The Shining City

by Kate Forsyth

  Lewen shifted in his hard chair and wondered how long until the bell rang and freed him from the classroom. He was not on duty at the palace that evening, and thought he might try to bribe the guard to let him stay a little longer with Rhiannon, long enough perhaps to remove all their clothes and feel her soft skin against his. He sighed. He had not had time to whittle any arrows, or do anything else to earn any extra coins, and bribing the guards every day had quickly depleted his earnings as a squire. His pocket was sadly empty.

  At last the bell rang. Chair legs scraped against the floor, and a hum of conversation rose as the students stood up gladly and stretched, beginning to make their way out. Lewen gathered up his books and rose too. He knew he should go to the library, and work on the assignment he had due, but writing a paper on the Historia de Gentibus Septentrionalibus seemed impossible when the woman he loved was in prison facing a death sentence.

  As he walked towards the door, Cailean raised his head and beckoned him over. Lewen went to stand by his desk.

  ‘Lewen, ye ken that lass ye told me about? The one ye thought had been hurt in prison?’

  ‘Aye. Bess, her name was, I think. Bess Balfour.’

  ‘There are no records o’ any girl o’ that name, or any similar name, being admitted to the prison. I asked him to check again, and he said he had. So then I checked to see if anyone had been injured. There were a number o’ knifings, and quite a few cases of gaol fever, but no reports o’ any rat bites. I’m sorry, Lewen, I’m no’ sure what else I can do.’

  Lewen was puzzled, but he thanked Cailean and apologised for wasting his time, and then went out into the garth, feeling heavy-hearted.

  Outside the sun was shining and the sky was blue. The tall spires of the ancient witches’ tower were etched sharply against its perfection, their symmetry pleasing to the eye. Black-clad students strolled across the garth, or lay in the sunshine, talking. Lewen stared at them. He felt so dislocated, as if he was looking at them through a spyglass from another dimension altogether. He could not fit the ragged edges of his world together, the world in which he loved Rhiannon, and the everyday world of school and books and dormitories.

  ‘Lewen!’

  He turned round.

  Fèlice and Maisie were coming towards him, smiling broadly. As always, Fèlice looked fresh and pretty. Her black robe fit her perfectly, and she wore a posy of flowers at her belt. Beside her, Maisie looked chubbier and plainer than ever. Since being attacked by wild dogs on their journey through Ravenshaw, her round face was marred by a nasty red scar that ran down from a torn and crooked ear. She tried unsuccessfully to hide the scar by wearing her hair looped over her ears, a style that did not suit her. She limped painfully as well, leaning heavily on a walking stick Lewen had carved for her. The scars upon Maisie’s face always made him feel guilty and uncomfortable, and he had to resist the urge to avoid her, even though he knew it was not his fault that she had been so badly mauled. In fact, if Lewen had not faced the dogs down, talking to them in their own language, the country girl may not have escaped at all.

  ‘Hey, Lewen!’ Fèlice called. ‘How are ye yourself?’

  Lewen grimaced.

  ‘No news on Rhiannon?’

  ‘Nay, she’s still stuck in that blaygird prison. They willna let her out until after her trial, and the trial is set for midsummer. Naught Nina can say will make the Rìgh bring it forward. They need time to gather evidence.’

  ‘Poor thing,’ Fèlice said and made a face.

  ‘I went to see her the other day,’ Maisie said. ‘She seems very low. She hardly said a word. I dinna ken what to say to her.’

  ‘That was nice o’ ye, I’m glad ye went. She finds it very hard, being locked up between four walls like that. She’s used to running free.’

  ‘Aye,’ Maisie said uncertainly.

  Lewen could see she did not like being reminded that Rhiannon was half-satyricorn. He changed the subject. ‘How are ye finding the Theurgia?’

  ‘It’s grand!’ Fèlice said exuberantly. ‘I wish we dinna have to study so much, but apart from that, I’m having a marvellous time!’

  ‘They’ve let me take up extra classes at the Royal College o’ Healers,’ Maisie said. ‘I want to be a healer, ye ken. They have scholarships I can apply for. They’ve all been so kind.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ Lewen said. ‘What about the others? Have they settled in well?’

  ‘Och, sure,’ Fèlice answered. ‘Cameron’s in heaven, being so close to the palace and all those Yeomen. He goes to watch their weapons training every morning, and as far as I can tell the only classes he pays attention to are wrestling and archery.’

