Beyond the Pale: A fantasy anthology

by Jim Butcher

  “That’s not your business, you little shit,” said Niall Mor. “And she’s half your size.”

  “Makes up for it in other ways,” he muttered.

  ‘You’d better explain that,” I said, pacing to the window and staring out at the machair. I was simmering with rage, and I didn’t trust myself not to hit him again.

  “She’s a witch, isn’t she? You don’t need to worry about her.”

  Niall and I looked at each other, then at him.

  Niall had to take two breaths before he could speak. “Gods’ sake, boy. This is Griogair you’re insulting.”

  Ramasg swallowed and shot me a nervous look. “Leonora’s different.”

  “Really?” I asked silkily. “How?”

  He’d got his nerve back. “Lilith’s evil, that’s how. You can tell from her eyes. And she stares.”

  Niall rolled his eyes. “I’m going to slap you myself in a minute.”

  “She stares at you because she can’t believe what an arse you are,” I told Ramasg. “And neither can I.”

  “You’ll see,” he muttered.

  “I’ll see the ditch in the lower field cleared,” I said. “Niall, take him down there.”

  Niall took hold of his arm, but he pulled back to give me a sullen glare. “She’s trying to summon a kelpie.”

  That took me aback. “What?”

  “A kelpie. There’s been one off the shoreline for days. She’s trying to bond with it.”

  There was a triumph in the twitch of his mouth as Niall yanked him out of the room. He was a vindictive little bastard, but he’d unsettled me and he knew it. I could see no reason for him to lie, because it was such an outlandish accusation, and besides, I remembered shivering as I watched her singing to the ocean.

  I rubbed my hands across my face, wishing for a straightforward problem: a caveful of Lammyr, or a full-scale war. Sighing, I slung my sword down on the table and went out of the dun to look for her.

  She was in her usual place on the rocks, sitting with her arms wrapped round her knees and humming to herself. Maybe, I thought, she was humming to something else. Her newly-chopped hair blustered in the cold breeze; she’d done nothing to improve the rough mess Ramasg had made of it, but I couldn’t help thinking it suited her in a strange way.

  I sat down at her side, nearly unbalancing when she promptly huddled against me. She hadn’t struck me as a girl who was much affected by the cold.

  “He won’t do it again,” I told her. “He’s out clearing the ditches.”

  She nodded contentedly.

  “He came up with some excuses.” I took a breath to broach the subject.

  “Oh. Did he mention the horse?”

  The breath stayed stuck in my throat. At last I managed to say, “It’s a waterhorse?”

  She threw a pebble idly into the waves. “It’ll come to me in the end.”

  “Lilith,” I said. “Lilith, that’s not wise.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be wise. They’re lovely.”

  “They’re deadly. And unpredictable.” I was finding it stupidly difficult to argue with her. “You could lose your life.”

  She gave a dismissive snort. “Or I could gain the best warhorse in your stables.”

  “It’s not worth the risk. For you or anyone else in the dun.”

  “Yes. It is.”

  I shook my head in irritation. “If you want a familiar, find a cat or a raven or a wolf-pup. Put waterhorses out of your head. They can’t be trusted.”

  “You’ll see,” she said simply. “It wouldn’t be my familiar anyway. It would be my warhorse.”

  “Lilith!” I barked. “This should not be done! It hasn’t been done in centuries, and it ended badly the last time.”

  She tilted her head to give me an endearing smile. “All the more reason to do it. For me it’ll end just fine.”

  I would have talked sense into her, I’m sure of that. And I should have waited to do it, and spent the time well, but I was unnerved by her candid innocent grin and her closeness. It was clear she held a particular and pointless affection for me, and I wanted to do nothing to encourage it. And besides, at that precise moment, I heard the call in my mind that I couldn’t resist, and would never want to.

  I sprang to my feet, and this time it was Lilith who nearly slipped sideways. I steadied her with a hand on her fragile shoulder and said, “Sorry—“

  “What is it?” Her eyes were quizzical and hurt.

  I gave her a grin of pure happiness. And that was probably a mistake as well.

