The Raven Tower

by Emma Miles

  She folded her arms and reluctantly nodded. ‘I can manage that. But only here!’ She raised a finger and added quickly. ‘And only because I don’t want us to get caught!’

  ‘Think of Milaiya also.’ He stepped closer, appealing to her gently. ‘This is her culture, all she has known. Your behaviour will seem shocking, even dangerous to her. I certainly have no problem with you showing her how things should be; but don’t give her false hope or put her at risk. Osun has been to Elden, but she never has.’

  ‘I understand.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll tread carefully. We have enough to deal with here already without me attempting a revolution for women.’

  ‘Thank you. But you’ll find it easier said than done; as will I. You know I hope to find a way to change things. Destroying the Dunham’s grip on Chem might allow more moderate leaders to step in.’

  She nodded. ‘I trust you in this.’

  ‘Only in this?’

  She looked away. She wanted to tease him, to be playful, but it would lead to nothing but frustration and hurt. Because of Bractius. Because of what they were.

  ‘Kesta?’

  ‘We’d best get back to the others,’ she said.

  ***

  When they stopped for the evening Kesta took care of the horses while Milaiya unhitched the bulls. Jorrun and Osun sat talking quietly together while Milaiya began to set a fire and bring out food for cooking. When she was sure that no one was watching, Kesta placed the lantern on the step of the wagon and Azrael quickly flew out and away.

  She joined the others at the fire, her stomach turning when she saw the array of meat in the pan. She looked up at Jorrun, hoping to catch his attention and wondering how long she could endure this before she gave in and opened her mouth.

  He realised quickly something was wrong and saw what Milaiya was doing.

  ‘Milaiya, would you make me and Kesta something without meat?’

  She looked surprised, then worried.

  Jorrun smiled to show he wasn’t angry with her, but didn’t explain himself, going back to talking with Osun.

  Kesta wanted to offer to help but wasn’t sure how to without speaking or startling the woman. She felt guilty at having made more work for her.

  When they’d finished eating, Milaiya set up the tent for Jorrun and Kesta managed to help her clear away the cooking things without getting too much in her way. Osun dismissed Milaiya and the young woman went straight to the wagon. With nothing else to do, Kesta followed. As she climbed up into the wagon, she looked round to see Jorrun watching her, he quickly turned back to Osun.

  Milaiya had removed her hood to reveal long, curly, copper hair.

  ‘Hello,’ Kesta called up her knowing to best assess how to approach her. She felt mostly fear and suspicion. ‘I’m sorry if I startled you today. I’ve never been to Chem before and your ways are very different. I’m from the Fulmers.’

  The woman nodded, shaking out a blanket, she hesitated, then handed it to Kesta.

  ‘Thank you.’ She tried pushing calm and warmth toward Milaiya, but she just took down another blanket and lay down in the narrow space on her side.

  Kesta sighed. This was going to be a long journey.

  ***

  Kesta managed only four days until she broke. Four days with no one to talk to except brief exchanges in the wagon with Azrael. Four days of not being able to ask anything or be a part of any planning. Four days of Jorrun treating her almost as though she wasn’t there. She’d never felt so isolated and alone in her life. If anything, the four animals gave her more company than any of the humans. She began to sympathise more with Milaiya and understand her bond with the bulls even as she was annoyed by her prickly refusal of any friendship. Then it struck her that friendships between women in Chem probably brought their own pain. They could be separated at the whim of a master and they would have to endure watching each other’s suffering. She recalled what Jorrun had told her of his mother; that she and Osun’s mother had been lovers.

  She bit her lip, but she couldn’t bear to be silent any longer. ‘Would you tell me more about your mother?’

  Kesta felt a small amount of evil satisfaction when Milaiya gasped and dropped the spoon with which she was stirring their meal. Both men turned to look at Kesta who lifted her chin and met their eyes. Jorrun gave a loud sigh, and she wasn’t sure if the spark in his eyes was amusement or anger. She was surprised when it was Osun who eventually spoke.

