Enthralled men, the two of them. The king was taking no chances, not with this prisoner to be paraded before the loyal people of Alban tomorrow.
‘What about you?’ I asked, blinking back tears. It had been a slim chance anyway; I could not think of a plausible reason to go down to the cells. For four nights after the mind-mending I had brewed a double supply of Oblivion and Rohan had collected it from me in the infirmary; for several days Toleg had gone down regularly to check on Ruarc’s progress and to treat Flint’s eyes. But Ruarc was no longer in the cells. And if Flint had said nobody was to go down there, it meant he did not want to see me. Not even to say farewell. Not even to say goodbye forever.
‘I’ll be there tonight,’ Rohan said, lowering his voice still further. ‘I may be acting troop leader, but Owen’s my leader, always. I’ll stay with him until we have to march out in the morning. He won’t be on his own.’
I nodded, unable to find words.
‘Want me to relay a message?’
I swallowed. ‘Only that I wish him well. That I wish him courage for tomorrow.’
‘I’ll tell him. You’d best go back in.’
‘Thank you, Rohan. I think you are a good friend.’
‘Thank me when tomorrow’s over,’ he said.
At supper time I couldn’t eat a single bite. Chances were that by tomorrow’s end all of us would be dead: me and Brenn, Ean and those young men, the captive Good Folk, Tali and her rebel band and everyone who stood up beside them. And Flint; if the king acted as everyone expected, he might be the first to go. Unless Tali declared herself before Keldec enacted whatever punishment he had in mind for the man who had once been his friend. I sipped at my ale in silence, my head full of dark thoughts.
‘Are you unwell, Ellida?’ Devan asked.
‘A little nervous about tomorrow. It is my first Gathering. But excited, too, for Morven’s sake.’ Oh, the lies.
Devan made no further comment. Despite the crowd, the mood in the dining hall was subdued – no buzz of anticipatory chatter, no making of wagers on likely events. Instead, a brooding quiet in which folk glanced at each other and looked away. Up at the high table, Keldec was in conversation with Lannan Long-Arm, who was seated beside him. Queen Varda had Esten next to her, with Brydian on his other side. If I succeeded tomorrow, if my call did prove stronger than Esten’s, what would become of him?
I would have left the table early, but the rules of the royal household meant I must stay until Keldec and Varda got up. When at last they did so, Rohan Death-Blade made his way over to me.
‘I’m heading up to have a word with Toleg. I’ll walk with you.’
Halfway there, he drew me into a little alcove at one side of the hallway, first checking to make sure nobody was close. ‘I hadn’t planned to be in the hall for supper, but I have something for you. Keep it hidden.’ He reached into his pouch and brought out a small item wrapped in a handkerchief. He laid it on my palm. Without unfolding the covering, I closed my hand around it and knew what it was. A terrible grief clutched at me; a sob threatened to burst out.
‘There was no message,’ Rohan added. He was watching me closely. Surely, after all this, I was not now being trapped into revealing the truth. ‘To me, he said, Best if you forget me. But he seems calm. Strangely calm, considering all.’
‘Thank you for bringing this,’ I managed, slipping the handkerchief bundle into my own pouch. ‘I should get back now.’
He walked with me to the infirmary, where Toleg was eating his own supper from a tray. Rohan settled on the bench to talk to him. I went through to the stillroom and shut the door behind me. Seated on the edge of my pallet, with my throat tight and my heart breaking, I took out the bundle, unfolded the handkerchief and revealed the talisman Flint wore always around his neck, the dream vial his mentor had given him when he’d completed the long training as a mind-mender. A shard from a particular cave in the isles; an ancient, precious symbol. Within its depths, something stirred and shifted, as nebulous as a dream. The crystal was set in a clawed silver fitting, and around the top was twisted a lock of my hair. In this small artefact, Flint had carried the memory of the two people he loved most in the world.
I touched the talisman to my lips, then stowed it away again. Tomorrow, I would carry it with me to the Gathering. I lay down on my bed and wept.
