The Witch Awakening (Book One of the Landers Saga)

by Karen Nilsen

  "Not him," I said through clenched teeth. "Never him. I'd go to the convent first."

  "You made that clear last night." Father's tone was dry. "I hoped . . . well, never mind what I hoped. If you hate him so, I won't let him see you anymore. All right?" I nodded as he squeezed my shoulders. "Now, listen. I'll not let you go to the convent either. Sweet, how would you like to go to court?"

  I swallowed. "Court? But I thought there wasn't enough money for me to go yet, not so soon after Dagmar."

  "Shh, don't worry about that. It's just a few new frocks, really. I'll get Boltan to take you, so we won't have to hire a coach. The court treasury pays the rest, and I'll give you an allowance for the small expenses. Though if I find out you've spent it on drawing paper, I'll cut it off."

  I smiled secretly to myself. Father was so naive. For months now I'd been selling my sketches and using the money to buy more supplies, and he still had no idea. Some of the coin I had saved up made a nice little stash in the corner of my wardrobe--for what I didn't know. Sometimes I ran the silvers and coppers between my fingers and counted them not because I was mercenary exactly but because they were mine, and I had earned them. I had never been able to say that about anything before in my life except my sketches, and even they had been drawn on paper bought by others until now.

  "In fact, if the Sullays pay what they promised for our winter stores, I might be able to send both you and Dagmar to court for the spring at least, if not the summer," Father said.

  "Dagmar?" I groaned inwardly, already foreseeing early curfews, lots of sisterly advice, and no fun.

  "Dagmar's been to court before. She can watch out for you."

  "Father, I'm eighteen now . . ."

  "Barely eighteen."

  "I can take care of myself."

  "Would you rather stay home, marry Peregrine?"

  "No."

  "Well then." He stood up, his hand sliding off my shoulder. "It's settled. You and Dagmar will go to court together.”

  Chapter Two--Merius

  Two jacks, one ace, a deuce, and an eight. I arranged the cards so the jacks were next to each other. The game had been going on for over an hour, and there seemed no end in sight. Everyone had full coin pouches tonight--a rare occurrence. When Selwyn had asked me if I wanted to go to the inn for a game, I had expected it to be a short affair. We had only four players tonight, less than the usual number, and ale always made someone foolish with his coin. But tonight, all my companions held their cards close, each hand slower than the last. I sighed and glanced toward the other end of the common room, where Imogene was pouring ale for a bunch of loud, fishy sailors.

  Imogene wore lots of vagabond bangles up and down her arms, bangles that clinked together when she held a swaying tray of full mugs over her head. I had kissed her the last time I had been here. I had written a poem about those clinking bangles slithering like a snake over my neck when she twined her arms around me, a poem which I had promptly burned before Father found it. Father had forbidden me to write poetry, especially poetry about chasing barmaids. He wanted me to chase the noble courtesans at court if I had to chase something. These courtesans were the sort of women he used as his mistresses. According to him, they were less likely to have the pox than barmaids. They were also less likely to wear bangles, which was why I had ignored him. Unless this game ended sometime soon, I wouldn't be getting close to any bangles tonight, vagabond or otherwise.

  "Anyone raising?" Selwyn asked.

  I looked around at my companions. Selwyn, my kinsman, Gerard of Casian, a red-faced, blustery sort from a minor noble House, brave and loyal as a champion warhorse, and Peregrine the cheat, who met my gaze as he sipped his brandy. He would never lower himself to drink ale. I grinned with clenched teeth. He had just dealt off the bottom of the deck, but I didn’t say a word. The last time I had fought Peregrine for cheating at cards, my father had almost killed me. Peregrine was one of his merchant toadies at court, and I was supposed to be diplomatic to my father's toadies.

  I threw a silver piece on the copper pile in the middle of the table. Maybe losing all my money on this hand would get me out of the game.

  "Merius, what the hell did you do that for?" Gerard threw down his cards. "I'm out."

  Selwyn held up his glass for Imogene to fill. I winked at her, and she smiled before she moved on to the next table. "She's a ripe one," Gerard observed. "I wouldn't mind sniffing under her skirts . . ."

