Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1) (3 page)

Aedan was silent for some time. “I’m just
confused,” he said at length. “Every time I tried to settle on an idea he did
something to squash it.”

“You still need to put your origin down before we
ask him.”

Aedan thought again. “My first idea, and the only
one that seems to work, is that he must live near the sea because he kept
making boat and fish comparisons. I don’t know what sea urchins are, but I’m sure
you don’t find them in the midlands. I’ll choose something coastal and not too
far north, like Falls Harbour.”

“The sea comparisons … Good point,” she conceded.
“I remember that now. We might both be right though. He could have grown up at
the coast and moved away later, but if he did, he must have worked very hard to
lose the western accent. Let’s go find out.”

They clambered and slid down the hay and dropped
off the back of the cart under a small shower of straw and dust. Dougal had
pulled the lieutenant aside and was whispering questions, nodding rapidly at
the brief answers and then attacking with further questions. The lieutenant was
giving all the signals – tapping hands, stamping feet and wandering eyes. He
finally tired of the business, and while making a last reply, he spun on his
heel and strode away, directly towards Aedan and Kalry.

The annoyed cast of his features changed as he saw
the slender young girl with the warm eyes. He smiled.

It was only a flash, but Aedan had a sudden
impulse to push him away.

“Lieutenant Quin,” she said in her bellish voice,
“can we ask you where you come from?”

The smile slipped and he narrowed his eyes. “What
do you mean by that?”

Aedan was liking this lieutenant less and less.
That was no way to talk to Kalry.

“We have this game,” she explained. “We try to
guess where people are from by using clues. I guessed Rinwold, and Aedan
guessed a coastal town like Falls Harbour. Did we come close?”

Understanding eased his features, but he remained
aloof when he replied. “Rinwold it is. I congratulate you. You are as
discerning as your father. It is always a pleasure dealing with others of noble
blood.” He kept his eyes on her.

Aedan flinched. He had wanted to ask further
details, but was only too happy when the man turned and strode away. He
wondered why a soldier had bothered to find out who was related to whom.

“I don’t like him,” Aedan said.

“That’s because he made you lose your fourth in a
row,” Kalry laughed. “And wasn’t I right about his snobbishness? Wanted us to
know about his noble blood too.”

Aedan was frowning, lost in thought. “Kalry,” he
said, “if he hadn’t been wearing that uniform, would you still have thought he
was from Rinwold?”

“Well that’s the point, isn’t it? We’re supposed
to use all the clues that we have to lead us to a conclusion.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he got a good promotion
through a friend, and he’s actually spent most of his life doing something
shady in one of the seaports. That would explain his bad manners. And there’s
something else about him. Something I can’t put into words. Something that
worries me. If this slave business actually turns out to be real, I don’t think
I want him in charge.”

Kalry looked at Aedan. Her eyes had grown a lot more
serious. “He did make a lot of sea comparisons, didn’t he?”

“Kal-ree!”

The courtyard was still emptying when Dorothy’s
voice rang through the commotion. She was, without doubt, grandmother to the
whole farm, but the greying of her hair had not been accompanied by the
slightest flagging of energy. There was enough wit and zest in her veins to
match any of the young troublemakers. “Over here, my girl. Vegetables to be
washed. We need all hands in the kitchen, even little ones. Aedan, you too, you
mangy mud-vole – though you do look surprisingly clean this morning …”

She stepped in front of him, hands on hips, a
half-smile tugging the dimple in one cheek. “Been in the river, haven’t you?”

Aedan nodded.

“A sad day for everyone downstream,” she said,
giving his ear a tweak as he darted past. She followed him, still talking. “Well
at least you won’t be able to leave my ingredients dirtier than you find them.
Now don’t just stand there looking at what has to be done. Hop to it before I
give you something to hop about!”

By late afternoon, labourers armed with rusty
swords and frail spears returned from the nearby fields. In the manor house,
belongings and weapons cluttered the floor in every room. Fireplaces were set
to work against the air that had turned cold. Salted pork, preserved figs, and
bowls of nuts were brought out from the larder to ease the waiting while a
thick mutton-and-vegetable stew began to weave heady aromas through the house.

Dorothy’s cooking was legendary. It had once been
said that she could turn soil to cake. William, her husband, had remarked that
he could achieve the reverse, earning himself a sharp smack with the rolling
pin.

The men had gathered in the main hall and were now
discussing shifts of three groups that would be rotated through the night. Aedan,
eager to know how the defences would be arranged, was listening intently to the
scraps of talk that carried through to the kitchen where he was still
imprisoned. He heard the outer door open and William’s voice, usually so bold,
was deferential as he explained the new idea to whoever had entered. Aedan
guessed that it had to be Lieutenant Quin.