Chapter Fourteen
Now that the day had come I felt oddly calm. I rose, washed and dressed, thinking of all I had learned on the long journey to this point. When I was ready I performed a ritual, based on those Silva had taught me. I paced in a small circle. With Toleg moving about just beyond the stillroom door, I spoke my words of salutation in a whisper. ‘Hail to you, Hag of the Isles, and to the flowing, changing power of water! Hail to you, Lord of the North, and to the deep, enduring power of earth! Hail to you, White Lady, and to the quickening power of light! Hail to you, Master of Shadows, and to the purifying power of fire! I seek your wisdom and guidance. May the powers of Alban work through me today. May I make choices for good, not ill. May this be a day of freedom, not of loss.’
In the centre of the circle I laid my offerings: the white feather I had found by Brightwater, still stained with blood; the dried head of a thistle; the drum I had brought with me from the south; and a piece of charcoal from the brazier. Flint’s dream vial had been against my breast as I slept, strung on a ribbon. Now I slipped it over my head and laid it down with the other things. ‘I won’t ask you to keep him safe,’ I whispered, ‘though I want that more than almost anything. But I know he would say the cause comes first, and today we make the cause reality. I won’t ask you to protect my friends.’ There would be so many there: Tali and the rebels, the Good Folk who had given us their trust and support, the new friends I had made, against all expectations, here at the heart of Keldec’s court. ‘All I ask is that I be given the wisdom and courage to get this right.’
I stood in silence a few moments, until I heard one of the guards come into the infirmary with Toleg’s breakfast. Then I unmade my circle and tidied the offering away. I slipped the ribbon back over my head and tucked the dream vial down inside my dress, out of sight. Beloved. I will carry you with me right to the end.
Toleg made me share his food. There was a question in his eyes, but he did not ask it. He was an astute man; very likely he had put together enough clues to tell him today’s Gathering would not conform with people’s expectations.
‘Eat, Ellida. What you see out there this morning may be enough to turn your stomach, but that doesn’t mean you can skip breakfast when there’s a day’s work ahead of you. Here, there’s plenty for two.’ A pause. ‘I’ll stay inside, I think. Give me an opportunity to scrub the shelves, if nothing else.’
I managed a few mouthfuls. ‘You’ve been good to me,’ I said. ‘Taught me a lot. And you’ve been so patient. Thank you.’
He chuckled. ‘Patient? First time anyone’s called me that. You’ve got a good heart, Ellida. And capable hands for healing. Whether you and that man of yours stay here or go your own way, I wish you well.’
I nodded. Breathed. Held on to the calm feeling I’d woken with, the certainty that I could meet this challenge armed with courage and wisdom. I was buoyed by the Guardians’ support; strengthened by the comradeship of Shadowfell; warmed by Flint’s love.
Soon enough there came a knock at the door. Gormal’s men-at-arms, resplendent in the green tunics of their chieftain’s clan, had come for me.
‘Be safe,’ Toleg said.
‘I’ll see you soon.’ Hope. It was all about hope.
We assembled in the great hall, ready for the formal procession out to the viewing point. Each chieftain, with his family, would be followed by his household retainers; once through the inner gate, each would be joined by his men-at-arms.
I walked with the women of Gormal’s household. Out the keep doors, across the courtyard, through
the open gates and into the practice area.
The crowd was immense. I’d thought the place packed last summer, but now it was full to bursting. In some spots the barriers that held the onlookers back, keeping them out of the packed-earth circle where the games and combats took place, had been shifted forward to accommodate the press of people. There seemed to be more coming in through the outer gates even now. In such a crush I’d have little chance of spotting Tali and the others.
We reached the raised seating and climbed a set of steps to one side; the seats were built against a natural rise, and were in tiers. Gormal and his immediate household sat at the front of our allocated area, leaving the first two rows empty for the royal party and their entourage. The rest of us went behind. Suddenly my two guards were with me again, edging me away from the other women and ushering me up to the back row. Someone had put a great deal of thought into this. In this line of armed men, I was the only woman. The next row down held only men-at-arms. But directly in front of me they had left a space. Even if they all stood up, I would have a clear view of the open area. Folk would no doubt think this an odd arrangement, if they cared at all about such things, but nobody was looking at me.