  ‘Naderra was very young still when we fled Navere.’ He looked down into the fire. Jorrun became very still. ‘Not much more than a child herself when she had Jorrun. Her hair was long and black and curled a little at the ends, her skin was paler than yours but darker than Jorrun’s. One of her eyes was the colour of mead, the other the colour of a new oak leaf. She was always so full of life, no matter what she suffered. She was always giving us hope, even when there was none. She shone; and our father was both fascinated and terrified by it. And she could do magic!’ His eyes lit up, and he smiled at the memory. Milaiya ceased her stirring to stare at him. ‘Only ever in front of my mother and us, but she could talk to the animals, light a candle by touching it, and she could give you courage when yours had gone.’

  Jorrun got up and walked away from the fire. Kesta moved to follow him but he turned and said forcefully, ‘No Kesta.’

  She sat back down, watching him with her heart aching.

  ‘You killed the man who killed my mother,’ Osun said.

  ‘Karinna?’

  He nodded. ‘I wish I could have done it, but I’m glad he’s dead.’ The next words came to him awkwardly. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Trust me, it was a pleasure.’

  He snorted and smiled. He was quite handsome when he wasn’t glowering.

  ‘I’m, er.’ He glanced at Milaiya. ‘It is a long while since I was in Elden.’

  She realised he was attempting to apologise at his awkwardness.

  ‘It’s okay. I should keep trying to obey the rules.’ She sighed. ‘It’s just been, well, lonely and horrible not being able to speak my mind or talk when I need to.’

  ‘I know that feeling.’ Osun bit at his thumbnail.

  That surprised her, she’d never considered how much the culture of Chem isolated men as well as women. She looked in the direction Jorrun had gone.

  ‘If it’s any consolation,’ Osun went on. ‘Naderra never could bring herself to obey, despite the fact she was born in Chem, neither could Jorrun when he was here. They both suffered for it though. Me, on the other hand, I learnt how to keep out of trouble.’

  ‘Maybe you could teach me to do that.’

  ‘Maybe I could.’ He smiled shyly.

  ***

  When she climbed in to the wagon later Milaiya seemed to take longer than usual to get undressed and shake out her blanket. Kesta carefully quested toward her with her knowing and felt that, although still afraid, the woman was also burning with curiosity. She set out her own blanket and managed to catch Milaiya’s eyes long enough to smile.

  ‘The master … the master said your master’s mother could do magic.’

  Kesta sat down on the edge of a trunk, only glancing at her so as not to be threatening. ‘Yes, she could. Jorrun’s grandmother was from the Fulmers, like me.’

  ‘You …’ Milaiya cautiously sat at her feet. ‘You said that the bulls like me. Do you speak with the animals like your master’s mother?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘I didn’t know that women could do magic.’

  Kesta looked at her frightened, but hopeful, brown eyes. She wasn’t going to lie, but Jorrun was right, she should be careful. ‘Here, as you know, it’s forbidden. In my land, the Fulmers, it’s very different.’

  They sat until the stars had spun past middle-night, Azrael moving close to the glass of his lantern, Kesta describing first the islands and then the people that she loved there. Her mother, her father, her beloved Uncle Worvig and his dubious exploits. Milaiya sat enraptured by her description of he
r mother’s protectors, Heara and Shaherra. They lay back to back, Kesta could feel the other woman’s lungs empty and fill.

  ‘But … these are just stories? Not real?’ Kesta felt her hold her breath.

  ‘It’s real,’ she whispered. ‘When you ask me to, I’ll show you some magic.’

  Milaiya gasped, but she didn’t ask.

  ***

  The next day brought their first taste of trouble. Jorrun and Osun rode ahead while Kesta sat beside Milaiya on the wagon and their road took them close to a large town. At the fork in the road that led off toward the town stood a wooden building with a turf roof. A sign depicting a sword and shield swung from the porch and a man, who had been sprawled in a chair, stood on seeing them. He called out and four other men came out to join them.

  ‘Get inside the wagon!’ Milaiya whispered to Kesta urgently.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Guardsmen. A woman of your value wouldn’t stay out to be seen by such men.’

  With a scowl of annoyance, she opened the canvas behind her and awkwardly clambered through, leaving it open enough that she could see past Milaiya. She reached out her knowing; these men were bored and hoping to cause some trouble for their own entertainment.

