Raven Flight (33 page)

“I’m told this young woman is something of a fighter,” the king said levelly. “Skilled to a remarkable level. Strong to what might be considered an uncanny degree. What have you to say for yourself, girl?”

She glowered at him, then spat on the ground in front of her. One of her guards stepped forward and delivered a heavy blow to her cheek; she staggered, then straightened her back and lifted her chin.

“Nothing to say? No explanation for your ability to account for several men without resorting to any kind of weaponry? No excuse for taking out your anger on a group of peaceable travelers in the middle of the night?”

“If you consider beating and attempted rape peaceable
activities, then there is little point in my offering you any explanation.”

A horrified gasp from the crowd as she delivered this statement; she had committed the unthinkable offense of insulting the king to his face, in public. I was cold all through.
Oh, Tali, you have just ordered your own death. Couldn’t you have pretended to be less than you are, just for long enough?

The king had returned his attention to Flint. “Owen Swift-Sword! Three of your comrades took this woman into custody after hearing of her suspect behavior. If she were your captive, what penalty would you impose on her?”

Flint had not even glanced at Tali, nor she at him. Only, when she’d spoken, I had seen him start, then recover himself. Before he came into the open area, he had not known she was at Summerfort. I was sure of it. And it was clear from the king’s words that Keldec knew nothing of what Tali truly was. That she and Flint found themselves out there together was no more than a cruel twist of fate. “It is not for me to recommend punishment, my lord king,” Flint said. “That authority is yours.”

“I asked you for an answer.” Keldec’s voice had an edge in it now. Members of the royal party sat up straighter. The four Enforcers around Flint set hands to their weapons.

“As you wish, my lord king. I would put the woman to the test; ascertain whether what has been said of her is true. She could not be recruited to the Enforcers, of course. But if she is indeed a fine fighter, there would be work she could do in your service. Specialized work. Combat skills can be put to many uses.”

“Put her to the test. How?”

“I would not do so here at the Gathering, my lord king. The potential of a warrior takes some time to assess. There is a series of tests we use for men seeking to become Enforcers; they are carried out over a full season. Any new fighter coming into your service undergoes that training. There is no reason why a woman should not do the same, provided she is capable.”

Another burst of laughter from the queen and her women. It was plain they considered the idea ludicrous. Many within the crowd laughed along with them.

“I see.” I could not read the king’s mood from his face; I had no idea where this was heading. “And what then?”

“If she failed, it would be up to you to decide her fate, my lord king. If she met our requirements, there would be many ways in which she could assist us. Helping train new recruits. Acting as a sparring partner for our men. Perhaps a position as a personal guard for my lady the queen, if I may make so bold as to suggest that.”

“This is nonsense.” Varda’s voice was clear and high, like a blade cutting across Flint’s measured words. “A female guard? Ludicrous. The girl’s all spit and defiance, with no substance behind it. I declare Queen’s Privilege.”

I had no idea what she meant, but whatever Queen’s Privilege was, her words silenced the crowd. No laughter now; every face was turned toward Keldec.

For a moment he hesitated. Plainly this was not part of his plan, but it seemed the rules of the Gathering meant he
must agree. “Of course, my lady. Will you stand and speak to our people?”

Queen Varda stood. Although she was a little person, something in her drew every eye.

“Here we have a trusted servant who has betrayed his master,” she said, casting her glance over Flint. “And here an upstart country girl with no common sense, a woman who has behaved as no woman should, a person whose abilities tell us she is surely smirched. The solution is obvious. He must demonstrate his loyalty. She must be rendered harmless. Owen Swift-Sword, you are expert in combat. You would not otherwise have risen to be leader of Stag Troop. But you have another skill, do you not? Explain to the king’s subjects the nature of that skill.”

My gut twisted; my heart lurched.
Oh no. Oh no, not this. Please, not this
.

“My lady, I have on occasion performed an enthrallment at the king’s request.” He sounded calm and courteous; his voice was under expert control.

“Oh, come, Owen, you can do better than that. Are you not foremost among the king’s Enthrallers, the most skilled of all, the one they say never makes an error? I’ve seen you do it. Over the years of your service you must have provided my lord with—how many—ten, twelve of his most loyal retainers? No false modesty, now.”