  “It’s Leonora,” I told her. “It’s my lover. She’s coming back to the dun.”

  ~

  If I thought Leonora would have any special sympathy for the lost witch-child, I’d misjudged both her mood and her inclinations. Still, like the diplomat she could always be, she didn’t raise the subject till later that night, till we were both in bed and the coverlet thrown aside in our untidy haste.

  She’d caught her first sight of Lilith when the child trailed after me into the courtyard on the afternoon of her return. Leonora had taken no notice of her; but then Leonora had ignored everyone but me. She’d slipped lightly from her horse and walked straight into my arms, laughing with a combination of happiness and anticipation.

  She’d studied Lilith in the Great Hall that evening, though. The child had settled herself in a dark corner, eating and drinking quietly, watching rather than participating. There was nothing new in that behaviour. At least she’d wasted no time in following my advice about a familiar: a young crow hopped at her feet, cocking its head for the shreds of meat she offered. Laughing, she stroked its black neck with a fingertip, and it dipped its head as if in a mock-bow.

  Crows were smart and crows were watchful. Crows, principally, were not a danger to anyone they met, unless you counted the dead. I was relieved; the bird would take her mind off waterhorses. I told myself that had been a temporary infatuation, much like her fondness for me. And that would pass, too.

  Leonora was not convinced.

  She lay across my body, head close against mine, languid with the aftermath of love as I drew an idle line down her spine with one finger. Appearance, as always with Leonora, was deceptive: her mind was in constant fascinated motion, picking at puzzles, decoding other minds, weaving intricate political schemes. I lifted her hair and kissed the prominent tendon on her neck, and she murmured happily.

  “The queen was well?” It was a formal question in a strikingly informal situation; I knew Kate was always well.

  Leonora gave a low laugh. “She’d like to be better. Still playing with that risible idea of hers.”

  “Getting rid of her name?” I shivered. Raidseach. Kate’s true name unnerved me, the very sound of it, but it was better than the alternative.

  “Indeed. She won’t do it. She knows the consequence. The idea’s a plaything, that’s all. Her trouble is, she’s bored.” Leonora propped herself up on one elbow and kissed my forehead. “She was pleased about Crickspleen.”

  “Mm.” That seemed long ago now.

  Leonora traced her finger down my ribs, and I felt her take a light breath. “You should send Lilith to her.”

  Shadows played on the ceiling as the flames in the fireplace flickered and jumped. I watched them, thinking.

  “Why?” I asked at last.

  Leonora kissed me. “Because she’s tremendously strong and tremendously vulnerable. Kate would know how to manage her. She’d be safe there, and so would everyone else.”

  “You don’t like her.”

  She smiled. “What makes you think that? I barely know the child.”

  I grinned up at her. “You’ve been home nearly a full day, Rochoill. You know her well enough.”

  Leonora made a motion that might have been a shrug. “She’s hard to See. But yes, I’ve Seen her well enough to know she ought to be with Kate.”

  Absently I stroked her hair. “She does flirt with kelpies,” I said.

  Leonor
a gave a dry laugh. “That’s not all she flirts with.”

  “Leonora, she’s eleven years old.”

  “And daily growing, as they say.”

  “Is that why you want her to leave?”

  “Now, now.” She nipped my ear quite hard. “I’m only thinking of what’s best for her.”

  “All the same.” I rolled over and put my finger between her teeth to stop her biting me again, and she looked amused. “I’ll give her a chance. She’s happy here.”

  “As you wish. And on your own head be it.”

  ~

  And so Lilith became an unspoken gamble between me and Leonora, albeit a good-tempered one. Surprisingly, Leonora didn’t seem to mind the kelpie business, and I grew a little suspicious that she was encouraging Lilith’s interest—or perhaps not discouraging it—so that I’d be proved wrong in the end.

  “I’ve seen the creature,” she told me as we rode along the beach one evening. “It’s no more than a colt.”

  “Aye, and daily growing.” I threw her own words back at her, and she laughed.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Griogair. It wouldn’t be the first time a witch has tamed a kelpie.”

