The Caller

by Juliet Marillier

  ‘By all that’s holy,’ breathed Foras. ‘Reports have been coming in for a while – strange fires, odd folk about, increased numbers of Enforcers in the region. We’ve had a few theories about what it might mean, but this . . . It bodes ill for midsummer, doesn’t it? Or do I not fully understand your role in that?’

  ‘If I go ahead with what’s been planned and if nothing is done about this other Caller, we could have two armies, each of both human and fey folk, facing each other at the Gathering. How can we call our allies to fight their own kind?’

  Murmurs around the table. Nobody made comment.

  ‘And there’s another thing. It seems that when there are two Callers using their skill, the Good Folk may be open to both calls at the same time. I believe Piper, the small creature you heard squeaking before, could feel that other Caller commanding the folk in the valley. And he could feel my presence too; I need not actually call to draw the Good Folk to me. It made Piper confused and distressed. I think it caused him severe pain. And our fey companion, Whisper . . . he was taken from us.’ I shut my eyes; the memory was like a fist to the gut. ‘He marched away with them. Whisper was my guard. He was strong in magic. That doesn’t bode well for the future.’

  ‘And you know nothing about this other Caller?’

  ‘Only that he or she must be working for Keldec.’

  Foras looked me in the eye. ‘What do you need from us?’ he asked quietly.

  Gods, it was good to be back among friends. These folk were like the people of Shadowfell, calm, capable, strong. Quick to understand. Which was just as well, because a mad idea was growing in my mind, an idea that flew in the face of what everyone at Shadowfell had told me – that I was the rebellion’s secret weapon, and that I must always put my own safety first.

  ‘Tali would want this Caller killed,’ I said, looking around the circle of grave, attentive faces. ‘I’m in no doubt of it. And we have a man at court – you already know that – who could do it if we could get a message to him. Only that’s tricky at present. Our man has fallen out of favour with the king, and may be under suspicion.’

  ‘That would be a suicide mission,’ said Foras levelly.

  ‘I know.’ A shiver ran through me. ‘And I’m not sure it’s the best way to deal with this, even if we could get a message into Winterfort.’ Thinking of Whisper and that sad crowd of Good Folk marching as if to the grave, every instinct told me my crazy plan was the right one. It meant throwing away the chance to find the Master of Shadows; sacrificing the chance to learn from him and perhaps get the answer to the threat of cold iron. Above all, it meant putting myself in peril, which was completely counter to Tali’s orders. And yet, I knew it was what I must do. ‘If I had to get inside Winterfort and attach myself to the king’s household,’ I said, ‘how best could I do that without attracting the wrong kind of attention?’

  One man gave a long whistle; another muttered an oath.

  ‘You’re asking that seriously,’ said Foras.

  ‘I am.’ I made myself take a slow breath. ‘I think it’s what I must do. ’

  ‘You don’t seem the obvious choice as an assassin,’ said Foras. ‘And didn’t you say you were heading on south?’

  ‘I was. But it’s different now. You didn’t see what I saw. It was an abomination even by Keldec’s standards. And my instincts tell me I may be the only person who can stop it.’

  ‘Your instincts are all very well,’ said a woman, ‘but marching into court? All you’re likely to do is get yourself killed.’

  ‘Can’t help agreeing with that,’ said Foras.

  I could see they all thought I’d suddenly lost my wits. ‘I’m a Caller,’ I said simply. ‘I can’t let this happen. It’s taken a long time for any of the Good Folk to set aside their wariness of humankind and join us as allies. But they have, in the North and the West. That’s largely because I’ve persuaded them it’s the right thing to do. The king has just demonstrated to the Good Folk how a Caller can use terror to force their compliance. He’s treated them as nothing more than raw materials to be manipulated to his own gain. When the news of this gets out, why wouldn’t our fey allies turn their backs on us in disgust and walk away from the whole endeavour?’

  ‘But won’t you be doing the same thing when midsummer comes?’ asked one of the men. ‘Using these folk to fight our fight?’

