The Tower of Ravens (24 page)

“We will head down the eastern bank then,” Nina said tiredly. “We’ll save a week or more if we do no‘ have to cross the Findhorn.”

Iven nodded. “More, probably, for once we get to Ravenscraig we’d have to stay for days, no doubt. Ye ken how slowly things move there, with all the confusion after Malcolm’s death. The Rìgh will want the news as fast as possible. Which reminds me, my love, do ye think ye can send a bird across the mountains with a message?”

Nina sighed. “I do no‘ want to be the one to tell the news. It’ll break Johanna’s heart.”

“They must be anxious about Connor already. Surely it’s kinder to let them ken than keep Johanna in a fret o‘ worry for the weeks it’ll take any message to get there from Ravenscraig.”

“I suppose so,” Nina said unhappily.

She got up and shook out her skirts. “I’ll need a hawk at the very least. I had better go and start calling.”

Fascinated, the apprentices all followed her outside. As Rhiannon went past Lewen, she cast him a look from under her lashes. His set expression suddenly broke. His hand shot out and caught her arm, in the crook of her elbow, and he pulled her aside, letting the others pass by.

“Rhiannon,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Ye had naught to do with Connor’s death, did ye? Did ye?”

She dropped her eyes, saying, “Nay, it was no‘ me.”

He lifted her hand in both of his, smoothing his thumb over the callouses on her palm. “Ye have the hands o‘ an archer.”

Her colour deepened. “I can shoot a bow and arrow, aye. I bet I can out-shoot ye! That does no‘ mean I killed him.”

He dropped her hand, and very gently touched the saddlebags she had clasped under her arm. “Are there papers in there?”

She shook her head. “Nay.” A memory returned to her. “He had papers. They used them to feed the fire.”

He sighed and dropped his hand. “Rhiannon?”

“Aye?”

He shook his head. “Naught. I’m just glad it was no‘ ye who killed him. I kent him well, ye see. When ye spoke o’ a Blue Guard that the herd took prisoner, I never imagined it would be Connor. I saw him only a month or so ago, at Ravenscraig. I canna believe he rode right past Kingarth and did no‘ stop to see us. He must’ve had urgent news indeed!”

Rhiannon said nothing. She remembered how Reamon had begged her to help the captured soldier. “He has news he must take to the court—the Rìgh is in dreadful danger,” he had said. But now the soldier was dead and his news lost. There was nothing she could do about it now.

“Rhiannon, the Rìgh will want to ken all ye can tell him about Connor’s death,” Lewen said. “He will be angry and upset, he loved Connor well. Ye… ye will tell all ye can, won’t ye? And be polite and respectful? I would no‘ wish…” His voice trailed off, and he sighed. “Happen we had best try to teach ye some court manners afore we arrive in Lucescere.”

Rhiannon nodded her head. “Aye, happen so,” she answered, surprising him. His head came up and he scrutinised her face closely.

“I no‘ want offend him,” Rhiannon explained.

“Nay,” Lewen said and laughed. “Very wise, wild girl.”

Together they went out of the warm inn and into the chilly afternoon. The sun was setting behind the mountains and long blue shadows were cast by every tree and hill. Nina was standing out in the centre of the field behind the inn, her eyes closed, her hands loose by her side. Her long chestnut curls were blown about wildly by the wind. The others all sat on the fence, a respectful distance away, watching in silence. The sunbird perched beside them, occasionally giving a little questioning trill. Whenever it did so, Iven tapped its beak with his finger and it would quieten, though it never took its bright eyes off Nina.

“What’s she doing?” Rhiannon whispered after a while.

“Calling a bird,” Edithe answered curtly.

“But she’s no‘ making any sound.”

“She’s calling it with her mind,” Felice explained with a quick smile.

A few minutes later, Rhiannon heard a high, yelping call. She looked up into the sky but could see nothing. The sun was balanced in a cleft in the mountains, sending wide golden rays high up into the colourless sky. The yelping cry came again, and then Rhiannon saw, far up above, the shape of an eagle. It swung in the air as if suspended from a string. Without opening her eyes, Nina suddenly raised one hand. The eagle folded its wings and came plummeting down. Involuntarily everyone flinched back as it landed heavily on Nina’s hand. It was enormous, with strong talons, a cruel beak and golden-bronze feathers. Only Nina did not recoil. She opened her eyes and stared into the fierce golden eye so close to hers. For a long moment they communed in silence, then Nina brought it to stand on the fence so she could attach a message-tube to its great clenched claws. Then it spread its beautiful, barred wings and launched itself into the air, climbing swiftly up into the grey vault of the evening sky.

“If anyone can cross the mountains and come safely to Lucescere, it will be her,” Nina said, sounding tired. “I wish she carried happier news.”

Iven nodded and put his arm about her waist, and slowly they made their way back to the inn.

