Raven Flight (34 page)

The charm was finished. Flint stood silent for some time, still cradling Tali’s head. Then he removed his hands and took a step back. I felt, rather than heard, the crowd’s indrawn breath.

Flint glanced over at the Enforcer who had been helping him and gave a nod. This man advanced toward the pallet; another Enforcer came in on the other side. One lifted Tali to a sitting position, tipped back her head, stuck his fingers in her mouth to hold it open. The other produced a tiny bottle, from which he dripped what seemed a very small amount of something onto Tali’s tongue. She was lowered gently to the pillow; the blanket was drawn up again. As a loyal warrior of Keldec, she would no longer be beaten and reviled, but treated with respect.

Again we waited. The torches flared in the breeze, sending sparks high into a sky in which the rose of sunset mingled with the gray-blue of a summer dusk. I had to reach the cover of the forest before it was too dark to find my way. There’d be no returning to Shadowfell now; the best I could hope for was to get a message to the rebels before the king’s men got there. It would be life on the road again, fleeing from one small settlement to the next, half a step ahead of the Enforcers. Oh, gods, let Sage or some of
her clan be up there in the woods tonight. Let me not be entirely alone.

Tali stirred. A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd. She moaned, lifting her head, rubbing her eyes. She sat up.

There was a moment, no longer than a single indrawn breath, when I thought she would leap to her feet, herself once more, defiant and strong. Then she tried to stand, and her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground beside the pallet. A sound came from her, a terrible, wrenching wail that had no words in it, only blind animal terror. One of the Enforcers came up to her, an imposing figure in his high boots and black clothing. He reached down to help her to her feet, but she shrank away, curling in on herself, pressing close to the bench that supported the pallet. A babbling spilled from her, mindless, meaningless, its only message utter panic.

I fought back a wave of nausea. Gone. She was gone. The peerless Enthraller, the man whose skill had never before let him down, had made a mistake. The charm had gone wrong, and Tali would never be herself again. Nor would she ever be a servant of Keldec; that wreck of a woman would not be training new recruits or standing guard at court. Flint had destroyed her. Didn’t they say it was the strongest, the most defiant, the most courageous who were hardest to turn? A vile thought came to me. Could this have been deliberate? Had Flint taken this path so Tali would not become subject to Keldec’s will? Would he ruin a friend’s mind if the alternative was her betraying the cause?

“Black Crow save us,” muttered the young farmer. “I thought they said this fellow had never lost one.”

“First time for everything,” put in someone else. “Look at her! Like a helpless infant. See, she’s wet herself.”

Two Enforcers had hauled Tali upright; there was a dark patch on her shift and a puddle at her feet. She fought them, not with the harnessed force of earlier, but wildly, like a frustrated child. Neither of them hit back now; they only held her.

Flint had neither moved nor spoken. The torchlight played on his grave features as he looked up at the king. The crowd was alive with murmuring, whispering, conjecture; above that came the sounds of Tali’s terror.

I was twelve years old again, back in my grandmother’s house, watching from my hiding place as she woke from a long sleep, after the Enthraller charmed her. The confusion in her eyes—why were these men here, leaning over her bed? The pathetic cries—her words were all fled, she could remember nothing. The smell as she lost control of her bowels. Knowing I could not come out to help, could not comfort her until the king’s men had left the house. Knowing the wise woman I had so loved was gone, gone forever. And later, knowing that the pitiful remnant there before me, shuddering, weeping, unable to help herself, had no one to turn to except me.

King Keldec rose to his feet. The crowd quieted. Flint had failed; perhaps he would die regardless. Perhaps I would lose both of them before this dark day ended.

“Twelve out of thirteen is, I suppose, still a fair record,”
Keldec said with a little smile. He spoke above Tali’s wailing. “And there is no doubt you have provided us with entertainment, if not exactly the kind we anticipated. You must sharpen your skills before next time, Owen. Had this been a man, a potential recruit to our Enforcers, I would view your error with less leniency.”

“Yes, my lord king.” As calm as if this were an ordinary day; as if Tali were not crouched there at his feet, sniveling like a beaten child.

“Since this was done under Queen’s Privilege, it is for my lady to have the final word,” said the king. “It is late; my people are weary and in need of some supper and sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, full of fresh diversions for all. My lady, will you speak?”

She stood, regal in her crimson gown. “Thank you, my lord king. People of Alban: we know the power of enthrallment, how it can turn a wandering mind back to the path of patriotism and loyalty. Sometimes, as with this woman you see before you, an individual is too warped, too blind, too set in her ways to be healed by the charm, even when fortunate enough to be in the hands of an expert such as Owen Swift-Sword. Disobedience brought this woman here; disobedience, defiance, a blatant disregard for the king’s law. It is entirely appropriate that our attempt to help her has resulted in the pathetic spectacle you see before you.”

A wordless roar burst from Tali, who was thrashing around in her captors’ grasp. One of the guards put a hand over her mouth, then cursed as she bit him.

“Take her away!” Varda commanded. “The girl is not fit for this company, or indeed for any company at all. The sight of her offends me. Dispose of her. Take her right away. Now!”

A brief consultation between the Enforcers. Then Flint and the man I’d seen in the dream hauled Tali up, each taking one arm, and dragged her away, heading for the same place where they had taken the unfortunate loser of the log-lifting contest. Close to where I stood; too close. I hunched myself down.
Dispose of her
. What did that mean?

On the far side of the open area, the official was calling for quiet. Enforcers were already taking away the pallet and the benches on which it had stood. The trumpets sounded a new fanfare, and a pair of oxen came out through the fortress gates, pulling a cart laden with joints of roast meat and barrels that likely contained ale. As the eyes of the folk around me moved to this new diversion, Flint glanced over and saw me. He started in shock, then rearranged his expression to that of the king’s man, remote, impassive. A practiced dissembler. He gave the very slightest jerk of his head toward the open gates to the encampment. Then they moved on, the two men heading out with Tali between them. This was the opportunity, the one chance. Too late for her, but not for Shadowfell.

