The Wolf captain held up a mirror he took from his bag. Her reflection showed messy hair and a dirty face, not how a Raven’s Master daughter should look, especially when accused of being a witch. Minerva with her warts and big nose looked a hundred times better. She wasn’t sure what to do, but Hillary arrived with perfect timing carrying a tray with a bowl of warm water and a cloth. Wolfgar mistook the bowel of water for milk, stood up, and took it from the tray, scowling.
“What is this?” Wolfgar asked, sounding irritated.
“It’s for the lady,” Hillary said. “To wash her hands and face, I thought, seeing how she doesn’t lick her fingers clean like the Wolf Clan.”
The water was thrown in Hillary’s face. Taliesin flew off the bench at once, taking the towel off the tray to dab the water off Hillary and presenting her back to Wolfgar. Only a few men snickered. The Wolf captain returned to his seat, lifted his tankard of ale, and took a large sip. Hillary took the tray into the kitchen and sent Mrs. Caldwell out with more pitchers of ale, allowing the odor of roasted venison, wild boar, and chicken to permeate the air. Udolf was out of his seat and sniffing hard, but Wolfgar pulled him to the bench.
“What type of holy water do you have?” Grudge said. “Taliesin prays to Navenna, not Heggen like the rest of us, and if your water is blessed by a priest of Ragnal, your god, well, then you might as well have her drink from a dog bowl.”
Wolfgar laughed along with the Black Wings. “All of you make sport of me,” he said, holding up his tankard. “If this was the Wolf Lair, you’d find our women are obedient and servants never talk back. They each know their place. Yet, you Ravens laugh at everything, finding humor in proven tests that have sent hundreds of witches to the stake. But I too can make jests. C. W. Pedigrew sounds very much like ‘pedigree,’ and here my companion and I are Wolfmen. Yes, very funny, indeed.” His eyes momentarily changed color, burning a bright yellow and slanting up at the corners before returning to green. Taliesin had seen it, if no one else had, and she refilled her tankard, needing a drink.
“Taliesin is not a witch.” Grudge was cut off before he could finish.
“Now, had I drunk the wash water, then it would be truly funny, wouldn’t it?” Wolfgar punched his friend in the arm. “Udolf, you do not laugh. Come, my friend, laugh with these silly birdmen. They think the Wolf Pack is a joke. No sane man would ever think a wolf pack is a joke. Not when alone in the woods.”
“Not a joke,” Udolf said, repeating his captain’s words with a growl.
“Our way is not your way, Captain Wolfgar,” Taliesin said. “As soon as my father arrives...”
Wolfgar stood, lifting his hand in the air. He sniffed at the air in a canine manner. “The Raven Master is here. Now we’ll get to the bottom of things, little miss bossy.” A long pink tongue rolled across his thin lips. “If we prove you are a witch, you will burn this night.”
Burned at the stake, she thought, and wished she’d gone to her room and never returned to the hall. Curiosity, impatience, and a bad temper would be the death of her yet.
Chapter Four
The Raven Master arrived, escorted by eight armed Black Wings. Hawk and Rook accompanied them. Osprey had put on a cloak of raven feathers that fell from his shoulders to his ankles and a silver crown with a gold raven beak in the center. The frail, old man looked impressive as he swept forward and approached the main table turned perpendicular to the rest. He sat in a handsomely-carved wooden chair, and the two Wolfmen grabbed their helmets and stepped forward to bow. Grudge stood up from the table, signaled his men to follow, and they lined up behind the Wolfmen.
“Show me Chief Lykus’ letter,” Osprey said in a commanding voice. “Come, come now. I am hungry, and I want this matter settled quite quickly. Captain Wolfgar, it’s always a pleasure to see you. Now let’s see why you’ve come to Raven’s Nest.”
Taliesin was again left alone at the table. She pulled Wolfgar’s pouch over for a closer examination, half-listening to the men as she looked at the contents. There were the small skulls of a rat and a cat, a rabbit’s foot, a bag of cloves, two cigars wrapped in a dirty cloth, and a small metal knife. Also within was the mirror, a bottle of murky water with no label, a bag of salt, a handful of loose human teeth, and a human finger, female, recently cleaved off someone’s hand. Not much of a kit for hunting witches, she thought, which she doubted Wolfgar and Udolf had ever done in their life; it was part of their pretense for being there. She put everything back into the pouch and picked up the little book. One whiff told her it had once been pissed on and a flea was smashed between the pages she’d opened. She found a raven feather pressed between two other pages, and paused when she heard Osprey’s voice.
