Rebel's Cage (Book 4) (11 page)

‘Trap?’ Finnlay almost laughed. ‘Of course it’s a trap. And
the sooner everyone knows that, the sooner we can settle down again and …’

‘And what?’

He paused at that, something of a warning prickling at the back of his eyelids. That wary-determined look was back in her eyes, as though she were daring him to say something about …

He snapped his mouth shut. No, not going to go near that one today. Not until Micah came back and the meeting was over. The subject of Andrew would have to wait.

As though she’d expected a fight, she waited a moment, then slowly relaxed. Abruptly she appeared more tired than she had before.

‘I take it you didn’t get any more sleep than I did?’

Jenn shook her head and produced what passed for a smile these days.

‘You work too hard.’

‘What? You’re hardly one to—’ She started to protest further, but Finnlay held up his hand.

‘I don’t work half the hours you do. Not any more. Not with three young daughters to run around after.’

She blinked at that and instantly looked away. Finnlay bit back a curse at his own clumsiness.

‘Look, Jenn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know how much Andrew—’

‘Do you, Finn?’ She turned back to him, her blue eyes almost pleading with him. ‘Can you understand what he means to me?’

Was it the responsibility for the Enclave which sat heavily on her, which gave her eyes those haunted depths? Or was it something else, something deeper and darker – something to do with Robert?

Sadly he shook his head. He could give her an honest answer, if nothing else. ‘No. But I think I can guess. Now eat something more than a crust, please? You’ll need your strength if we’re to survive this council meeting.’

*

The flat field atop the Goleth Mountain had been covered
overnight by an inch-thick layer of snow; by the time Andrew stepped out onto it, the white had been trampled enough to completely ruin the scenic effect. Above, a bleak sky peered down at him, threatening more snow. What would his mother say if his leaving was delayed because of heavy falls on the trail into the valleys? At the moment, she’d probably barely notice, with the meeting and everything going on.

Not that she’d told him anything, though something important had obviously happened. She never told him anything voluntarily: everything he knew came from books, or as a result of pushing and nagging her until she relented.

Of course, there were reasons for her secrecy – he might not understand them, perhaps, but they were bound to be for his own good, or the good of the Enclave, or Lusara or … something. After all, didn’t everybody believe in her? Even the Key?

So that was why she never told him anything.

He could hear voices raised in anger. He turned to find his friends gathered on the other side of the field, the huge rock wall of the mountain raised behind them. They’d set up the archery targets, but only Guy and Sayre appeared to be practising. Liam, Neil and Zea were waving their hands about while Damaris sat on a rock, her sketch pad on her knees.

He couldn’t help liking Damaris. She reminded him sometimes of the way Micah looked at things, as though there were priorities about what he would get excited or angry about. Everything else could be handled with the same even temper.

With a sigh, he set off across the field, his boots sinking into icy slush and his face stinging with the morning cold.

‘I didn’t touch it!’

‘Yes, you did!’

‘I didn’t! Why would I push at your stupid shot?’

‘Because you can’t bear the thought that I’m better than you!’

‘But you’re not!’

‘How would you know? You won’t let me prove it!’

Andrew came to a halt, watching as Neil and Zea yelled at each other and Liam tried to stand between them.

‘Come on, that’s enough!’

‘Oh,’ Zea rounded on him, ‘and who are you to tell me what to do? Just because you’re a year older than me? I’m a better shot than you, too!’

‘Oh, I give up!’ Liam threw his hands into the air and turned away. He picked up his bow once more and drew an arrow out of the box beside him. His apparent unconcern had a strange effect on Zea and Neil. They glared at each other, then picked up their own bows.

Andrew sidled away while he could, going over to where Guy was aiming up another shot. There were already three good ones on the target, though his friend was still squinting at the centre ring.

‘Relax your shoulder,’ Andrew said quietly, not wanting the others to hear. Guy didn’t flinch, but the shoulder loosened a little. ‘Now, relax your face.’

Instead, Guy’s mouth came up in half a smile. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ With that, he let loose the arrow and it swooshed through the air to land with a thud very close to the centre of the target. Guy let out a soft chuckle, then turned to Andrew. ‘See? I do listen.’