“I appreciate that you have been so proactive” –
it was definitely Quin – “while I have been scouting the surrounds. But from
what I see, the manor house is strong and well situated. Such precautions as
you suggest would be excessive. Remember that these are slavers who rely on
speed and stealth, not force of numbers, so the gathering of this many people
would, by itself, ensure safety. When weathering a storm with all sails down,
the greatest enemy is panic. We can all relax, trust me. Situations like these
are my daily occupation.”

 From the responses, it was clear that everyone
approved. It eased the tension considerably. Soon the house began to fill with
talk and laughter as bellies were filled with an ample supper.

Dorothy found out about the morning’s business at
the river and punished the two miscreants by sending them back to the kitchen to
clean the dishes. Aedan was hopeless. He started by washing and handing the crockery
to Kalry to dry, but what she received was a stream of wet, dirty plates.

“Aedan! You wash dishes like you’re worried about
getting infected by them.”

“Washing dishes is disgusting.” Aedan was trailing
the cloth over a plate, clearly trying to keep his fingers dry.

“You play with slugs and dung beetles, use horse
droppings for target practice, and spit in your hand.”

“So do you.”

“I don’t spit in my hand.”

“Washing dishes is still disgusting,” Aedan
grumbled. “All those things are clean dirt. This job is just revolting. And
anyway,
you
hate it just as much as me. I’ve heard Dorothy moaning at
you and calling you back to clean properly lots of times.”

“Well at least I do my washing quickly, even if it
isn’t perfect. Here, let me wash. You can dry.”

“Fine.”

The new arrangement worked far better and it
wasn’t long before they were finished, leaving a pile of almost clean, completely
wet dishes on the counter. Aedan draped the cloth over the top to reduce the
chance of someone noticing and calling him back to dry them properly. If Kalry
had noticed, she was saying nothing. She had never cared much for these mundane
chores. Storybooks, sketchpads and fireside conversations had far too strong a
grip on her affections and drew her away more than Dorothy thought acceptable.
But the old lady was not here now and Kalry wasted no time heading for the
door.

Aedan lingered, hovering at the gap between the
heavy shutters that looked out towards the forest. He willed his eyes to travel
into the foggy darkness gathering behind the boles of elm, sycamore, oak and
hornbeam.

Nymliss was a forbidding forest even in daylight,
a dim world of ancient things and terrible secrets preserved only in folklore.
At least that was what the folklore said. But the stories were not without
effect. Few dared enter the forest, and those that did were mostly shunned, the
superstitious folk marking them as tainted by the feared darkness within. Aedan
had never bothered himself with such ideas, and as the son of a forester, had been
quite at home tracking, exploring, hunting, and wandering freely under the
leafy roofs.

What he had found in there had not entirely convinced
him that the folklore was wind and smoke. There was something about the forest
that demanded his respect, though what it was he could never decide. And ever
since that peculiar storm, he had felt as if there was something whispery about
Nymliss, almost awake, not in a haunting way but as if it were more alive than
before.

Now, however, what he imagined in the deep shadows
had a much clearer shape and intent.

“What is it?” Kalry asked.

“None of this is making sense. Something is wrong.”

“Wrong with what?”

“The way everyone is acting. It seems like a party.
Look at the forest, Kalry. You could hide an army there, fifty yards from this
house, and nobody would know. The lieutenant worked so hard to convince us that
the slavers are real. He made sure we went to all the hassle of staying here
for the night, but now he seems more worried about the hassle of too many
sentries than about slavers. He doesn’t realise that with us all here at the
edge of the forest we could be in even more danger. I know how easy it is to
hide behind the trees.”

Kalry smiled. “You always look at things differently,
like you’re climbing onto the roof to get a better angle while everyone else
looks from the ground. Let’s get William in here. You should tell him what you
just told me.” She waved her arms from the doorway until she caught the
manager’s eye and beckoned him with a smile full of honest affection. A moment
later, William walked in. Aedan had never grown used to how tall and impressive
the man was up close. Most in his position would have retired a dozen years
earlier complaining of exhaustion, but even into his seventies William’s
strength was formidable and he seemed to have little interest in setting any of
it aside. A smile drew the wrinkles of many good years into their best arrangement.

“Yes, you young miscreants? What mischief are you brewing
now?”

Kalry told him that Aedan had something he needed
to hear. The man turned a patient look towards Aedan who unloaded his worries.

William smiled when the explaining was done. “Ah,
the imagination of youth. In some ways I envy you, Aedan. Leave this matter
with me. I promise you I will keep my eyes wide open, but I don’t think you
need to be worried. I know you have a way of understanding military matters,
but remember that I’ve actually served in the field – and this lieutenant, he
impresses me. The labourers I sent into town earlier saw him on the road this
morning, said he rode like a tiger was after him. A less responsible man might
have spared himself and his horse. There is no question that he has our best
interests at heart and I believe he has made the right decision under the
circumstances – nobody is going to attack a sturdy building like this when it’s
full of armed men.”