  ‘He has to pass if he wants to get into the Yeomen,’ Lewen warned. ‘Being good at the arts o’ war is no’ enough.’

  As they talked, the three students had been walking across the garth towards the dormitory wing. At the sound of their names being called out, they paused and turned. Landon came hurrying towards them, looking like a stork with his long gangly legs and stooped shoulders.

  ‘Fèlice, have ye checked the noticeboard?’ he cried as soon as he reached them, out of breath and flustered.

  ‘No’ yet. I was just about to. Why?’

  ‘We’ve been granted a pass-out. We can go tonight. Oh, Fèlice, do ye think I should? I dinna ken. It’s too soon.’

  Fèlice clasped her hands together. ‘We’ve been given leave? Oh, wonderful! Oh, marvellous! O’ course ye have to do it, Landon! We’ve talked about naught else all week.’

  She turned to Lewen. ‘Have ye had town-leave yet? I went last week and it was so exciting. I’ve never had such fun. We got all dressed up, a crowd o’ us, and went to the theatre and then on to some inn in the faery quarter. All sorts o’ people were there, goblins, tree-changers, cursehags, there was even an ogre, can ye believe it! They had the most amazing food and drink there, I’ve never tasted anything like it. I danced with a seelie, he was the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever clapped eyes upon. They say seelies can make a woman swoon just by smiling at them …’

  ‘I saw a Fairge,’ Maisie said dreamily. ‘I’ve always wanted to.’

  ‘… I must admit, I did feel quite giddy after I’d danced with him, but that might have been the foul stuff I was drinking. They called it bog-ale, and indeed, it did taste like swamp water! I willna touch that stuff tonight, I’ll try something different. Maybe the fuzzle-gin. That looked like fun.’

  ‘I wouldna touch the fuzzle-gin,’ Lewen said.

  ‘But it’s so pretty and pink!’

  ‘Aye, but the effects are no’ so pretty,’ he answered.

  ‘Really? I guess ye may be right. Katrin, this girl in my dorm, well, she was drinking it and we had to practically carry her home and then she was sick all over Cameron’s shoes, and then the next day, she was so sick she had to stay in bed all day and the healer said she couldna have town-leave for a whole month if she was going to abuse the privilege. Fancy! No town-leave for a month!’

  ‘So will ye come out with us tonight?’ Maisie asked, looking up at Lewen with a shy glow in her eyes. ‘Please do!’

  He shook his head. ‘I canna. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, please?’ Fèlice pleaded, clasping both her hands together. She gave him her most bewitching smile. ‘I promise no’ to drink too much fuzzle-gin and vomit on ye.’

  ‘There’s an offer that’s hard to refuse,’ another voice cried, laughing.

  Lewen turned and smiled, as Owein and Olwynne came up behind him.

  Landon, Fèlice and Maisie were thrown into confusion. They knew at once who the twins were, of course, for the younger children of the Rìgh of Eileanan were very striking with their red-gold hair and tall, slim figures, while Owein’s magnificent red wings marked him out in the biggest crowd. Fèlice was passionately interested in everything to do with the royal family, and could probably have told Owein a few things about himself that he thought no-one but a few of his closest friends knew. She had known that Lewen was fr
iends with the royal twins, and had hoped she would get to meet them through him. So, while Maisie blushed and gaped and tried to think of something to say, Fèlice recovered her composure quickly, and smiled up at the winged Prionnsa.

  ‘Well, ye are welcome to join us if ye wish, Your Highness,’ she said, dimpling. ‘We have town-leave and are just trying to convince Lewen he should come too. We have the whole night planned, and it should be such fun!’

  ‘Why, we’d love to, wouldna we, Olwynne?’ Owein responded at once, smiling down at Fèlice with a great deal of warm admiration in his eyes. ‘We havena had a chance to go into town for weeks. It’s all work, work, work, for us fourth years.’

  ‘That’s too bad,’ Fèlice said sympathetically. ‘Surely it canna be good for ye, all work and no play?’

  ‘A lass after my own heart,’ Owein cried. ‘I couldna agree more. Lewen and Olwynne, though, they’re no’ such fun. Always worrying about school and studying. Auld afore their time, they are.’

  ‘Responsible is the word ye are looking for, I feel,’ Olwynne said. She looked Fèlice up and down, and the dark-haired girl blushed, dropped her eyes and curtsied gracefully.