“The signature of Chief Lykus is authentic,” Osprey announced. “I would recognize his scribble anywhere. But what brings you here unwashed and unshaved, Captain Wolfgar? My clan has a reason for being dirty, but not you and your companion. I tolerate many things—pilfering, petty bickering, and sloth—but what I will not endure is rude manners in my hall.”
Taliesin removed the feather, not liking it inside such a book. She put the book inside the pouch, stood, and headed toward the kitchen, taking the feather with her.
“My manners are crude at best,” Wolfgar acknowledged. He stood with his shaggy head bowed. “We come as friends to the Raven Clan, and upon my master’s bidding. This is official business. It concerns your daughter. My master believes she is a witch.”
Taliesin felt her heart leap to her throat. Her father was quick to respond.
“My daughter is not a witch,” Osprey said. “I can’t believe that’s why you are really here. Tell me. I am listening. What are you really after?”
“Our clan was present at the Battle of Burnlak. My men said a red-haired wench picked up many weapons of quality, including a gold sword. My master knew Duke Hrothgar would be present, and if Doomsayer was found, he is willing to pay for it. I’ve brought coin.”
“Well, well, well,” Osprey said, sounding pleased. Yet, he didn’t turn to praise Taliesin and thereby leaving her vulnerable to Wolfgar’s accusation. Instead, he defended her with aplomb. “Witchcraft no longer exists, not in the Tannenburg, and isn’t needed for Taliesin to find swords of value. It is my daughter’s job as a sword collector to retrieve only the best. But it’s Captain Grudge who found the duke’s sword. It is his sword to keep or to sell. You may ask him if he’ll part with it, but as for my daughter, that subject is closed.”
“I did find Doomsayer. It is one of Duke Hrothgar’s twenty gold swords, but it isn’t for sale,” Grudge said. He’d removed the weapon from his back and placed it out of sight.
Taliesin’s bags had been taken upstairs by Hillary. Mrs. Caldwell had sent her silver sword to her room, as well. Always looking out after her, she thought.
“There, you see,” Osprey said. “Your trip has been in vain, Captain Wolfgar. I assure you my daughter, Taliesin, is not a witch. She simply has a knack for finding valuable weapons. Your trip to Raven’s Nest has been made in vain.”
Wolfgar bristled. One sharp look from Grudge, and he kept his mouth closed.
“Our official business is now concluded,” Osprey said, with finality. “If you care to dine with us, Captain Wolfgar, then remove your cloaks and take a seat at my table. Tonight, we celebrate!”
Showing a spontaneous zeal for knowing how to turn a volatile situation into a celebration, Osprey gave orders for music and good cheer. Several men with a lute, a tambourine, and a drum started playing, filling the great hall with lively music and merriment. Taliesin went into the kitchen to quickly wash her hands and face at a sink. Mrs. Caldwell appeared with a bundle of clothes. She helped Taliesin out of her grungy tunic, then made her strip to her undergarments, slip on a dark-green tunic that fell to the floor, and a pull on a pair of soft brown boots. Taliesin grimaced as Mrs. Caldwell combed her hair, pulled it into a ponytail, spun it around into a bun, and clipped it behind her head. A dab of perfume was place
d behind Taliesin’s ears and on her wrists.
“I’ll have a hot bath sent up for you after dinner,” Mrs. Caldwell said. Taliesin was fond of the woman. She was twenty years younger than Hillary, but Taliesin knew they’d taken to sleeping together. The head maid was a widow and Hillary had never married. It was a good match, for they took care of Raven’s Nest and ran an orderly kitchen and staff. The little things they did, as Mrs. Caldwell did for her now, made them near and dear to her heart.
“Thank you,” Taliesin said. “You don’t think I’m a witch, do you, Mrs. Caldwell?”
“Pish posh. If you’re a witch, then I’m a Draconus princess.” The woman chuckled heartily and turned, clapping her hands and startling her kitchen staff who were preparing to head out the door. “Don’t you dare spill a drop of my stew! Our guests might be dogs but that doesn’t mean they’ll be eating off the floor.”
