Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘There you are, Joril. Tell me, was that you, screeching like a seagull at poor Lord Rastran?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Joril protested vehemently.

  ‘Only it seemed to be coming from where you were. All I could see was that pretty dress of yours. Yellow is such a bold choice. It’s a favourite amongst the Far Islanders, so I’m told. You’d better hope that Rastran doesn’t think you were trying to make some kind of point.’

  Joril’s jaw dropped in horror and Berynder and her friends collapsed into giggles.

  ‘Y… Your face!’ Berynder could hardly get the words out, she was laughing so hard. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t imagine Lord Rastran noticed you at all.’

  ‘He saw you though, Berynder, didn’t he?’ said one of her companions. ‘Show us again, won’t you?’

  Berynder pulled out a dark satin glove and ran it against her cheek. ‘Lord Rastran threw it straight at me. Did you hear everyone cheering? I wonder who got the other one.’

  They fell into speculation, excluding Joril from their conversation and so she retreated further down the steps to eat her food. She couldn’t believe that Berynder had got such a prize. If only her roommate had woken her, they might have been standing together. Joril might just have easily caught Rastran’s glove. And she wouldn’t have had to suffer Lylian. She was busily blaming all her misfortunes on Berynder when a shadow fell across her. It was Myka.

  ‘Oh, hello.’ She squeezed up to give him room, but he made no move to sit down.

  ‘I hope you feel ashamed,’ he said. ‘Your poor little friend cried all the way back to the kitchens.’

  Joril was taken aback. She had never seen him look so angry.

  ‘She’s always crying,’ she muttered defensively. ‘Anyway, she isn’t my friend. Not any more.’

  ‘Well, if that’s how you treat your friends when they stop being useful to you, I have no wish for the honour.’

  As he walked away, Joril felt tears sting her eyes. It was so unfair. It was Lylian’s fault she’d missed most of the parade. And her silly screaming that everyone had mistaken for Joril’s. Yes, Lylian was definitely to blame. So why did the idea of eating suddenly make her stomach churn? She left her plate lying on the steps and fled across the courtyard and up to her room, tears stinging her eyes. She couldn’t even bring herself to come out when she heard the whizz and cracking of the fire-fountains.

  Chapter Thirty

  When Zastra and the others arrived at Mortality Gorge, there was already a mass of refugees huddled at the foot of the high cliffs. Borez was with them. He explained that they had not stopped on their journey from Finistron, even at night.

  ‘I’m glad you are here. We hadn’t time to pack before we left and our food ran out yesterday,’ he said. The Far Island ships were designed to carry cargo, and their holds were spacious, but even so, Zastra did not envy the Sendorans as they squeezed in together. Those that couldn’t fit below decks constructed temporary shelters on the deck from scraps of sailcloth or woollen rugs. No one complained. The conditions, cramped as they were, were still far better than those of a Golmeiran working party.

  As soon as they set course for Uden’s Teeth, Zastra went in search of Findar. She couldn’t find him above or below decks. Kendra, one of the Watchmasters, suggested she try the mainmast. Squinting up, Zastra made out a boyish figure seated above the billowing mainsail. She clambered up the ratlines to join him at the masthead.

  ‘There you are!’

  Findar returned her greeting with a short nod and Zastra settled herself down on the crossbeam next to him. The morning sun glistened off the wrinkled surface of the sea and only a few small clouds broke up the pale blue perfection. It would be a lovely day.

  ‘I used to like it up here when I was part of Dastrin’s crew. It was the only place I could be alone with my thoughts.’

  ‘Is that why you never came back?’ Findar asked. ‘Because you liked being a sailor?’

  ‘No, Fin. I couldn’t come home because Captain Dastrin never let us leave the ship. We were prisoners.’

  ‘How did you get away?’

  Zastra explained how she had organised Ithgol and her other crewmates to mutiny and then joined Justyn’s rebels.

  ‘I would have come for you then, but we found out about Zax and all those other people on Murthen Island,’ she said. ‘We couldn’t leave them there. Can you understand?’

