Quintana of Charyn lc-3

by Melina Marchetta

‘What’s in the letter?’ he asked.

  Arjuro didn’t respond.

  ‘Tell me,’ Froi begged.

  Arjuro sat on the cot and thought for a minute. ‘We’ve received word back from the Turlans. Quintana never reached them, Froi. She’s not in the Lascow Mountains either. We’ve sent out word to the Provincari. She may have gone back to Jidia.’

  ‘Orlanda made it clear she would not protect her,’ Froi said, referring to the Provincara of Jidia.

  ‘Regardless, if Orlanda’s hand is forced, she will protect the future King.’

  ‘What of De Lancey? Quintana went searching for Lirah that time in the Citavita. Maybe she returned to Paladozza.’

  ‘I’ve written to De Lancey. Let’s hope he responds with the news we want to hear.’

  ‘Arjuro –’

  ‘It’s all I know. Don’t ask me again!’

  Chapter 3

  The hammering on Lucian’s cottage door woke him with a start.

  ‘Lucian! Lucian!’

  The voices belonged to Lady Beatriss and Tesadora, he thought, stumbling from his bed. Something had happened to Yata. He felt the all-too-familiar taste of bile fill his mouth as his mind raced with images of the worst.

  But Yata was there the moment Lucian opened the door, his relief cut short when he saw the looks on all three faces.

  ‘Vestie’s gone!’

  ‘Taken from her bed, Lucian!’

  He grabbed his coat and ushered them out the door and he felt the sharp slap of wind against his cheeks. Winter was out-staying its welcome for yet another day. He had never known it to drag so long.

  ‘One at a time,’ he ordered as they travelled the path down to Yata’s home. ‘And everyone calm down! No one on this mountain would hurt Vestie, so there has to be an explanation.’

  Lady Beatriss nodded and tried to do as she was told, taking a deep breath that sounded more like a ragged sob.

  ‘I woke up and her bed was empty and then I woke Tesadora and we searched Yata’s house. Nothing.’

  ‘The door was unlatched,’ Tesadora continued. ‘From the inside.’

  They reached Yata’s compound, which sat at the centre of the mountain, and Lucian hurried to the bell in the courtyard. It had only been rung once since their return, after the younger lads broke into the cellars and got drunk. It was unlike the bell that Isaboe had insisted be placed on the mountain halfway to Lumatere. That one was a means of alerting the guards stationed there that something was wrong on the Charyn border; Yata’s bell could only be heard throughout the mountain village. Lucian rang it long and loud until the Monts emerged from their cottages, even from as far up as the slopes to the east.

  Lucian’s eyes met Tesadora’s. She wasn’t one for dramatics, but she looked pale and he knew that Vestie of the Flatlands was precious to her. Very few people found a place in Tesadora’s heart. Finnikin spoke often about the love between Tesadora and Isaboe. Letters were exchanged between the two each week and it wasn’t rare to see Tesadora laughing as she read her correspondence. Both Isaboe and Tesadora’s bond with Vestie was strong because they had walked the sleep together during the curse. Lucian could not fathom the thought of what would happen if Vestie was hurt.

  ‘She could have responded to a knock,’ Lucian said.

  Tesadora and Beatriss shook her head.

  ‘We would have heard it,’ Yata said. ‘There was no knock.’

  By now a crowd had gathered around them, calling out questions, realising this was no drunken foolery by the younger lads.

  Lucian settled them down, knowing their silence would be short-lived the moment he spoke the words, ‘Vestie is gone.’ And short-lived it was. Questions were shouted at him from all directions, the women crying out their fear as they surrounded Beatriss, alarming her even more. Worst were Jory and the lads, whipped into a frenzy of fury. Jory’s response to Phaedra’s death had been anger. The lad wasn’t aware that it was grief he was feeling, and perhaps Lucian and the Monts had not realised until these past weeks that Jory was no longer a boy.

  ‘Stop!’ Lucian ordered above the noise. He pointed a finger at the lads who were the last to obey. He waited for silence again. ‘Everyone search around your homes. Jory, ride down towards the valley and ask the cottagers to start searching the middle mountain. You lot,’ he said, pointing to his younger cousins, ‘check the woods. Knock on every door. Juno, take your lads and head towards Balconio.’

  Lucian turned to Lady Beatriss. ‘Maybe she woke up feeling lost and is trying to make her way home?’

  Lady Beatriss shook her head and he could see she was holding back tears.

