by Gail Merritt
Karshin and Verissa, our new arrivals, both cornered me as soon as the news of my quest became known. Such news seemed to seep through the very walls of the Talarin, whispers caught in corridors, becoming common knowledge without any trace of origin.
‘Where will you go?’ Karshin pressed. Already a bearded young man, he had shown little interest in me before some of the others had pointed out my special relationship with Silver Mantle and the Prince. Since then he had been trying hard to impress me, always seeking to find a seat near me, asking my opinion and advice until Hodin had spoken to him. Now dear Hodin had gone, off on his own quest, giving Karshin new opportunities to charm me.
‘I have no idea.’ My answer was curt and I turned to Verissa before he could launch into his carefully considered advice about where I should visit.
Verissa, I liked. She had a small, pixie face with large brown eyes, a mop of black curly hair and a pointed nose. She was four years older than me, living all her life in her father’s Southern Meed fortress at Tanilin. It has been a lonely, solitary existence for a young girl, in a garrison town renowned for it’s dubious pleasures, surrounded by men at arms who were not permitted to speak with her, with no market towns close-by or other suitable companions beyond her tutor, a strict priestess from the south. Verissa told me that the woman prayed silently to her gods before every meal, and encouraged her pupil to follow her example. Coming to the Talarin had brought Verissa only joy, and she relished her chance to develop her skills with potions and herbs.
‘When will you leave?’ she asked as we enjoyed our noonday meal together.
‘I don’t know.’ My mind was awash with possibilities. ‘I think I will need some time to discuss things with Black Mantle. I have no idea what I should do.’
Before they set out on their quest, each novice received the same amount of money, a horse and a suitable wardrobe of traveling clothes. As I soon found out, there was no guidance as to what a novice should do or where they should go. I suppose we all felt that when it was our time to leave, we would have some mystical revelation, that our journey was preordained by the same powers that gave us our special talents.
As spring turned to summer, I waited for my revelation in vain. News came that Hodin was already making himself useful in the north and I saw Leida ride east, intent on seeking a position at the court of Dereculd. We always expected Leida to gravitate to the luxurious life at some court or other. I hoped Llewid would be kind to her. Still I lingered, wondering where I should go, what I should do. Black Mantle grew impatient with my dithering. In desperation, he suggested that I begin my journey by returning home to visit my father. I could see no argument with that and so, reluctantly, I made my preparations to leave.
There were many goodbyes. I found these hard and was thankful that on the morning of my departure it was a small group clustered at the gates of the Talarin, Just Betra, Ifrin, Quist, Silius, Blue and Silver Mantle. Black Mantle has said his farewell the previous evening, when he walked all the way to my room. His gesture touched me deeply and I cried. He tried to comfort me but found it hard to reach up to my shoulders. The comedy of this did not escape us and we parted with merriment rather than misery. Leaving Silver Mantle was harder. She stood apart, silent, her mind closed, her eyes shining in the dull light of dawn. We did not speak. She held out her arms and we embraced. That was all.
I turned to my horse, mounted and rode through the gates. From behind the Talarin farm, a chorus of pigs squealed their own farewells. I swallowed my tears and looked to the road that would take me back out of the valley of Vellin, the road that Ardin had taken almost a year ago, the road back to Brak. With one clop of my horse’s hoof on the road, my quest had begun.
‘Wait a while, will you!’ As I rode down from the Angirat and into the town, a breathless voice sent familiar pains through my head. The fox was scampering across the cobbles.
‘I wondered where you were,’ I halted. ‘I thought you were too upset to say goodbye.’
‘Who said anything about goodbye?’ he barked. ‘I’m coming with you.’
‘You can’t come. I have to do the quest alone.’
‘Without another person,’ he argued. ‘You’re taking the stupid horse, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not stupid!’ the horse turned to glare at the fox in disgust.
‘He didn’t mean it!’ The last thing I wanted to do was upset the horse. ‘How can you come with me? I left your travelling sack in my room in the Talarin.’ I knew it was pointless debating the rule about travelling alone. In the fox’s logic if one animal was allowed to accompany me, then so should any other.
‘Black Mantle got Blue Mantle to pack it. Check the saddle pouch.’ The fox was triumphant. Apparently, he had his own friends and conspirators among the Mantles. His companionship would be welcome and at least two of the Souran had encouraged it. He took his place in the sack.
As we left the valley I tried to sooth the horse’s feelings. He was a sensitive creature, stung by the fox’s comment and his extra weight. Cajoling him into seeing that this must be the wish of the Souran and that we should start our journey as friends was not going to be easy. The horse was not certain that he could ever be friends with a creature that held him in such low esteem.
