How nice to be so wanted, Rain thought sourly.
‘But the business—there’s so much to do,’ protested Shadow.
‘Come now, you know I’ll handle that. I need you to forge these new trading links for us; you’re far better than me at all that.’ Smoothly, Timber flattered Shadow into doing his will. Used to controlling his weaker brother, he had obviously decided he could spare himself the bother of a journey and marriage while still enjoying the benefits of the prestige and wealth. ‘In the vanguard of a new market. Exploration and riches. I would love to go myself, of course, but I have to think what is best for our trading relationships.’
‘Me? You think I can do this?’
‘Undoubtedly. You’re the best man for the job.’
Shadow smoothed his tunic over his rounded stomach and coughed self-importantly. ‘Cousin, would you do me the very great honour of entering into a betrothal with me?’
He was the opposite of everything she had dreamed of in a man. She looked to her father for confirmation.
‘Your offer is most kind, Shadow,’ replied Torrent. ‘I will have the papers drawn up immediately. But you must promise that you will treat this as a temporary measure. My daughter must be free to marry as she wishes when she is ready.’
‘Of course, that is very clear. I do this merely to protect my cousin’s reputation.’ Shadow kissed Rain’s fingertips. ‘And that of our forge.’
A month later, Rain found herself aboard a Magharnan ship bound eastwards across the vast Portic Ocean. The journey to the coast had been long but uneventful: the roads in Kandar among the best in the empire. The ambassador’s vessel amazed her from the first: many masts, snowy white sails, built for speed. Yet she also felt a little unsafe; the ship did not reassure her with a great weight of ballast and sturdy hull as was common among the Holtish trading vessels. When she mentioned this to Shadow, he had given her one of his patronizing looks and begun a lecture on shipbuilding, praising the elegant lines of the square-rigged vessel with its raked masts. He was swiftly becoming a convert to all things Magharnan. She didn’t ask him anything again, just prayed that they would not run into any foul weather.
At first she was excited by the experience of being on board a ship at sea, studying the routines of the sailors, the changing light on the blue-grey ocean, the dolphins that leapt from the water alongside the ship and the occasional sighting of a whale. After a time, loneliness set in. She had no one to talk to. The Magharnans kept themselves to themselves, following strict procedures as to whom they could address. The captain acted as intermediary but he only spoke to Shadow, expecting him to relay everything to his betrothed. He began teaching Shadow the basics of the Magharnan language, explaining that, due to the insular nature of his country, very few of his compatriots knew any Common. Rain listened in on the lessons, practising in private; not that she had much occasion to use her new skill. She decided that the Magharnan capital, Rolvint, must be a very quiet city with no everyday conversation between different types of people being allowed. She thought of her own home, how she freely talked to a noble if he or she came to the shop, and how she chatted to the beggars that haunted certain corners. She felt homesick and out of her depth.
One morning a week into the voyage, she was taking a turn on the deck when she almost ran into the ambassador’s wife. Tall, her long black hair as straight as a ruler, her skin bronzed, the jettana made a strange, unyielding contrast to her cobweb robes of green and gold, like a giant redwood poking out of a leafy forest canopy. This stately personage was promenading, sheltered from the elements by a canopy held by four servants, though Rain secretly doubted that anything could topple her.
Rain curtseyed. ‘My lady,’ she said in Magharnan.
The tedium of a day on board ship must have got to the jettana too because for the first time on the voyage she stopped to acknowledge the existence of the foreigner. She turned to her senior servant, one whom the others referred to as a ‘drummer’, who acted as her connection to those of lower classes.
‘Paulis, enquire of the young woman how she fares this day,’ she said in Common.
Rain bit her tongue as she waited patiently for the serious-faced Paulis to relay the question.
‘I am very well, thank her ladyship for asking.’
‘Tell her I admire her husband’s work greatly. His designs for the temple in Tigral were so beautiful; I, who have seen many marvels, was astonished by his accomplishments. Our Master will be delighted.’
