The Tower of Ravens (23 page)

There was an unhappy murmur from the crowd. A plump woman hid her face against a man’s broad shoulder.

“Look at his hand,” Odran said gruffly. “He looks like he’s been tortured.”

Iven very gently picked up the dead man’s right hand, which was missing its smallest finger. He frowned. “I think the finger might have been cut off after death. I canna be sure though.” He laid the hand down again, and wiped his fingers on his handkerchief, looking very pale.

“But why?” Odran asked.

Iven shrugged. “A souvenir?”

He carefully turned the dead man over, to examine the ragged exit wound in the chest. The corpse had once had corn-yellow curls, though now they were dark with water and bedraggled with water-weed. His face was a sickly grey and grossly swollen, and his glazed eyes were wide open and stared out from their sockets. His skin was marked with putrefaction like mould-flowers on canvas. His mouth hung open and they could see the blackened ruin of his toothless gums.

“Eà‘s green blood!” Lewen cried, and gagged.

“Nay! Och, nay!” Nina cried from the caravan. “Nay, it canna be!”

“Do ye ken who it is?” Odran the reeve asked.

Iven and Lewen both nodded. Lewen was sallow with shock. “It is Connor the Just, one o‘ the Rìgh’s general staff,” he answered. “He was once squire to the Rìgh, as I am now. He is brother to Johanna the Healer.”

“Och, it will break her heart to lose him,” Nina cried. “He is all she had.” Tears streamed down her face. She wiped them away and got down slowly from the caravan, making her way through the crowd, which drew back respectfully. She knelt beside the dead body, taking the slack hand in hers.

“His teeth have all been drawn,” she said in a constricted voice. “Why? Why?”

“Torture?” Odran asked. “Or souvenirs, taken after death? I dinna ken. I’ve never seen aught like it.”

Nina sobbed and Iven put his arm about her, drawing her head down onto his shoulder. Felice and Edithe both looked sick and upset, and Maisie had her hand pressed against her mouth. Landon had climbed down from his horse and hidden his face against its hot hide. Even Cameron and Rafferty, normally so cocky, were white under their tans.

Rhiannon, meanwhile, sat very still, wanting to look away, but so fascinated by the sight of the limp, grey body that she could not force her eyes to move. Her stomach felt like it had been turned upside down. Lewen had turned to stare at her in miserable doubt and suspicion, and hot tears stung her eyes. She had never expected to be faced with the corpse of what she had done, or for it to affect her so powerfully. She thought of the necklace of teeth and bones coiled at the bottom of her bag, and suddenly her stomach heaved. She bent over, trying to control her revulsion, but it won out and she vomited her breakfast in a vile splatter on the road.

“Yurk!” Edithe cried and spurred her horse away.

“Nina, the girls should no‘ be seeing this, or Roden either. Will ye take them away? Lewen and I will come and join ye when we can.”

Nina nodded and got up, wiping her eyes. “Poor, poor Johanna,” she said. “I remember what she was like after Tòmas died, and he was no‘ even her true brother. To lose Connor too, and in such a horrible way. Och, it’s just too awful.”

She came up to the caravans, looking white and woeful, and lifted Roden down, saying, “Come, my wee dearling, let’s get ye away from here. Ye’re too young to see yet the evil men can do to other men. Let us go to the inn and warm ourselves by the fire, and have a hot toddy.”

Roden nodded soberly, staring back at the dead man with huge dark eyes, and Lulu slipped her paw into his hand, making little whimpering sounds. With Sure and Steady following along behind, Nina walked slowly towards the little grey inn with its steep roof and bright red shutters. She looked as bowed and spiritless as an old woman. Rhiannon followed close behind, her hand on Blackthorn’s warm silky hide. She had never seen sorrow before, and it gave her a strange feeling inside, as if she had been punched in the stomach and was now all sore and tender.

They tethered the horses outside the inn, loosening their girths and pumping the trough with water, then traipsed inside. Rhiannon took her saddlebags with her, feeling as if the dead man’s plundered bones glowed with guilty heat, threatening to accuse her. When she sat with the other apprentices at the table, she shoved the bags underneath and put her feet on them.

“A murdered Yeoman!” Edithe murmured. “Who would do such a thing?”

“They’ll hang the murderer if they catch him,” Cameron said grimly. “It’s treason to even waylay a Yeoman, let alone kill one.”

Rhiannon did not know what it meant to be hanged, but to drive his point home, Cameron mimed it for her. He hung an imaginary rope around his neck, then demonstrated the sudden jerk, the choking and gargling, and then the cruel death, eyes bulging, tongue protruding, head awry on the limp neck. Feeling faint and nauseous, Rhiannon looked away.

