Royal Exile

by Fiona McIntosh

  “I’m sorry,” he bleated, honesty coming before he could think of anything polite.

  “We’re used to it, son,” the man said, “and that’s why we prefer to live here in solitude. Not that it’s good for my daughter, but—”

  “Hush, father. That’s our business and it’s very old ground we’ve trodden too often.”

  The man sighed, flicked a wry glance at Leo and focused his attention on Gavriel. “This is a deep wound. It’s also infected. Must have been a filthy blade that cut him.”

  “Can you help him?” Leo asked.

  “Let’s get it all cleaned out and see what we’re up against,” the man said kindly. “I’m Greven, by the way.”

  Leo nodded. He wasn’t very good at aging people but Greven looked no older than his own father. His graying hair was neatly tied back and, despite the ravages of his face, his body looked lean and fit. “What can I do?”

  “Help Lily to get some water boiled. She’ll show you where everything is.” He directed the rest of his instructions to Lily. “We’ll need some willow sap, comfrey balm, and a posset with some liquor to get his strength back. Oh, and mix up some henbane for the pain.”

  “But we have so little left, and it’s for your—”

  “Oh, Lily, don’t fuss. Let’s do what we can for this young man, shall we? And then we’ll worry about ourselves.”

  Leo felt another stab of guilt. To think he’d deprived these good people of that hare. It probably would have lasted them several meals.

  “I’ll also need some of that white lichen. We’re going to have to cover the wound with that once we’ve done the clirren leaves.”

  “I wish I understood all this,” Leo said, impressed. “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”

  “Is he your brother?”

  Leo nodded, hating to lie outright.

  “Where have you come from?”

  “Er, around Brighthelm,” Leo said, sticking as close to the truth as he could.

  “Is it true the barbarian has moved into the palace?” Lily asked, wide-eyed, as she gathered up various small pots and containers. “Here, hang this over those coals,” she said, pointing to a spouted container. “It’s not long since it boiled anyway,” she said.

  Leo did as asked. “He has,” he said, turning away.

  “So the king and queen are dead? The rumors are right?”

  “Yes,” he answered coldly.

  “We heard that the queen gave birth—” Greven began.

  “She did. The news from the palace is that the baby died immediately.”

  Lily’s expression darkened. “Too much sadness for one family. Is the mad son—”

  “Not mad,” Leo corrected too abruptly, wishing he hadn’t as both of them looked up sharply. “I have met him once or twice. Our, er, father worked at the palace. One of the royal guards,” he said, thinking it up as he went along and hoping the story held enough weight. “Piven is just simple, not mad.”

  Lily nodded. “And the heir? Where is he? He’d be about your age, wouldn’t he?”

  “Bit younger I think,” Leo said, amazed by how easily the lies rolled off his tongue. Gav and Corb had always said he acted well beyond his years. He prayed that characteristic would hold now for him. “I’ve only seen him from a distance and I don’t know his fate.”

  “I saw the queen once,” Greven mused. “A beautiful woman. She paused on her journey back into the palace to say hello to me. Can you imagine that? And me so ugly.”

  “You’re not ugly, father.”

  “I’m hardly pretty, Lily.”

  “What…is it?” Leo asked hesitatingly.

  The man sighed. “Leprosy, son.”

  “The townfolk insisted he wear this robe and although he does that much I’ll be damned if I’ll agree to his having to cover his mouth or make the noise with the wretched clappers to signal his approach,” Lily said, and Leo could hear the anger driving her words.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, at a loss for further words.

  “He doesn’t want pity. He just wants to be left alone. So now we live here in peace.”

  “What about you?” Leo asked.

  “Me? The leprosy doesn’t touch me but that doesn’t matter to them. I’m tainted by his sickness. So long as I keep my distance and don’t infect them,” she snarled, “they will tolerate me. They won’t even accept our money because it’s deemed unclean. The few things that we need are bartered.”

  Leo frowned. “What do you exchange?”