  "Ask Merius. He's been doing some sniffing in that direction of late." Selwyn matched my silver piece with one of his own, and Peregrine followed suit.

  "So, how does she smell?" Gerard leered.

  "'Like vagabond wine, sweet and wild,'" I quoted my favorite Sirach poem.

  "What does that mean?"

  "None of your damned affair, that's what it means. Go do your own sniffing."

  "That's the answer of a man who hasn't been doing enough sniffing to talk about," Selwyn said.

  "That's the answer of a man who just won your silver," I retorted, laying my cards down.

  "What?" Selwyn grabbed the cards. "Don't sit on your coin, Merius--I'll have it back by the next hand."

  "Blame Peregrine. He dealt." I glanced across the table. Peregrine's eyes were narrow as he examined my cards and then his own. Then he looked at me, and I smiled like the diplomat my father wanted me to be. Just because he cheated didn't mean he won. Maybe he would quit using the same marked deck every time, the arrogant blackguard.

  Selwyn shuffled the deck, dropping the eight of clubs in his ale. "Saw you on the sea road last night, Peregrine, but you galloped by so fast that I said good evening to your dust."

  "I had urgent business in Calcors."

  "I understand you had business at the House of Long Marsh as well."

  Peregrine settled back in his chair as he lit his pipe. "I wish that witch was business. If she came with a price, I could buy her and be done with it." He exhaled a long swirl of smoke.

  "Marry her honestly," Selwyn said, "and she'll buy you. Dagmar comes with half of the Long Marsh holdings as a dowry."

  I snorted. "A bag of gold makes a cold bed, cousin."

  Cards flew across the table in no particular order as Selwyn dealt. "At least I do my duty instead of mooning after barmaids."

  "Duty is the high, lonely road assigned to those who kiss my father's boots. I prefer kissing barmaids."

  "You're a fool, Merius . . ."

  The ten of diamonds flipped face-up when Selwyn tossed it to Gerard, who swore. "Give me those cards. You can't deal worth a damn."

  "Shut up and take the card, or we'll be here all night," I said. "Selwyn wants to do his duty and lose the Long Marsh dowry to us."

  "To hell with the dowry. It's the Long Marsh woman I want," Peregrine said.

  Gerard and I looked at each other. "Selwyn, with all your blather of honor and duty, I can't believe you're just going to sit here and let him talk about your betrothed that way," I said in a low voice.

  Selwyn started. "What, who's talking about Dagmar?"

  "Peregrine, you dolt!" Gerard slammed his tankard on the table.

  "What he just said? He's not talking about Dagmar. He's talking about Safire. The only thing you lack being a jackass is the ears." Selwyn chuckled.

  "Who’s Safire?" I asked.

  "Dagmar's younger sister.”

  Peregrine grinned as he picked up his cards. "The Lady Dagmar is a worthy match, but her earnest charms are not for me."

  "I can't believe you've never heard of Safire," Selwyn said. "Did you really think Dagmar was an only child? I would get all the Long Marsh holdings as a dowry then, not just half."

  "What does this Safire look like?" I asked. "Maybe I've met her and don't remember."

  "You'd remember this one." Peregrine added a silver piece to the ante. "A tiny vixen redhead."

  "With a tongue as wicked as her hair. It's no wonder you haven't met her. Avernal doesn't let her out much. Afraid she'll use that dagger tongue on th
e wrong person, I suppose." Selwyn glanced glumly at his cards. "I'm out."

  The tavern door flew open, the sudden draft sweeping away half the candle flames. Everyone looked up, even the drunken sailors, as my cousin Whitten stumbled in from the night. His sopping cloak hung limp from his narrow shoulders. Water dripped from his dark hair down his face, glinting like tears in the shadows.

  "What's happened?" Selwyn demanded, his cards fluttering to the floor.

  "Horse thieves," Whitten panted. "In our stables."

  I pushed my chair back and stood up, reaching for my cloak. "Which direction did they go?"

  "I don't know." Whitten collapsed on a bench. "They threw me in the water trough. I couldn't see."

  "In our stables? How the hell did they breach the courtyard gate?"

  "The two grooms you hired last month, the brothers . . . I saw them among the thieves."