Andrew smiled smugly, ‘Ah, but you were still squinting – and your shot missed the bulls-eye.’

‘Oh, you’re always talking big, little Duke.’

Andrew elbowed his friend aside and plucked the bow from his hands. He’d not used one like this before, but that didn’t stop him. An arrow was placed into his palm, but Guy didn’t step back to give him room. Instead, he tucked in close as Andrew took his stance.

‘Now, relax your shoulder,’ Guy began, ‘and relax your face. You’d better relax your legs as well, and that back looks a little stiff to me.’

Andrew began to laugh and struggled to suppress it.

‘Now, your fingers are awfully curled around that string, and you’ll never fly straight like that so you’ll have to relax those as well.’

Andrew was biting his lip, but he kept his eye on the target and did as he was told, releasing his fingers to let the bolt fly. It landed dead centre.

‘I hate you.’

‘Don’t hate him, Guy,’ Zea said, coming up to them. ‘He cheats, just like the rest of us.’

‘Oh,’ Guy groaned, ‘can’t you leave us alone? Nobody cheats – and Andrew doesn’t have the power to anyway. We’re all supposed to learn how to do this properly, without nudging the arrows – you know that.’

‘We’re all supposed to do this properly,’
Zea sneered at him. ‘Serin’s breath, just listen to you.’

‘Try listening to yourself,’ Liam grunted. ‘Don’t you have chores to do somewhere?’

‘Oh, so it’s all
my
fault, is it now?’ Zea’s cheeks turned pink. ‘My brother deliberately cheats so that everyone can see it – and it’s
my
fault? Damaris? You saw it, didn’t you?’

Damaris looked up from her drawing. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. ‘I saw the arrow turn badly – but I don’t know who pushed it.’

‘Neil did,’ Zea supplied, not without a note of triumph.

But Damaris hadn’t finished. ‘I just don’t understand why it makes a difference.’

‘You don’t?’ Zea rounded on her. ‘Because it’s not
fair,
that’s why!’

As Neil began to laugh, Liam started to turn away. This pushed Zea too far.

‘By the gods! If Neil did that to any of you, you’d punch him for it! But if he does it to me, it doesn’t matter, is that right? He can be unfair to me because I’m his sister? Or because I’m a girl?’

‘No,’ Andrew murmured without thinking, ‘he’s doing it because he’s afraid you
are
better than he is and you can’t prove it if you get angry and storm off.’

‘What?’ Neil turned around, immediately towering over Andrew. ‘What the hell would you know about it? Are you calling me a coward?’

‘No, no, no.’ Andrew raised his hands, backing away. His heart fluttered in his chest and he screwed up a hopeful smile from somewhere. ‘Well, I … I was just thinking that perhaps … it …’ An idea popped into his head and he grabbed
at it. ‘I was just thinking it was a good ploy. Worked perfectly, wouldn’t you agree Guy?’

‘Er … yes.’

‘See?’ Andrew carried on quickly, hopping from the fireplace into the fire and feeling the heat. ‘It was obvious that Zea had already worked it out and was just playing along to see if she was right, isn’t that so, Zea?’

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her fold her arms and nod.

‘Neil,’ Guy urged, ‘He’s not doing you any harm. Just leave him alone.’

‘Why?’ Neil asked, taking another step towards Andrew. ‘Can’t the Jaibir’s son stand up for himself? Will he go running to her for help?’

‘He’s never done that before and you know it.’

‘Neil! Stop it!’ Guy reached out and snatched the bow from the older boy. ‘You are such an ass.’ He went to move away then, but Neil reached out and grabbed his shoulder, his face red with anger.

‘What did you say?’ He drew his fist back to hit Guy, but Andrew pushed in between them, hands raised.

‘Hey, he didn’t mean anything. You know there’s rules against us fighting.’

‘And maybe I’m sick of obeying your
mother’s
rules!’ Neil spat, but he did back away. He snatched his bow from Guy’s hands and snapped it over his knee. ‘And I’m sick of playing these boy’s games as well! I’ll leave you
children
to carry on.’ He caught Liam’s sleeve and walked off with him leaving the others to put things away.

Guy picked up the broken bow and groaned. ‘My father is going to kill me for this. He spent days making this for Neil.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Andrew murmured, watching the departing boys. He turned back to Guy to find Zea approaching him, her dark eyes meeting his quizzically.