  “Father’s a herbalist, if you hadn’t guessed. Your brother chose the right people to collapse in front of.”

  “A shaman?” Leo asked, his interest fired further in the man.

  “No,” Greven said brusquely. Then his voice softened. “I just understand the natural world.”

  “Then why can’t you cure yourself?”

  He shrugged. “I love a youngster’s logic. I’m afraid there’s no cure for me.”

  Leo looked at Lily, who wore a sneer she wasn’t disguising very well. “Father believes this is a punishment. A divine curse for being a coward.”

  “Hush, child,” Greven admonished. “Hurry with all that stuff.”

  Leo followed Lily, carrying the tray she handed him, while she carefully lifted the boiled water and carried it over to her father.

  “Coward?” Leo asked.

  “My mother died not long after I was born,” Lily explained. “She was very sick. We used to live in Cremond and some of the local folk brought in a healer who wanted father to make an offering in blood to Lo. They believed it would save her.”

  “The boy doesn’t need to hear any of this, Lily,” her father warned as he carefully cleaned Gavriel’s wound.

  Lily tipped a bitter-smelling liquid into Gavriel’s mouth as she spoke. “This will dull the pain,” she explained. “Anyway, father knew more than them about healing and, as he says, his beloved wife was already past help. But the villagers thought he was frightened of the blood price, which had to be drawn from me as I was the cause of her sickness.”

  “Absolute claptrap!” her father growled as he worked.

  Leo smiled in spite of the sad story.

  “After she died,” Lily continued, threading a needle she had heated in the candle flame, “we came here.”

  “And I got leprosy,” her father finished.

  “As his punishment,” she said in the same tone, as though mocking him. Then she turned to Leo. “And I grew up alone with my grumpy old leper father and learned much about living in a forest. There’s our story, Lewk. How about you?”

  Leo hesitated. He wasn’t ready to craft the right sort of lie.

  Greven saved him. “Right, enough jawing. Start sucking on those leaves, both of you.”

  Lily gave Leo a look of disgust. “Now the nasty bit. Come on, you don’t get out of it. He’s your brother.”

  “What do I do?”

  Greven handed him some silvery green leaves. “Chew on these, son, and then spit them into this bowl. These are amazing leaves from the clirren, powerful infection fighters. Once you’ve chewed them into a paste, we need to put as much into the wound as possible, which we’ll also pack with the lichen. In a few hours we can stitch him and then it’s up to his own defenses—and he’s got plenty of them, lad.”

  “What about the fever?” Leo asked, after spitting out the first gob of chewed leaf. “That’s awful,” he added, pulling a face.

  Father and daughter smiled. “The fever is just the body’s way of showing infection. It will pass once his body starts to fight back. We’re just going to help the fight get started,” Greven explained.

  “How do you know all this?” Leo asked, spitting again.

  “Careful, Lewk,” Lily said, flicking some of his leaf debris from her blouse.

  He gave her a look of apology, reddening with embarrassment. He caught himself staring at her breasts, before quickly looking away.

  “He won’t tell anyone,” she continued,
“so don’t bother pursuing it.”

  “It’s a gift,” Greven declared loftily. “That’s plenty. Let me have the bowl.”

  Leo watched as Greven worked dexterously to push the chewed clirren into the wound. He winced at the way the flap of skin was lifted until the wound bulged with the soggy medicine. “Now, the moss,” Greven said, applying the white lichen.

  “Why has only one side of your face been affected by the leprosy?” Leo blurted out.

  Greven sighed. “I’m not sure. I have only seen one other case and the poor man’s whole face had erupted with weeping sores. His lips, nose, and cheekbones all looked as though they had been bubbled over a furnace.” Leo felt ill, more than able to imagine it from Greven’s description. “Mine looks different, and it doesn’t weep. It’s always dry and a bit warm to the touch.”

  “Is it anywhere else on your body?”

  “Just my face for now,” Greven replied, stretching. “Ah, well, we’ve done our best. Now we wait.”

