by Linda McNabb
“Everyone knows your mother … at least everyone up at Willow Castle. She is head of the council of runeweavers and was the personal runeweaver to the late king.” Davyn sighed so deeply that Zaine felt sorry for him.
“Is that where Calard was taking me?” Zaine asked. He wanted so much to ask more about his mother, but he could see that Davyn wasn’t ready to tell him.
“No, he supports another contender to the throne. Prince Theodane. Willow Castle was the home of the deceased king and now his daughter, Princess Maata.” Davyn turned to look directly at Zaine. It was a serious look that said he was saying far less than he knew. “Do not expect anyone at Willow Castle to be pleased to see you, though.”
Zaine just nodded. All the questions running around in his mind suddenly vanished. He had the feeling that Willow Castle was the last place he should be going, even if his mother was there. He suddenly longed for his hayloft and the days tending the crops in the relentless summer heat.
“They’ve given up for the night,” Davyn said.
Zaine dragged his attention to the forest. There were no more lanterns moving about and Zaine glanced up at the stars. He was surprised to see that half of the night had passed while he had been tracing the runes in the book.
“Sleep now. We’ll have to leave at first light and keep on the move to stay ahead of them,” Davyn said gently. He lay down and rested his head on one arm, seeming to fall asleep immediately.
Zaine tried to sleep, but he couldn’t. He spent the rest of the night just staring up at the stars. How could they look the same when his whole life had changed? He was lying motionless, but wide awake, when Davyn sat up and stretched.
“We have to go now,” he said quietly, probably knowing that Zaine was awake. He stood up and scrubbed out the rune circle with his boot. “We don’t want to leave anything for Calard to find.”
**
They walked for several days before they reached the main road west. There was no sign of Calard, but they still drew the rune circle around themselves when they slept each night. Zaine’s sleep was never deep enough or long enough to refresh him for the next day of walking, so by the time they reached the west road he was ready to collapse.
A clattering noise made Zaine turn and he saw a carriage heading their way. He went to step off the road, but Davyn put up a hand to stop the carriage. It seemed as if the carriage wouldn’t stop in time, but Davyn did not move out of the way and it drew up only a few hand spans from them.
“What you doing standin’ in the road like that?” the driver yelled, standing up on the footboard to get a good look at them over the horses.
“We need passage to Willow Castle,” Davyn replied smoothly. He dug into his pocket and drew out a handful of silver coins.
“Well, that’s a different matter,” the driver said as he leapt down to retrieve the coins from Davyn. “Plenty of room for paying passengers.”
Zaine stared at the silver coins as the man tested them to make sure they were real. He bit into one, just as Aunt Tilly had done. It seemed that silver coins were always taking him where he didn’t want to go. He followed Davyn into the empty carriage and the horses moved off.
“We’ll be there by nightfall,” Davyn told him. Zaine didn’t reply. He was leaning against the side of the carriage and the rocking motion was lulling him into a sleep that he didn’t want. He knew that when he woke up he would be at Willow Castle. A place where nobody wanted him to be, especially himself.
CHAPTER SIX - WILLOW CASTLE
It wasn’t the noise of the wheels clattering that woke Zaine, it was the silence. He lay still and kept his eyes shut. He could hear voices a short distance away and he heard his name spoken. He was sure they would stop talking if they knew he was awake.
“He’s done what?” an incredulous voice exclaimed. “I don’t think I want to be around when Trianna finds out about this. Why did you bring him here?”
“I had to be here for the contest and there wasn’t time to find a place to hide him on the way.” Davyn’s voice was low and serious.
“Trianna is due back at the castle any day now. She’s bound to find out he’s here.” The other person sounded very worried.
“I could put him down with the novices for a few days,” Davyn suggested.
“Is that wise? Those novices are known for stirring up trouble. If they figure out who he is he won’t stay a secret for long.