  ‘Halt, there!’ Their leader called out.

  Osun stopped at once, but Jorrun walked his horse slowly around his brother to glare down at the men. They grew uneasy.

  ‘Just doing our job,’ one of them mumbled.

  ‘Do we look like thieves or bandits?’ Osun demanded.

  The leader bristled. ‘No, but we’ll take a look in the wagon, anyway.’

  Kesta felt fear from Milaiya and concern from Osun.

  Osun got down from his horse, some of the men put their hands on their weapons. ‘Come and look then.’ Osun sighed, gesturing for them to follow.

  Two of the men were whispering to each other and Kesta felt recognition in them and growing tension. They had perceived Jorrun and Osun’s Dunham features. ‘Ur, Captain!’ one of them called out nervously.

  ‘Not now!’ he snapped in annoyance, stomping behind Osun toward the wagon. Jorrun continued to glower at the guardsmen while Kesta quickly sat herself down on a chest, checking that Azrael was out of sight. Osun pulled back the canvas and Kesta sat completely still, not allowing herself to look up; much as she wanted to.

  ‘Surprised you don’t have guards, carrying valuable cargo.’ There was suspicion in his voice.

  ‘Does my master look like someone who needs guards?’ Osun snapped. ‘Have you finished?’

  ‘Not yet.’ The captain climbed up into the wagon just to make a point. He poked at a few things, taking his time. Kesta didn’t move.

  Eventually he got out and jumped down. ‘All right, I’ll just speak to your master.’

  ‘Your funeral,’ Osun murmured, just loud enough for the man to hear. As they moved past the bulls, Kesta got back up to watch through the canvas. One of the other guardsmen hurried to their captain and whispered in his ear. The man’s eyes widened, and his posture altered completely. He marched over to Jorrun and gave a bow.

  ‘Master! I must humbly apologise! I didn’t know who were!’

  Kesta snorted; he still didn’t.

  Jorrun narrowed his eyes at the man and without speaking turned his horse and headed back onto the road. Milaiya clicked at the bulls and followed at once as Osun got back on his horse and pushed it to a trot to catch up. Kesta crawled back out to sit with Milaiya.

  Jorrun cursed. ‘Are they likely to talk about that to anyone?’

  ‘Sadly, yes,’ Osun replied. ‘But with most of the covens away fighting hopefully the news won’t get to anyone who would wonder who you are. I’ll try to keep us away from any other guard posts, but we might still meet the odd patrol, especially as we get closer to Arkoom.’

  Jorrun nodded. She wished she could see his face.

  ***

  At night, Kesta continued to tell Milaiya tales of the Fulmers and the little she knew about Elden; knowing that poor Azrael, who was more confined than she was, enjoyed listening too. She was careful not to talk of Jorrun or give away anything of who he was.

  ‘What of you, Milaiya? Tell me of your life,’ she said in the darkness.

  She felt the woman shrug. ‘My mother was just a general slave, like me. She belonged to a master who had a big house in Margith, he was a coven lord but not strong, I think. Not a Dunham. I was trained as a general slave too. I was lucky, my mother had poor blood lines as did the man who lay with her. She said he’d been a visiting trader and my master had allowed him to have her while he stayed.’

  Kesta clenched her teeth to hold back her anger and managed to remain silent.

  ‘I was not pretty enough or valuable enough to be a breeder or a skin slave. I was lucky. When I was twelve, things changed. My master was in some kind of trouble with the Seats. He sold lots of us to make money and left Margith. I don’t know where my mother went. I was sold to a travelling merchant and learnt how to care for animals. It gave me some happiness. My new master had a breeder, so he left me alone.

  ‘When his breeder’s oldest child was of an age to take over my tasks, he sold me to Osun.’ She hesitated. ‘You will not tell him anything I say?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Kesta turned to her.

  ‘He is … he is in some ways a better master than I’ve had before. He lets me speak to him when we are alone. He has never hit me, not once. He will sometimes buy me things, things just for me, like a cheese that I love. But …’

  ‘But?’ Kesta’s stomach tightened. She almost didn’t want to hear it. She’d started to like Osun, despite his sometimes-sulky nature.