  “A few hours, you said?” Leo confirmed.

  “That’s right. Why, are you in a hurry?”

  Leo had only just begun to think about the fact that they could already be under hunt. If anyone had seen them leaving the palace—although he wasn’t convinced anyone had—the barbarians would know they were in the forest. And of course Al and Jok might help spread the word.

  “Are you worried about those thieves who set upon you?” Lily asked.

  “Yes, I am.” Leo leapt upon the easy excuse.

  “We’re well hidden, Lewk,” she assured. “And in case you hadn’t realized it, we travelled at least a mile with Gaven. You won’t be easy to find.”

  “Trackers could find us, though.”

  “Trackers?” Greven queried. “Why on earth would you be considered so important? Have you done something criminal?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. We were, er, just passing through the forest, minding our own business.”

  “Where are you headed?” Greven asked conversationally but Leo was sharp enough to note the glance between father and daughter.

  “North,” he said. “I don’t know why. Gav said it was best.”

  “North, eh? Bit dangerous for a couple of youngish fellows, don’t you think?” Greven said, seating himself at the tiny table. “How about some food for the boy, Lily. Must be hungry, eh, Lewk?”

  Leo nodded. He was starving, to tell the truth.

  “Sit down,” Lily offered. “I’ll get something. I’ve nothing warm, mind.”

  “I wish I could pay you for this. I lost Lily’s hare,” Leo explained to Greven.

  “Lost it? You set it free!” she said, scowling.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  Greven smiled, contorting his face horribly on the ravaged side. “Do you know the folklore surrounding the hare, Lewk?”

  He shook his head as Lily set down a cup of creamy milk. Nodding his thanks, he began to swallow it in greedy gulps. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

  “Well, the hare is associated with the moon. There’s even a series of stars that take their shape and name from the hare.”

  Lily hacked off some cheese she’d unwrapped and put it onto a brick of bread. She reached for a jar of preserves. “Chutney?” At Leo’s nod, she raised her eyebrows. “Very grown up,” she murmured. After dolloping some on top of the cheese, she set the delicious looking pile of food before him. “Don’t waste a crumb.”

  He didn’t intend to and began eating hungrily. “It’s a full moon tonight,” he said to Greven, although with his stuffed mouth it came out as more of a mumble.

  The leper seemed to understand all the same. He nodded. “The harvest moon, burning brightest of all. Well, as I say, hares and moons share some folklore. Maybe it was a good thing you turned that buck free tonight, Lewk.”

  “I don’t know what struck me. I saw it struggling and I just didn’t want to see it die.”

  Greven looked thoughtful. “There’s been enough killing in our land. Perhaps it was an omen for you. After the harvest moon comes the hunting moon.”

  Leo’s food turned sour in his mouth. He swallowed the final chunk. “I think Gav and I should make tracks as soon as he wakes.”

  “Wakes?” Greven laughed. “There will be no waking for him tonight, lad. He may surface but he won’t really be aware of much.”

  Leo couldn’t even swallow the rest of the milk now. He imagined what would happen to these good people if Loethar tracked him to this hut. “As soon as he wakes we have to leave.”

  “What’s troubling you?” Lily asked. “You can stay here tonight. We won’t cast you out. The hare is forgotten; stop worrying about it.”

  “I can see that something’s amiss here, Lewk,” Greven added. “If hiding is what you’re after, Lily will show you a place you can stash yourself for the night. Fret not, you won’t be discovered, and we won’t disturb you.”

  Leo looked at them both. He dared not tell the truth. “Thank you.”

  Lily looked perplexed. “All right. Come with me, then.” She led him to the back of the hut and moved aside one of the few items of furniture, a small sideboard. Then she easily pulled up a handful of floorboards, revealing a specially excavated area. It smelled musty but looked safe. “In there is a crawlspace. Here, take this blanket. It’s mild up here but cool down there, I can assure you.”

  “Why do you have it?” Leo asked, amazed.

