Scorpion Rising

by Marilyn Todd

  The acoustics inside the cave were confusing, and it took a moment before she realized that the sobs came from outside, where the rocks at the entrance kicked back an echo.

  'Oh sweet Janus!'

  The woman lay on the ground where she had fallen, her fringed skirt up over her knees, the bruise on her shin already swollen and angry. And the reason she couldn't get up by herself was because she was heavily pregnant.

  'Don't move.' Claudia scrambled over the rocks towards her. 'Stay right where you are, I'll go and get help, I just need to make sure you're all right first.'

  'Go away,' she sobbed, pushing Claudia away. 'Leave me alone.'

  'I certainly will not.'

  Apart from the banged shin, there appeared to be no other damage and her stomach lurched, because that meant it was internal.

  'Where were you when you fell?' she asked. Dammit, these boulders were huge.

  'I didn't slip,' the Gaulish girl blubbered. 'I came here to be alone, so go away and leave me in peace.'

  'My dear woman, if I thought you were in peace, I'd be gone before you could blink. But.' Claudia made herself comfortable on the ground next to her. 'Since you've gone to a lot of trouble to crawl into this space, curled yourself

  up like an animal and are obviously intent on creating a water course that not only makes the one inside the cave look like a tap-drip but will probably throw Gurdo out of a job in the process, I'm sticking to you like a wart until you tell me the problem.'

  The smile was feeble, but it was a smile nevertheless.

  'See for yourself,' she said, handing over a crumpled piece of parchment.

  Claudia straightened it out the best that she could, and although tears and ink were not the best of companions, she eventually deciphered the gist.

  While you let your horse starve, someone else is bringing him oats.

  'Is that it?' She ripped the note into shreds and threw them into the air. 'You're risking your baby, your health and your happiness on someone else's resentment and jealousy?'

  The girl blinked. 'You - you don't think it's true, then?'

  Claudia had absolutely no idea whether she was married to a saint or a scoundrel, but she did know that an atmosphere of mistrust and anxiety isn't the best start to a newborn life.

  'Mischief-making, pure and simple,' she said crisply. 'My advice is to go home and forget it.'

  'But suppose it is true? Suppose he has been—'

  'Does your husband spend a lot of time preening himself?'

  The woman's head shook tentatively. 'N-no.'

  'Is he habitually late? Does he enjoy humiliating people? Is he reckless, feckless, unreliable and ruthless?'

  'My Borrix?'

  'There you are, then.'

  It didn't follow, of course, that nice boys didn't stray. But serial adulterers followed a tediously consistent pattern and since 'her Borrix' didn't fit the profile, Claudia had been taking no risk. Whereas the mother-to-be had been reassured beyond measure.

  'Thank you,' she gushed. 'Oh, thank you so much.'

  Drawing the line at having her hands smothered in kisses, Claudia helped the girl to her feet. 'Come on, I'll give you a hand over these rocks, and then I suggest you and your Borrix take a stroll round the village, arm in arm so everyone can see you're devoted. Especially the author of that spiteful missive.'

  Spurned lover, jealous mother-in-law, barren neighbour filled with resentment, who knows?

  'How can I ever thank you?' the girl sniffed.

  'By leaving before you give birth at my feet,' Claudia laughed, but as she watched her waddle off, the fringe of her skirt swinging jauntily, she was aware that the laughter was false. Seeing the woman curled up like that had given Claudia quite a shock. The Clytie factor, she supposed, and again she was struck by the close link between beauty and tragedy. For the birds still sang and the sun still shone. And the seasons continued to turn—

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of two sets of footsteps approaching from opposite directions.

  'Sarra!' Pod's voice contained pleasure as well as surprise. 'Looking for Gurdo? He's away collecting his herbs this time of a day. You'd best give him an hour.'

  Behind the boulders, Claudia watched a girl of the same age as the tousle-haired elf smile coyly back. Thanks to the acoustics, every word carried clearly.

  'I wasn't looking for Gurdo,' Sarra said. 'I ... was just taking a walk.'