The other chieftains took their seats; their households settled behind them. Each chieftain had a certain number of men-at-arms close at hand, but this seating could not accommodate all the men, so blocks of warriors in clan colours also massed in the general viewing area to either side. Gormal’s folk, a sea of green. Lannan’s retainers in grey. Sconlan’s supporters in russet and Erevan’s in dark brown and yellow. Keenan’s men in blue and Ness’s in light brown with a cream stripe across the chest. No chieftain from the Isles, since Keldec had ordered the deaths of both Regan’s father and the other western leader and had not replaced them. So there were six chieftains here, and if their word was to be trusted, at least three of them would stand up beside us today. Breathe, Neryn.
A blare of trumpets, and the king and queen came out from the keep, followed by their councillors, their Caller, and a small group of folk from their inner circle. Keldec was in black to match his Enforcers; the queen was in red. Once they reached their seats, I could see only the backs of their heads, and perhaps that was a good thing. Directly below the king, Stag Troop formed a double rank of black-clad, armoured strength, facing the crowd. How many of them would still be standing when this was over? How many of my new-found friends would fall this morning, to rise no more? Be strong, Neryn.
A familiar voice rang out, that of the same court official who had announced each event at the last Gathering. ‘People of Alban! Welcome your king!’
Roars of acclaim. Folk knew what was expected for the three days of the Gathering and they understood what might happen if anyone was observed to be showing less than adequate enthusiasm. All around the circle Enforcers were posted, watching the crowd.
The noise died down. The king spoke.
‘People of Alban! Welcome to our sixteenth midsummer Gathering! This is a time of celebration, an opportunity to renew pledges of loyalty and to admire displays of strength and prowess. I welcome my chieftains and their people. Some of you have travelled far to be with us today.’ Keldec spread his arms wide, as if to embrace them all. ‘You are accustomed to seeing games and contests on the first day of the Gathering; that has long been our practice. But this year we have something special for you: a display such as no man in Alban has ever seen before. You have observed my Enforcers in action; you know what peerless warriors they are. Today you will see a different kind of army. My people, today we harness the uncanny creatures of Alban to fight for us.’
A sound of astonishment from the crowd; the Gathering was known for surprises, most of them unpleasant ones, but despite the odd sounds they must have heard from within the screened area, none of them would have expected this. For the ordinary populace of Alban, even to mention the Good Folk was perilous. To see and hear them at close quarters was unthinkable.
‘Yes, it is true,’ Keldec went on. ‘They are reclusive folk; most of you would hardly know they existed outside the ancient tales. But thanks to the very special talents of this young man,’ he motioned toward Esten, ‘I have been able not only to bring them here, but to train them into a fighting force, working in perfect cooperation with a body of young men from the south. Esten is a Caller. He is Alban’s new treasure. He will help me build an army such as no king in all the world has dreamed of. Today we will give you just a taste of what is possible.’ He paused; there was not a sound from the crowd now. ‘But first,’ the king’s tone had become heavy with sadness, ‘there is another duty to be faced. At the last Gathering, my people, you saw me carry out punishment against those whose conduct had offended me during the year. That included several of my own Enforcers, one of whom I had trusted for years. That man stood up before me last midsummer and was given another chance. But he has failed me again, and he has run out of chances.’
My heart was cold. This was my worst fear realised. Flint would endure his punishment before Tali stood up to identify herself. She’d made it quite clear that I must wait for her to do this before I called. He was going to die before my eyes, and I could not act to stop it. I laid my hand against my breast, where the dream vial hung.
‘The man I refer to is Owen Swift-Sword, who was a troop leader and my trusted friend. This man was given the all-important task of preparing my new fighting force. The training was difficult. Taxing. Unlike anything my Enforcers had attempted before. But achievable, thanks to my Caller’s remarkable abilities. Owen Swift-Sword bungled the job. When challenged on that point, he defied my authority openly. That a man to whom I had granted my personal friendship would do so pains me deeply. Before we enjoy the spectacle I have planned for you, he will face his punishment.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘Bring out Owen Swift-Sword!’