“Why would they kill him? And beat and torture him?” Maisie said pitifully. Her face was blotched white and red, and her eyes swam with tears. “He was only young too, did ye see? He canna have been more than thirty.”

“I kent him when he was just a lad, no‘ much more than Roden here,” Nina said, sitting down beside them and resting her head in her hands. “He was a bonny, bright lad, and so brave. He was one o’ the very first pupils o‘ the new Theurgia. Och, His Highness will be furious! Heads will roll, I guarantee it. Connor was his page and then his squire, and then one o’ his bodyguards, and now one‘ o’ his most trusted lieutenants. They called him the Just because he had such a way o‘ enforcing law and order wherever he went. Everyone liked him and trusted him. Who can have killed him, and why?”

“He was at Ravenscraig a month or so ago,” Felice said in a tear-choked voice. “I danced with him. He was such a bonny dancer.”

“Happen he discovered a plot against the Rìgh,” Edithe said. “So the plotters killed him.”

“But why torture him?” Nina cried. She looked ravaged with grief. “Why!”

“Happen to discover how much he knew,” Rafferty said. He was quickly recovering his spirits, and was beginning to look rather excited. “Will the Rìgh send soldiers, do ye think? To discover who the murderer is?”

Nina nodded. “I would say so. Or perhaps he will ask the MacBrann to look into it, since it happened here in Ravenshaw. It will take a long time to get news o‘ Connor’s death to the Rìgh. Witches canna scry over high mountains, ye ken, no’ without a Scrying Pool o‘ great power. The MacBrann will have to send messengers, and that could take weeks. For even carrier-pigeons have trouble getting over the mountains here, they are so high and wild. Och, they will all be distraught when they hear the news. Connor was well loved.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, and smiled wanly at the innkeeper as he brought a tray of steaming mugs. “Drink up, bairns, it’ll do ye good. We’ve all had a nasty shock.”

Cameron reached for his mug eagerly. “That hit the spot,” he said with a sigh after taking a long draught. “Naught like a wee dram to calm the nerves, or settle the stomach.” He cast Rhiannon a mocking glance.

“I’m not much o‘ a whisky drinker,” Nina said, “but ye’re right, Cameron, hot like this, with honey and spices in it, it’s the best thing for us all now.” She passed a mug to Rhiannon, saying gently, “here ye are, this’ll help. Never mind, Rhiannon, a sight like that is enough to give anyone the shivers.”

Rhiannon nodded and tried to smile, taking the cup in her trembling hands. She wondered if Nina would be so kind if she knew it was terror that caused her hands to shake. All their talk of treason and hanging frightened her terribly. She resolved to get rid of the damning necklace at the very first opportunity. No-one must guess that she was the one who had shot the Yeoman dead.

She lifted the cup and tasted the hot whisky toddy cautiously. It was like drinking liquid fire. At first she coughed and choked, but by the third sip, it went down her throat easily enough and warmed her body all through.

“Connor the Just was with the auld MacBrann when he died,” Felice said. “He rode out that very night, he did no‘ even stop to say goodbye. We were all rather chagrined, all us lassies o’ the court, when we heard, for he was rather a favourite among us. I canna believe he is dead.”

“What was he doing up here, in the highlands?” Edithe asked. “There’s naught up here but goats and peasants.”

Nina sighed. “Happen he was trying to cross the Razor’s Edge.”

“The what?”

“It’s a pass through the mountains to Rionnagan,” she answered. “Though pass is no‘ quite the right word. It’s more like a high bridge o’ stone, very dangerous to cross. It is by far the quickest way to Rionnagan. Few go that way, however, unless their need is desperate. A dragon roosts at Ben Eyrie, ye ken, and the mountains are filled with ogres and goblins and wild satyricorn.”

Rhiannon thought Nina’s eyes turned towards her as she spoke, and hurriedly she lifted the cup to her mouth and drank again, afraid her face would give her away.

Felice shuddered. “How horrid! Surely he wouldna have gone that way!”

“If his need was great enough, he might have,” Nina said. She gave a little shiver. “I must say, the ripping out o‘ his teeth could be the work o’ satyricorns. I do no‘ ken much about them, but I’m sure I’ve seen them wear necklaces made o’ teeth and bones. I wish Lilanthe were here, she would ken.”

“Surely Lewen’s mother is no‘ a satyricorn?” Edithe asked, scandalized. “I mean, I ken she’s some kind o’ faery, ye only have to look at her to ken that, but surely no‘ one o’ those dreadful wild horned women?”

