‘Don’t talk bullshit. I see machicolations here …’ He waved a hand over the parapet, then turned to point at one of the ravines in the rock inside the bailey. ‘That is actually a drawbridge you’ve built over a fissure. But it isn’t reinforced with iron so it can’t be protection from Insects. You’ve enclosed the whole cliff top with a wall, with most of the cabins inside. The promontory is a natural salient. And I haven’t seen the like of this gatehouse south of the Lowespass Front.’
‘My masons are from Lowespass. They built according to their custom.’
‘The walls are thicker than Slake Cross!’
‘I heard it’s the best protection against earthquakes.’
He faced me. ‘There are towers in your wall.’
‘Again, to strengthen it.’
‘The tower tops have crossbow mounts!’
‘No, platforms from which to view this astonishing landscape.’
‘And the parapets have arrow slits!’
‘Merely narrow windows to prevent the blizzards blowing in.’
He gestured up at the flag of Awia, field bleu du ciel with a white eagle displayed, armed and membered jaune, the head to the sinister. He said, ‘You’re flying the Spread Eagle. But this is Darkling and Rhydanne hunting ground.’
‘Rhydanne may well hunt here, but Carniss is a manor of Awia.’
‘The Rhydanne are defenceless. Raven, why have you built this? What do you plan to do to them?’
What? He thinks I’ve built against Rhydanne? I checked myself and mastered my expression. Excellent - if he’s jumped to the conclusion that I care about savages, let him think that! Let him continue and I might discover why. But he was just as good at stalling and we fell into silence while he watched the lone Rhydanne approach and I lost the feeling in both feet.
He nodded at the savage, who was now passing the quarry. ‘That’s Shira Dellin. She asked the Emperor’s aid because you’re occupying her ground and trapping the animals she needs. The eternal Emperor San has decreed Rhydanne and Awians must live in harmony in Carniss. Show me your settlement, and we’ll discuss how you’ll achieve such fraternity. And I want that glass of wine.’ He vaulted the parapet and fell out of view.
I leant over and saw him, wings spread, spiralling gracefully down like a sycamore seed. The Rhydanne girl had joined the track and was running between the cabins scattered outside the gate. She slowed to a effortless lope, then stopped by the arch and Jant landed beside her. She pushed back her hood and they both looked up at me, two pale triangular faces glowing with fitness. She was peculiarly small for a Rhydanne. They spoke together, then ran into the undercroft, their boots grinding on the strewn salt. ‘Snipe!’ I called.
He slipped off the stone seat built into the warm chimney breast and came over. ‘Comet was travelling with that female Rhydanne,’ I said. ‘If he was forced to go at her pace they could have been hiking for weeks! We’ll win him round with a decent meal. God knows, if he’s been camping like a savage we’ll give him a feast and he’ll sing our praises.’
Snipe smirked.
‘So go and order an excellent spread. Make sure the fire’s roaring and arrange a room for him, as comfortable as you can make it.’
‘My lord.’
‘If he speaks to you address him as Comet. And make sure the servants look neat and tidy, not like bloody filthy trappers.’
‘They are trappers.’
‘That’s not the point. Then join us in the solar. I want you to listen in.’
Snipe sketched a bow and hurried cautiously over the wet flagstones into the staircase. As Comet and the savage walked through the undercroft passage four storeys below, I crossed to the opposite parapet and looked down on my settlers’ chalets and barns in lines, their shallow roofs covered with clean snow. Deeply dug paths bordered with piles of shovelled snow ran in a grid between them.
At the far end thin clouds were blowing over the curtain wall, and beyond it the cliff fell away so sheer I couldn’t see it, just the lowlands spread out like an undulating blanket far below. The snow had smoothed every feature, levelled everything to equality. It was a desert. Carniss snow is not the safe, cotton-wool snow I remember from my childhood, with our boot tracks and horseshoe prints, and the shallow indentations where we had rolled up the snow to make snowmen until we uncovered the tips of the grass. Carniss snow is snow universally, snow to a monotony, hanging fat on the branches till every tree is disfigured. This snow kills. It covers brutal ravines you can plunge into and perish. It threatens to avalanche into a wall of solid surf racing towards you down the mountainside. It will engulf you and bury you alive, metres deep.