  ‘Olwynne, Owein, this is Lady Fèlice, daughter o’ the Earl o’ Stratheden, and this is Maisie, granddaughter o’ the cunning man o’ Berkeley, a village near Ravenscraig, and this is Landon MacPhillip, from Magpie Wood. We call him the poet, for he’s always scribbling away.’

  Owein and Olwynne both inclined their heads, and Owein glanced again at Fèlice, who was looking prettier than ever with her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. ‘Do we no’ ken your father? Is he no’ one of the MacBrann’s men?’

  ‘Och, aye, I was raised at court, at Ravenscraig. It is no’ at all like Lucescere, though. The MacBrann, the auld one, I mean, he was sick for so long, and there were no’ many parties or balls, and then he died, which was very sad, o’ course, but …’

  ‘But rather boring for ye, with the whole court in mourning,’ Owein said sympathetically.

  Fèlice flushed rosier than ever, and her dimple flashed briefly. ‘We were all very sorry. The MacBrann – Malcolm MacBrann – he was our laird for ever so long. I ken my father misses him very much. But the new laird, he’s a good man and canny too, they say, and when the mourning period is over, I’m sure the court will be gayer … but no’ like Lucescere! Never like Lucescere!’

  ‘It sounds like ye’ve been enjoying our city,’ Owein said.

  ‘Och, aye! Indeed I have. We all have, havena we, Maisie? I canna wait for tonight. There’s a new play on at the Mandrake Theatre that’s meant to be very good. We were thinking o’ seeing that first, and then going on to the Nisse and Nixie. We were there last week and had an absolute ball. I danced with a seelie! And there were ogres there! One got so drunk he tried to dance on a table and it broke underneath him. It was hilarious!’

  ‘The Nisse and Nixie is always good value,’ Owein said, ‘though ye should be careful, ye ken, no’ all faeries are friendly.’

  ‘And I am naught but a country lass, and no’ at all accustomed to such a place,’ Fèlice said sadly, causing Maisie and Landon to look at her in surprise. ‘That is why I need someone aulder, and more sophisticated, to accompany me and make sure I do nothing harebrained.’

  ‘Like drink fuzzle-gin,’ Owein said, smiling.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Well, I really feel it is my duty to accompany ye young things then,’ Owein said. ‘Since I am so much aulder and so much more sophisticated.’

  ‘Och, that is so kind o’ ye,’ Fèlice said, flashing him a look from under her eyelashes. ‘I do declare, I shall feel much safer with ye there.’

  Landon was still staring at her in bafflement, but Maisie’s expression was half-scandalised, half-amused, while Olwynne was looking Fèlice over very closely.

  ‘Will ye come too, Olwynne?’ Owein said. ‘Come on! It’ll be fun. How long is it since ye’ve seen an ogre trying to dance on a table?’

  ‘Far too long,’ Olwynne said dryly. She glanced at Lewen. ‘Are ye going, Lewen?’

  ‘I dinna think so,’ he answered. ‘I’d better no’.’

  ‘Oh, come on! We’ve hardly seen ye since ye came back from Ravenshaw,’ Owein protested. ‘And look at ye! Ye’re as wound up as a fob-watch. Come on! A night on the town will do ye good.’

  Lewen hesitated.

  Olwynne laid her hand on his arm. ‘Please? We’ve hardly seen ye.’

  ‘I canna,’ he said. ‘Really I canna.’

  ‘But ye’re not on duty tonight, are ye?’ Owein asked, puzzled. ‘I thought Fymbar and Hearne were.’

  ‘It’s no’ that,’ Lewen said. ‘It’s just … Rhiannon …’

  ‘Surely she can do without you for just one night,’ Owein said, exasperated. ‘I dinna ken how ye can spend so much time at Sorrowgate, it’s such a blaygird place.’

  Fèlice gave a theatrical shudder. ‘Horrid, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘Poor Rhiannon. I’m glad it’s no’ me shut up in there.’

  ‘That’s why I really have to go and see her,’ Lewen said. ‘She canna stand being enclosed in such a small space, she’s no’ used to it, and her spirits have been very low. She needs me.’

  ‘Well, we need ye too,’ Olwynne said. ‘Ye’ve been away for months and months, and then when we finally get ye back again, ye spend all your time at the prison. Did it never occur to ye that we may want to see your bonny face occasionally too?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lewen said miserably. ‘I ken I’m no’ much fun at the moment. I canna abandon her, though. She has no-one else. Canna ye see that?’