  ‘I wish I was back home.’

  ‘Home?’

  ‘Etta’s house. I miss her.’

  He allowed Zastra to snake her arm around his shoulder.

  ‘Me too. We owe her so much.’

  ‘Can’t we ever go back?

  ‘I’m sorry, Fin. Not now they know who you really are. It would be too dangerous.’

  Findar looked down towards the deck.

  ‘I wish I really was Dalbric’s cousin. I don’t want to be a Grand Marl’s son.’

  ‘But then you wouldn’t be my brother.’

  Fin shrugged mutely. Zastra gave him a squeeze.

  ‘I hope someday you’ll forgive me. But keeping the truth from you was the only way to keep you safe.’

  Findar stared at one of the clouds.

  ‘I understand. But promise me they’ll be no more secrets.’

  Zastra bit her lip. She had one last secret. To tell Findar would put their sister in danger if a mindweaver were to scan his mind. But suddenly she couldn’t bear the idea of lying to him.

  ‘There’s one more thing you deserve to know,’ she said at last. ‘Your twin sister is alive. I had to leave her behind, in Golmeira. She is hidden, and safe as far as I know, but she has no idea who she really is.’

  ‘Then you must find her and tell her.’

  Was it really as simple as that? To find Kastara would mean the most dangerous journey she had ever undertaken, yet Zastra felt her spirits lift. Findar was right. The mast creaked and dipped as a wind-gust hit the Wind of Golmeira, mirroring her sense of release and joy. For the first time in a long time she had no doubts about what she needed to do. It was time to bring their family back together.

  When Zastra went to pack her things, she was faced with another choice. Should she tell the others what she intended? They had more than proved their worth. Ithgol and Polina had saved her life at the gates of Finistron. And if it hadn’t been for Kylen, she could never have persuaded Alboraz to help. Without the Sendorans, Findar would still be Ixendred’s prisoner. She would stand a better chance of finding Kastara with them by her side. But they were all high on Thorlberd’s list of traitors. It would be dangerous for them to journey so far inside Golmeira and the more people who knew of Kastara’s existence, the greater the risk that she would be discovered. Her mind returned to Uden’s Teeth and her conversation with Dobery. She sent for the others. Ithgol, Polina and finally Kylen crowded into the small cabin.

  ‘I’ve something to ask you,’ she said.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Possession of Rastran’s glove established Berynder as the uncontested leader of the unproven. Joril lost count of how many times Berynder took the black satin article out of her pocket to show it off. She would have loved to touch it herself but refused to give Berynder the satisfaction of asking. Since everyone was busy vying for Berynder’s attention, Joril often found herself alone. Myka stayed away, no doubt still angry with her. She convinced herself that she didn’t care. Without the distractions of friendship, she could concentrate on her studies. She would become the best mindweaver in all Golmeira and the conquered lands.

  After the excitement of the victory parade, everything had returned to normal. The marls had stayed for a few days for something called the Grand Assembly, but then they had gone. Grand Marl Thorlberd and Rastran were seldom seen in public. After overhearing Berynder boasting that she had seen Rastran riding his horse in the castle grounds, Joril took to visiting Tomik every day in the hope of meeting Thorlberd’s heir. To her disappointment, her father explained that important people such
as Lord Rastran didn’t visit the stables. If he wished to take a ride, his chosen horse would be brought into the courtyard for him. She pleaded with Tomik to let her join him at such moments, but he steadfastly refused.

  ‘T’ain’t your place, duckie,’ he said. ‘You just stick to your studies and make us proud.’

  Rastran wasn’t the only reason Joril visited the stables so regularly. She hoped she might find Myka, helping Tomik. However, he was never there at the same time as she was, no doubt avoiding her.

  The next Moonscross holiday approached. Joril resolved to visit Dalka and, after some self-examination, she also decided to find Lylian and apologise. She asked one of the castle seamstresses to take up the hem of her yellow gown so it would fit the miller’s daughter. She was sure Lylian would like it. The thought of doing something nice for Lylian made her feel better than she had done for days.