‘My betrothed will be pleased to hear of her ladyship’s high opinion of his craft.’
The jettana gave her a perplexed look. ‘She is not yet married to the glassmaker?’
‘Our betrothal is very recent,’ Rain explained. ‘I am but fifteen and my father wishes me to wait before I get married. I have accompanied my cousin on this voyage as his helper, to care for him as he works and see if we will suit.’
‘How strange. But the Holtish customs are not ours.’ Comforted by this thought, the ambassadress began walking again. ‘Tell the girl that I hope she will choose to complete the ceremony in Rolvint. It would be better thus. And I would give the couple a gift if they did so. One of my song birds perhaps.’
The woman’s servants fluttered their slashed sleeves and muttered excitedly amongst themselves, noting the great favour shown the craftsman and his wife-to-be.
‘Please convey my thanks to the lady,’ Rain replied, ‘but our plan is to return to our families in Tigral before we marry.’
The ambassadress paraded away. ‘The girl will have a long wait. There is much work to be done.’
I can wait for ever, thought Rain, watching the little entourage move off.
As the ship neared Magharna, Rain spent more time on deck watching the coastline passing to starboard, listening to the sailors chatting to each other in their native language. She could pick out a few sentences now, but still she was barred from understanding much that happened around her, which added to her frustration.
First signs that they were close to their destination were the outlying islands, arriving like heralds running before royalty. The isles were rugged outcrops of volcanic rock, home to colonies of seabirds and seals but no people as far as she could see. Her artist’s eye savoured the luminous quality of light which turned the sea pearl blue in the shallows when sun broke through the grey covering of cloud. Occasionally, she glimpsed fishing boats trawling the ocean for their catch, but it was nothing like the busy seaways that marked the approach to Tigral. She wondered with whom the locals traded. Shadow had informed her that Magharna was a spacious peninsula at the northern extremity of a vast and little known continent. He had been pressing the captain for details but as far as he could gather Magharna was so big that it was self-sufficient in most goods and minerals. It was only in recent years that the Master had decided that there was benefit in looking beyond his borders, hence the warm reception given to the first envoys from Holt and the exchange of ambassadors.
As Rain followed the progress of a pod of porpoises, Shadow arrived at her shoulder.
‘My sweet, I’ve been informed by the captain that we should make port this evening.’
Rain shuddered at the endearment. ‘I will go below and pack our things.’
He detained her, taking her arm. ‘Don’t hurry away, cousin. You’ve been avoiding me all voyage, I think.’
Rain attempted a smile, sure it was a pitiable failure. ‘Not really, Shadow. I didn’t want to get in the way.’
‘No, you’ve not been in my way.’ He patted her like a good dog. ‘In fact, I’ve been impressed. You’ve carried out your duties, been quiet and demure, just as a guild wife should be. I’m very pleased with you.’
Rain felt like spitting. ‘Thank you, cousin.’
‘We might want to give this marriage thing serious consideration,’ he continued, more pleased with himself than her, she guessed. ‘You obviously have talent but will always need a man to shield you.’ He tucked his thumbs i
n his belt, feet planted apart. ‘I am prepared to be that man.’
She resisted rolling her eyes. ‘You are too kind. But I’d prefer to leave things as you agreed with my father.’
‘Well, well, give it some thought. And Rain?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t forget to fold my shirts so they do not get rumpled in my trunk.’
And he thought she would marry him! ‘Of course, cousin.’
Rain escaped as quickly as possible. She should have known: her attempt to put some distance between herself and Shadow, keeping a low profile, had only endeared her to him. He wanted a servant for a wife: someone who made him comfortable, saw to his needs. She would have done better being difficult. Still, there would be time to put him right when they reached Rolvint.