  Not the most convincing of liars, Claudia thought, as another blushing exchange passed between them. Either she expected to bump into the young woodsman or Sarra kept passing this way until she did.

  'I was hoping to pick a few mallow to go with these,' she murmured, indicating the spray of pure white dog roses she held in her hand. 'But I can't seem to find any.'

  'I know a spot where they grow real thick.'

  Sarra's blush deepened to the pink of her robe, and, in the dappled shade of the trees, her long, silky hair shone the colour of primroses in spring. 'Perhaps you'd be kind enough to point that place out to me, then, Pod?' She pushed a loose tendril hair behind her ear and still didn't make eye contact with the young elf. 'If it's no trouble, I mean.'

  'Better than that, I can show you.'

  Though Sarra still stared at her roses, her lower lip trembled. 'I'd like that,' she whispered. 'I'd like that very much, but - suppose someone sees us together?'

  'What will they see?' The depth of his grin dimpled his

  cheeks. 'A simple woodsman helping a girl from the College? Sarra, if it was Swarbric, it wouldn't pass notice.'

  Blue eyes met his at last. 'That's because Swarbric's a slave and you're a free man,' she said quietly. Tod, you know the penalties for fraternizing with non-College men, and there's you to think of as well. You'll be cast out. Shunned. Oh, Pod, the Hundred-Handed will vote you invisible and—'

  'Then let's be invisible!' He rushed forward and took both her hands in his, heedless ofthe roses' thorns. 'Sarra, I know these woods. I know a glade we can meet where no one will see us—'

  'No, no, I can't. Even if we did manage to hide out of sight, there's no telling whether someone might hear—'

  'Suppose we found another way to talk?' The youth's eyes danced as he flicked his fingers. 'No one can overhear that.'

  'Holy heaven!' Her eyes turned to saucers of horror. 'Where did you learn to talk with your hands?'

  'From watching you.'

  'Oh, Pod, if they ever find out you can cipher—'

  He silenced her protests by placing one finger gently over her lips. 'Tomorrow,' he whispered. 'Tomorrow afternoon, when everyone'll be busy with the solstice preparations.'

  Even from behind the rock, Claudia could see the girl was shaking and she did not think it was from fear.

  'Very well, then,' Sarra said at last. 'If you're sure?'

  'I'm sure.' The youth placed a light kiss on her lips, then another, then a longer, much deeper one. 'But you have to admit,' he said, finally pulling away, 'I've picked up your sign language pretty well.'

  He gesticulated a few more words with his fingers and despite herself, Sarra laughed. 'I suspect you meant to call me an angel, but you've just labelled me an old bat! This,' she said, swishing her fingers, 'is the cipher for angel.'

  She was still smiling as she disappeared round the curve in the path, trailing her spray of white roses and quite oblivious to the fact that those blooms which had survived the crushing embrace had lost at least half of their petals. Several minutes passed before Pod finally tore his eyes away from the empty track, yet when he turned round, Claudia noticed that the expression in them was harder than granite.

  So then. Pod was a free man, she thought, watching him sprint off down the path to make up for lost time. Another point she would need to raise with Gurdo, but since the spring's belligerent guardian wasn't here, she decided to wait on a wide flat rock beside the stream that was surrounded by iris and willow. Out of sight, beyond a bend in the river downstream, the babble of women washin
g laundry mingled with midsummer birdsong, while the gurgle of water glugging round rocks merged with the droning of bees. And yet, as she lay face up to the sun, there was little peace in Claudia's heart.

  I know.

  She'd found the note the minute she returned from Santonum, and whoever wrote it hadn't bothered to flip the hinge of the wax tablet shut. They'd wanted her to see the message straight away - but who knew? What did they know? And how could they possibly know that Claudia was investigating Clytie's death? Yet:

  I know, the note read. I know.

  Two little words, but enough to chill her through to her marrow. Keeping secrets was not always wise. In fact, in a close, tight-knit community such as this, where mysteries were mandatory and rituals inscrutable, and where conspiracy already bubbled, knowledge could be a dangerous thing ...