  “You’ve never been tempted.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve no interest in them, but then I don’t need a warhorse. I’m surprised you’ve never fancied taming one. Just because it hasn’t been done in centuries…”

  “They’re trouble,” I said flatly.

  “So are you, my dear.” She reached out a hand to take mine, kissed it, then let her horse spring forward into a gallop, sending spray flying from the small shoreline waves. For a moment I reined in my own horse, dazzled to watch them, the low winter sun glittering in the spindrift, Leonora’s tawny hair and the mare’s white mane bannering in the wind of their own speed.

  She glanced back over her shoulder. ~Do keep up, Fitheach, my love.

  I laughed, and took the challenge.

  ~

  The crow Lilith had tamed was a clever thing, nimble and cunning, and she’d grown impossibly fond of it. It was a true familiar: she never went anywhere without it, whether perched on her shoulder or hopping at her feet or ducking and diving in the air above her. The pouch she wore at her waist was now exclusively devoted to its favourite treats, so that the girl always smelt faintly of dead pigeon.

  All the same, she hadn’t forgotten her first ambition, as I discovered when Niall and I were out on the machair one frosty morning, debating whether to bring the cattle back inside the dun. Despite the crystal blue of the sky, a new onslaught of winter lay heavy on the horizon, and hardy though the beasts were, the wolf packs had grown more desperate as the months wore on. I hated to imagine having to kill one, and I’d deserve the bad luck such a deed would bring me.

  We’d walked up to the top of the dunes to study the dark menacing cloud that lay on the far line between ocean and sky, but the oncoming weather was suddenly secondary.

  “Gods above and gods below,” said Niall, and drew the sword off his back.

  I’d got my breath back, so I murmured, “Put it away. You’ll look a bit damn silly if you’re more scared of it than she is.”

  Lilith sat on one of her favourite rocks, wrapped in a goatskin cloak, looking utterly contented as she fed scraps of pigeon to the crow and the kelpie. The crow took them greedily straight from her hand; the kelpie seemed more skittish, but it strained its head curiously towards her, flaring its nostrils and pawing the sand, snatching a shred of bloody pigeon-meat from her just as the crow reached for it. The bird’s indignant caw and Lilith’s laughter drifted to us on the breeze.

  Cautiously I walked along to the rocks and clambered down, Niall at my heels, his sword sheathed, his fingers still twitching for it. Leonora had been right: it was barely more than a first-year colt, nothing like fully grown. That didn’t mean it didn’t have a deadly look. As it caught sight of us it jerked up its head, and bared its teeth, a tendril of pigeon-flesh caught on one lower fang. Its black eye fixed on us and it flattened its ears, screaming a baby-stallion warning.

  Lilith turned her head and smiled at us, giving a little wave. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  “Very,” I murmured, because he was. Niall said nothing at all, just stared at the creature.

  “Oh, don’t be scared of him,” she said. “He’s only a foal really. He won’t come out of the sea yet. I’m just getting to know him. I haven’t even made a bridle.”

  “You can’t bring that into the dun,” Niall managed to say.

  “Of course not. Not yet.” She jerked her head at the opposite end of the beach and said contemptuously, “That’s what Ramasg’s scared of, too.”

  I followed her gesture. Sure enough, a shadow darted behind the rocks, too late: a shadow with straggly black hair. I frowned.

  “Has he been bothering you again?”

  “A bit. But I can handle him.” She flicked her fingers dismissively, and the kelpie colt snuffled eagerly at them. The crow must have been jealous, because it hopped onto Lilith’s arm and glared at the creature.

  I could barely take my eyes off it myself. It was a lovely thing, its coat pale grey enough to be nearly white, its still-damp mane and tail tangled with weed. As I watched, its demonic eyes seemed to soften, a green light kindling in their depths, and it nickered to me, tossing its head. I smiled.

  “Griogair!”

  Niall had lunged for my arm, but Lilith had already taken my hand and gently removed it from the kelpie’s neck, where I did not remember putting it. My fingers slipped free of the writhing fronds of its mane, and it whickered with disappointment as I blinked myself back to full consciousness.