The Magharnan ship passed the lighthouse at the entrance to the harbour of Port Bremis as the sun began to set, the last shafts striking the snow-covered peaks of the mountains behind the town so they seemed on fire. A brazier burned at the top of the lighthouse, dark shadows flitting in front as the keepers stoked the blaze. The white-painted houses on the quayside glowed in the twilight, intensifying the shadows that sprawled between them. Most of the dwellings were boxlike, practical buildings, suited to a maritime location, but the customs hall was a different matter entirely: a soaring edifice made up of layers of arched balconies, places for the ship owners to keep watch for their cargoes.
Rain waited beside Shadow as the ambassador and his wife disembarked first, greeted by an effusive harbour master who led them to the best accommodation the port had to offer.
‘We stay here the night,’ Shadow informed Rain. ‘Our escort to the capital leaves at dawn. It will take us all day to reach Rolvint.’
Rain nodded, hugging her bundle to her chest. Besides her own clothes, it also contained the robe discarded by the ambassadress in the workshop. Rain had brought it with her, not liking to waste such a beautiful garment.
Their turn to leave finally came.
‘This way, my dear,’ called Shadow cheerfully as the captain beckoned them to the gangway. The two men shook hands, but as on the voyage, the seaman did not acknowledge Rain’s presence. Being small, she was used to people overlooking her, but to be completely invisible was a new and unwelcome experience.
‘Thank you for looking after us on the journey,’ she said in a loud voice as she passed the captain, using the Magharnan she had picked up from his lessons.
Shadow tutted. ‘Don’t embarrass the gentleman, Rain. You know he can’t speak to you. In his country, he is far superior to an unwed girl with no profession, so he must address you first, and then only in emergencies or with permission of a jettan.’ He turned to the captain. ‘Forgive my betrothed’s presumption: she finds it hard to adapt to your customs.’ He then hurried Rain down the plank. ‘I hope you will remember your place, cousin. I have been happy with your behaviour so far; I trust that will not change.’
If he speaks to me again like that I’m going to strangle him. Rain struggled for control over her temper. She couldn’t survive six months of living in a bubble with only Shadow to talk to. There had to be some exceptions to the Magharnan law, someone who would befriend her, surely?
Perhaps there wasn’t. Perhaps this was going to be her life until they returned to Tigral.
She glared at Shadow as he strode ahead of her, his annoying sleek hair, his smug expression. If he’d been even the least bit pleasant, she might have managed, but every interaction with him only served to deepen her dislike.
Remember why you’re here, she told herself. You’re here to help Papa. This will be good for his business if you can make a success of it. Soon you’ll be so busy creating your designs. You won’t have time for Shadow to annoy you, or to feel lonely.
At least, that was her hope.
Horses were provided for the journey over the mountain pass. Rain eyed hers with trepidation. As a city dweller, she had only ever sat on the most placid hacks on her few excursions from Tigral; the mount chosen for her looked to have far more spirit.
‘Splendid,’ beamed Shadow, patting his piebald gelding. ‘See in what esteem they hold me, my dear, providing a horse of such breeding.’
Rain bit her tongue, knowing better than to remind him that it was her work they valued.
‘I’m not sure I can handle mine,’ Rain admitted. She was not afraid to own up to her shortcomings.
Shadow frowned. ‘I hope you won’t disgrace me by snubbing the mare they have selected. I am sure the drummer would not err and will have judged your needs better than you can. He, after all, knows the road we are going to take.’
‘But he doesn’t know that I’m a novice when it comes to riding,’ Rain pointed out.
‘Stop grumbling and get on,’ snapped Shadow, showing that his approbation of her behaviour was of very short duration once challenged in any way.
Was there a more annoying man in the world? wondered Rain as she swung up into her saddle. There can’t be.
The horse frisked and side-stepped.
‘Easy now, lady,’ Rain said, patting her neck. ‘You and I have a long way to go and we’d best be friends.’
Beside her, Shadow put a foot in his stirrup then hopped several times before he was able to get his leg up and over the horse’s flank, earning the snickers of the mounted escort.
What a hero! thought Rain. If I really was engaged, I’d be embarrassed to be seen in public with him.
