She stepped in front of him, hands on hips, a half-smile tugging the dimple in one cheek. “Been in the river, haven’t you?”
Aedan nodded.
“A sad day for everyone downstream,” she said, giving his ear a tweak as he darted past. She followed him, still talking. “Well at least you won’t be able to leave my ingredients dirtier than you find them. Now don’t just stand there looking at what has to be done. Hop to it before I give you something to hop about!”
By late afternoon, labourers armed with rusty swords and frail spears returned from the nearby fields. In the manor house, belongings and weapons cluttered the floor in every room. Fireplaces were set to work against the air that had turned cold. Salted pork, preserved figs, and bowls of nuts were brought out from the larder to ease the waiting while a thick mutton-and-vegetable stew began to weave heady aromas through the house.
Dorothy’s cooking was legendary. It had once been said that she could turn soil to cake. William, her husband, had remarked that he could achieve the reverse, earning himself a sharp smack with the rolling pin.
The men had gathered in the main hall and were now discussing shifts of three groups that would be rotated through the night. Aedan, eager to know how the defences would be arranged, was listening intently to the scraps of talk that carried through to the kitchen where he was still imprisoned. He heard the outer door open and William’s voice, usually so bold, was deferential as he explained the new idea to whoever had entered. Aedan guessed that it had to be Lieutenant Quin.
“I appreciate that you have been so proactive” – it was definitely Quin – “while I have been scouting the surrounds. But from what I see, the manor house is strong and well situated. Such precautions as you suggest would be excessive. Remember that these are slavers who rely on speed and stealth, not force of numbers, so the gathering of this many people would, by itself, ensure safety. When weathering a storm with all sails down, the greatest enemy is panic. We can all relax, trust me. Situations like these are my daily occupation.”
From the responses, it was clear that everyone approved. It eased the tension considerably. Soon the house began to fill with talk and laughter as bellies were filled with an ample supper.
Dorothy found out about the morning’s business at the river and punished the two miscreants by sending them back to the kitchen to clean the dishes. Aedan was hopeless. He started by washing and handing the crockery to Kalry to dry, but what she received was a stream of wet, dirty plates.
“Aedan! You wash dishes like you’re worried about getting infected by them.”
“Washing dishes is disgusting.” Aedan was trailing the cloth over a plate, clearly trying to keep his fingers dry.
“You play with slugs and dung beetles, use horse droppings for target practice, and spit in your hand.”
“So do you.”
“I don’t spit in my hand.”
“Washing dishes is still disgusting,” Aedan grumbled. “All those things are clean dirt. This job is just revolting. And anyway, you hate it just as much as me. I’ve heard Dorothy moaning at you and calling you back to clean properly lots of times.”
“Well at least I do my washing quickly, even if it isn’t perfect. Here, let me wash. You can dry.”
“Fine.”
The new arrangement worked far better and it wasn’t long before they were finished, leaving a pile of almost clean, completely wet dishes on the counter. Aedan draped the cloth over the top to reduce the chance of someone noticing and calling him back to dry them properly. If Kalry had noticed, she was saying nothing. She had never cared much for these mundane chores. Storybooks, sketchpads and fireside conversations had far too strong a grip on her affections and drew her away more than Dorothy thought acceptable. But the old lady was not here now and Kalry wasted no time heading for the door.
Aedan lingered, hovering at the gap between the heavy shutters that looked out towards the forest. He willed his eyes to travel into the foggy darkness gathering behind the boles of elm, sycamore, oak and hornbeam.
Nymliss was a forbidding forest even in daylight, a dim world of ancient things and terrible secrets preserved only in folklore. At least that was what the folklore said. But the stories were not without effect. Few dared enter the forest, and those that did were mostly shunned, the superstitious folk marking them as tainted by the feared darkness within. Aedan had never bothered himself with such ideas, and as the son of a forester, had been quite at home tracking, exploring, hunting, and wandering freely under the leafy roofs.