“Sorry, need to be sick, excuse me—” Quickly, while everyone was looking at tonight’s promised supper and exclaiming over Keldec’s generosity. Quickly, before the king began another address to his loyal people. I pushed my way
through, bag over my shoulder, staff in hand, heedless of whose feet I stepped on. “Sorry—going to be sick—”

“My loyal people!”

I was out, beyond easy view of crowd or guards, an instant before Keldec’s voice rang out again in what must surely be the final speech of the day. There they were, not far beyond the open gates and apparently heading across the encampment toward the river. They’d gone right past that outbuilding where several of today’s losers had been taken. I ran after them, not sure what I could safely say with that other Enforcer present. What did the queen expect them to do, take Tali up into the woods and make an end of her? Abandon her when quite clearly she could not look after herself? They turned, saw me, and halted.

“Caaah …” Tali struggled in the men’s grip, trying to say something. Her tone was loud and flat. A half-wit. That was what people would call her from now on. If she lived among ordinary folk, she would be shunned, ridiculed, ostracized. “Gaaah …”

“It’s all right, Luda,” I said, fighting to keep my voice calm as I walked over to the three of them. I took off my shawl and reached to wrap it around her shoulders, over the inadequate shift. My hands were shaking; my heart was drumming. “I’ll look after you.” Then, to Flint, “I am this woman’s friend. I was her traveling companion until she was seized. My name is Calla, and I will take her home.”

“And where is home?” asked the second Enforcer.

“West, then south by Hiddenwater,” I said. That way
lay Tali’s ancestral territory of Ravensburn, so it was not quite a lie.

“Out of sight first, Rohan,” Flint murmured, drawing Tali toward the river again. “That’s what the queen ordered. We want to be up there, under the trees, before folk start streaming out here again.” And to me, “Give me that, it’ll be quicker if you’re not carrying anything.” He took my bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Crossing the river was awkward. Here, where the Rush spilled into Deepwater, there were three separate channels. Tali was frightened; it took both men to guide her over, while I made my own way, using my staff for support. The river bottom was all sliding stones, and although the water came only to my knees, the flow was swift. I saw Flint looking at me, a little frown on his face. Trying to convey something with his eyes, perhaps an apology.
There should have been some other way
, I thought grimly, though I knew this was unfair. For him, for Tali, there was no way but the cause. Flint had put his position at court, so critical to Regan’s strategy, ahead of Tali’s survival. I knew that if he had consulted her on the matter, she would have expected no less. Andra had stayed silent in the woods while her brother died. It was a rebel’s choice. You valued your comrades, you respected them, you fought alongside them. And sometimes you sacrificed them for the greater good. Right now, it was hard to accept that. It was hard to walk with Flint and not to judge him.

On the far side of the river, forested hills rose up from the loch shore. The two men took a path that meandered
up the hillside through a stand of beech and birch; we climbed up and up in the long summer twilight. By the time Flint called a halt in a small clearing, evening shadows had robbed the forest of its color. Somewhere in the trees a bird sang a melodious, plaintive farewell to the day. Tali sank to the ground, hugging the cloak tightly around her. Her noisy protests had long since subsided to a weary whimpering.

“You’ll camp here.” Flint examined us in the fading light, his face giving nothing away. “Make no fire tonight. Head off west in the morning and make sure you keep her quiet. The smirched aren’t welcome on the main roads. Don’t make trouble again. Believe me, we’ll be far less helpful next time.”

“You have supplies?” Rohan asked. “Enough for your journey home?”

“We’ll get by.” Since neither man had brought supplies to offer us, his question seemed pointless. “Thank you for your help,” I made myself add. I didn’t seem to be able to stop shivering.

They looked at us for a moment, and in their eyes I saw what they saw: myself, small, slight, and visibly distressed; Tali with her tall, strong body and the mind of a terrified infant. A heavy pack. A long walk through rough terrain. Folk on the road and in the settlements who would either shun us or subject us to open ridicule because of what Tali had become. “We can manage,” I said.

They looked at each other. Rohan lifted his brows, then turned and headed off down the hill.

“Travel safe,” murmured Flint. For just a moment his gray eyes met mine, but what he read in them I could not guess. Love, disgust, gratitude, reproach—they all tangled in my mind, along with a bone-deep exhaustion at the thought of what lay ahead. He turned away, strode off down the path, and was lost in the shadows.

TALI SAT WITH HER ARMS AROUND HER KNEES, quiet now. Around us the forest was hushed. The sound of the men’s footsteps faded away. I knelt to unfasten the pack; my hands needed something to do. I would not remember that last sad season with my grandmother, when I had fed her, cleaned her, held her when she panicked, kept steady vigil day and night as she shrank and faded and crumbled away. I would not think of how it might be with Tali. And yet, as I rummaged for the last scraps of our food, as I made sure the iron weapons were still well wrapped so I could call to Sage once I was certain the Enforcers were gone, that was the only image in my mind.

“Should be safe to talk now.”

My skin prickled. I did not dare turn around.

“Neryn. They’re gone.” And after a moment, “Neryn?”

I turned. She was still in the same position, on the ground, hugging her knees, watching me. Her face was a pale oval in the dimness of the forest shadows; her dark
eyes were sharply aware. Around her neck the ravens flew their steady course, strong and true.

“Tali?” It came out as a shuddering sob.

Her eyes widened in shocked realization. “You didn’t—you can’t have—oh, Neryn!”

I put my hands over my face. A moment later, I felt her strong arms around me, and the warmth of her against me.