, ‘I’m sorry. She has absolutely no manners.’

  ‘Me no manners either,’ Rhiannon said cheerfully.

  She looked round at the circle of faces. Edithe and Maisie both looked shocked, Fèlice, Iven and Nina were struggling to suppress amusement, and Roden and Rafferty were both laughing out loud. Landon had pulled out a grubby little notebook and was scribbling notes with a distastefully chewed quill, his ink bottle balanced most precariously on his saddle pommel, and Cameron was regarding Rhiannon with something very nearly approaching respect.

  ‘What we wait for?’ Rhiannon demanded. ‘Ride on!’

  Fèlice laughed. ‘This journey is going to be fun,’ she cried exuberantly. ‘What will ye do next, Rhiannon?’

  Without waiting for an answer, she dug her heel into her mare’s side and moved off again down the road, Rafferty breaking into a trot to follow her.

  ‘I can hardly wait to find out,’ Iven said dryly and flicked his reins at the gelding’s broad back. The caravans both moved off again, the apprentice-witches falling into formation behind them.

  Lewen and Rhiannon followed suit, riding side by side at the very end of the cavalcade.

  ‘I’m sorry if I hurt ye,’ Lewen said remorsefully. ‘I forgot how sore your wrists still are.’

  Rhiannon gave her usual shrug, glancing at him under her lashes. ‘Hurt worse afore,’ she said dismissively and smiled at him, knowing full well she had just made him feel a whole lot worse.

  The long avenue ended at a pair of massive iron gates, bounded on each side by tall thick hedges bristling with thorns. Beyond Kingarth was nothing but forest and mountains, filled with wild creatures and faeries of all kinds, many of them dangerous. The brambly hedge ran the whole perimeter of the farm, and was patrolled regularly by Ursa the Bear to make sure there were no gaps or holes through which even a polecat or hoar-weasel could squeeze its lithe shape. The gates themselves were guarded by the son of Niall’s old gillie, who lived in a cottage just inside the gates with his wife and two young children.

  Jock MacGhillie came out to unlock the gates for the cavalcade, saluting Iven smartly and wishing them good speed. They rode out smartly, so Jock could make sure all was secure behind them, and found themselves on a narrow dirt road that wound down through dense forest along the eastern bank of the Findhorn River. The river ran fast and white along its rocky course, tumbling down in foaming cataracts wherever the hill dropped away. Looking back up the river, Rhiannon remembered how she used to sit on the ridge by the black lake, wondering where the river went and wishing she could follow it. The thought pleased her. She smiled and pressed her heels into Blackthorn’s side so the mare lengthened her stride, cantering ahead of the others. Lewen’s big grey stallion followed her at once, his heavy hooves sending up plumes of dust.

  Rhiannon looked back over her
shoulder at Lewen. ‘Ye want race?’

  ‘No flying allowed,’ Lewen warned.

  ‘What ye bet?’

  His dark brown eyes sparkled. ‘Ye’re confident!’

  ‘Me am.’

  ‘Ye think your dainty wee mare can outrun Argent?’ he scoffed.

  ‘Try us.’

  ‘All right then.’

  ‘So what ye give me when me win?’

  ‘I’ll clean your tack for ye tonight,’ he offered.

  ‘Me clean own tack.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Me want money.’

  Lewen raised his eyebrow. ‘A gambling lass? What if ye lose? Ye havena any money to give me.’

  ‘Me no lose.’

  ‘Oh-ho, we are confident. All right, ye can owe me.’

  ‘Me no need to.’

  ‘Deal or no deal?’

  ‘What ye mean?’

  ‘That’s what ye say when ye make a bet. Ye should say “deal”, and then we each spit on our hands and shake on it.’

  ‘Shake on it?’ Rhiannon frowned in puzzlement. ‘Shake? Like this?’ And she began to shake all over, as if she was quivering with cold. Blackthorn put her ears back and sidestepped.

  Lewen could not help himself. He burst out laughing. After a moment Rhiannon laughed too.

  ‘Nay! No’ like that! We shake hands. Like this.’ He drew Argent close by Blackthorn’s side and put out his hand to Rhiannon. After a moment’s hesitation Rhiannon put her hand in his, and he pumped it up and down vigorously. ‘That’s shaking on it.’