  ‘There is an explanation, Lady Beatriss. You know that. It’s what Trevanion would tell you if he were here.’

  All morning, Vestie’s name rang throughout the mountain. Every cottage was searched, every footstep traced, every shrine to the Goddess filled with garlands. Lucian knew of Vestie’s gift for walking the sleep, but he had never known anyone to become so lost in the dream that it took them from their beds.

  And then, midmorning, Jory returned, his face pale, clutching a mitten in his hand. Lady Beatriss took it and held it to her face, weeping.

  ‘She has to be in the valley, Lucian,’ Jory said. ‘It’s the only explanation.’

  Lucian caught his breath. It had been weeks since Phaedra’s death and he had only made the journey to the valley twice. At night, in a panic, he would wake up afraid he had abandoned Phaedra’s companions to the mercy of the cutthroat camp leader, Donashe, and his men. No matter how many times he reminded himself that the valley dwellers were not his people, Lucian felt a fierce sense of guilt.

  ‘We should have had our sentinels down in the valley,’ Tesadora said, her voice blunt and accusing.

  ‘But we don’t,’ Lucian argued. He had used the threat of the plague as a reason to stop sending down the lads, but he knew there was no such danger anymore. He looked around at those waiting for the next order. ‘Lady Beatriss, you wait –’

  ‘Don’t ask me to do that, Lucian. I’m coming with you.’

  He didn’t even attempt to instruct Tesadora. She was coming down to the valley whether Lucian liked it or not.

  ‘Yata,’ he sighed. ‘Go back to the house, in case Vestie returns. Jory and Yael, come with me. Everyone else, stay.’

  When they reached the bottom of the mountain, Lucian did what he always did: asked his father for guidance. What would Saro do? Cross the stream and accuse the Charynites of taking a Lumateran child, after all the valley dwellers had endured with the death of five of their women and the slaughter of Rafuel’s men? Would Lucian ask for help from the murderous camp leaders, or would he accuse them of taking Vestie? Could he trust Rafuel, who now seemed a stranger to them? At the campsite on the Lumateran side of the valley where Tesadora had once camped with her girls, he dared to look through the trees in the hope of catching a glimpse of his wife crossing the stream.

  That’s why you haven’t returned here, Lucian. Because you see her everywhere.

  ‘Jory, you cross the stream and see what you can find out. They’ll trust you. Remember, no accusations. I don’t care what the camp leaders say, we cannot have Kasabian and the others thinking we believe they hurt one of our own.

  ‘Yael, you watch Jory from one of the trees and holler for me the moment there’s trouble. Lady Beatriss, Tesadora and I will continue down this side of the stream and see what we can find. We’ll meet you back here.’

  As they travelled further downstream he could see Phaedra’s people in their caves through the copse of trees.

  ‘She would never have come this far,’ Beatriss said when they were deep within the woods. ‘Perhaps … perhaps she tried to cross the stream. The ice is beginning to melt on the mountain and the force of it could have carried her away.’

  ‘Beatriss,’ Tesadora said firmly, ‘she swims better than any child we know.’

  Lucian doubted greatly that Vestie was swept away by the stream. Lucian knew t
hat teaching Vestie to swim was the first thing Trevanion had done for Lady Beatriss and the child she bore during the curse when they were reunited three years past. It had created a bond between the Captain and his former lover’s child. Today, they were a family and the union had been one of the most joyous occasions for Lumaterans.

  Suddenly he saw a movement, heard the snap of a twig and the rustle of leaves and the strangest of giggles.

  ‘Vestie!’ he called out, racing towards the sound. Beatriss and Tesadora were with him, calling out her name. ‘Vestie!’

  But there was nothing. They stood a moment to listen, hearing only the sound of a bird mocking. Then he saw the movement again and Lucian was running, leaping over half-fallen limbs, avoiding the tree shoots that caught at his ankle.

  ‘Vestie!’

  ‘Vestie!’

  ‘Vestie, my love!’

  Lucian continued his pursuit until he heard the sound of heavy breath, rasping for air. But it was not the breathing of a child. He stopped, and held up a hand to Tesadora who appeared close behind.

  ‘Vestie, it’s Lucian! Are you hiding?’

  Beatriss entered the clearing and Tesadora placed a finger to her lips.

  ‘I’ll not be angry,’ Lucian said. ‘I promise, Vestie darlin’.’

