Silver Ravens

by Jane Fletcher

  Like there was a choice. If she returned safely to Earth, she would never be able to live with herself, knowing she had left Tamsin beguiled and cheated. Everyone deserved the truth.

  If Gilwyn drew a map, would she be able to find the well, fill a bottle, and slip some of it into Tamsin’s tankard? However, regardless of feasibility, she did not have time. Once they returned to Caersiddi, she had to leave Annwyn immediately, or risk never being able to leave at all. So, if she could not get the water to Tamsin, she needed to get Tamsin to the well.

  Lori groaned and rubbed a hand over her face. “Right. Here’s what we’ll do. I’m going back in the yurt, getting flying gear for us both, and leaving a note for Tamsin. Then you’re taking me to this well. If you try anything silly on the way, I’m going to shoot you.” She stared directly into his eyes. “But you’re not going to do anything silly, are you? Because you’ve got the brains to know that going along with me is your best hope. There’s no point running away, because the Silver Ravens will hunt you down again. But if we can get them on your side, you just might have a chance.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to untie my hands?”

  “No.”

  “How will I stay on the horse?”

  “Grip with your knees.” She patted his cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The well stood in the middle of a sunlit forest clearing. A pair of crows had taken to the air when Lori and Gilwyn landed, shortly after dawn, but now only songbirds fluttered through the branches of oak, birch, and ash trees. The horses grazed on a swathe of grass dotted with scented wildflowers. Shy deer peeked between the leaves of hazel bushes. The air was warm and fresh, with only the lightest of breezes. In short, the spot was the prototype for enchanted glades everywhere.

  Lori sat with her back against a trunk. After a night without sleep, keeping her eyes open was a battle, but she did not trust Gilwyn anything like enough to risk giving in to tiredness, although he clearly had no similar doubts. He lay curled on his side in the dappled shade, with his bound hands under his head as a pillow.

  Another yawn made Lori’s jaw crack. Focusing with both eyes at the same time was a strain. If she did not do something, she was going to doze off. More than ever before, the absence of coffee in Annwyn was a serious failing. In an attempt to wake up, she levered herself to her feet and marched the length of the clearing and back, in time with the repeated chant of, “Latte, espresso, cappuccino, flat white.” It did not work. She was still seeing double.

  The well was surrounded by a stone wall about two feet high and covered by a little thatched roof. A wooden slat bucket balanced on the wall, attached by a rope to the winch. All it needed was for Snow White to sit under the thatch and sing to a pair of bluebirds. Lori resisted the urge to pick up the bucket to see if “Made in Fairyland” was printed on the bottom.

  She returned to where Gilwyn was lying and kicked his ankle. If she had to stay awake, he could too.

  He rolled onto his back. “What is it?”

  Lori sat down under the tree. “Talk about something.”

  “What?”

  “Anything. Your family. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “No.”

  “Aunts and uncles, other than Rianna?”

  “No.”

  “Cousins?”

  “My aunt has a daughter who she keeps locked up.”

  “In a dungeon?”

  “Not that extreme, but she’s a long way from anywhere she can cause trouble. Apart from her, I have a couple of second cousins, and a great-uncle who’s still alive.”

  “You don’t have big family get-togethers then?”

  “No.” Gilwyn pouted at her. “Are you really interested in this?”

  “No. Except it sounds like the royal line is at risk of dying out.”

  “As I said, our birth rate is falling.”

  “And humans don’t reproduce here at all.”

  “No. The only species that procreates at will are boggarts, and they spawn like flies.”

  “How closely related are fay and boggarts? Could you interbreed with them?”

  “Oh, please!”

  Lori laughed at the outrage on his face. “Come on. You have to be related somehow. You’re both vulnerable to iron, and you both work the same sorts of magic.”

  “Boggart magic!” His tone was incredulous. “I assure you, there’s no similarity between fay magic and boggart trickery.”

  “It was their trickery that helped us find out where you were.”

  “If you’d like to take your torc off, I can demonstrate the difference.”