Breathe. Perhaps this will be quick. Perhaps whichever comrade has the terrible task of culling him will be merciful. My eyes stung with tears; my jaw was clenched so tight my whole head ached.
They came out from the annexe, two Enforcers with Flint between them. Neither of the guards was wearing the mask that was part of their uniform, and I knew them both: Brocc and Ardon, the enthralled men who had guarded Flint in the cells. Their prisoner had his wrists and ankles shackled with iron, and they were half-dragging him along, as if he’d had another beating and was too weak to walk straight. His eyes were bandaged again. Breathe, Neryn.
They halted in the open area, looking up over the ranks of Stag Troop to the king. Brocc and Ardon held Flint upright between them.
‘Owen Swift-Sword.’ Keldec’s tone made me shiver; there was no doubt this was a pronouncement of execution. ‘I have given much thought to what punishment is appropriate for your offences. Many times during your years as my valued battle leader and most talented Enthraller, your conduct has been called into question. Every time, you have explained yourself and I have forgiven you. Until now. You spoke out against my Caller. You challenged my senior councillor. You questioned the wisdom of my grand new venture. What can you possibly have to say in your defence?’
With a visible effort, Flint straightened. Were his eyes still damaged, or was it only that after confinement so long in the cells, the sunlight was too bright for him to bear? His guards released their grip on his arms, and he managed to stay standing. A profound hush fell over the crowd.
‘Only this, my lord King.’ Flint’s tone was ragged, but he had tapped a well of strength deep within him, and his voice carried clearly. ‘I denounce your rule of tyranny and repression. I denounce –’
‘What?’ Keldec cried out, and the two councillors, Brydian and Gethan, leaped to their feet, shouting. There was a rumble of shocked response from the crowd. Two chieftains also rose, protesting: Keenan of Wedderburn and Erevan of Scourie.
Flint’s voice carried over it all. Brocc and Ardon made no move to silence him, simply held their pose on either side.
‘Your reign has been one of cruelty and injustice from the first. Under your authority, the people of Alban have lived in fear. You have turned neighbour against neighbour, friend against friend, brother against brother. If I must die today, let me die speaking the truth! Your meddling with the Good Folk of Alban offends the very heart of this great country! It goes against all that our mothers and fathers, and their mothers and fathers for countless generations, taught us to believe in.’
‘Guards, silence that man!’ commanded Brydian.
I trembled, caught between terror and an immense, heart-stopping pride in the man I loved. But Brocc and Ardon did not move. Both seemed suddenly deaf.
‘It makes a mockery of all that is good and wise!’ Flint went on. ‘Your choice to involve a group of untrained young men as part of your ill-conceived experiment is not only cruel, it is foolish.’
‘My lord King!’ cried Brydian. ‘This outrage cannot be allowed to continue!’ He turned to Esten. ‘We must call forth the fey army! Let them make an end of this disobedient fool!’
‘What better way to rid ourselves of this canker in our midst?’ It was not Keldec who spoke, but Queen Varda, her tone as smooth as silk, yet carrying clearly. ‘If the king agrees, of course.’
For a long moment, Keldec did not answer. Could it be that even now, in his heart, the king wanted to pardon the man who had been a rare friend in a sea of enemies? My heart threatened to leap out of my breast.
‘This man once served me well,’ the king said. His voice was shaking. ‘Let him die in fair combat, as a warrior. Esten, call forth the two we spoke of; for now, only them.’
I could guess which two he meant. Fair combat? In his current state Flint would be lucky to last to the count of ten. Come on, Tali, I willed her as Enforcers moved to open the shelter that housed the captive Good Folk. Speak out now, quickly! Yes, she’d said I must wait for her sign; trust her choice of the perfect moment. But if now was not that moment, I could not imagine what might be. Why was she waiting?
The Caller Page 33