The Pelt Road had vanished, woodland was hidden and, looking east, nothing but varying shades of white stretched as far as the eye could see. There is no point as high as this in the rest of the entire continent. Rachiswater town lies directly on this latitude, out of sight, and I wished I could see around the curvature of the globe to the columns of my brother’s palace - my palace - in the distance.
Jant and his pet savage emerged into the bailey and stood looking around, taking everything in. I quelled the urge to drop a block of ice on their bloody heads, and went down to meet them.
‘This is my solar, which has to double as my state room. But welcome! Welcome! Eszai, like musicians, are appreciated everywhere.’ I led out of the staircase into my chamber, where a scent of cloves pervaded the air. Snipe was pouring mulled ale into three pint mugs on the table. ‘I’m sorry we only have beer; wine is expensive to import.’
‘Beer is fine.’ Jant looked around the room, at the few hangings I had managed to retrieve from Rachiswater, including one where he himself was embroidered like a black and white stork flying over the heads of a horde of Insects. He surveyed the table covered in letters, ledgers and coins, my high-backed chair draped in wolf pelts, the whitewashed walls - clean and as yet unembellished with frescos - and the decorations my servants had already started draping from the rafters in preparation for New Year’s Eve. They had wound holly and ivy garlands along the rails of the hangings and twined laurel and ribbons above the doors, green for the old year out, white for the new year in. They had hung red and gold glass baubles from the mantelpiece, each one reflecting the flames. Beside me on the table a wreath of mistletoe and variegated ivy, more green and white, surrounded scarlet candles that gave off a nostalgic scent of cinnamon.
‘It’s very meagre, but we do what we can,’ I said.
Jant nodded, then glanced up to my chandelier. It hung from a reinforced beam in the centre, and its glistening droplets broke the sunlight into thousands of tiny spectra shining and swinging on the walls. His eyes widened. ‘That’s hardly meagre! You brought a chandelier from Rachiswater?’
‘Yes, my one whim. It weighs so much we had to pack it into a brick wagon with a team of four carthorses. We hauled it across torrents and pushed it by hand up slopes too rocky for the wheels to grip. It cost me, but it was the one thing I wasn’t prepared to leave behind. And my chest of books, of course.’
Jant clasped his hands around the mug, strode to the fireplace and stood on its surround, with his back towards it to warm his wings. ‘And you’re preparing for New Year’s?’
‘Yes.’ I shrugged. ‘But we celebrate in a very modest way. My people work so hard to survive, they deserve a festival but our indulgence is unsophisticated. They’ll swig beer and dance in my hall. It isn’t like Rachiswater. It isn’t your kind of thing. And the mountain cuisine is terrible … How much bland and rubbery cheese is a man expected to eat, I ask myself.’
‘So, no Shattering?’
I paused. ‘We may try a Shattering, but nothing like on the scale of the lowlands.’
He spread his wings and blotted out the whole four-centred arch and the crackling flames. He had wrapped shawls around his wings’ biceps to protect their leading edges, and they had frozen plastered to his feathers. I appreciated how tough he had to be. He flexed their fingers so the massive primary
feathers, twice as long as mine, fanned open and closed. Ice rime surrounded the edges of each one, like blades of grass after a heavy frost.
The Rhydanne woman was striding rapidly up and down the room, prying into everything with rat-like glances. The shiny baubles attracted her - she leant close and tapped a claw on them - so before she could break anything Jant pulled out a chair and instructed her to sit down. She folded herself onto the seat, with no intention of letting go of her spear. She was rangy - well, they all are - rawboned and loose-jointed with the scraggy look of a woman who exercises too much. Her hatchet face wore a determined expression, which I didn’t like. She whipped her ragged ponytail from her collar and shuffled off her coat, which was adorned with savage accoutrements: snail shells, bones and even teeth, such as you see in illustrations of Rhydanne in picture books. Some of her trinkets were quite disgusting, but she also wore an astonishing amount of crude silver and I wondered if she knew of a mother lode. I sat down as close as possible to the heat and waved Snipe to take another chair, but Jant did not relinquish the fireplace.