Ardarchy

They were up and away early the next morning, leaving the river behind them as the road swung east through the hills. Occasionally they saw a small huddle of houses round a village green, or a solitary croft set among old plum trees, and mid-morning they saw a goose-girl driving a flock of great white indignant birds along the road, hissing and honking, and terrifying the horses with their aggressively held heads on long, snaky necks.

Blackthorn was startled into the air, the first time she had flown since Rhiannon had captured her. Rhiannon was almost jerked off her saddle-pad, clinging to the mare’s mane so desperately the coarse hair cut her flesh. She had refused to admit she was rather frightened of flying on the mare’s back again, and so she hoped no-one noticed how pale and cold her skin was when at last Blackthorn dropped down to the ground again. To her relief, no-one seemed to have noticed, being too full of the mare’s beauty and grace to pay her rider any heed at all.

The sun had slipped behind the mountains by the time Iven finally called the halt, drawing up his gaudy caravan in the shelter of a copse of trees by the road. The riders were all stiff and tired and cold, but the horses had to be attended to and firewood gathered before they could at last sit down and rest. Iven and Nina made camp with swift efficiency, and so it was not long before the campfire was burning merrily and the enticing smell of hot stew was filling the air.

While Nina stirred the big iron cooking pot, Felice showed Rhiannon where she was to sleep. The blue caravan which Iven drove was the one set aside for the journey-apprentices. Inside were four hard, narrow bunks, one set above the other on either side. Felice had lit a lantern hanging by the door. By its smoky, uneven light, Rhiannon peered into the dimness, noting the girls’ clothes hanging from the rails, the shoes and bags shoved under the bunks, the piles of securely bound trunks and barrels and sacks of supplies. It was all very cramped and dark and smelly, and Rhiannon did not like it at all.

“Where others sleep?” she demanded.

“Nina and Iven and Roden sleep in the red caravan,” Felice said, “and the boys sleep round the fire generally. I dinna ken what they’ll do if it rains. Sleep under the caravan, I guess. It’s no‘ very salubrious, is it?”

Rhiannon did not know what salubrious meant, but she agreed with Felice’s tone.

“Me no sleep here,” she said flatly.

“But where else would ye sleep?” Felice asked in surprise.

“Me sleep outside.”

“With the boys? Surely no‘ ? It wouldna be seemly, Rhiannon.”

“What this seemly?”

Felice was lost for words. “No‘… no’ proper. No‘ appropriate. Boys and girls do no’ sleep together. I mean, no‘ unless they… no’ unless they’re married.” She blushed rosily.

“Why?”

“It’s just no‘ appropriate.”

“Me no care…”

“Ye should say ‘I do no’ care,‘” Felice said.

Rhiannon cast her a look of irritation. “I dinna care! I no‘ sleeping here.”

“But why no‘? I mean, I ken it’s small and rather crowded with all our luggage… and I must admit I’m used to having a room to myself and found it hard to grow accustomed to sharing.” She giggled. “I hardly slept a wink the first few nights for Maisie’s snoring. And Edithe kept banging on the bottom o’ her bed to try to make her stop. But I’ve got used to it now, I hardly notice it anymore. Or maybe I’m just so tired from riding so far. And it’s only for sleeping in. We spend all our time till we go to bed sitting round the campfire, talking and listening to Iven’s stories and songs. It’s rather fun, actually.”

“I canna sleep in here,” Rhiannon said. “It’s too small, too close.” She gave a little shiver and backed out of the caravan, into the fresh air. Above her was a vast arch of starry sky, and a sharp cold wind blew through the leaves, making the flames dance. Rhiannon took a deep breath and a tension she had not known was there seeped away.

“Nina, Rhiannon says she canna sleep in the caravan,” Felice said, sounding troubled. “She wants to sleep out here with the boys.”

“I always sleep out here,” Rhiannon said, indicating the wind and the stars and the trees with a sweeping gesture of her arm. “I do no‘ like being all…”

“Cooped up?” Nina said, when Rhiannon’s vocabulary failed her.

“Makes I feel… trapped,” Rhiannon said.

“Makes
me
feel trapped,” Felice corrected automatically.

“Makes
me
feel trapped? Why me? And no‘ I? I all other times.”

Nina smiled. “Do ye ken, Rhiannon, I have no idea why. But Felice is right. Happen I should set her to teaching ye the rules o‘ grammar, for to tell ye the truth I’ve never really understood them. I grew up naught but a jongleur lass, ye ken. I probably make Felice and Edithe shudder with the way I speak too.”

“Oh, no,” Felice said, horrified. “I mean, I would no‘ presume…”

“Och, no need to blush. I’m no lady, no‘ me. Or should that be ’no‘ I?”

“No‘ I,” Felice said apologetically.

“There ye go. Ye’re hereby appointed as Rhiannon’s language teacher.”

Felice looked at Rhiannon a little dubiously but could not help laughing at Rhiannon’s scowling expression. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” she said.