The cavalcade set off. The ambassador and his wife rode at the front, surrounded by their personal guard. Rain found herself to the rear of the column with only two men behind her. Her horse would go no faster and she had no skill to bend it to her wishes. At least in this position she was not forced to hear Shadow as he extolled his virtues to anyone who would listen. It appeared that the guard considered him of a class worthy of their recognition and they deigned to talk to him. They must have regretted their condescension after ten miles of Shadow going on about the fascinating business deals he had put together with the people of the Blue Crescent Islands, far to the west. Even the most polite would have switched their attention away when he began explaining the intricacies of letters of credit and deep discounts.
As the morning passed, Rain had plenty of time to take in the landscape around her. The road was surprisingly bad. She wondered if the ambassador had purposely taken them by a back route to avoid notice because this couldn’t possibly be the main route from a major port to the capital. King Ramil would exile any commissioner who let the surface of a Holtish road reach this level of disintegration. When attention could be spared from the potholes, she bathed her gaze in the soft greens of the hillside, the random hummocks of stone, the woods losing their autumn livery to black-branched nakedness. The trail wound up into the mountains, following a ridge giving spectacular views down into the valleys either side. In one narrow gully, she spotted the mouth of a mine shaft sunk into the rock, slag heaps slipping down the slope, but it looked abandoned.
Late in the afternoon, as the shadows stretched across the road, the cavalcade funnelled into a narrow gorge, a castle-like crag rising to the right, steep slope to the left. White sheep moved between the fallen rocks, grazing on the meagre vegetation.
Living off such a land would be a harsh existence with bitter winters and only a few crops and sheep between the inhabitants and starvation, but there was also something elemental about seeing the bones of the land peeping through the thin skin of turf. She was getting new ideas for her designs already, a window that combined the moss green of the land with the grey of the rock. Perhaps if she got the colours right, she would be able to capture the pearly blue light she had seen on the ocean?
And there—perfect! A falcon corkscrewed in the sky above. That would go in the window too: the creature in harmony with the wild land it ruled from on high.
A scream rent the air. Confused, Rain looked to the bird, wondering if it was a falcon cry she had heard.
‘Take cover!’
shouted the rear guard.
Cover? Cover from what? And where?
Before she could react, her mare whinnied in pain and bolted across the open ground. Thrown backwards, Rain reached wildly behind her to grip on to the saddle and her hand brushed the feathers of an arrow planted in the horse’s flank. With a toss of her head, the mare ripped the reins from her rider’s fingers. Rain felt herself slide. She grabbed her saddlebag to stop herself falling but to no avail. The strap holding the leather sack snapped and Rain went flying. With a painful thump, she ended up on her back on the grass, still holding the bag, but the horse was fast disappearing back the way they had come.
Overhead the falcon circled once then sped off eastwards. Rain knew she had to move but she was stunned by the fall, her hip throbbing where she had made contact with a stone. Lucky it hadn’t been her head.
The clash of weapons brought the urgency of her situation back to her. Rolling on to her knees, she crawled to the shelter of a large rock and peeped out at what was happening on the road. The guard around the ambassador, thinned by the volley of arrows, fought at close-quarters with scores of hooded men. Dressed in the green of the hillside, more and more rose up from the grass, overwhelming the escort with their numbers. The bandits concentrated their attack on liberating the baggage train from the column, killing anyone who got in their way. She picked up a stone, meaning to bombard their attackers, but she was too far away. Bile rising in her throat, Rain watched helplessly as Shadow was cut down as he tried to protect his belongings from a pair of thieves. Once he tumbled from his horse, they took his mount, loading it with loot, not sparing a glance for their victim. Next to fall was the ambassador, an arrow in his throat. His wife’s screams reverberated in the gully before she too went down, a shaft sticking from her back.
‘Oh no, oh no,’ moaned Rain, rocking herself in horror. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this crude outburst of violence in broad daylight on a foreign road. She covered her head with her hands, fist still clutching the stone, praying she would just disappear, leave this scene of blood and go home.
Glass Swallow Page 5