  'We used to sit and make daisy chains on this rock,' a small voice piped up. 'In fact, until Clytie died here, it was our favourite spot.'

  Spinning round, Claudia came face to face with the same beautiful flaxen-haired trio that Swarbric had castigated for climbing trees.

  'Clytie died here?'

  'You can still see the stains from her blood.' The little novice pointed to a series of smudges in the porous white limestone. 'I'm Aridella, by the way.'

  'Vanessia,' the oldest one said, bobbing a curtsey.

  'And I'm Lin,' said the one that was all blue eyes and dimples. 'It means pool.'

  The girls were so alike that Claudia supposed it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that three of the women had picked the same fair-haired hunk to father their children.

  Since the Hundred-Handed held none of the usual concepts of individual possessions and family bonding, believing in communal ownership, she saw no reason why this philosophy shouldn't extend to the men they took to their beds, since share and share alike was the College's ethos. But sharing can't always be easy, she thought. Not where emotions are concerned.

  'We'd come down after tutoring,' Aridella said, and an image of four little girls lying face down on the warm stone flashed before Claudia's mind. Three little blonde heads plus a brunette in her father's image pressed tightly together as they giggled and chattered, swapping jokes and homework in the manner of little girls everywhere.

  'At least, when we weren't in detention,' Dimples muttered, with a roll of her enormous blue eyes.

  A quick glance at the rope dangling from an alder over the stream brought back memories of the flaxen-haired trio dropping out of the oak tree, their skirts tucked into their knicker cloths, their knees grubby and skinned.

  'Aren't novices allowed to have adventures?' Claudia asked.

  'Officially, no,' Vanessia said, taking one of Aridella's plaits and tying it neatly. 'We're supposed to devote ourselves to the Wisdom, because it's our holy obligation to learn Nature's lore and store the knowledge inside our hearts.'

  'It's our purpose for this reincarnation,' Lin added earnestly.

  'But provided nobody gets to hear about it—'

  'You mean Beth?'

  'Any of the Hundred-Handed,' Vanessia said, tugging the second plait into order. 'We're accountable to them all, but providing they don't catch us in the act—'

  'And no one reports us—'

  'And as long as we still learn our lessons—'

  '- then nobody minds.'

  'You must miss Clytie a lot,' Claudia said, but instead of three blonde heads nodding in unison, a shutter came hurtling down. Vanessia dropped the plait without tying the ribbon and the girls stared at their feet.

  'Don't you?' Claudia prompted.

  'Yes, miss,' they chorused in a dull monotone.

  'Of course, it was a long time ago.' Three months at their age must seem like a lifetime. 'But I wonder ... do any of you remember Clytie slipping out that particular night? Perhaps you saw someone talking to her the day that she died?'

  Three pairs of eyes stared steadfastly at the ground, then Lin muttered something about not feeling well and going to bed early, while Aridella couldn't remember anything about it at all.

  'It was just a normal day,' Vanessia said, shrugging one shoulder. 'What's to remember?'

  'I don't know,' Claudia replied. 'But since the spring equinox is one of the four big events in your calendar, and considering novices play a major role in the festival, I thought something about it might have stuck in your memory. Apart from the fact that your friend died.'

  Vanessia's lower lip trembled. 'I must have got the days muddled up,' she said, and the other two nodded eagerly, desperate to grasp at the lifeline.

  'Me, too.'

  'And me.'

  As one they turned and belted back across the meadow, and Claudia reflected that it wasn't simply the one life that had been destroyed on the spring equinox. Three others had been shattered as well - but then wasn't it always the way? Wasn't it bloody well always the way? Staring at the rock where she'd sat without even sensing its tragedy, Claudia hugged her arms to her chest. What happened here, Clytie? What were you doing so far from the College, and at night all on your own? Who on earth lured you away from the compound?

  Without warning, Claudia was suddenly the same age as Vanessia. It was a warm day, warmer than this, and she was returning home to the apartment that her father had left four years before. A day like any other, she recalled. No money, no food, no furniture even, since that had been sold so her mother could drink herself into the oblivion that was all Claudia had ever known. Oh, yes, a day like any other.