  I told Selwyn not to hire them--they had the eyes of hungry weasels. "Where were the other grooms, the stable boys? Didn't they help you?"

  "Drunk."

  "All of them? But when Selwyn and I left two hours ago, everything was quiet."

  "I think the knaves put something in the ale. It tasted odd . . ."

  "You had some?" Selwyn's tone was sharp.

  "Just a taste. I couldn't stomach it, the bitter stuff."

  "Damn it, Whitten, never drink with the servants. Lackwit sot . . ."

  "That's not important now," I interrupted. "What we need to do is get the horses back."

  "Summon the magistrate-" Selwyn began.

  "The magistrate! Lemara!" Gerard grimaced. "He's so pickled, he can't tell the difference between a pretty dock whore and his horse most nights, and you expect him to find your horses?"

  I threw my cloak over my shoulders.

  "Where are you off to?" Selwyn asked.

  "To get the horses. We can't let those bastards sell Silver to some flea-ridden horse trader." My favorite mare, Silver had foaled Peregrine's famous gray stallion Trident as well as my horse Shadowfoot.

  "Do you think we should go after them?"

  I shrugged. "Better than staying here all night."

  "That's easy for you to say--you're losing."

  "Selwyn, you know Lemara won't find those horses. Do you remember that time someone stole a whole flock of Sullay's sheep? The thief turned around and sold the sheep to Lemara himself when he was in his cups."

  Selwyn grinned. "He searched every field this side of Calcors, looking for those damned sheep, and the whole time they were in his own fold."

  "How did he ever get to be magistrate?" Gerard asked.

  "His nephew Herrod commands the king's guard and got him the post. At least that's what Father said. So, who's with me?"

  With a clattering of benches and coin, they trailed me out of the common room. At the door, I clasped Imogene's hand and gave her a silver for the ale. One dark brow arched as she tucked the coin in her bodice. As I headed outside, I glanced through the window in time to see her take a seat on a sailor's lap. I had known better than to think that she wore her bangles and her smiles just for me, but acid still needled my insides. Clenching my sword hilt, I strode into the stable where lanterns swayed and flickered in the breeze.

  I saddled Shadowfoot; metal clanged against metal as I tightened the girth. I leapt into the saddle and spurred the horse into a restless canter. The night was so large and fresh after the stable that he galloped around the trampled mud of the inn yard a few times before I tugged him to a stop. He neighed impatiently, prancing as the others joined us.

  "We're short a horse," Selwyn remarked.

  I glanced down to see Whitten standing without a mount. "I ran here from the Hall. They stole every horse, even lame Ned."

  Peregrine whistled. "That's at least twenty horses, with the breadth of the Landers stables. Their greed evidently eclipsed their wits."

  "Whitten could ride pillion," Gerard suggested.

  Selwyn and I looked at each other. When Whitten's father had died a decade before, Whitten had become the official head of the House of Landers. The title meant little, since Whitten could barely rule himself, much less a forty thousand acre estate with hundreds of tenants who produced countless bushels of grain each harvest. While my father was at court, Selwyn and I were in charge of the House. Father would not forgive twenty lost horses, much less drunken servants. If I sent Whitten back, come morning we'd likely find him passed out with one of the scullery maids.

  "Someone needs to see to the servants," I said. "Selwyn, give Whitten your horse. Set things right at the Hall."

  Nodding, Selwyn dismounted and handed Whitten the reins. "But . . ." Whitten began. "I only have my dagger . . ."

  "Is it sharp?"

  "Well yes, but . . ."

  "Then it's good enough for tonight's work. Come on." I tightened my knees, and Shadowfoot jumped forward into the dark beyond the circle of lanterns.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The hollow pounding of hooves on the turf and an occasional clink of metal were the only sounds. Even Gerard's tongue had stilled as we approached the sea road. There shone a pale luminescence from the stars and moon far overhead, coldly silvering Shadowfoot's ears and mane.

  A sudden wind swept away the stillness. I tugged on the reins and paused as the wind passed, leaving a salty tang in the air. As soon as I smelled the salt, I heard the muffled rush of the sea, and I realized that the sound had been there a long time, in the background, but I had not noticed it.