Aedan scrunched his mouth in thought. William had
a point, and William was no stranger to battle.

“Set your mind at rest, Aedan. We are safe here.
If your wild thoughts persist, all I ask is that you don’t spread them. It is
very important that everyone stays calm. We don’t need the madness of fear in
these closed quarters. I’ve seen what that can do.” He put a finger to his lips,
looked at the children, and held their eyes until he was sure they understood
him. Then he ruffled their heads with grandfatherly gentleness and left.

Aedan wasn’t quite sure what he felt. At least
part of it was relief. But there was something in his mind that wasn’t quite
settled, like dry leaves shifting with the careful movements of a little unseen
creature.

He and Kalry left the kitchen and slipped into a
crush of bodies that filled the central hall. The rich teak and red-oak
furniture had been moved against polished stone walls. Fine paintings, a dozen pairs
of antlers and as many bearskins hung all the way up to the high vaulted
ceiling. Kalry had always thought the room too big. “It’s so un-cosy you may as
well be outdoors,” she had once told Aedan. Everyone else considered it a
magnificent hall, the pride of one of the midland’s finest homes.

Because they were unable to see over the crowd, they
did not notice Emroy until it was too late. As they lurched out into the clear,
there was no chance of pretending not to recognise him and ducking the other
way.

“Stink!” Aedan grumbled loudly enough for Kalry to
hear.

Emroy had cornered Thomas in what was clearly an
unpleasant conversation. Both boys looked up as the two arrivals stumbled out
from the press of bodies.

“And here he is,” Emroy called. “Ha! Aedan, you
really have a way of rubbing people’s noses in it, don’t you? I would simply
have named Thomas a coward, but you had to go and demonstrate it.”

The boy was three years older than Aedan and much
bigger. He stood a good foot taller and looked down at a steep angle. But
apparently this was not intimidation enough and he stepped so close that he was
almost looking directly down through the half-dozen wiry hairs that had
recently sprung up on his chin.

“Are you planning to kiss me?” Aedan asked.

“No.” Emroy wrinkled a pimply nose.

“Then why are you standing so close?” Aedan’s tone
was perfect innocence. Emroy bristled and stepped back while Kalry hid her grin
with a hand.

“Who told you Thomas was a coward?” Aedan asked.

“I don’t need ten-year-old children to tell me what’s
obvious. I can read people, Aedan. I can tell that you are a fool.”

“Well, you can’t tell that I’m almost thirteen,
and a moment ago it looked like you couldn’t tell I was a boy, so I’m not too
worried.”

Emroy’s spotty cheeks flushed and he raised the head
of a fine ivory cane in dramatic warning. Nobody paid it much attention because
he wearied everyone so by constantly drawing their eyes to this mark of rank.

“What makes you think I demonstrated that he’s a
coward?” Aedan asked.

“The bridge, fool. Or have you forgotten? He
couldn’t make the jump. You had to shove him. Everyone’s talking about it.” He
ended with a flourish of his cane and settled down to stroking his chin hairs
and smiling a condescending smile.

“How many times have you made that jump?”

Emroy looked aside as if distracted by something
on the other end of the room. “Hundreds,” he mumbled.

“Has anyone ever seen you do it?”

“Of course.”

“Who?”

“What does that have to do with it? I wasn’t
looking for spectators.”

“You’re a stinking liar and you know it,” Aedan
said, shaking his head.

“How dare you accuse me!”

“You just accused Thomas of being a coward and you
called me a fool. That makes us even. But remember that Thomas got up on the
wall on his own. That is the worst part, and the most difficult. We all know
that you never got that far. He’s not the coward. You are. And you’re
embarrassed that he has more nerve than you.”

“You’re lucky we’re in Dresbourn’s house, else I’d
teach you all a good lesson,” Emroy growled. He began counting them off,
pointing the head of the cane at each of them in turn. When he included Kalry, Aedan
slapped it aside and stepped in front of her. Something in his eyes had
changed. Even Emroy draw back a fraction, though he recovered well, obviously
remembering that he was a good deal bigger.

“Emroy, please don’t be like this,” Kalry pleaded.

Aedan’s way of dealing with these confrontations
she so hated was quite different. Where she would try to douse the flames, Aedan
would catch alight and fight fire with a hotter fire.

“I know the lesson you mean,” he said, glaring at
Emroy. “The bigger you are, the more rubbish you’re allowed to talk, and if anyone
says you are wrong, you’ll prove that you’re actually right by hitting them. That’s
what rubbish-talkers mean by proof.”