  “You sneaky little bastard!” I exploded.

  Lilith laughed. “It’s only doing what comes naturally. You could soon tame it.”

  Strange, but she was right. I couldn’t resent the thing, any more than I could resent a wolf for wanting to eat. And for its sheer beauty and grace, you could forgive it anything. I knew that was its trick, but I suddenly didn’t care.

  “You could ride one,” added Lilith, gazing at me with worshipful eyes. “I could bring you one, and you could bond with it.”

  “Maybe later,” I said gruffly. “Give me a century or two to get used to the idea.”

  “You’d be mad,” growled Niall, earning a frown of dislike from Lilith.

  “Anyway, Niall’s right for now,” I added. “Don’t bring it near the dun.”

  ‘Of course not. None of them could deal with it.’ There was a proud gleam in her eyes. “I’ve got Dornadair to keep me company, anyway.” She puckered her lips, which the crow nudged with its beak as if kissing her.

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “Don’t be late back,” I said. “There’s snow on the way.”

  ~

  I was more aware of Ramasg after seeing him spying on Lilith down on the shore. There was still something I disliked about the boy, something I distrusted, and if anything he seemed to have grown worse: more underhand, more vicious. I saw him spit in her food when her back was turned; I saw him spill pitch deliberately on her cloak, or drop something suddenly to trip her.

  She was right, though; she could handle him now. If she ever retaliated I didn’t know about it, but I don’t think she did. Or rather, she retaliated in the most wounding way possible, which was to pretend Ramasg did not exist. He was so clearly jealous of her, as well as afraid and contemptuous, that her complete failure to see him must have been like a fishhook in his gullet. Nor did it help his prestige even among his own friends, which duly plummeted, especially since Lilith was always careful to acknowledge them, to smile shyly and nod at them as they passed her in the courtyard. She’d be a clever politician when she was older.

  And as she said, she had the crow Dornadair. It might go off hunting alone now and then, but mostly they were together, out on the moor or down on the rocks. When she called it, with a strange guttural cry, it would come to her; she would spend hours with her undersized bow
and arrow, hunting pigeons and grouse for it simply because it disliked the taste of seabird. It had even reached an amicable coexistence with the kelpie-colt, which surfaced and trotted out of the waves for Lilith almost on command now.

  “You’ve got to admit,” I told Leonora smugly, “she’s happy here.”

  “I do admit it, freely.” And Leonora gave me that smile that told me: Just wait.

  Lilith was contented, then, and she had never been the kind of child to shriek or throw tantrums or even to laugh too loud. Her easy, low-pitched happiness lasted the whole of that late spring as the air grew mild and the flowers crept in a wild rash of colour across the machair, and the grass began to smell once more of warmth and summer instead of frost and death.

  That was why, when she came running to me in the Great Hall, I waved Niall aside and opened my arms to her, shocked by her demented grief. That was why I knew immediately that her despair was real, and heartshredding, and terribly, violently dangerous.

  ~

  Dornadair, she gasped through her tears, was gone. He had not responded to her call; she could not locate his disordered, playful mind with her own. He had been gone for three hours; twice as long as they had ever been apart before.

  Dornadair, she said, was dead.

  The clann members near to us shook their heads and sympathised in their matter-of-fact way, and Leonora became surprisingly sad and quiet, kissing the girl’s face and begging her not to worry till the worst was known. Even Niall tried to console Lilith, stroking her hair and shushing her, but she would not be shushed, and I knew she would not be consoled till the bird was found.

  There were three hours of daylight left to us, and we had no choice. Niall sighed and made for the stables to ready our horses while I squeezed the girl’s shoulders and promised to find Dornadair. I doubted very much that we’d find him alive; I trusted Lilith to know that. But still we had to ride out, and it didn’t matter how much I cajoled and warned; she had to come with us.

  Lilith rode at my back, clasping my waist like a drowning child, her breath coming in short gasps. There was no point in speed; we simply had to cover the moor at a walk, searching the uneven ground and the heather knolls till our eyes ached. None of us, tellingly, looked to the sky.