The playful note made me sick; she might have been teasing a suitor.

“Twelve, my lady.”

Tali began to struggle between her captors, fighting to
free herself. At a nod from the king, one of Flint’s minders went in to assist the two who held her; Tali got in a couple of well-placed kicks before he landed a blow to her lower back that saw her bent double, choking with pain. Her captors forced her upright. Her face was gray.

“Twelve.” The queen might have used the same tone in speaking to a beloved pet as she stroked it. “Well, Owen Swift-Sword, let us make that thirteen. If you would have this young woman join the king’s household, in whatever capacity, her attitude must change. We must be absolutely sure of her loyalty. A girl who spits at the king, who mocks his authority, can only be rendered compliant by enthrallment. On this occasion, that process must be entrusted to the most reliable of our Enthrallers: yourself. This will not only ensure the girl’s loyalty; it will allow you to demonstrate yours.” With a sweet smile, Varda resumed her seat.

“It shall be as the queen wishes,” Keldec said, his eyes still on Flint. “You will perform this enthrallment now, here, before the eyes of my people. Do this well, provide us with good entertainment, and both your offense and this woman’s will be set aside.”

Flint had dropped his gaze; he was apparently examining the ground at his feet. “You are aware, my lord king,” he said, “that an enthrallment is usually carried out overnight; it is necessary for the … subject … to be in a heavy sleep before the charm is worked. And better if he or she is left to wake from that sleep naturally.”

“Come now, Owen.” The king was affable; if he had
not been well pleased by his wife’s intervention, he was not going to reveal that in public. “We have seen you do this before, and do it most effectively. We have the means to make a person sleep and wake as required.” He glanced up at the sky. “Time is passing. Tell your comrades what you need and let us get on with this.”

Sick to the core, I watched as they prepared the area. My mind sought frantically for solutions—perhaps both Tali and Flint could fake the enthrallment, perhaps she could pretend to be changed, pretend to be loyal and become a second spy at court, perhaps I could provide a distraction, allow them to run for it. No. We were surrounded by guards, right under the eyes of the king. I must not expose myself to view; to rush out there was to become another victim of this sorry day and lose Regan his most powerful weapon. And how could Flint fake this? The charm must be sung aloud. Once he had done that, with his hands on Tali’s head, there would be no reversing it. There must be other Enthrallers here, folk who would know if he erred, folk who would not need to block their ears while the magic was worked. There was no way out. I must stand here as the man I loved destroyed my friend before my eyes. Flint’s strength of purpose would see him go through with this foul act rather than reveal his true allegiance. Tali’s iron will would keep her from showing by so much as a single glance that she knew him; it would keep her from offering a bargain, her knowledge of his double life in exchange for her release. Likely there was no bargaining with Keldec anyway; if Flint refused to do this, his life would be
forfeit, and the task of enthralling the rebellious girl would be given to one of the others, who might botch the job.

I was not as strong as they were. I was not even strong enough to keep the tears from falling as I watched them. She was so full of life, so brave, so much herself. She was doing her best to stand straight, though it must be costing her dear after that last blow; she was trying to hold her head high.
Don’t turn around
, I willed her.
Don’t see me
, though the fading light made it near impossible that she would distinguish my face in the crowd even if she did turn my way. And at the same time I thought,
Look at me one last time, Tali. Let me see the courage in your face and the light in your eyes. Show me the fighting spirit of Ravensburn
.

They brought out a pallet, which they raised up on benches so the crowd could see. They fetched a pair of flaming torches, which they set in iron holders. These were not yet necessary for light, but perhaps they enhanced the spectacle. Here was a black robe, which Flint put on over his plain attire. Here was a warm blanket, which he placed, folded, on the pallet. Now a pillow. Last, a flask and a small goblet. The Enforcer who held these items was the man I had seen in a dream, talking to Flint atop the guard tower. Perhaps a friend; perhaps a betrayer. What was happening here made a mockery of right and wrong; it set everything in confusion.

Cry out!
my heart told me as they tipped back Tali’s head and forced a draft down her throat.
Cry out shame!
There he was, grave and still, waiting at the head of the pallet until she collapsed in her captors’ arms and was
lifted up to lie there, as still as an enchanted princess in an old tale. Her dark head on the pillow, the brave necklace of raven flight, her arms ringed with the patterns of her ancient clan. They took off her boots. The guards stepped back, and Flint moved to lay the blanket over her, as gently as if he were tucking a beloved child in bed. Now Tali was covered to the neck, her modesty restored. Her prone form looked surprisingly small.

