Raven Flight (43 page)

“My lord king.”

“Close the door, Owen. Come close, sit down. We are alone; no need for formality.”

He sat. Accepted a goblet of mead poured by Keldec’s own hand. Waited.

“I have news. Momentous news. Or so it seems.”

“My lord?” It was a long time since he had seen such a look in Keldec’s eye, or such animation on his features. What was coming?

The king leaned forward across the table. His voice fell
to a conspiratorial murmur. “Word has it that a Caller has been found.”

His heart went cold. “A Caller? I had thought such a phenomenon did not exist in today’s Alban, my lord.” He managed to keep his tone cool, his manner calm. “After our lengthy search throughout your lands, our exhaustive questioning of your people, if a Caller were there to be found, I believe we would already have found her.”

“Him,” said Keldec.

He drew in a slow breath, then released it. “My lord?”

“A young man. In the south. The queen received a message to that effect earlier today; this fellow was discovered by some of her people. He’s on his way here for questioning.” Keldec’s eyes were bright. “If it’s true, what the old tales tell us about the powers of such a person, this may prove a weapon of inestimable power, Owen. Think what we could achieve with the Good Folk at our disposal. We could create a powerful army indeed. We could spread our authority far beyond the borders of Alban. Our line might become foremost in the known world.” He paused. “Provided the Caller is loyal, of course. Such power, wielded by a person of rebellious nature, would be deadly to us and to all we hold dear. Once this man is brought to Summerfort, I may have a particular need for your services.”

“I understand, my lord king.”

“You seem very calm in the face of such news,” Keldec observed.

“My lord, I am … I am taken aback, I confess. I hardly know what to say. A Caller … I had begun to think the
notion nothing but an old wives’ tale. How soon will this young man be here?”

“That I cannot tell you. Six days, maybe seven. Be ready when the time comes.”

His mind raced. How could he get this news to Shadowfell, how could he warn Regan, warn Neryn, that the whole balance was about to change? “I’d planned to ride to Wedderburn in the morning, my lord,” he said. “There’s been word of a problem there, incursions across the border by parties unknown. Keenan requested our advice.”

“Send Rohan.”

“I had intended that we both go, my lord, with a party of four or five men. I believe a troop leader’s presence is called for in this situation. We must ensure all of your chieftains remain steadfast in their loyalty. Offering assistance on such occasions helps to strengthen that loyalty. I can be back by the time you require me.”

“Go, then, if you wish. Six days. No more.”

“Yes, my lord king.”

By night, while Keenan’s household slept, he climbed the wall above the gates to Wedderburn’s stronghold and cut down the rotting, crow-pecked remnant Keenan had nailed up as a warning. The russet hair, the ring in the left ear, confirmed what his instincts had already told him. With the head in a bag over his shoulder, he slipped away to the place in the woods where he’d left a horse hobbled, waiting. The creature jittered and trembled when he tied the bag behind the saddle. With quiet words he settled
the animal, though his heart was beating hard, like a drum sounding a call to battle. In his dark clothing, under a waning moon, he could stay unseen until he was well across the border. There was nothing on his person to identify him: no heavy Enforcer cloak, no stag brooch, no silver to the harness, no rich garments or wax-sealed dispatches. No longer a king’s man. Only a man.

He mounted and rode steadily away from Wedderburn, across the hills, carrying Regan home to Shadowfell.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My thanks go to Gaye Godfrey-Nicholls and Tamara Lampard for their wise advice on elemental magic and ritual. Gaye also crafted another great map from my sketchy instructions. Michelle Frey at Knopf USA and Brianne Tunnicliffe at Pan Macmillan Australia exercised tact and professionalism throughout the process of polishing the rather raw initial manuscript into its final form. I thank Claire Craig, Jo Lyons, and all at both publishing houses who played a role in the development of the book. To my family, thanks for being prepared to brainstorm at short notice. And to my agent, Russell Galen, the usual appreciation for his support along the way.