  He knew she was close, but not alone, and that alarmed Lucian more than he cared to admit. He took a step closer, and there he saw them. Huddled in the hollow of a tree trunk. A girl with crazed eyes held a hand over Vestie’s mouth. A bloody dagger was clasped in her other hand.

  He heard Beatriss’s cry behind him and he saw Vestie look up, startled to see them all. Startled, but not frightened. Beatriss rushed forward, but the strange girl snarled, and Lucian gripped Beatriss’s hand and dragged her gently behind him.

  ‘Please don’t hurt her,’ Beatriss begged the girl. ‘Please.’

  Lucian moved towards the girl, a hand at the scabbard of his sword. He knew with certainty that he would slice this wretch’s hand clear off her body if she didn’t let go of Vestie at his command.

  ‘Vestie, step away from her,’ he ordered gently. Vestie stared at the sword and suddenly began to weep, confused. Was she waking from walking in her sleep? He moved closer and the most savage of sounds came from the girl, and she held the dagger out before her, waving it in Lucian’s face. He retrieved his sword from its scabbard slowly, not once losing eye contact with her.

  ‘Lucian, come back,’ Tesadora ordered. ‘You’re scaring them.’

  But Lucian refused, and when he almost reached them, the savage girl clenched her teeth, dragging Vestie deeper into the hollow of the tree.

  ‘Lucian, please stop,’ Beatriss cried. ‘She’ll hurt her.’

  Lucian shook his head, refusing to move away.

  ‘Do not let me have to explain to Trevanion why I put my sword down while someone held a dagger to his daughter.’

  Tesadora walked before him. His hand caught her arm to pull her backwards, but she shrugged free.

  ‘I know what I’m doing,’ she said, her eyes fastened on the girl, who stared, almost transfixed. When Tesadora was only a step away from Vestie and the girl, Lucian heard a bloodcurdling snarl, but suddenly Tesadora’s hand snaked out and gripped the girl’s face.

  ‘Oh, you savage beauty,’ Tesadora said. ‘Where did you come from?’

  Lucian wondered if Tesadora was bewitched. The girl stared, confused. Tesadora repeated the words in Charyn.

  ‘We won’t hurt her,’ Tesadora said, reaching out for Vestie.

  Vestie gripped the girl’s hand that was pressed over her mouth and removed it. Lucian expected a scream, but instead Vestie leaned forward and whispered into the stranger’s ear.

  The mad girl peered over Tesadora’s shoulder to where Beatriss stood with Lucian.

  ‘I just want to hear the little person speak again,’ the savage girl said coldly in Charyn. ‘I want to hear her voice.’

  ‘We need to take her home,’ Tesadora explained gently. ‘She’ll be safe. You must get back to your people in the valley.’

  The girl shook her head emphatically.

  ‘Tell no one, Serker Eyes,’ she whispered. ‘Or else they’ll kill us all.’

  Small crooked teeth showed through a snarl. Before anyone could speak another word, the girl scrambled to her feet and tore off. Lucian quickly gathered Vestie in his arms, his eyes meeting Tesadora’s.

  ‘What,’ he asked, ‘was that?’

  Later, when Vestie was being bathed by Beatriss and the women, they found not a single mark on her body. She had recovered quickly from her ordeal.

  ‘Who was she, Vestie?’ Lady Beatriss asked as Yata wrapped the little girl up in a blanket while Lucian’s aunts fussed.

  ‘I don’t know. I think I walked and slept, Mama, and then I was in the woods crying and I saw her. It was as though I knew she’d be there. And I said, “Hello there. Hello there, I say.” And she looked so frightened. It was just like that time we first met the valley dwellers and they stared at us in such a fashion.’

  ‘They’re not used to seeing little girls,’ Yata said.

  ‘I spoke again and said, “My name is Vestie,” and she wept and wept and she spoke in that funny way the camp dwellers speak.’

  Vestie turned to Tesadora. ‘I want to learn, Tesadora. I want to speak just like them. I only know one word. It means friend. I said it in her ear. “Sora. Sora. Sora.”’

  Tesadora chuckled and gathered Vestie to her.

  ‘And who taught you this Charynite word for friend?’

  ‘Phaedra of Alonso did. She said it was the prettiest word in Charyn.’

  And Lucian ached to hear those words.

  Vestie looked up at Lady Beatriss. ‘That time we crossed the stream together with you, Mama. Remember? Phaedra said not to be afraid because the camp dwellers only wanted to be my friend. My sora. I want to learn more.’