Taliesin smiled as she slipped behind a line of women in aprons carrying pitchers of ale and trays stacked with tankards. They handed these out to the workers who had come in through the doors and now sat at the four long tables. She went over and stood behind Osprey’s chair. Taliesin hung back from the table, stalling, not wanting to sit and have to listen to Captain Wolfgar’s accusations. The women with children had not joined them, nor were there any children in sight. Rook and Wren sat amongst the clan, and Hawk sat next to Grudge at the main table. A chair was left open for Taliesin and she slid into it, noting both men giving her an approving look; apparently they liked her in a dress with her hair up, a fashion she normally wouldn’t have tolerated, but Mrs. Caldwell had tried so hard to make her look nice she hadn’t wanted to complain.
Platters of roasted venison, boar, and chicken were placed on the tables. Bowls of hot beef stew, along with boiled quail eggs, fresh baked bread, and large slabs of butter filled the air with a delicious aroma. Large bowls of steamed clams, buttery potatoes with cloves, fresh vegetables, and baked puddings were placed out. Within seconds, Osprey’s mangy war dogs wandered to his table, including his favorite, a giant red hound named Falstaff, who sat at his master’s feet.
“Everyone has done well, and our clan will prosper,” Osprey announced, standing to address the crowd. “Eat and drink your fill! This will be a meal to remember, my friends, I assure you.” He sat to a bowl of steamed clams placed before him. “Some of our cooks come right out of the King’s palace…only I didn’t say that, a man’s past being his own business. None of that makes any difference here in Raven’s Nest, Captain Wolfgar.”
Wolfgar wasn’t eating, only drinking. “Of course,” he said. “It is well known your clan does not speak of their past. You are given new identities when you join Raven Clan.” He glanced up as a pretty girl paused to fill his tankard with ale. Taliesin wanted to club the captain when he gave the frightened girl a pat on her rump. The girl went to serve the lieutenant who was chewing on a turkey leg; a glutton, able to eat more than any man Taliesin had ever seen.
“My daughter has changed for us,” Osprey said, glancing over at her. “What a beautiful woman you are, Taliesin. Is she not lovely, Captain Wolfgar? Surely it’s her face that has attracted Chief Lykus’ attention and not this silly story about witchery.”
“Yes, lovely,” Wolfgar said, but he didn’t look at her. He was finally eating.
Hillary placed a plate filled with meat and boiled potatoes before Taliesin, filled her tankard with ale, and hovered behind the table. Osprey nodded at Taliesin, and they tapped their mugs together. As he lowered his tankard, he used his sleeve to wipe away a film of foam above his upper lip.
“Here we do not judge men or women on where they were born or why they came to be here,” Osprey said. “But I do admit we have excellent cooks. The best cooks have tempers and some find themselves on the run after a particularly murderous outburst in a lord’s kitchen. Don’t anger Mrs. Caldwell or she’s liable to cut off your ears, captain.” He chuckled and took another drink of ale. “We offer sanctuary here, and a type of rebirth. It’s my own version of a utopian society. Everyone here is equal, though not necessarily when it comes to the spoils of war. But I think we have the best of everything in Raven’s Nest. Don’t we, my dear?”
“Yes, father,” Taliesin said. She stood up and held her tankard high. “To the Raven Clan!” she shouted. “To utopia!”
Everyone stood up and raised their mugs. “To the Raven Clan,” voices shouted in unison. Osprey smiled at the lot of them, saving his fondest look for Taliesin, but one glance toward a dark shadow entering the room and his good humor ended. Minerva came into the hall wearing a black velvet gown and a preposterously-large headdress made of feathers. The lute player deliberately missed a note, and the musicians chuckled, causing a ripple effect across the room as the Raven Master’s wife squeezed in between her husband and Captain Wolfgar. The twins, Talon and Falcon, the only children given permission to be in the hall, stood behind her chair like obedient puppies.
“I suppose she’ll toss bones over her shoulder to feed those little monsters,” Hawk said, his tankard raised. He winked at Taliesin. “What is she wearing on her head? It’s like a flock of black birds took up roosting in her hair.”