  Owein rolled his eyes, and said with exaggerated emphasis, ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Ye do no’ have to spend all evening with her, though, do ye?’ Olwynne asked. ‘How about ye go and see her after dinner, and then come out and meet us later? Ye’re in the city anyway, at Sorrowgate. It’ll only take ye another few minutes, if ye grab a corrigan-cart.’

  ‘Go on!’ Fèlice pleaded. ‘Ye canna waste a city pass! Besides, this inn we’ve been telling ye about, the Nisse and Nixie, it’s all the rage now. Anyone can get up and sing a song, or tell a joke or a story, or perform a trick, and Landon’s going to read his ballad, ye ken, the one he’s been writing about Rhiannon. Ye canna miss it! I swear, he’s going to take the town by storm. He read it to me and Maisie and the boys last night, and it brought tears to my eyes. Ye have to be there for its first public performance. If the crowd likes it, we’re going to have it printed up, aren’t we, Landon, and sell it on the streets a penny a piece.’

  ‘I dinna ken,’ Landon said gloomily. ‘I’m sure it’s no’ any good. I’ll probably get booed and hissed off the stage.’

  ‘Rubbish! It’s marvellous. It’ll be a sensation.’

  ‘I dinna think it’s a good idea to read it in public. No-one here seems to like Rhiannon.’

  ‘That’s why it’s so important that ye set them straight on what really happened,’ Fèlice said. ‘Tell him, Lewen! His ballad is the best way o’ changing public opinion. Everyone here believes the sort o’ rubbish Edithe’s been spreading around, because they havena heard the whole story. We could talk till we were blue in the face, and it wouldna have anywhere near the effect o’ hearing your ballad. Besides, it’ll make your name as a poet! Is that no’ what ye dream o’?’

  ‘I’ll probably get sued for slander,’ Landon said, ‘once the Laird o’ Fettercairn hears what I’ve written.’

  ‘It’s no’ slander if it’s true,’ Fèlice said, ‘and we can all attest to that. We were there! Oh, come on, Lewen, ye’ve got to come. Landon’ll never get up on stage if we are no’ all there, encouraging him.’

  ‘All work and no play makes Lewen a very dull dog,’ Owein said.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Lewen said. ‘I must admit a few ales would go down well.’

  ‘That’s the lad,’ Owein said, slapping him on the shoulder.

  ‘Where is this inn?’ Olwynne asked, her eyes still o
n Fèlice.

  ‘It’s down in the faery quarter, on the corner o’ Avalon and Cormoran streets,’ Landon said diffidently.

  ‘Och, aye, I ken,’ Owein said. ‘We’ll meet ye there, what, about nine? We have to be back afore the palace gates shut at midnight, remember.’

  ‘Remember last summer, when we all got locked out, because Lewen had to try to stop that bear-baiting?’ Olwynne said.

  ‘Och, aye, and we snuck in through the secret way, the auld drain? And Lewen got stuck, being too broad across the shoulders?’

  ‘And we thought we’d be stuck there all night, and expelled for sure, for being out past curfew?’

  ‘And ye lot slathered me all with the stinkiest mud ye could find …’

  ‘At least we managed to get ye out eventually. And we were all filthy by the end o’ it.’

  ‘No’ to mention stinky,’ Owein grinned.

  ‘There’s a secret way into the palace grounds?’ Fèlice asked.

  Owein and Olwynne exchanged glances. ‘Sorry! Canna tell. It’s a family secret.’

  ‘But it might come in useful one night,’ Fèlice pleaded. ‘Go on! Canna ye tell us where? Ye showed Lewen.’

  Owein grinned. ‘Aye, but Lewen’s practically family himself. No, no. No use begging. We willna tell ye, even if ye tied us up and tortured us with feathers.’

  ‘That doesna sound like torture to me,’ Fèlice said with a flirtatious glance at Owein from under her long lashes.

  Owein grinned, and was about to respond in kind, but Olwynne slipped her hand in the crook of his arm and said, ‘Well then. The Nisse and Nixie, at nine. See ye there! Dinna fail us, Lewen!’

  ‘I willna,’ he answered, and watched as Olwynne drew Owein away, the Prionnsa shooting a quick rueful smile at Fèlice over his shoulder.

  ‘Ye really are the most shocking flirt,’ Lewen said to Fèlice.

  She laughed. ‘Am I? Really? Oh well. How much trouble can I get into with ye and Landon and Maisie all frowning at me every time I open my mouth? And Cameron and Rafferty will come, no doubt, and Edithe too, I bet, once she hears who else is coming.’