  ‘I’ll teach you, Vestie,’ Jory said from the entrance of the room, anger lacing his voice. ‘So that when you see her again you can tell the witch we’ll tear her limb –’

  ‘Jory!’ Lucian warned, while Beatriss covered Vestie’s ears. Jory looked away, shamefaced.

  ‘Go out to the lads,’ Lucian ordered, shoving his young cousin forward. ‘And calm them down. There will be no repeat of raids into the valley.’

  ‘Not their side of the valley, Lucian,’ Jory said. ‘Ours. She wasn’t a valley dweller. You said so yourself.’

  ‘Go.’

  Jory left, a stubborn set to his jaw.

  ‘We’ll get supper started,’ Yata said, following the aunts out of the room. Lucian bobbed down to Vestie’s height.

  ‘Can you remember anything else, Vestie?’ Lucian asked.

  ‘Every time I spoke, she’d weep and weep with joy.’

  ‘She liked your voice,’ Beatriss said quietly.

  ‘But whose blood was it?’ Lucian asked. ‘It was the first thing we saw and it frightened us all.’

  Vestie laughed with glee. ‘She taught me to slaughter a hare.’

  Vestie twisted her hands together as if breaking the neck of an animal and made the most gods-awful sound. ‘I’m going to show Father.’

  ‘Yes, Father will be overjoyed to hear all about this when he returns,’ Beatriss murmured, catching Lucian’s eye.

  ‘We caught three,’ Vestie exclaimed. ‘We caught them together.’

  ‘You did not,’ Lucian mocked, desperate to know more about their savage neighbour.

  ‘I did, too,’ she said indignantly. ‘Can I play with her again?’

  ‘No, my love,’ Beatriss said. ‘We’re going home to Fenton in a few days. You’ve given us quite a scare.’

  ‘I told her about Millie and how I left her behind in my bed.’

  Lucian was confused. ‘Millie?’

  ‘Her doll,’ Beatriss said. ‘I’ll go get her.’ She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s brow. ‘Don’t do this to Mama again, Vestie. You scared me today.’

&nbs
p; When Beatriss left the room, Vestie turned to Tesadora.

  ‘Why can’t I take her home with us, Tesadora?’

  ‘We know nothing about her, minx,’ Tesadora said, picking her up and swinging her around. ‘We don’t even know her name.’

  ‘I think I do,’ Vestie said, indignant. ‘She’s just like Isaboe, you know. Just like her.’

  ‘She’s nothing like Isaboe,’ Lucian said.

  Tesadora looked up at him. ‘How about you calm down the lads … and Vestie can tell me everything she knows about her new friend in the valley?’

  Chapter 4

  I come close to our cave with hands drenched in hare’s blood. If they feast on fresh game for the first time in weeks, perhaps things may change and their hearts will be open. But the women are speaking, they’re fighting, they’re weeping, Froi. Their stone-hearted claws scratch at me whole. Though their voices are hushed, they scream with such hate. I hear them speak words, ‘We’ll kill in her sleep.’ The little King kicks, a beat of great fear, and he begs me to run from these wretches of malice. The Mont’s wife, she sees me, her face speaks of shame, and the hares in my hand are hurled in my fury.

  And I run and I run, and I think of the girl child, the one they call Visti, and the trust in her eyes. I think of her voice, so much like Regina, my sister beloved who’s left me behind. But Froi, have you joined her at the lake of the half-dead? I fear that you have and she’s not sent you back. The last time I saw you, eight arrows were piercing. You couldn’t have lived; the gods aren’t that kind.

  And I hide in the thistles that tear at my skin, but finally I see her, the white-headed Serker. She knows I am out here, but pretends she’s not looking. I know she is looking and pretend it’s a game. And finally I’m closer and I grip at her strange hair, the white of its strands a shroud around my fist. And my blood beats a dance because I’ve found it a kindred. So I vow to return and my smile aches my face. I know her: Tesadora. Will she love me regardless?

  She knows me, she knows me, but does not turn away.

  Phaedra of Alonso was running. Stumbling over an upturned stone once, twice. Praying with all her being for a glimpse of their strange princess. Up in the distance the whistle of the wind sang to her from the mountain. From Lucian’s mountain. It beckoned and taunted and she wanted to run towards it. To be enveloped in its coat of fleece and to hear its safe sounds.