  I made myself breathe slowly; held on to my temper. ‘Not quite the same. I’ve used my gift to bring the Good Folk to our councils; it has played a role in their agreeing to be our allies. I’ve never used it to make someone fight against their will, and I don’t intend to. At present they are supporting us of their own choice, because we’ve persuaded them to believe in the cause. When it comes to the battle, I need to be there to help our fey allies cooperate among themselves – something the Good Folk don’t do naturally – and work with us. But I’ll be guiding people, not . . . enslaving them.’

  ‘Say you got in,’ said Foras. ‘What could you achieve before midsummer without giving yourself away?’

  ‘I won’t know that until I get there; until I see what is being done with these folk and find out what the other Caller’s role is. I’ll do whatever I can to put an end to the cruelty, but I’ll stop short of revealing what I am too early. I know that would be disastrous.’

  ‘Tali wouldn’t like this,’ said Foras.

  ‘I know that. But she’d leave the final decision to me. She trusts my judgement.’

  ‘You wouldn’t last a day at court,’ said one of the women flatly.

  ‘She might, with the right story,’ said a big man with a dark beard. ‘Got any special skills, beyond calling Good Folk? Something they might have need of in that place?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said. The skills I had learned over my years of living rough and fending for myself, the skills Tali had taught me over the long winter at Shadowfell, included nothing that would win me a position in the royal household. The only outstanding ability I possessed was the one that would imperil me every moment if I went to court.

  ‘Ask yourself,’ Foras said, ‘what kind of folk the king might be wanting right now.’

  ‘Fighters,’ said the dark-bearded man after a moment.

  ‘That hardly helps, Brenn,’ put in the woman, ‘since Neryn quite clearly isn’t built to excel in that area.’

  ‘Besides,’ I said, ‘neither Keldec nor Varda believes in women fighters. That was proven at the last Gathering.’

  ‘You were there?’ The woman was impressed now, her voice suddenly hushed.

  ‘I was, and believe me, whatever tales you may have heard about what it’s like, the reality was a hundred times worse. Foras, when I left Shadowfell, Tali had planned to send one of the men with me as a bodyguard. Circumstances meant it was Whisper who came with me instead.’ I glanced at the dark-bearded Brenn. ‘But maybe I could gain admittance to court if I were attached to someone the king found desirable. For instance, a fighter.’

  Foras gave a grim smile. ‘That’d be the way in. I have grave doubts about the wisdom of what you’re proposing. It makes far more sense for us to send one of our own people in, get a message to the contact at court, and make sure the Caller is eliminated.’

  ‘Both the person you sent and our man at court would die.’

  ‘They can be replaced,’ said Brenn. ‘You can’t.’

  I felt cold all through. ‘I promise I’ll give this further consideration. But right now, let’s assume I’m going to court. Who would you send with me?’

  ‘We have several men here who’d be selected immediately for training if they offered their services,’ Foras said. ‘Not in this makeshift force you mentioned, but as Enforcers. Once in, our man would have a place at court at least until midsummer. You could go as his wife. I don’t believe celibacy is one of the requirements for an Enforcer. Though how such a man’s wife could bear to live with
him, I do wonder.’

  ‘They’re well paid,’ someone said a little sourly.

  I looked around the circle of sombre faces. ‘Whoever went with me would face another risk,’ I said. ‘The authorities might decide he needed to be enthralled to ensure his loyalty. That’s worse than death.’

  There was a silence; then Foras said, ‘We’re aware of that, Neryn. I wouldn’t ask for a volunteer until I knew you were absolutely sure about this. Sure it’s the best way. If you do this and you’re discovered, you could be tortured for the information you hold. Both you and whoever goes with you. What if someone decides you should be enthralled? Then the king would have two Callers at his command.’