Nina was exasperated. “Lilanthe is a tree-shifter, do ye ken naught?” she snapped. “Eà‘s green blood! Nay, I say Lilanthe would ken because she’s an expert in the faeries o’ the forest. She raised them to fight for Lachlan in the Bright Wars, did ye no‘ ken? Then, after peace was won, she lectured in their ways at the Theurgia. She was the one that persuaded them all to sign the Pact o’ Peace, tree-changers, seelies, satyricorns too. She kens their customs better than anyone.” Again she glanced at Rhiannon, with frowning black eyes.

“How strange,” Edithe murmured. “Though, o‘ course, she is a faery too.”

Rhiannon gritted her teeth and looked down into her cup. She was torn between a hysterical need to laugh, and a desire to grind Edithe’s face into the table. She wondered what the fair-haired girl would say if she realised she was sitting at the same table as one of those dreadful wild horned women. She could just imagine how Edithe’s nostrils would flare and her lip would curl with distaste.

Iven and Lewen came slowly into the inn. Roden ran to his father and Iven lifted him up to his shoulder, hugging him closely.

“Well, what a dark end to our day,” he said, coming to sit near his wife. “Nina, my love, how are ye yourself?”

“Terrible,” she answered. “I canna believe it is true. Was that really Connor lying there all battered and bruised, or was it all just a bad dream?”

“No dream,” he answered shortly, signaling to the innkeeper to bring them more mulled whisky.

“To think we have lost one more o‘ the gallant League o’ the Healing Hand! There is only Finn and Jay left, and Johanna, and Dillon.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she pressed the heels of her hands to her face.

“Come, it is getting late,” Ivan said. “I do no‘ think we should ride any further today. Have they enough room here at the inn for the girls at least to sleep in comfort? I see they have a field where we can let the horses graze, and where we can make camp.”

“What have they done with Connor?” Nina asked. Her voice was so piteous Lulu stopped spinning the apple she had been given, and came to her side anxiously, looking up into her face and making little whining noises. Nina petted her absent-mindedly, her black eyes fixed pleadingly on Iven’s face.

“One o‘ the boatmen has taken him to Ravenscraig, to show the MacBrann,” Iven said unwillingly. “He needs to be buried fast, he’s in bad shape after all that time in the water, but we thought the prionnsa should see him first.”

“I’ve had a thought,” Nina said. “Iven, could Connor have been trying to cross the Razor’s Edge? And if so, what news drove him to take such a risk? Do ye ken if there were any papers among his things?”

Iven glanced at Rhiannon, and shook his head.

Rhiannon pressed her feet into the bags under the table, feeling a slow burn creep up her face. Nina and Iven both knew, then, how she had come riding down out of the mountains, dressed in the stolen clothes of a dead soldier. She should have guessed they would be told. She wondered if they knew she was the daughter of a satyricorn too. Unable to help herself, she gazed at Lewen pleadingly, and he refused to meet her gaze. Apprehension slithered through the pit of her stomach. Was she to stand accused of murder? Would they hang her? She slid her hand down to the knife she wore strapped to her belt.

Nina sighed. “I guess it was too much to hope for. We’re lucky any o‘ his things were found at all.” Once again her eyes returned to Rhiannon’s face, filled with questions. Rhiannon looked back warily, her jaw thrust forward. “Och, well, it is almost dusk already and I feel weary unto my very soul. Let us have an early night, and we’ll ride out with the dawn.”

“My love, I’ve been thinking. Happen we should ride down the eastern side o‘ the Findhorn River. I ken the roads are said to be bad that way, but we need to get back to Lucescere just as soon as we can. The Rìgh will want to hear all we ken about Connor’s death.”

“But, Iven, should we no‘ go back past Ravenscraig, as we planned? The MacBrann may wish to question us.”

Iven shrugged. “This is a matter for the Rìgh, Nina, no‘ for the MacBrann, even though it happened here in his land. Even if we go to Ravenscraig we will need to hurry on to Lucescere just as fast as we can. The murder o’ a Yeoman is a matter for the royal courts.”

Rhiannon gripped her knife hilt. She was amazed how Iven and Nina were able to speak of one thing and seem to speak of another. To her, and to Lewen, she imagined, it was clear they were debating whether it was best to take her, Rhiannon, to Ravenscraig to face the reckoning, or head straight to the capital, for her to explain herself to the mysterious and powerful Rìgh they all seemed to admire so much. To the other apprentices, though, there can have been no trace of the dark undercurrent of suspicion that Rhiannon heard so clearly.