Zaine frowned as he pondered what the man had meant by that remark. Figured out who he was. Surely he was a runeweaver, just like Davyn. What else could he be?
“What choice do I have?” Davyn sounded angry and frustrated. “If I take him to the castle, people will see who he is easily. The resemblance is so strong that any of the council members will spot it instantly.”
Did that mean he looked like his mother? Zaine had seen his reflection only a handful of times. Once in the mirror on his aunt’s dresser and a few times when he was skipping stones in the lake at the far end of the farm. He hadn’t liked the pale skin and fair hair much, so he didn’t look at any reflections if he could help it. He wished he had looked a little more often, as it was years since he had really seen himself and now he needed to know what he looked like so that he could tell who his mother was when he saw her. He heard the men walk closer to the carriage.
He forced himself to relax and breathe deeply so that he would seem asleep. A lantern swung close to his face, and he found it hard not to screw his eyes up at the bright light that filtered through his eyelids.
“By the name of Princess Maata! He’s the spitting image!” The shock and incredulous outburst of the unknown man made it almost impossible for Zaine to lay motionless. “You’re right. There’s no way he can go near the castle.”
“Who’s training the novices now?” Davyn asked. The lantern moved a little way off, but they stayed close enough that Zaine could overhear what they were saying with no trouble.
“Pavil,” came the reply.
“Good, he’s so old and nearly blind that he won’t notice anything. It’ll only be for a few days anyway. What harm could he come to in that short time? After the contest I’ll take him away somewhere she’ll never find him.” Davyn sounded like he had made his mind up, and the voices moved away, fading so that Zaine could no longer hear them.
After a few minutes Zaine decided that there was nothing further to be gained from feigning sleep and he sat up to see exactly where the silver coins had brought him this time. It was full night, but the almost quarter moon had risen to shed its silvery light on the world. The carriage was sitting in a cobbled courtyard with a row of low buildings on three sides. There was no sign of the driver, so Zaine assumed that he must have been put up for the night.
Directly ahead of him was a long, low building that was barely visible because there were no lights coming from the windows. Far off, and more than likely to be on a hill by the angle he had to turn his head, was a much bigger building. Lights came from several dozen windows and he guessed that this was the castle. He didn’t have time to see anything else, for Davyn was returning from the direction of the castle, and quickened his pace when he saw that Zaine was awake.
“You slept for a long time,” Davyn said simply, with no hint of the conversation he had just had. “Do you feel rested?”
“Not really,” Zaine admitted. He was used to hard labour and long hours in the fields, but he felt weak and tired.
“You can rest down at the novice hall,” Davyn said as he opened the carriage door and waited for Zaine to step out. “I want you to keep quiet and not take part in any of the lessons though. Just pretend you feel ill and stay inside until I say so.”
“When can I see my mother?” Zaine asked.
“She’s away at the moment.” Zaine knew then that Trianna must be his mother.
He said the name silently a few times and decided that it was a pretty name. He tried to see her in his mind – blonde or white hair, pale skin and thin, but he couldn’t form a c
omplete picture.
“She’ll be back in a day or two, but I wouldn’t be in a hurry to see her if I were you. She won’t be pleased to see you – or me, for that matter.”
Zaine frowned at Davyn’s obvious reluctance to see Trianna. By the expression on his face, Davyn clearly thought the meeting would be a bad one.
They were walking across the cobbles and Davyn led them, by the light of a lantern, down towards the long, low building.
“They’re all asleep but if you sneak in quietly we won’t wake up the master. His name is Pavil and he’s a grumpy old man. But he’s the only one who could be spared to train the novices and see who will make the best runeweavers.”
“Is that because of the contest?” Davyn stopped walking, turned and stared at him.
“How do you know about that?” he asked, suspiciously.
“I heard Calard and Tercel talking about it,” Zaine replied, with a shrug of his shoulders.