  The sound of the slums reverberated across time. The bawling, the yelling, the barking of dogs. The unmistake-able stench of boiled cabbage, stale sweat and, above all,

  hopelessness that was trapped in the air. Slipping in cat pee, tripping over broken toys, she is climbing the six flights of stairs the same as she has done every day for the past fourteen years of her life. She opens the door, calls out hello, receives nothing back in return, which is no great surprise. Her mother is always dead to the world before noon. What is unusual, however, is finding her mother surrounded by blood, blowflies and the stink of cheap wine—

  Unable to control the shuddering, Claudia tugged at a clump of bright yellow trollius and laid them at the place where a twelve-year-old girl with her whole life ahead of her had bled to death from the same wounds she'd seen herself, a long time - a lifetime - ago.

  Gaping red mouths, calling silently for help from two wrists ...

  What the hell were the Hundred-Handed covering up? She sniffed angrily. Even in their upside-down world where duty outweighed family, where love was dispensed like so many bread rolls and equality was as cold as the frost, Beth struck Claudia as the sort who might tolerate lies and half-truths perhaps through omission, but somehow she didn't imagine the head of the College condoning out-and-out falsehoods. Yet that was exactly what that lovely little flaxen-haired trio had done. They had lied. Lied through their exquisite white teeth.

  Shoving her hair out of her face with the back of her hand, she thought, Their friend was dead. Killed right here, on this stone.

  What did those children fear more than the truth?

  Sunlight slanting through the willows cast dappled shade on the meadow, and as it gurgled over the rocks the stream sparkled like glass. Fresh from pupation, a fritillary supped from the pale pink blooms of the bramble, dragonflies patrolled their favourite stretches of water and yellow wagtails darted from stone to stone in search of flies. Claudia stared into the crystal-clear water. It seemed inconceivable that a child could have been murdered in a place so lovely, so peaceful, and on the day of the spring equinox, too. A day, like Beth said, when the whole world rejoices in balance and harmony, decking their houses with gorse and celebrating

  with dancing, with feasting, with music - but was the date relevant? Would the fact that Clytie was the only brunette among the little quartet have been a factor? In other words, had the girl been chosen at random - or had she been picked out for a reason?

  'Looking for fish for y
our supper, Lofty Legs?'

  Gurdo marched purposefully round the bend in the stream. In his left hand he held monkshood, hedge hyssop and hellebores. Under his right arm was tucked a bunch of osiers.

  'These tiddlers?' Claudia straightened up from where she'd been dabbling her hands in the water, though strangely her mother's blood never washed off. 'Even the herons leave them alone.'

  Dark eyes glittered with cunning. 'Angling for a bigger fish, are we? Well, let me tell you, size isn't everything, lady, which reminds me.' He grunted. 'How's that pain in the neck?'

  She pictured Orbilio being fitted with pantaloons in place of his long patrician tunic, set to work mending roofs or (if I dedicate a bracelet to you, Minerva?) mucking out the pigsty or the stables.

  'Coming along very nicely,' she said.

  'That Mavor does a good job on joints,' Gurdo said, rinsing the dirt off his herbs in the fast-flowing water. 'Between her and the Cave of Miracles, we don't see many dissatisfied customers.'

  Claudia studied the herbs he'd been gathering. Medicinal herbs, even though his job was purely guardian of the spring. And noted that each plant was deadly in the wrong hands.

  'And even then, I'm sure you charm them out of lodging a complaint,' she said smoothly. 'What's in the other half of the cave?'

  'None of your business.'

  'Did I say it was?'

  The dwarf tipped his head back and hooted. 'Pity you hadn't contracted some lingering sickness that'd take several months to put right. I'm kind of getting used to having you around. But if you must know, the second mouth leads to the Cave of Resurrection deep inside the mountain.'

  Claudia turned and peered into the twinkling lights that

  lit up Gurdo's half of the cavern, where floral bouquets hung from hooks in the rock and where water oozed from the rock into stone channels. A matter ofjust a few feet from total, Stygian blackness.