  ‘I know that, Foras. I understand all the risks, and I still believe I should go. There’s a lot I don’t know about this other Caller, but I’ve seen how powerful his gift is. To draw so many folk after him . . . his ability is frightening. Yes, I know assassination is the obvious choice. But imagine we did send someone in, and the Caller was killed. What do you think Keldec would do with those captives?’

  ‘He’d have them culled,’ Brenn said.

  Nobody challenged this flat statement.

  ‘Exactly – that would be absolutely in keeping with the way he does things. And that arbitrary culling, on top of the act of cruelty that’s taking place now, would be enough to set our people and the Good Folk at enmity for generations to come. The rebellion is meant to be the start of a new age of justice and peace.’

  Foras said, ‘We should sleep on this. You won’t be wanting to head north while that force you saw is still on the road. Give it a few days; give us time to think it through. You look as if you need a rest.’

  ‘Thank you. I am hoping Silva can stay on here. The little being she’s carrying, Piper . . . he needs a particular kind of safe place, and I believe Callan Stanes is such a place. And he needs Silva to look after him. I can’t explain fully, it’s a secret matter of the Good Folk, but Silva must continue the old rituals as she did when she was living in the north. If you accept her into your community she will be an asset, I promise. She’s not a fighter like her brother. But her work is equally important.’

  ‘We’d take her in anyway,’ Foras said. ‘She’s Ean’s sister. One of our own.’

  ‘Ean is a fine lad,’ said the dark-bearded man. ‘Pig-headed sometimes, but a promising fighter and a good comrade. Knowing he’s caught up in this wretched business . . . I don’t like it. It angers me.’

  They gave us beds in the women’s quarters, warm water for bathing and clean garments to wear while ours were laundered. After she’d rested, Silva went out to the standing stones while it was still light enough to find the way, along with Creia and a curly-haired girl who gave her name as Danna. When they came back in, Piper was not with them.

  ‘He’s safe,’ Silva said. ‘As soon as we got to the stones he was off, up into a hollow at the top of the tallest stone, and so quiet I wouldn’t have known he was there except for his little light in the dusk. We went through the evening ritual, the three of us. When it was time to walk back, Piper flew down and circled around us, then went up into the stone again. I’m sure he’ll be safe.’

  It was one less thing to worry about. Still, when the household settled for sleep I lay on my bed with my thoughts in disorder. Staring up at the ceiling, I thought of being at close quarters with the king and queen, whose ruthless cruelty I had witnessed at the Gathering. I would be in the same household as Flint, and we’d both have to pretend convincingly that we were strangers. My being there would put him in additional danger. If that other Enforcer was at Winterfort, the one who’d helped Flint get us away from the Gathering, he would surely recognise me. Last but not least, if the king found out I was a Caller, the entire rebellion would be in jeopardy.

  Against those arguments was the pressing urge to reach Winterfort before too much damage was done. What I had seen had been the stuff of my worst nightmare. It had been so deeply wrong I could hardly believe it had happened, even knowing what I did of Keldec. Undoing that could not wait until midsummer. Those folk might all be dead by then. And who was going to change things, unless I did? Flint might kill the Caller, if we could send the order, and our plans for midsummer might then go ahead unchanged. But this dark happening, this twisted use of a gift that was twin to my own, would do such damage that even if we won our battle, the Good Folk would rightly shun us thereafter. The hard-won trust would be gone forever.

  And I wanted a solution that spared the Caller, who must surely be a person very like me. What if I had been the one found by Keldec? What if I had been prevailed upon to use my gift in his service, or enthralled into loyalty? Would I then deserve death, or only pity?

  You’re too soft, said Tali’s voice in my head. It’s a war. People die. This Caller is both evil and powerful. Why should he be spared?

  I had no argument to offer; only that, deep down, I knew there must be a better, wiser way.

  Silva and the other women who shared our chamber were asleep. From beyond the shuttered window came soft night-time sounds, a cow lowing in the field, sleepy chickens jostling for space in their coop – Silva would like them – and the muted voices of some of the men who were on guard outside. This was a good place. A pity I would not be staying long.