  "Merius," Gerard whispered fiercely. "Where are we going? We've been riding for a good two hours, and my rear is sore."

  I gestured towards the sea. "The cliffs."

  "Why the cliffs?" Peregrine asked.

  "It's the only hidden way. They wouldn't dare take the horses to Calcors. It's too close to Landers Hall."

  "Why not go west, into the hills?"

  "Still too risky. Too many watching eyes. Silver's known throughout the province as a Landers horse. They won't go that way, not if they have any sense. No, I wager we'll find them on the shore under the cliffs, making their way south to the Syren docks and a smuggler's ship. As long as the tide's out, they've got a clear path that can't be seen from the sea road."

  Gerard yawned and shifted himself on his saddle. "You play cards like a cheat and think like a horse thief, Landers. You better be right."

  For a half hour or more, we plodded along the cliffs, searching for a path. Whitten almost went over the edge when his horse stepped on a loose stone. After that, we dismounted and looked on foot. Finally, Peregrine found a narrow track cut into the side of the cliff, just wide enough for a horse and rider.

  When we'd picked our way down to the shore, I silently pointed at the fresh circles of hoof prints in the wet sand, dozens of them. Gerard grunted, and Peregrine nodded, but Whitten just looked cold and miserable. I reached over and lightly punched his wet shoulder, wishing I had a flask of brandy to offer him. He fought well enough when he had a few shots warming his blood, better than Selwyn actually. Sober, he was a bundle of nerves who stabbed at shadows and thought he was bleeding to death at the slightest nick.

  "All right," I directed Shadowfoot around and started back up the path to the sea road. "Come on."

  "Wait, what are you doing?" Gerard demanded. "We found the tracks. Aren't we going to follow these bastards and get them?"

  Peregrine grinned. "Ambush, my friend. Ambush."

  "Exactly. We can't ambush them if we're following them, Gerard."

  "How are we going to ambush them?" Whitten spoke. "We can't ambush them if they're in front of us."

  "No, but they won't be in front of us for long if we take the sea road. We have four horses, a nice, dry road of packed dirt. They have over twenty horses, and they're trying to lead them through the surf in spots. Who do you think is going to travel the fastest? Come on."

  Shadowfoot began to gallop as soon as we reached the top of the cliffs, his hooves thundering. There was a full moon, and it lit eve
rything deep blue and silver. My sword jostled at my side, and I felt the hilt of it, running my fingers over the elaborate scrolls of the Landers insignia.

  After we rode hard for an hour, I veered sharply to the left, back towards the sea. There was a way down here if we could just find it. After a few minutes of trotting by the cliff edge, I spotted the twisted, ancient cedar that marked the old ones' path to the shore. Thousands of years ago, they had worshipped their gods here, chiseling a wide track in the cliff down to caves where they had offered their firstborn babies to the sea. Why the gods demanded such a sacrifice, no one knew for certain. The old ones had supposedly been a strong race, a few of the texts I read even hinting that they possessed unnatural abilities that made them impervious to disease. Perhaps the sacrifice of their firstborn was a way to curb their numbers and ward off famine. If the wind was just right, one could still hear the wails of the drowning children in the caves. Sometimes when I had come here with Selwyn, Whitten, and Gerard and explored the caves, I had heard the wails and wondered. I was my father's only child. Would he have offered me to the waves or hidden me away? I wanted to think he would have hidden me away, but Father was a stickler for protocol. I spurred Shadowfoot forward on to the sand, clutching my sword hilt so hard the Landers insignia left a scrolled, painful L on my palm.

  We paced all around the shore but saw no tracks but ours. "We passed them," Whitten said in wonderment.

  We rode back north until we came to an outcropping of rock that jutted towards the sea, leaving only a narrow strip of shore. Not only did the rock hide us from view, but they would have to go around it single file. I dismounted and tossed my reins to Peregrine. I climbed up the rock and looked over the edge. Just cliffs and sand and the endless swish-swash of waves. A tinge of gray silhouetted the horizon where dawn began its long creep across the sky. I motioned to Gerard, who had the sharpest eyes. Swearing, he joined me on the rock. "See anything?"

  "No . . . wait." He peered forward. "There's something moving way up there where the coast curves back around."