‘Why did you do that?’

‘Me? Oh … well, because …’

She came really close, her voice a hissed whisper, relieving all
the anger she’d contained moments ago. ‘Listen: I don’t need any help to fight my battles, so next time, stay out of it.’

Andrew didn’t breathe again until she picked up her bow and walked away, her head held high, her shoulders proud.

‘You should know better than to get in between those two,’ Guy murmured. ‘They’re a war in progress.’

‘They’re bored,’ Andrew replied with a sigh. ‘I’m sorry you had to …’

‘Forget it,’ Guy waved a hand.

‘Thanks.’ Andrew pushed his bow into Guy’s hand and spun him back to face the target. ‘So if they’re constantly at war, perhaps you should learn how to defend yourself with more than a few words.’

*

One of the things Finnlay missed most about living in the Enclave was windows. Not that he’d ever been one for staring out of them for hours at a time; until circumstances had forced him into living here, he’d always taken them for granted. But there were no windows within the Enclave. There were only the caves below and the field above, and solid rock kept the two very much apart.

But this room, this chamber in which the Enclave Council was now gathered held the closest thing to windows he got to see nowadays. There, painted on the walls, was the story of the formation of the Enclave, more than five hundred years of those within – the Salti Pazar – all there in pictures. Over the years, he’d had plenty of time to study them, hoping to find answers in them, but even outside of their academic value, they were also quite beautiful, and always a pleasure to look at: the history of survival a triumph of will.

There was the story of the formation of the Enclave. When the Empire battled sorcerers, one small group had broken away, created the Key and headed to the northern continent. There the group had argued over the Key and split into two. On that day, Malachi and Salti had been born and the hatred between them flared and still burned brightly. He had no idea where the Malachi had vanished to, but the Salti had used the Key’s protection and found this hideaway in the mountains.
These caves, this Enclave, had successfully hidden them from a world that had reviled sorcery for half a millennium. Could Lusara’s fear of magical power ever end?

That was the heritage they’d been given, from those who’d gone before, and nobody, not even those who had studied most, had any idea
why.

The clatter of footsteps outside the council chamber had Finnlay getting to his feet. He pulled the door open and stepped aside as Seamus and Martha helped the frail Henry into his room. As they got him settled, other councillors joined them; there was a subtle undercurrent of expectation, laden heavily with an ancient fear.

Fiona came in then, carrying a tray of cups and a huge pot of brew. She threw him a quiet smile, which warmed the cold inside him a little. Behind her came his mother. She smiled at everyone. Though she was not a member of the Council, she had an odd position of influence she very often denied. In a place that paid no heed to any title other than Jaibir, every person in the Enclave referred to her as Lady Margaret.

One by one they took their seats: Acelin, the librarian, Martha and Arlie, Seamus and Desta, Fiona, and Henry, whose age and ill health prevented him from doing much these days but offering opinions.

And there was Jenn, with a few words for each of them, enquiring after family and other minor events she’d missed while they were away. While not the natural charmer that Robert was, Jenn always sounded genuine and honest, a rare trait in a Jaibir.

She’d barely settled in her seat when she lifted her head a little, her eyes drifting to some spot on the table. ‘He’s coming.’

A hush of silence then, followed by abrupt scraping of chairs and conversations rushed to conclusion. He didn’t need to listen for it, but he heard Micah’s boots on the stone floor outside moments before the door opened. Micah Maclean was about Finnlay’s height, with a shock of curly red hair. His normally sunny face and blue eyes were now grim and full of purpose. His cheeks were red with the cold and he moved like a man who’d spent too many hours awake and in the saddle.

‘Well?’ Jenn asked, coming to her feet. ‘Did you find out anything?’

Micah stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and those simple gestures set a viper in Finnlay’s stomach to coiling. The room was silent as Micah said to Jenn, ‘I don’t know whether it’s good news or bad, but whatever you want to call it, the rumours
are
true.’

*

The knot of tension inside Jenn unravelled at Micah’s words, as though it had been sitting there waiting for him to utter them. Keeping her expression schooled, she urged him to sit and, while Fiona poured him a cup of brew, he continued with his report.