Taliesin exchanged a look of amusement with Hawk, noticing Grudge was eyeing them both with disapproval. Hawk lifted his goblet to his lips, rolling his eyes towards the Wolfmen. The amount of food shoveled into their faces was astounding, and Taliesin swore they each ate enough to feed ten men. As she watched, the Wolfmen picked up speed as they ate, revealing ravenous appetites, and she heard Hawk snickering.
“Tell me, Captain Wolfgar, what is Wolf’s Lair like?” Minerva said, using a sickly-sweet voice that drew Taliesin’s attention. The old woman looked more like a stage actress in a Glabber the Glib production than the Raven Master’s wife. She batted her eyelids at the Wolfman in a flirtatious manner, for she had no eyelashes, only wrinkles of flesh. In a woman her age it was appalling to watch.
“It’s dark,” Wolfgar said, his mouth full.
“What are your women like at Wolf’s Lair? Are they as fair as Raven girls?” Minerva placed a hand to her pale, white throat when the Wolfman glanced toward her. Gravy dripped off his chin, and he wiped it off with the palm of his hand. “And what of your wife? I am sure she is quite the beauty. Have you children, sir?”
“I have no mate, yet, nor any offspring,” Wolfgar growled. He glanced toward Taliesin as if to imply he was interested.
Averting her eyes, Taliesin used her fork to stab a piece of beef and lift it to her lips. The taste was delicious, but she hardly noticed as she watched Minerva try to cuddle up to the brutish Wolfgar. Minerva never made a fuss over anyone, and Taliesin snickered when the old magpie boldly brushed crumbs off the captain’s cloak. A low growl rumbled in Wolfgar’s chest. He brushed her hand away, annoyed, and continued eating.
“I heard they call Lykus the Wolf King,” Minerva said, not able to take a hint. “Is your leader as intimidating as they say, Captain?”
“You talk too much.” Wolfgar paused in his feeding frenzy to grab a young servant girl by the arm. She dropped her plate of potatoes, leaving it to the dogs, as he roughly yanked her to his side. “More ale!” He released the girl and smiled at Osprey. “Sir, your women are far prettier than our own and vastly more desirable.” His gaze transferred to Taliesin, burning with a hunger that made her feel uneasy. “Your daughter is quite a beauty. Her hair is as red as fire, and her eyes bluer than the sky.”
“I’ve heard it all now,” Grudge said, finally speaking.
“I agree with you, sir,” Osprey said, flattered by the compliments. He was oblivious to Taliesin’s growing fury and seemed more interested in keeping his guests entertained than seeing to her comfort. “More ale! More of everything!”
Tankards of ale were placed before Wolfgar and Udolf. The Wolfmen had already swallowed enough ale to be slobbering drunk, but neither appeared so afflicted. Taliesin noticed the two frequently glanced around the room as if counting
heads, and only broke off their assessment of her clan to stuff food into their mouths and wash it down with ale. Mrs. Caldwell was right about their guests; their manners were similar to the dogs beneath Osprey’s tables. The Wolfmen ate with their mouths open, smacked their greasy lips, and licked their dirty fingers. She imagined Wolf’s Lair as nothing but a dark cave filled with savages, its members gathered around fire pits, gnawing at great chunks of meat, and swallowing big bites. Along with children crawling on the ground among the dogs, there would be Wolfgar and a wild-haired girl lapping up ale from the same dish. Later, they would lounge on a bed of straw together, scratching at their fleas as they mauled each other.
“They act like they never ate at a table before,” she said, glancing at Grudge. He could only nod as his mouth was full. Grudge finished chewing and used a kerchief kept in his pocket to wipe his mouth and fingers.
“Now would be a good time to disappear,” he said.
Taliesin didn’t wait to be told twice. “Father? May I be excused?”
“Don’t you approve of us, girl? Is that why you leave?” Wolfgar said, tossing a large bone onto his plate, his attention focused on Taliesin. He wiped his hands on his tunic then, finding Minerva too close, used the sleeve of her long black dress. She drew away from him, offended. He belched and picked up an ear of corn. “I asked you a question. Where I come from, when a man asks a woman a question, she is expected to answer.”
“Here, in Raven’s Nest, a woman does not have to answer a man’s question if she does not want to,” Taliesin said. At a sharp glance from Osprey, she bowed her head and remained seated.
Seeker of Magic Page 6