  All that remained was for Jallal to keep her promise. However, she proved hard to track down. At the end of each lesson, their teacher would hurry out of the classroom. She no longer took meals in the kitchens. Joril even tried her rooms in the mindweavers’ tower, but Jallal’s door was always locked and there was never an answer to her knock. The day before the Moonscross holiday, Joril chanced upon her teacher as she emerged from the corridor that housed the important offices of state. Jallal’s hands were full of ledgers and rolls of paper, and she was so intent on balancing them all that she didn’t notice Joril.

  ‘Hello,’ Joril said loudly, as her teacher hurried past her. Jallal jerked round.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, dearie. Sorry, can’t stop now. So busy!’

  ‘I just had one question. It won’t take long.’

  ‘Well, we must keep walking. I absolutely must catch cook before he begins serving supper.’

  She continued at such a pace that Joril was forced to jog to keep up. For a moment, she forgot her errand.

  ‘Why the rush? What’s going on?’

  Jallal glanced up and down the corridor.

  ‘Well, my dear, you must promise not to tell anyone, but Grand Marl Thorlberd has asked me to organise the ascension celebrations. Such an honour to be asked.’

  ‘What celebrations?’

  ‘It will soon be ten years since the start of Thorlberd’s reign. There’s to be a celebration here at the castle and he’s put me in charge. I was in his office just now, speaking with him. I’ve a list so long of things to do you could hang all my bed linen on it. What did you want, my dear?’

  ‘Um… Actually, I was hoping to visit home tomorrow,’ Joril said, but even as she asked, she knew what the answer would be. Jallal formed her lips into a sympathetic pout.

  ‘My dear, I’m far too busy. It will have to wait until after the celebrations I’m afraid.’

  Joril stared forlornly as Jallal headed for the kitchens. She wished Myka had been there to tell her whether Jallal ever intended to keep her promise. She picked up Lylian’s dress from the seamstress and took it down to the stables. Tomik agreed to give it to Lylian next time he saw her. It was the best Joril could do.

  The Moonscross holiday arrived and Joril and her classmates were released from their lessons. The sky was overcast and there was a hint of rain, so Joril decided to explore more of the inside of the castle. She knew every inch of the mindweavers’ tower and the great hall, as well as the vast kitchens, but so far, she had not set foot in the triangle, the three-sided area of the castle between the great hall and its fifth tower. The royal tower itself was out of bounds to ordinary castle folk. Each entrance was manned by two mindweavers and a lieutenant of the guard. However, as far as Joril knew, the triangle itself was not forbidden. She headed for the upper level and took the interior balcony that ran alongside the great hall. Skylights in the vaulted ceiling let in wide shafts of light, but the balcony itself was rather dim. Between it and the outside lay rows of windowless rooms, and between them and the outer wall was the liden, a set of narrow passages and stairways wide enough for only a single soldier to pass. Joril had looked at the outside of the castle often enough before she had been shown to be a blueblood. The speckled grey exterior walls were solid stone, except for occasional vertical arrow slits. No wonder so little light made it in through. She would have loved to explore the passages of the liden, but they, too, were out of bounds. Only the castle guards were allowed to patrol there, monitoring the grounds for any sign of danger. Joril wandered along the balcony, idly trying the doors of the various rooms. Most were locked and those that weren’t revealed nothing of interest. At the end of the great hall, her path was blocked by set of studded doors. A smaller doorway was cut into the right hand one. She turned the iron ring that served as a handle. It was not locked and opened into a dark corridor. She was in the triangle. It was almost pitch black. The only light was that filtering in from the great hall behind her. She wished she’d thought to bring a candle. She stepped through and paused to let her eyes adjust to the gloom. Behind her, footsteps clattered along the balcony. Someone was running towards her. Instinctively she shrank back towards the wall as someone stumbled through the small doorway and into the dark corridor.

  ‘Myka?’

  ‘Who’s that?’ He sounded scared and out of breath. ‘Joril, is that you?’

  More footsteps pounded along the balcony. Two people at least, by the sound of it.

  ‘Who are you running from?’