Davyn appeared content with his explanation and turned back to the path, staying silent for the rest of the short walk. He pushed open the large wooden doors, which were not locked, and took a candle from a rack of candles on the wall. He lit it from the lantern and held it out to Zaine.
“Here, take this, and go find a bed. Just take any empty one. There’re hardly any novices these days, so there should be plenty to choose from. I’ll come and see you tomorrow sometime.”
Zaine took the candle, and, before he could even think of anything to say, Davyn had left the building and shut the doors behind him. With a sigh, Zaine turned to look around the entrance foyer and saw that there were three doors off it. Which one should he pick? He walked softly up to the one on his right and put his ear to the door. He could hear a loud snoring followed by the creak of a bed as someone turned in their sleep.
He turned the handle slowly and pushed the door open a few inches. Inside was a single bed with an old man sleeping in it. A glass stood on the table by the bed and Zaine screwed up his nose when he realised it contained a set of false teeth. He pulled the door shut again and moved to the next door. This one revealed a large hall with beds lined along both sides. Only a few were occupied and he walked slowly into the room and shut the door. He picked a bed at the far end, right against the wall and near one of the few windows. He had rarely slept inside and didn’t really like it. He wanted a big hayloft to sleep in again.
Zaine blew out the candle and lay on top of the blankets. It was the most comfortable bed he had ever known, and within a few breaths he sank into a deep sleep.
Several times Zaine had the feeling that people were around him. Voices, which seemed distant and muffled, were talking and there was much laughter. However, when he finally opened his eyes the room was silent and there was nobody in sight.
Sun was streaming in the large windows and Zaine guessed it wasn’t far from midday. The room he had slept in was filled with two rows of neat, narrow beds and all were empty.
The faint sounds of voices in the distance drifted to him and he straightened up the blankets on the bed and headed for the door. He opened it and paused in the large entranceway. The voices were coming from the third door, the one he had not opened last night, and he walked over and put his ear to the solid oak panel to see if he could hear what they were saying.
“Is this right, Master Pavil?” a squeaky voice whined.
Zaine could hear a shuffling and a banging and then a long-suffering sigh.
“That’s almost right Janisa. That first part is done beautifully, but try to concentrate on what the finished rune will look like. Shake out your sand-tray and try again.” After a pause Master Pavil continued. “Much better. I think that’s enough practice. Let’s go and try it down by the river.”
Zaine was still standing with his ear to the door, listening to the shuffle-bang, shuffle-bang. As it became drowned out by metallic scrapes and the thudding of feet, he realised they were heading his way. He pulled away from the door and stood up guiltily as the door was flung open and half a dozen boys and girls came rushing out. Some were younger than Zaine, but several of the boys were much older.
They stopped when they saw Zaine, and Master Pavil’s weary voice came from behind them.
“What’s the hold-up?” he queried impatiently.
The children let their master through. He shuffled towards Zaine, thumping his walking stick on the ground with each shuffling step.
“Ah, the new boy. You’ve decided to join us at last, have you?” Master Pavil asked with a hint of sarcasm. “We thought you were going to sleep all day.”
The old man peered at Zaine over the rims of battered spectacles, the lenses of which were so dirty it would have been impossible to see through them anyway. He was almost bald, and the small wisps of white hair that were left stuck out at odd angles, making him look untidy and rather eccentric. He wore a loose green robe over black baggy trousers and slippers that had a hole by each big toe.
“I arrived late last night, sir,” Zaine said, wondering how much this old man really knew about him.
“I don’t imagine you’ve eaten lately by the look of you. It’s not long until the midday meal, so you can just join in the class for now.” Master Pavil waved his stick and pointed to the main door. “We’re going down to the river to try our latest spell.”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to go outside,” Zaine said and the master frowned.
“You’re a novice, right?” he asked bluntly.
“I …” Zaine had no idea if he was or not.