What he had found in there had not entirely convinced him that the folklore was wind and smoke. There was something about the forest that demanded his respect, though what it was he could never decide. And ever since that peculiar storm, he had felt as if there was something whispery about Nymliss, almost awake, not in a haunting way but as if it were more alive than before.
Now, however, what he imagined in the deep shadows had a much clearer shape and intent.
“What is it?” Kalry asked.
“None of this is making sense. Something is wrong.”
“Wrong with what?”
“The way everyone is acting. It seems like a party. Look at the forest, Kalry. You could hide an army there, fifty yards from this house, and nobody would know. The lieutenant worked so hard to convince us that the slavers are real. He made sure we went to all the hassle of staying here for the night, but now he seems more worried about the hassle of too many sentries than about slavers. He doesn’t realise that with us all here at the edge of the forest we could be in even more danger. I know how easy it is to hide behind the trees.”
Kalry smiled. “You always look at things differently, like you’re climbing onto the roof to get a better angle while everyone else looks from the ground. Let’s get William in here. You should tell him what you just told me.” She waved her arms from the doorway until she caught the manager’s eye and beckoned him with a smile full of honest affection. A moment later, William walked in. Aedan had never grown used to how tall and impressive the man was up close. Most in his position would have retired a dozen years earlier complaining of exhaustion, but even into his seventies William’s strength was formidable and he seemed to have little interest in setting any of it aside. A smile drew the wrinkles of many good years into their best arrangement.
“Yes, you young miscreants? What mischief are you brewing now?”
Kalry told him that Aedan had something he needed to hear. The man turned a patient look towards Aedan who unloaded his worries.
William smiled when the explaining was done. “Ah, the imagination of youth. In some ways I envy you, Aedan. Leave this matter with me. I promise you I will keep my eyes wide open, but I don’t think you need to be worried. I know you have a way of understanding military matters, but remember that I’ve actually served in the field – and this lieutenant, he impresses me. The labourers I sent into town earlier saw him on the road this morning, said he rode like a tiger was after him. A less responsible man might have spared himself and his horse. There is no question that he has our best interests at heart and I believe he has made the right decision under the circumstances – nobody is going to attack a sturdy building like this when it’s full of armed men.”
Aedan scrunched his mouth in thought. William had a point, and William was no stranger to battle.
“Set your mind at rest, Aedan. We are safe here. If your wild thoughts persist, all I ask is that you don’t spread them. It is very important that everyone stays calm. We don’t need the madness of fear in these closed quarters. I’ve seen what that can do.” He put a finger to his lips, looked at the children, and held their eyes until he was sure they understood him. Then he ruffled their heads with grandfatherly gentleness and left.
Aedan wasn’t quite sure what he felt. At least part of it was relief. But there was something in his mind that wasn’t quite settled, like dry leaves shifting with the careful movements of a little unseen creature.
He and Kalry left the kitchen and slipped into a crush of bodies that filled the central hall. The rich teak and red-oak furniture had been moved against polished stone walls. Fine paintings, a dozen pairs of antlers and as many bearskins hung all the way up to the high vaulted ceiling. Kalry had always thought the room too big. “It’s so un-cosy you may as well be outdoors,” she had once told Aedan. Everyone else considered it a magnificent hall, the pride of one of the midland’s finest homes.
Because they were unable to see over the crowd, they did not notice Emroy until it was too late. As they lurched out into the clear, there was no chance of pretending not to recognise him and ducking the other way.
“Stink!” Aedan grumbled loudly enough for Kalry to hear.
Emroy had cornered Thomas in what was clearly an unpleasant conversation. Both boys looked up as the two arrivals stumbled out from the press of bodies.
“And here he is,” Emroy called. “Ha! Aedan, you really have a way of rubbing people’s noses in it, don’t you? I would simply have named Thomas a coward, but you had to go and demonstrate it.”