  “No, thanks. I’ll pass.” Mention of the torc sparked new questions. “You said you killed Gaius before you realised I was wearing a torc. Why didn’t you ensnare both of us at the same time?”

  “I thought I had.”

  “You mean you only discovered you couldn’t control me when I didn’t die?”

  Gilwyn sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “You’ve no knowledge of what magic feels like. I don’t have words that will make sense to you.”

  “Try an analogy.”

  He thought for a moment. “Enthralling a human is like grasping a glass rod. You feel it more than see it, and can only be certain of the length by experiment. A human mind shielded by iron is like grasping sand. You feel it in your hand, but when you try to poke something, you realise it has no length, and when you open your hand, it’s empty.” He pursed his lips. “And that is a very poor analogy.”

  “It’ll do for now.”

  “Anything else?”

  What could they talk about? There were things she wanted to know, if only for the sake of curiosity. “You said your mother was the only one who could read the scrolls. Does that mean you can’t?”

  “Not at the moment, but if you worked it out, how difficult can it be?”

  Lori smiled at the disdain he put into the word “you.” Knock yourself out, sunshine. “But you know what the spell does, and that your blood is needed.” How much was he making up? Lori was sure some of what he said was unreliable.

  “As I told you before, my mother was too fond of talking. She shared some details with me, and unfortunately, with my aunt as well. Any more questions?”

  “Yes.” Lori closed her eyes, trying work out how to raise the subject. Had Tamsin really been Rianna’s lover? Was any truth mixed in with the false memories? What had been the true state of the relationship between them? The image of Tamsin and Rianna on the balcony came so easily to her mind’s eye.

  Lori jerked awake. She had drifted off. Her hand instinctively went to the silver dagger on her belt, but it was still there and Gilwyn had not moved.

  He smiled without any trace of good will. “Was I boring you?”

  “No. It was all quite scintillating.”

  “Is there anything else you want to know?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “While you think, how about if I take a turn at picking a question. What are you going to do when the Silver Ravens get here?”

  There was movement in the undergrowth. Lori turned her head as Tamsin stepped into the open. The others appeared in a ring around the clearing. All had their pistols drawn and pointing in her direction.

  Tamsin wore the mask of a poker player. “What a coincidence. That’s just what I was going to ask.”

  * * *

  “I thought you were smarter than to fall for his lies.”

  And I wanted to believe something similar about you. Lori bit back the words. Further inflaming the situation was unwise. She looked up at the circle of faces surrounding her. None showed any sign of being swayed. So far, Tamsin was playing from the script that had her as the naive dupe of the queen’s treacherous nephew—a dupe who had acted with a level of stupidity bordering on the insane, but primarily well intentioned. However, the more she argued her case, the more Tamsin and the Silver Ravens shift
ed towards hostility.

  Lori’s wrists were bound, but she had not been gagged, unlike Gilwyn. The rag tied across his mouth split his face in the parody of a smile that did nothing to counteract the contempt in his eyes. How much further could she push things before she was silenced in a similar fashion?

  “I’m sure he is lying, in part. But in part he’s telling the truth. I know it.”

  “I don’t doubt Gilwyn mixed in just enough truth to make his story plausible,” Tamsin said.

  “Then what do you think his plan is? Why would he make it up?”

  “I wouldn’t want to try thinking myself into his warped little head. He’s evil. Take it from me.”

  “You don’t believe it’s possible your memories have been altered?”

  “Which fay had the chance to do that? When? How? It couldn’t have been done without the queen knowing, and she’d never have allowed it.”

  And that was the awkward bit. If she accused Rianna, she would lose any hope of winning Tamsin over. However, the story of an unknown fay changing unspecified memories during some indeterminate period in the past was not convincing anyone.

  “The well over there. You agree it contains the Waters of Clarity?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the water is harmless, apart from undoing the effects of mind altering magic?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why won’t you drink it? What harm will it do?”

  “Because Queen Rianna has given us orders not to.”