  I realised that I had forgotten something earlier. I did indeed have a talent that might get me into Winterfort. Before my grandmother had died, she had begun to teach me the skills of a healer and herbalist, and at Shadowfell I had often helped Fingal in the infirmary. With the so-called special forces perhaps being trained at Winterfort, there could well be a need for additional healers.

  My heart was thudding now as I lay still on the pallet. We would be a desirable pair: the husband an outstanding fighter desperately keen to join the Enforcers; the wife competent in the healing arts. This was in fact possible. It might really happen. I might be in the same house as Keldec. In the same chamber as Queen Varda. I might be stuck in an infirmary, unable to reach any of the captive Good Folk. I might find myself powerless to do anything but watch, day by day, from now to midsummer, the hideous results of the king’s experiments with this new Caller.

  Stop it, Neryn. There must be no guilt, no panic, no dwelling on the worst that could happen. If I decided to travel to court, I must do so in the confidence that what I could achieve outweighed the terrible risk I was taking. There was another argument in support of my plan. Keldec and his entourage would move to Summerfort in the warmer weather. Most likely my warrior husband, as an Enforcer in training, would travel with them, and so would I. I would be exactly where Tali needed me to be for the Gathering. Breathe, Neryn. This is within your reach. You can do this.

  After a night spent going over and over the possibilities, I fell asleep before dawn and dreamed of Flint. The dream was confused, unclear. He seemed to be looking out of a tower window, gazing southward. But then he was in the dark, his eyes patches of shadow in a face drained of colour, and there were iron bars between him and me. I reached out my hand, and he put his fingers up against the bars on the other side, but however hard I tried, I could not quite touch him. I tried to speak, to tell him it was all right, I was here, right here in front of him, but I had no voice. Neryn, he said. Neryn, where are you? I can’t see you. And then, It’s too late.

  I woke with my face all tears. Light was creeping in around the shutters; it was morning, and across the chamber Silva and Creia were already up and dressed.

  ‘Neryn?’ Silva came to sit on the edge of my bed. ‘We’re going up to the stones for the morning ritual. Why don’t you come and help us?’

  She’d noticed, no doubt of it. And she was wise. Better by far to be out of doors, walking in the sunlight in company with friends, than lying here while my mind churned with unwelcome thoughts. I got up and reached for my clothes.

  ‘One day at a time,’ murmured Silva, passing me my tunic. ‘Tha
t’s what I keep telling myself. Go on for one more day. Be brave for one more day. That’s easier than thinking about a whole turning of the moon, a whole season, a whole life.’ She reached to help me fasten my skirt. ‘Now I’ve made you cry again.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ I dashed the tears from my cheeks. ‘A bad dream, that was all.’ I thrust my feet into my boots; twisted my hair into a makeshift knot. ‘I’m ready.’

  The Callan Stanes were well protected against intrusion. Between them and the farm boundary there grew every plant best designed to cut, scratch, stab or otherwise damage anyone who went that way. Brambles. Thornbushes. Nettles. There would be few casual visitors here.

  We emerged onto a flat grassy sward. There they were: nine of them in a rough circle, the tallest twice the height of a big man, the smallest only as high as my shoulder. More lay prone, sleeping. In the dawn light their shadows spread long and grey behind them on the grass, like trailing capes. The stones were old. Mosses softened their crevices and lichens splashed their surfaces with purple and gold and brown. Around them was a profound stillness, as if the ground within their protective circle were set apart from the ordinary world.

  I walked with the other girls in procession, joining in the responses to Silva’s prayers, but my thoughts were full of Flint’s white face, his hand against the bars, his anguished voice saying, I can’t see you. I reminded myself sharply of where I was and what I was doing, and moved through the cycles of meditative breathing the Hag had taught me. I made my mind open, empty, ready for whatever wisdom might come. Silva’s voice, sweet and clear, was echoed by the chirping of meadow birds in the grass around the ancient stones.