‘So the Emperor chose her as an advocate?’ I asked.
‘No, no. She sought an audience with him. Dellin says that the Rhydanne of this area are starving. Your trappers and hunters are taking their prey.’
‘We have to ensure our own livelihood, Comet. In fact, the Rhydanne are stealing our livestock. They’ve driven off fifty sheep and goats, and slaughtered them.’
Dellin raked her filthy fingernails on the tabletop until Jant translated for her. She was as quick of limb as of eye, fierce of look, half-sullen and half-defiant. Her untamed attitude made me watch her even more than I kept an eye on the Messenger. She seemed always poised to pounce, ready in the pause before a crouch or a leap. She hates me, I thought, amused. I continued: ‘As a governor, nay, as a prince, I am entitled to defend my land by force against bandits.’
‘Rhydanne aren’t bandits.’
‘They act like bandits, so they are bandits, and I am allowed to shoot them, Comet. In Lowespass the governor can fortify farm-steads against marauders. On the ranches in Ghallain the governor can raise a hue and cry. Carniss is no different. I have even lost my favourite horse, Rabicano, the best courser in the kingdom. Did you know that?’
‘No.’ He paused, and I could tell he was lying.
‘Two of them ran around inside the corral, laughing, killing - on a spree as savage as foxes in a coop. They pounced onto Rabicano’s back and stabbed him like matadors! They were worse than wolves - so they deserve to be treated like wolves! My captain shot one who was devouring Rabicano alive, tearing my horse’s guts out and eating them! The other one unfortunately escaped. Now, Comet. I know my rights. These are internal Awian affairs, not part of the Castle’s primary interest. Does the Emperor allow a governor to defend his possessions or not?’ ‘Possessions!’ Dellin exclaimed. I thought she was merely copying my words, and stared at her until she said in heavily accented Awian, ‘Carnich my possession. Not yours.’
Jant rattled off something in Scree and she replied at ten to the dozen. Piqued, I asked, ‘If you’re going to confer at my table, perhaps you’d care to translate.’
‘She said that Rhydanne are the original inhabitants of Carniss. Therefore, if people can possess mountains the same way as they possess objects - which is impossible as all men roam over all mountains - then Darkling is the possession of Rhydanne, not Awians.’
‘But they have never drawn territorial borders.’
‘They don’t think that way.’
‘Well, you can’t assume Awians won’t settle above a certain arbitrary altitude. My people are adventurous, Comet, and this was empty country. My brother recognised it was available to be claimed by anyone who wanted to develop it. Yes, it is wasteland, but if it wasn’t, Awians would have farmed it centuries ago. It is in our nature to develop land. This is progress. We are bringing civilisation to Darkling. My frontiersmen and the villagers of Eyrie are pleased to call this Awia, under my jurisdiction and the sound traditions of my country. Before we came this was unused land; now it is being put to a purpose.’
‘It was used. It’s a Rhydanne hunting ground. How many have you shot?’
‘How many Rhydanne? Four, I think …’
‘Four!’
‘They killed fifty goats! Which were all my people have to live on! Comet, our stock must have attracted the Rhydanne, because when we arrived we saw no natives whatsoever. The villagers told me Carniss was completely empty and no savages frequented it. Rhydanne were never here before.’ I looked at the woman pointedly, and she shook her arms, jangling her bangles belligerently until she rang like a round of bells. Then she rested her hands on her knees, letting me see her long talons and readiness to scratch; she was as brutish as a wildcat. I said, ‘Perhaps they see what we’ve achieved, our animals and our cabins, and want them for themselves. Maybe that’s why they’ve advanced their grounds. Perhaps she has fabricated this story in an attempt to make us relinquish the land we have managed to tame. At any rate, you can see her grumbling doesn’t stand up in law.’
Jant poured another beer and gave it to the Rhydanne, although I would have thought cheap spirits would suffice for her. And sure enough she drank it without savouring it and brandished the glass for more. He said, ‘No one will see a hunter if they aren’t deliberately seeking them. And anyway, they’re nomadic. Dellin hunts towards the top of the mountains in summer and moves down in winter.’