“If you’ve been left here, then you are a novice, and I am in charge of all novices. Therefore, if I say we are going outside, we are going outside.” The old wooden walking stick slammed down with every second word and looked to be in grave danger of snapping if the old man slammed it much more. “You’ll just have to try to catch up with the rest of the class.”
Zaine stared at the old man, speechless. Did he tell the master that Davyn had ordered him to stay inside? The old man shuffled over to the door went outside.
“Come on.” A boy, a few years younger than Zaine, touched him on the elbow and pushed him forward. “He’s not as bad as he sounds. I’m Kerrec.”
“I’m Zaine,” he replied, allowing himself to be propelled out the door.
“Do you know many runes yet?” Kerrec asked, as they hurried to catch up to the others. Even the old man seemed to have covered a considerable distance already.
“Some.” Zaine’s reply was evasive. He knew Davyn didn’t want him to do any rune magic, but he didn’t see how he was supposed to avoid it if Master Pavil insisted.
“This one’s a bit tricky. Just watch me and see if you can pick it up,” Kerrec suggested as they caught up with the five other students and the old master.
“Right, everyone grab a leaf.” Master Pavil pointed to a large bush and pulled a leaf off for himself. Zaine walked over slowly and was last to pluck off one of the stiff brown leaves that were about to fall with the change of the season. “Now draw the runes and don’t forget to say them properly.”
Zaine stood back a few steps as each child pulled a grey stick from their pocket and started to draw on their brittle leaf. The runes were badly drawn and their words were well off the mark as well. Perhaps these were very beginning students.
“You … boy …”
“Zaine, sir,” Zaine sighed.
“You’re not doing it. Look at Kerrec’s, he’s the best in the class,” the old master snapped. Bending to his leaf, he quickly drew the runes and then coughed to get the class’s attention. “This is what you are hoping for.”
He tossed the leaf into the fast-flowing river and they all stood watching as the leaf landed gently and then floated. But it wasn’t the fact that it was floating that got Zaine’s attention. It wasn’t floating away with the flow of the water and stayed there for several seconds before it drifted off downstream and Master Pavil turned to them with a satisfied smile.
“Come on, we don’t have all day.�
�� He stood to the side and watched as each child threw their leaf into the river. Some hovered in place for a brief second before being swept away but most sank or sped away instantly. The old master frowned and then looked at Zaine and Kerrec. “You two have still to try.”
Kerrec showed the runes to Zaine and then handed him the stick of grey rock before walking to the river’s edge. Zaine saw that Kerrec’s leaf stayed still for almost as long as the old master’s and he bent to quickly draw the runes. They were simple ones and it took him only a few seconds. He muttered them as quietly as he could.
“Finished yet?” Master Pavil demanded impatiently. Zaine nodded briefly as he tossed his leaf into the river.
The leaf stayed motionless, defying the pull of the water, and Master Pavil’s eyebrows rose a full inch as he looked up at Zaine.
“That’s very good,” he said and turned his attention back to the leaf that had already outlasted his own by a full five seconds. His smile turned to a frown and he reached down and splashed water onto the leaf, washing away part of the rune, and it immediately dashed off downstream to join the rest.
“I wouldn’t have done that if I were you,” a squeaky voice said from next to him. Zaine recognised it as belonging to Janisa, whom he had heard through the door. “He doesn’t like it if we’re better than him.”
Zaine wondered what Master Pavil would do. The old master simply stood there and glared at Zaine with a totally unreadable expression. Master Pavil reached over and plucked another leaf from the bush, then shuffled towards Zaine.
“Do that again!” he demanded loudly.
Zaine took the leaf from the shaking hand of the old master and drew the runes again. This time he made sure he left a small part off each rune, so that it was not complete but to the casual observer it would not be too obvious. He threw the leaf into the river with Master Pavil still glaring at him fiercely. Zaine breathed a sigh of relief as the leaf only hovered for a split second and then was swept away.
“Beginner’s luck!” muttered Master Pavil, and turned back to the rest of the students.