  ‘Me shake on it,’ she said, and pretended to shake all over again.

  He laughed out loud.

  ‘All right, first to the big oak down there …’ His voice died away as Blackthorn broke into a gallop. Startled, Lewen laughed and swore, and leant forward, slapping Argent’s neck with his reins. The big stallion surged forward.

  Shoulder to shoulder, the two horses galloped down the road, sending pebbles flying.

  ‘Ye cheated!’ Lewen panted. ‘Ye’re meant to start together.’

  ‘Ye just slow,’ Rhiannon teased. She crouched lower on Blackthorn’s neck and the winged horse leapt forward, passing the big oak scant seconds before Argent.

  ‘Me win, me win!’ Rhiannon chanted.

  ‘All right, all right,’ he said, fumbling in his pocket for a coin, which he flipped to her. ‘Though next time I’ll make ye call the start.’

  ‘Me still win,’ Rhiannon crowed, cheeks pink, eyes bright with excitement. She rubbed the coin with her thumb, and then very carefully stowed it away inside her coat.

  ‘No’ a chance,’ Lewen said. ‘Ye only won because I’m too much o’ a gentleman to call ye a cheat.’

  ‘Och, sure,’ she mocked.

  They dismounted and rested in the shade, letting the horses graze at will, for neither wore a bit. In a few minutes, the big grey carthorse came shambling along, pulling the blue caravan. Iven lounged on the driving seat, his feet up, the reins looped and knotted over the rail. He was playing cards with Roden and Lulu. The arak was jumping up and down, gibbering with distress at her poor hand of cards, while Roden was looking smug, a heap of pebbles before him.

  ‘I wouldna race too much if I were ye,’ Iven said to Lewen and Rhiannon with a smile. ‘We have a long way to ride and ye do no’ want to be tiring out your horses.’

  ‘Ye just jealous,’ Rhiannon said. ‘Ye wish ye racing too. That horse very slow.’ She gestured towards the enormous carthorse with his patient dark eyes and shaggy hooves the size of dinner plates.

  ‘Happen that’s true,’ Iven said with a sigh. ‘Still, dinna ye look down upon auld Steady here. He may be slow, but he gets there. Anyway, no more racing, bairns. We really do have a long way to go today. Nina is keen to leave the Broken Ring o’ Dubhslain behind us.’

  ‘All right, Iven,’ Lewen said readily. ‘For today anyway. I have to have a chance to win back my honour tomorrow. We have a bet riding on it.’

  ‘Och, well, in that case!’ Iven laughed. ‘I tell ye what, I’ll make ye a bet o’ my own. One week on the road and I bet neither o’ ye will have the heart for racing!’

  ‘What ye bet me?’ Rhiannon said at once.

  ‘A gambler in our midst. Well, Roden and I bet for pebbles, but that’s only because I couldna afford to play with him otherwise, he’s just too good.’

  Roden grinned.

  ‘Me no play for pebbles,’ Rhiannon said.

  ‘Ye are a gambling girl! All right then. If I win, ye have to cook dinner every night for a week. If I lose, I’ll … hmmm … I’ll …’

  ‘Me want money,’ Rhiannon said.

  ‘Ye want hard coin? But I’m naught but a poor jongleur! All right then. A half-crown, if ye and Lewen are still racing every day after seven days on the road.’

  ‘Deal,’ Rhiannon said. She spat on her hand and held it out. Solemnly Iven spat on his hand and then shook hers. The caravans trundled on, and they mounted their horses again and fell into place behind the others. Lewen raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.

  ‘Me need money,’ Rhiannon explained. ‘Me have none.’

  Lewen smiled and shrugged. ‘I guess ye could do with some money. We are going to Lucescere, the most expensive city in the world, after all.’

  Rhiannon nodded. ‘So me told.’

  Lewen hesitated. ‘Ye need no’ worry about money,’ he said. ‘Isabeau, the Keybearer, will make sure ye have everything ye need. My mother has written to her, as ye ken. As a scholarship student, the Coven pays for all your day-to-day needs, your robes and books and food and lodging.’

  ‘That girl say me need money. For balls … What ball?’

  ‘A ball is a place where people go to dance and talk. It’s also a round leather toy that bairns kick around. Lady Edithe would’ve meant the first, though.’