The boy was three years older than Aedan and much bigger. He stood a good foot taller and looked down at a steep angle. But apparently this was not intimidation enough and he stepped so close that he was almost looking directly down through the half-dozen wiry hairs that had recently sprung up on his chin.
“Are you planning to kiss me?” Aedan asked.
“No.” Emroy wrinkled a pimply nose.
“Then why are you standing so close?” Aedan’s tone was perfect innocence. Emroy bristled and stepped back while Kalry hid her grin with a hand.
“Who told you Thomas was a coward?” Aedan asked.
“I don’t need ten-year-old children to tell me what’s obvious. I can read people, Aedan. I can tell that you are a fool.”
“Well, you can’t tell that I’m almost thirteen, and a moment ago it looked like you couldn’t tell I was a boy, so I’m not too worried.”
Emroy’s spotty cheeks flushed and he raised the head of a fine ivory cane in dramatic warning. Nobody paid it much attention because he wearied everyone so by constantly drawing their eyes to this mark of rank.
“What makes you think I demonstrated that he’s a coward?” Aedan asked.
“The bridge, fool. Or have you forgotten? He couldn’t make the jump. You had to shove him. Everyone’s talking about it.” He ended with a flourish of his cane and settled down to stroking his chin hairs and smiling a condescending smile.
“How many times have you made that jump?”
Emroy looked aside as if distracted by something on the other end of the room. “Hundreds,” he mumbled.
“Has anyone ever seen you do it?”
“Of course.”
“Who?”
“What does that have to do with it? I wasn’t looking for spectators.”
“You’re a stinking liar and you know it,” Aedan said, shaking his head.
“How dare you accuse me!”
“You just accused Thomas of being a coward and you called me a fool. That makes us even. But remember that Thomas got up on the wall on his own. That is the worst part, and the most difficult. We all know that you never got that far. He’s not the coward. You are. And you’re embarrassed that he has more nerve than you.”
“You’re lucky we’re in Dresbourn’s house, else I’d teach you all a good lesson,” Emroy growled. He began counting them off, pointing the head of the cane at each of them in turn. When he included Kalry, Aedan slapped it aside and stepped in front of her. Something in his eyes had changed. Even Emroy draw back a fraction, though he recovered well, obviously remembering that he was a good deal bigger.
“Emroy, please don’t be like this,” Kalry pleaded.
Aedan’s way of dealing with these confrontations she so hated was quite different. Where she would try to douse the flames, Aedan would catch alight and fight fire with a hotter fire.
“I know the lesson you mean,” he said, glaring at Emroy. “The bigger you are, the more rubbish you’re allowed to talk, and if anyone says you are wrong, you’ll prove that you’re actually right by hitting them. That’s what rubbish-talkers mean by proof.”
Emroy’s jaw clamped and he moved towards Aedan, but he couldn’t demonstrate his “proof” here, and he had already been accused once of preparing for a kiss, so he turned and stamped away, shoving an inconsiderate path through the crowd.
When he was gone, Aedan wondered aloud if the slavers would take requests. Kalry smacked him over his scruffy head and Thomas pulled a wry grin.
“We intended to make you a pearlnut pie,” Aedan said to him. “It was all this business about slavers that disrupted our plan.”
“Was that going to be your way of saying sorry?” Thomas asked.
“It was meant to be congratulations. We are still impressed that you got as far as you did. Nobody else ever stood on the wall and swung their arms before.”
Thomas smiled. There was no anger left there. He was never much good at being angry – his soft features looked uncomfortable and drawn out of shape by hard expressions. Even when something did rouse his ire, he lacked the stamina for holding resentments.
“Pity,” he said, “I could have done with some pearlnut pie. As long as Kalry was going to make it and not you.”
Aedan laughed. “I feel exactly the same.”
As he glanced around he noticed the Lieutenant in the far corner. Something irked him about the way the man’s eyes were moving over the people in the room. Kalry was right about one thing – he certainly considered these people beneath him.