Flint spoke to the other Enforcers and they moved back a little, leaving Enthraller and victim alone in the circle of torchlight. Perhaps the preparations had taken longer than I imagined, for now the sky had a reddish tinge. The air was perceptibly cooler. I shivered, lifting my hand to wipe away the treacherous tears.
Bear witness. You must bear witness as you did once before
. I was back in the cottage at Corbie’s Wood, the cottage that had long been home and refuge, place of wisdom and peace. Standing hidden, watching through a chink in the wall as they forced the draft down my grandmother’s throat. Watching as they changed her forever.

“Cold, are you? Here, wrap this around your neck.” The young man offered me a woolen scarf, and I took it rather than risk words. “What’s this, tears? Have you never seen an enthrallment before?”

I shook my head. Out there, Flint had laid his hands along the sides of Tali’s head.

“It’s not so frightening,” the man said quietly. “The fellow will sing a bit, and the woman will sleep. Then they’ll wake her up again and she’ll have lost her argumentative
ways. A remarkable thing. No need to be upset about it.” And, as an afterthought, “They say this fellow, Owen Swift-Sword, is the best of them all. In a way he’s doing the lass a favor.”

I nodded. He passed me a handkerchief; I took it and mopped my cheeks. Grandmother before enthrallment had been a strong, wise old woman. The charm had done her no favors; it had been botched. She had survived only to endure a life-in-death.

“He won’t make any mistakes,” the farmer said, his eyes on Flint, who stood still as stone, eyes closed, hands gentle against Tali’s face. He had not yet started to sing the charm.

I realized, suddenly, the implication of the man’s words. Of course Flint wouldn’t get this wrong; he never did. Tali would not wake as a witless, shambling mockery of herself. She would not be like Grandmother or that poor man-child Garret whom I’d encountered last autumn. No, the enthrallment would work the way the king wanted it to, and Tali would become as faultlessly loyal to Keldec as she had been to the cause of freedom. The first thing she would do when she woke was expose Flint as a spy. The second thing she would do was identify me as a rebel and as a Caller. The third thing would be to tell what she knew about Shadowfell. The cause was doomed.

I had to get out. I had to get away. If I could make it up into the woods and find Sage, if I could run as far as Brollachan Bridge before they tracked me down, perhaps I could use the Good Folk to get a warning to Regan.
One of Sage’s clan, in bird form, could fly to Shadowfell in the morning, tell the rebels it was all up, bid them scatter across Alban and go to ground. I must get out now, quickly, before the enthrallment was completed. Before the new Tali woke. But the crowd had moved in close, blocking any way out. To push through would be to attract immediate attention. I was trapped.

Flint was singing the charm. It might have been a lullaby, so quiet and gentle was it, falling on the ears like soothing balm. Insidious. Evil. An ancient art, devised for healing the wounded mind and spirit, turned to a tool of power, a blade that would reach into a person’s mind and twist their very being to the king’s will. Wrong. Oh, so wrong. And yet so beautiful to hear. Many people in the crowd had stopped their ears or covered those of their children. There was an Enforcer stationed not far away, but his gaze was not on us. Caught by Flint’s voice, he stared at the blanketed form of Tali and the somber one of the Enthraller. Willing away her very self. Willing away all that had made her so magnificent.
Farewell, Tali. Farewell, bright spirit
.

Perhaps it was over quite soon. It felt long. I became dizzy and had to lean on the wattle fence to stay upright. My tears had dried up. I was numb; my mind was refusing to accept what was coming. Maybe she wouldn’t see me. She couldn’t know I was here, would have assumed, surely, that I’d have fled to the woods as soon as I could once she was taken. She would accuse Flint first anyway. That would grab everyone’s attention. I must seize that moment to slip
through the crowd and out the gates, then head up to the forest before it was too dark to find a way. Perhaps, by some miracle, I could get across the river without being spotted. None of it seemed real. Perhaps I would wake soon to find myself in the mountains with Tali sleeping beside me, and this would be only another dream.