  ‘But he lies with me. I hate it.’

  Kesta gasped and sat up. ‘He rapes you?’

  ‘What? I don’t know that word.’ Milaiya was confused.

  No, I bet you don’t! Her fury grew so that her head pounded, and she could hardly see. I bet the women here are never allowed to even contemplate the idea of free will. She got up, flinging her blanket aside and untying the canvas with clumsy fingers. As she jumped out she recalled that Osun slept under the wagon. She wondered if he had heard their conversation; she hoped he had. She went straight to Jorrun’s tent and without hesitation crawled in.

  ‘Did you know your brother forces Milaiya to sleep with him?’

  ‘What?’ he rubbed at his face and propped himself up on his elbows.

  ‘You heard!’ she snapped, her heart thundering in her ears.

  He closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly three times before opening them again to study her face. ‘Kesta, this is Chem. He is a master, she is a slave.’

  She stared at him in shock, her cheeks burnt as blood rushed there. Had he really said that? She drew in a breath and held it, not blinking, her muscles frozen. ‘You are excusing him? You?’

  ‘No.’ He sat up and reached toward her, then thinking better of it pulled his hand back. ‘No, I am explaining it. It doesn’t make it right; but in this land, in this culture, what he has done isn’t wrong.’

  She shook her head, sitting back on her heels and pressing her nails into her palms. She felt sick. Rage was clawing its way up from her stomach to her throat. Tears spilled from her eyes and she furiously wiped them away with her fingers. ‘I want to kill him!’

  His voice was so gentle when he replied it hurt to hear it. ‘I understand. I hope you don’t kill him. He is my brother and we need him. We can’t change what has been, nor what is, but we can influence what will be.’

  ‘For too many people it will be too late.’

  ‘Yes, and that’s hard to endure.’

  She looked at him, his eyes darker than usual within the tent. She wanted so much to feel his arms around her at the same time as having an overwhelming desire to scratch his beautiful eyes out. Why did he have to be so reasonable? She growled at him and turned away to wipe her face again. She forced words out through her constricted throat. ‘I’ll try not to kill him. Bu
t I can’t not hate him.’

  He nodded, his eyes searching her face.

  She held his gaze for a long time. With another exasperated growl, she crawled back out of the tent. She couldn’t face Milaiya, couldn’t deal with what had been done to her. For nearly an hour she paced up and down the camp, one moment swearing she would kill Osun, the next losing her resolve and re-sheathing her dagger. The skin around her eyes was sore and her throat raw by the time she returned to the wagon, getting in and tying the canvas shut behind her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Milaiya whispered.

  ‘No, not really.’ Kesta wrapped her blanket around herself and reaching out she found Milaiya’s hand and squeezed it. Her heart still raced, and she had to force herself to calm down and breathe slowly. Logically, she knew that Jorrun hadn’t betrayed her, but her heart felt as though he had.

  ***

  They met three patrols the following day, despite approaching Arkoom along less travelled roads. Kesta had mostly remained either in the wagon or with Milaiya on the driving seat. She’d completely avoided Osun; if he had noticed he hadn’t shown it. She’d observed Jorrun frequently watching her. Without her knowing she wasn’t sure if it was because he was worried about her or scared that she really would attack his half-brother. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about his calm and reasonable reaction; he was right but so wrong at the same time in her opinion. Hadn’t he killed a man for hurting Catya?

  The patrols had mostly ignored them although they received some curious looks and occasionally someone seemed to startle as they saw resemblance to the Dunhams in Jorrun’s face.

  That night, as they camped, Kesta tried to put aside her anger and disgust and came cautiously to the camp fire, sitting as far away as she could from Osun. He smiled at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to return it. Her knowing brought her his hurt, his own anger, and his unwanted shame. She quickly shut it off.

  ‘Tomorrow we will reach Arkoom,’ Osun said.

  ‘We cannot go on as we are.’ Jorrun threw some of the food he’d been eating into the fire. ‘I’m too recognisable as a Dunham. Perhaps if I dressed as a servant rather than a master?’