Finding the hall stifling, they climbed the stairs to Kalry’s room. It was colder on the upper floor, but there was a fire going in the hearth. It revealed a spacious and relatively messy room – cushions and books and sketchpads and flowers collected from the fields were scattered liberally.
“Where’s Dara?” Kalry asked.
“I’m sure she’s tucked herself away in the quietest corner,” Thomas said. “Think like a mouse and you’ll find her.”
Kalry disappeared and returned a short while later with the mouse-mannered, doe-eyed girl in tow. She was the youngest of them, only nine, but her small frame and timid appearance made her look six. It was deceptive though. She was not as timid as she looked. Aedan braced himself when he noticed that there was still something smouldering there. She fixed her eyes on him and stood stiffly against the doorpost. In the way of anger and resentment, she was Thomas’s perfect opposite.
Thomas looked up at her. “I forgave them,” he said. “They wanted to make me a pie to apologise, but they did a good job of chasing Emroy away instead.”
“Ooh, I hate that boy!” she said, and then blushed at the fierceness of her outburst.
“Come sit,” said Kalry, as she settled on the large rug before the fireplace that was humming with bright flame. The rug was where they always sat. As Aedan had put it, chairs made them feel like they were still half standing. Dara dropped down beside her friend and began braiding the rug’s long woollen tufts, while the boys took turns with a pair of fire irons, balancing chestnuts over the coals for roasting.
A sound drifted through the window from the dimness of a wet and early dusk. It was the song of a rainbird, clear against the silence of all the other forest birds that would be tucking themselves into their feathers and hunching up under dripping leaves. Aedan listened and heard the soft pattering of rain. One thing he shared with the singing bird was a love of rain and especially of storms. He always felt a deep thrill of awe when the pale sapphire cloaks of sky were flung aside and dark raging heavens roared and plunged and cast fire and water and ice upon the earth.
Something landed on Kalry’s shoulder and nuzzled against her neck.
“Hello Skrill,” Dara called. She reached for the young forest squirrel, plucked it from its roost and nestled it in her arms where the fluffy creature settled and began to clean itself. Dara made a little tent over it with her
long brown hair. “I hope you’ve learned some manners,” she said. “If you poop on my frock again I’m going to shave your tail.”
Aedan grinned. He had found the little animal, weak and abandoned, after a violent storm. Since he was already looking after a fledgling woodpecker at the time, Kalry had kept the squirrel.
The fire was the only light in the room and it threw out a dancing radiance charged with the magic of stories beautiful and terrifying. Appropriately, Thomas had found Kalry’s book of original stories on the rug and was struggling his way through the letters now.
“Is that a new story?” Dara asked him.
“Yes. I think you’ll like this one.”
“Oh, please read it aloud.”
Thomas handed it to Kalry. If he were to read, it would be one laborious word at a time.
Aedan had half wanted to air his concerns again – at least they would make for an exciting discussion. But he wasn’t so sure about them now, and William’s warnings were never given idly. What finally made him drop the idea was his co-author’s pride when his eyes fell on the book. Dara shifted a little closer to the fire as Kalry placed the book in the warm light.
“It’s just the first bit,” Kalry said. “We decided to turn our old quest for the silver dwarf’s hideouts into a proper story, so we made a start on it yesterday. This is how it begins …
In the most secretish and magical places, the silver dwarf makes his home. But he never stays there for long and that’s because he is always looking for the one he lost long, long years ago. It all began many hundreds of years before.
He was only a little dwarf boy when he accidently cornered a young moon-scaled river maiden. She was terrified that he would drive her to the shore and knock out her teeth (because everybody knows that the teeth of these river maidens are the most perfect pearls) but the dwarf stepped aside instead. She was so surprised at his kindness that she stayed and talked with him. They soon became very good friends and met whenever pure starlight fell on the shivering crystal waters of the Brockle.
Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1) Page 3