  Rhiannon screwed up her face. ‘Too many words. How ye ken them all?’

  ‘I’ve had plenty o’ time to learn,’ Lewen answered. ‘Do no’ worry, ye’ll pick them up soon enough.’

  ‘Pick words up?’ Rhiannon was more puzzled than ever.

  Lewen sighed. ‘Learn them, I mean.’

  ‘So why me need money for balls?’

  ‘Everyone gets dressed up in fancy clothes and jewels which cost a lot to buy.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ve often wondered. I wouldna worry too much, Rhiannon. I doubt whether ye’ll go to many. Most students do no’ have much to do with the court.’

  Rhiannon frowned. ‘Happen so,’ she said. ‘Still, if those cursehags are no’ to laugh at me, me need money.’

  ‘The Coven doesna like its students gambling,’ Lewen warned.

  ‘How will they ken?’ Rhiannon lifted one expressive eyebrow. ‘Unless ye mean to tell them?’

  ‘I willna tell,’ Lewen said uncomfortably. ‘No-one likes a tittle-tattle.’

  ‘Well then.’ She flashed a smile at him.

  ‘Witches are hard to trick,’ Lewen warned. ‘I’d be careful.’

  ‘How else me get money?’ Rhiannon asked. ‘How ye get?’

  ‘We royal squires are paid handsomely,’ Lewen said, with a mock attempt to emulate Edithe’s high-bred tone.

  ‘Then me be squire too.’

  Lewen shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. ‘Lassies canna be squires.’

  ‘Why no’?’

  ‘They just canna.’

  Rhiannon scowled.

  ‘I make things too,’ Lewen said hurriedly, eager to change the subject. ‘We spend an awful lot o’ time sitting around and waiting for His Highness. I hate to sit idle, so I got in the habit o’ whittling to help pass the time. I’ve always liked to make my own arrows, they seem to fly more true than those made for me by others. The other squires used to want to buy them from me, and then the palace guards did too, and now I can sell as many as I make. Even the Rìgh likes my arrows best.’ He spoke with quiet pride.

  Rhiannon eyed the quiver bristling with arrows that hung fr
om Argent’s saddle. They did indeed seem beautifully made, being unusually long and formed from some white wood, fletched with green. They made hers seem clumsy and badly made.

  ‘I make other things too. Chess sets, sometimes, or toys for the palace bairns. Boxes, or little figurines o’ animals. I like making those.’

  ‘Ye made the boxes back there? The tricky one?’

  Lewen grinned. ‘Aye, I made those. They were fun.’

  ‘Very tricky.’

  ‘There are lots o’ things students can do to help support themselves while at the Theurgia. If ye show a Skill at something, like growing things or animals, ye can get a job working in the garden or in the stables or kennels. Ye’re good with horses. When we get to Lucescere, I’ll introduce ye to the stable-master. I’m sure he’d be happy to give ye some work. Horse-whisperers are always welcome there.’

  Rhiannon smiled. ‘Me like horses, me like that.’

  ‘Ye should no’ say “me like”, ye should say “I”. “I would like that” is the proper way to say it.’

  ‘I would like that,’ she repeated after a moment, even though it was clear she did not like being corrected.

  He smiled at her. ‘Very good. Ye learn fast.’

  She nodded. ‘Me try.’

  ‘Ye mean, I try,’ Lewen corrected her again.

  She compressed her lips together, then said obediently, ‘I mean, I try.’

  Until now, the road had just been wide enough for two horses to ride comfortably side by side, but as they came down out of the forest the road widened and an eager Rafferty was able to ride up beside them and engage them in conversation. Lewen quite liked the young apprentice-witch but nonetheless he had to suppress a flash of irritation when he saw the glow of admiration in the boy’s eyes when he gazed at Rhiannon.

  ‘I say, ye can ride!’ Rafferty cried. ‘And that mare o’ yours can really go! Will ye race with me?’

  ‘What ye bet?’ Rhiannon said at once.

  Rafferty’s eyes sparkled. ‘Half a copper?’

  ‘Ye promised Iven ye would no’ race again today,’ Lewen reminded Rhiannon, feeling like a stern big brother.

  She hunched a shoulder at him and said to Rafferty, ‘Me race … I race ye tomorrow then.’