‘So she doesn’t actually live here? She could just return to other grounds? What’s the fuss about?’ I laughed, and motioned the butler to pour the last of the beer.
‘She said she needs the whole area. You can’t just shunt them together!’
‘Why not? I thought they ignored each other?’
‘She needs wide grounds and lots of game to survive. There are other hunters up-slope so Dellin needs this space. Rhydanne range widely but if food is hard to find and she competes with another hunter he’ll attack her.’
‘Like wolves?’
‘Not like wolves,’ Comet said levelly. ‘Like Rhydanne.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t aware you were on their side.’
‘I am simply here to negotiate.’
‘The Castle always excels at remaining neutral,’ I said, and Snipe smirked.
The Messenger glared. ‘Raven, you can deal with me, or you can deal with the Emperor … if you really prefer.’ I said nothing and he continued, ‘Have you ever met the Emperor? Would you like to?’
‘I’m sure it won’t be necessary.’
The savage sprang up and paced hyperactively around the table. She ran up into the window seat and stood gazing at the view. Jant gave me another look, then went and joined her. ‘Come up,’ he said.
‘I’d rather not. It’s cold.’
We fell silent. I knew how obstinate immortals could be. They act as if they own any place they happen to visit. Now, to talk to him I would have to sit with the draught clinging to my legs, in sight of the fangs of Capercaillie. ‘Come on, Snipe,’ I said, and we joined them in the triple bow window. I could feel the chill radiating from the glass, so tangible I could almost push my hand against its smooth flow. Snow had caught in the corners of each pane, lying like hammocks on the leads, and frost crystals had formed here and there in minute stars or thin networks as if spun by a spider made of ice.
He tapped the glass. ‘Quite a feat, bringing up so much.’
‘Thank you. Assembling it was the hardest part.’
‘You can see everything from here.’
‘Yes, but have you noticed the window faces away from Awia?’
‘Towards the mountains?’
‘Towards the mountains. I have no option, Jant. Rhydanne may not want me in Carniss but I don’t want to be here either. If I had a choice I’d still be in Rachiswater. But I must make the best out of misfortune and do my utmost with what little I have. Do you know, Rhydanne have caused damage other than killing our
livestock. They cut into our water pipes last summer. We were pumping drinking water from the glacier torrent, and my scheme was working perfectly until a Rhydanne or maybe several chopped holes in the pipes - a deliberate act of sabotage!’
‘They were probably drinking from them.’
‘As if we were providing water for their benefit!’
‘They’re used to taking whatever they can from the land. They’ll take what you leave lying about as if nature had provided it.’
‘Our property isn’t “lying about”.’
Jant picked up the book I had left on the cushion, flicked through it carelessly and splayed it face down on his thigh, cracking its spine.
I bit my teeth hard together. ‘So you agree they are causing the problem?’ I asked. ‘First, they raid our traps, eat the animals and sell the pelts. Second, they vandalise my water supply. My colonists work extremely hard but the natives cream off what they can.’
‘I’ll talk to them, don’t you worry. I’ll make sure any forays cease. But there can’t be many Rhydanne in Carniss. I think it’s strange that they could cause so much havoc. Nevertheless I will visit them and tell you what they say. Our talks might take longer than I thought …’ He paused. ‘Why are you looking frustrated?’
‘Oh, nothing. It doesn’t matter. I was thinking that of course we’ll provide a feast tonight, as lavish as we can manage, as befits the honour of your visit. Snipe will show you your room, upstairs.’
He shook his head. ‘No. I should stay somewhere neutral.’
‘But there isn’t anywhere else! You can’t sleep out in the drifts.’
‘Maybe down in Eyrie village?’
‘You’ll hear many tales against the Rhydanne there, I’m sure.’
Snipe ventured, ‘My lord, may I make a suggestion?’
‘Of course. Comet - Snipe, my steward, one of the many who is finding his Carniss life more rewarding than drudgery in Rachiswater.’
Snipe hesitated, frowning, then said, ‘There is a hostel that isn’t partial to natives or pioneers, but it isn’t the sort of place an Eszai would stay.’
Above the Snowline Page 15