  “Why?”

  “She has her reasons, and whatever they are, I’m not going to question them, and nor are you.” Tamsin hauled Lori to her feet and turned away. “We’re heading back to Caersiddi. We’ve wasted more than enough time here.”

  A last throw of the dice. What did she have to lose? Someone would report that she had spoken to Gilwyn and believed what he said. Any chance she would be allowed to return to Earth had surely gone. Rianna could, of course, simply scrub her memories, and neutralise any issues that way. Except, this would require pardoning the attempt at turning the Silver Ravens, and a forgiving nature was not something Lori associated with the queen. Lori’s only hope lay, ironically, with Rianna herself, who had shown every sign of being unimaginative, lazy, and careless. Would she have gone to the trouble of creating six different stories?

  Lori raised her voice. “Think about it. The only effect of the Waters of Clarity is to undo any tinkering that’s gone on inside your head. If Queen Rianna has forbidden you to drink from the well, the only possible reason is that she’s changed your memories and doesn’t want you to know the truth.”

  Tamsin spun round. “You dare accuse her!” She shouted into Lori’s face from scant inches away. “That’s what the bastard told you, isn’t it? Of course he did. And you believed the filthy lies.” For a moment, Lori thought she was about to get her face slapped. Instead, Tamsin stepped back, pointing a finger at her. “Not another word.” She marched away, towards the horses.

  Lori waited until Tamsin was just far enough away to be unable to stop her speaking. “I know what you think she means to you. The pair of you, making love for the very last time, the night before her coronation, but—”

  Tamsin was on her in an instant. She grabbed the front of Lori shirt, half hoisting her into the air. “How dare you! I spoke to you, trusted you, and—” She choked off, speechless with rage.

  However, Lori already knew her guess was right. All the confirmation she needed lay in the bewilderment on the faces around her. And she was not the only one to spot their reactions. Despite the gag in his mouth, Gilwyn’s shoulders were shaking with laughter.

  Hippo was first to speak. “No. No, you can’t have. Because…”

  “The night before the coronation.” Finn shook his head. “Rianna was with me.”

  Tamsin released her grip on Lori and faced the others. “No, she wasn’t.”

  “You all have the same memory, and I’ll bet you’ve all felt compelled not to share it with anyone.” Lori spoke with renewed confidence. “She’s manipulated you.”

  “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tamsin’s anger had lost its edge, but she was a long way from being calm and rational.

  “Neither do you. You can’t rely on your memory. Go on, try something else. Pick another memory that makes you adore her. Like her overthrowing Bronwen to save you from execution. See who else is convinced exactly the same thing happened to them.”

  “It’s him.” Widget pointed at Gilwyn. “He’s done something. Played some trick.” But his voice lacked certainty.

  Lori met Tamsin’s eyes. “You’ll have to drink from the well, otherwise you’ll be forever wondering.”

  “I won’t break Her Majesty’s trust in me.”

  “What trust? She doesn’t trust you to follow her without tampering with your head.”

  “What are we going to do, Captain?” Hippo asked.

  Tamsin stared into the distance, breathing deeply, like a diver about to submerge. Her expression struggled through pain, despair, denial, and dread. “I’m going to drink the Waters of Clarity. And if anything goes wrong, you’re going to take as many pieces out of the prisoner as you can, and still have a live body to hand over to the queen.”

  The group gathered around the well. Tamsin dropped the bucket in, letting the winch spin freely. Far more rope was let out than Lori had expected, but finally a splash rippled up from below. The Waters of Clarity ran deep underground, a phrase sounding decidedly metaphorical.

  Would this work? Rianna had shared the same memories among all the Silver Ravens—it required less work and less imagination—but had she started with the genuine experiences of one person? After all, that would require the least imagination of all. If she had, was it purely Lori’s own feelings that saw Tamsin as the most likely source? The one who had genuinely been the queen’s favourite? What arguments could be used to get a second Silver Raven to drink if Tamsin declared her memories were unchanged?