  ‘The twins.’

  Myka fled further down the corridor. Joril followed, not quite sure why she did so. Behind them, a shadow darkened the doorway.

  ‘Come back, you Southland flekk. We’re only trying to help you.’

  Ahead of Joril, a cry of surprise was followed by a heavy thud.

  ‘Ouch! Stupid wonky floors.’

  ‘Myka, are you all right?’

  A groan was the only reply. The footsteps closed and there was the sound of metal striking against a firering. A candle flared into light. Myka was lying on the floor massaging his ankle. Florian waved the candle in Joril’s face. ‘Well, if it isn’t Flour-head. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Please call me Joril. That’s my name,’ she returned haughtily. ‘Why are you picking on Myka?’

  ‘We’re just having a bit of fun, aren’t we, big boy?’

  Myka grimaced

  ‘You were. I wasn’t.’

  Hinges screeched at the far end of the corridor and the wrought iron gate that led to the royal tower creaked open. Joril’s heart fluttered as she recognised the figure of Lord Rastran, flanked by two guards. He was even more handsome than his painting. His dark eyes flicked towards her as he approached and she hoped the dim light covered her blushes. He drew to a stop beside them.

  ‘Well, well, what do we have here?’

  Florian and Fester bowed deeply. Fester spoke first.

  ‘Lord Rastran. We’re only trying to get this stupid flekk to try some cintara bark. He needs help to unlock his powers, but for some reason he isn’t keen.’

  Myka staggered to his feet and bowed diffidently. Rastran looked him up and down.

  ‘Is this the one you were telling me about? The blueblood with no actual talent?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. We were told he was a truthseer, but he’s not shown any evidence of it.’

  ‘Well, boy, what are you waiting for?’ Rastran directed the question to Myka. ‘Hasn’t your teacher told you that cintara bark increases your chance of becoming a mindmover? I expect even this unproven has tried it, haven’t you girl?’

  Joril couldn’t believe it. Lord Rastran was actually speaking to her!

  ‘N-no, I don’t think so,’ she said. How did he know she was an unproven? Perhaps he had noticed her about the castle and something about her had caught his eye. Her heart leapt at the thought, but then she remembered she was wearing her purple sash. She chastised herself. You are nobody to him. But it will not always be so.

  ‘I would be happy to try,’ she said stoutly.

  ‘Good girl.’ Rastran held out his hand towards Fes
ter and snapped his fingers.

  ‘Hand it over.’

  Fester gave him a leather pouch. Rastran opened it and sniffed. He wrinkled his nose.

  ‘It tastes nicer if mixed with some chala or some spiced wine, but you can just lick your finger and dip it in.’ He thrust it towards Joril.

  ‘Joril, don’t,’ Myka pleaded. Rastran ignored him. His dark eyes appeared as pools of black water in the dim light.

  ‘Go on. Unless you want to end up as useless as this fool.’

  Joril licked her forefinger and dipped it into the bag. It came back covered in coarse brown powder. She touched it with the tip of her tongue. It tasted bitter.

  ‘Stop!’ cried Myka. ‘It’s not safe.’

  ‘You need to eat it,’ Fester said, and his twin brother giggled. Joril stared at her finger. She wanted to be a mindmover more than anything. And she didn’t want Lord Rastran thinking she was scared. She put her finger in her mouth and sucked off all the powder. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she began to feel dizzy. The corridor began to spin and then something odd happened. She felt as if there was a heavy ball inside her chest. It expanded and burst out of her body, surrounding her and then it got bigger until it shattered against the walls of the corridor. She staggered and vomited on the floor. Rastran chortled and Fester and Florian joined in.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Rastran slapped her hard on the back. ‘Most people are sick the first time.’ He clicked his fingers at one of his companions. ‘Fetch a servant to clean this up.’

  He turned back to Joril, dark eyes glinting. ‘Tell me what happened. Did you see anything?’

  ‘Um, I don’t think I saw anything exactly…’ Joril wasn’t sure how to describe the feeling she’d had. It was as if she’d exploded from the inside.