  “Father worries about my living out here with him. He still frets that nasty men might come looking to abuse people, men like that pair you met today.” She shrugged, embarrassed. “He feels better knowing I can hide myself very quickly if need be.”

  “Thanks for everything, Lily.”

  She nodded, looking slightly skeptical. “Sleep well. Hope you’re not scared of spiders.” Once Leo had lowered himself, she replaced the boards and he heard her pull the small chest back. He could follow the footsteps of Lily returning to her father and then muffled voices. There was nothing he could do now except wait. And with a full belly on top of being exhausted it didn’t take much to convince Leo to curl up as best he could and sleep.

  Twenty

  Overhead the sky had paled to a murky charcoal. Glowing slashes of light were scored across the eastern skies; dawn was close. Buffeted by winds coming off the sea, the bird, which had covered much ground during the night, searched for the marker that would prompt it to swoop and soar downward. The forests were well behind it and it was now into open country, tracing the cliffs. In the distance it spotted a tiny pile of stones and flew faster toward it, hitting its highest speed now despite its fatigue. Once over the stones, it banked skyward and then in a display of acrobatics that would have impressed anyone watching, it twisted mid-air, performing a complex series of barrels before soaring downward. At the precise moment when it seemed it was going to plunge into the sea it swooped, skimming agilely above the waves. As it reached the beach it slowed and then, spotting what it looked for, it flapped its wings once again, gliding more gently now to land on a low ledge.

  Show off, the man said, lightly disgusted. Hello, Ravan. You took your time.

  I have been occupied, the bird replied, doing your bidding.

  Well, you’re looking thin. I’ve trapped you some voles. I’ve been hoping for your return the past moon. Hungry?

  Ravenous.

  The man turned, smiled wryly at the jest. I hate it when you go silent on me, you know. I miss you.

  You know I must not risk it.

  He sighed. Yes, indeed. So come on in. Tell me everything.

  The bird hopped heavily behind, following the man into the small hut that was built on the ledge but protected by cliffs that curved around in a natural crescent. Inside it was warm and dry. The dull roar of the waves crashing to shore was a comforting rhythm in the background.

  Go feed, the man said, pointing to the small pit where a pile of freshly killed rodents was heaped. He shut the window against the rattling wind. And then we ca
n talk.

  While Ravan fed, the man busied himself warming a small pot of water over the fire. He never worried about the smoke being seen. Courtesy of the sea breezes, it seemed to disperse long before it ever reached the cliff’s summit. No, he was well hidden here. Had lived here in this hut he built himself for over two decades now, although he had long ago stopped keeping track of the years, or of his age. He threw some herbs and leaves he had dried himself into the fizzing water and waited patiently while it came back to its gentle boil. After a few minutes, he took it off the flames and set the pot aside for its contents to cool and infuse. Still not looking at the bird, he reached for the honey jar from his meager supplies and stirred a generous spoon into the mug once he’d added the amber liquid.

  Finally Ravan turned from his food.

  Better? the man asked.

  Much. How are you anyway?

  The usual. Same old aches and pains.

  Ravan hopped closer. Then you’d better drink more of your healing tea. It has begun.

  I know, Ravan. I know it has. It began before Loethar conquered Penraven, before he even invaded the Set.

  I have been away too long.

  The plains are too far for me to expect you to visit often.

  We are much closer now. I can see you regularly.

  Does he suspect?

  How can he, Sergius? I am simply Vyk, the sinister, silent raven.

  The man nodded. Tell me everything you have learned.

  Ravan began to recount everything he had witnessed or heard since he’d last been with his oldest friend.

  In a trice, Lily leapt into bed beside Gavriel.

  “I’m awake,” he said, noting the sudden fear in her eyes. “I can hear them.”

  “You’re my husband Jon,” she hissed. “You got wounded chopping down some branches. You fell, and a sharp stake ripped through your arm. All right?” He nodded, helplessly held by her gaze. Her skin was creamy, soft against his own. He felt a surge of desire that betrayed him and her instant scowl told him she felt it too.