  The handle rattled as Tamsin winched it up. Slowly, the bucket appeared from the depths. From her experiences in Annwyn, Lori had expected the water to appear either boringly normal, or multicoloured and sparkly. To her surprise, it turned out to look and smell like syrupy orange cough medicine.

  A ladle dangled by a silver chain from the roof support. Tamsin took a scoop and raised it to her lips. Her eyes met Lori’s. The denial was gone. The despair and dread had softened to resignation, but the pain had grown.

  She knows. In the time it had taken to draw the water, Tamsin had made her calculations, and reached a conclusion. Her gaze shifted to the sky, with the look of a condemned prisoner, saying farewell to the world she had known. She took a sip.

  Immediately, Tamsin’s face contorted in shock. She dropped the ladle and fell to her knees. Gasps of pain alternated with almost inaudible whimpers. Her hands clasped over her head, pulling herself down into a tight ball.

  “What have you done?” Widget shouted at Gilwyn, shoving him so hard he stumbled and fell. Shorty drew back his leg, about to lay his boot into Gilwyn’s side.

  “Hold on.” BH put a hand on Shorty’s arm. “Give it a moment.”

  Tamsin was still gasping, fighting a battle to suck enough air into her lungs, but her hands had dropped and were now braced on the ground. She raised her head. Although her eyes were closed, her face was strangely calm. She swallowed, visibly clenching her jaw.

  “Captain? Are you all right?” Finn asked.

  Tamsin nodded slowly. Her breathing eased. Finally, she opened her eyes. “I’ll kill her.” Her voice was soft and serious. “I swear, on my mother’s grave, I’ll rip her fucking heart out.”

  * * *

  After the initial outpouring of shock and rage, the mood in the glade changed to an eerie calm. Finn and BH vanished into the forest, marching off in opposite directions. Hippo lay on his back in the middle of the grass, staring at the sky, and Widget was intent on a handheld game console from his bag
o’ tricks, blind to everything else. Even Shorty, who was demolishing trees to burn off his fury, did so with a face set like stone.

  Lori’s hands were untied, although Gilwyn was still bound and gagged. Even without being able to speak, his enjoyment of the Silver Ravens’ distress was too blatant to mistake. Nobody was yet ready to hear what he might have to say, but they must talk with him before too much longer. If nothing else, he knew how to find Caersiddi’s secret passages.

  In fact, as Lori was well aware, they had to do something soon. The sort of memories that had just been dumped on the Silver Ravens must be ripping them apart. They all needed and deserved trauma counselling, but quite apart from the absence of trained psychotherapists in Annwyn, there was not time. The day was progressing, well past midmorning, and they had to get back to Caersiddi to face Rianna. It was a bitch of a thing to ask, but Lori had to get them moving.

  Tamsin had walked a short way into the woods and sat behind a hawthorn bush, partially shielded from view. She had not moved in an hour, and showed no reaction when Lori approached. Her eyes were glazed—the eyes of a woman staring into hell.

  Lori knelt by her side. “How are you doing?”

  At first it seemed Tamsin would not respond, but then her face twisted into a tight grimace. “Badly.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “You were happy, before I talked you into drinking from the well.”

  “I know. That’s the worst part. She…” Tamsin took several deep breaths. “I’m going to kill her.”

  “That’s understandable. I can only imagine what you’ve been through.”

  “No, you can’t.” A flare of anger cut through Tamsin’s voice.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” What did she mean? “I know you’re in pain. I’m sorry for the part I’ve played in it.”

  “No. It’s not you. Not you at all.” Tamsin reached over and grasped Lori’s hand, squeezing it. “I was sixteen when I stumbled into Annwyn. Guards at the portal brought me to Caersiddi. At first, there was talk of me joining the Iron Ravens, but Rianna saw me and claimed me as her thrall. And that’s when it all turned to shit.” Tamsin’s expression started to crumble. Suddenly, tears rolled down her face and her shoulders shook in a sob.