‘Would it help if I apologised and expressed my profound regret?’ The fox gave me a long-suffering look.
‘It would indeed help,’ agreed the horse. The fox did did his best to grovel humbly, which is quite hard for a fox and the horse accepted gracefully and did his best to put the bad beginning behind him.
I had planned to sleep out under the stars when I could, as Green Mantle would, but rain drove me to take a room at an inn. I convinced myself that as this was my first evening from the Talarin it was a special occasion. The landlord gave me a quizzical look and asked what such a young and fine-bred person was doing travelling alone. I made up some story that I had been travelling with an elderly relative who had since died and that I was anxious to return to my home. It seemed to satisfy him and more importantly it softened his wife’s kindly heart. She fussed about me, insisting that I have a warm, wholesome meal before I retired.
‘Poor child!’ She shook her head. ‘With all the dangers on the road, she must have a good meal. Who knows what terrible things might happen to her when she leaves us! I couldn’t rest if I didn’t know we’d done our best by her.’
I slept well. When I met the horse and the fox in the stable, they too felt that the inn had done them proud. So, being well fed, rested and eager to be on our way, we took the road to Brak in high spirits despite the rain. At noon, we stopped by a stream to eat the bread and cheese that the innkeeper’s wife had given us. The rain was heavy but thankfully there was little wind. I used the greatcoat given to me by Blue Mantle as a shelter. I crouched under it, sharing my food with the fox while the horse, less troubled by rain, nibbled grass. Ruefully, I thought about the rules of the Souran forbidding novices the use of their powers on the quest. Only in the direst of situations could a novice show their true nature. I thought that bad weather was not one of those occasions, although I dearly wished for the rain to stop.
Perhaps it was the constant pounding of the rain on the greatcoat that prevented me from hearing the approaching footsteps. Before I knew it, three men were upon me, two holding me while the third was ransacking my baggage. They were searching for jewels or money, none of which they would find in my belongings. The gold presented to every novice on the quest was carefully disguised, bound by Mantle magic. One man was already cursing. He hit me in the face while demanding that I tell him where my loot was. Another was taking his knife from his belt.
‘I hate having to kill ya’ for nothing,’ he said and to my horror I recognised the landlord of the inn. ‘Where’s your money lass?’
I screamed at them that I had no money, that I was as poor as a mouse and that all I wanted was to get home.
‘You won’t be going home, my lamb.’ The landlord had a kindly smi
le on his face as he spoke. ‘I can’t have you telling everyone about us, can I? We have a nice little business going here.’ The knife came towards my throat and I still remember asking no-one in particular if this was serious enough for me to allow me to use my powers.
Before I could react, one of the thieves went sprawling on his hands and knees, thanks to a sharp kick from the horse. He landed with a groan and a dull thud. He didn’t get up. The second thief, busy searching my bags, suddenly backed towards us. He stumbled and fell with a cry. At his throat, the fox was doing what a fox does naturally. I am certain that the fox would have killed him if he had not seen the landlord with his knife at my throat. He bared his teeth, snarling at the man who was so startled that he pointed his knife at the fox. At that moment, the horse, who had worked his way behind us, gave the landlord a ferocious kick. The man flew through the air, landing a few feet away. I ran to him, intent on using my powers to restrain him but I was too late. He had been holding the knife. When he fell, it sank deep into his chest. He was already dead.
Two men dead and another about to follow, his life blood pumping from the wound on his neck. We stood for a while, stunned at what had happened.
‘Well, at least they died quickly,’ said the horse, breaking our stupour.
‘Thank you, horse and you fox,’ I managed. They were both cleaning themselves. ‘From now on,’ I said, beginning to load the horse with our bags, ‘we will stay away from towns and inns. I will take my chances with the wild beasts.’
‘A good decision,’ the fox agreed. He turned to the horse. ‘You did well there horse.’
‘Thank you fox. ‘ The horse was modest. ‘Your weapons are far more refined and sharper than mine. All I can manage is a bludgeon with my hoof. A little crude compared to your teeth and claws.’
‘Do you have a name horse?’ I climbed into the saddle, thankful to be leaving the clearing.
‘None. Only the finest horses in His Majesty’s stables are given names.’
‘Well, I think you are as fine a horse as I've met. Would you like a name?’
‘Oh! I would!’ He sounded delighted at the idea. ‘I have always had a notion that Gilbert was a noble-sounding name. If your honour would care to bestow such a name upon me, I would be eternally humbled by your gesture.’
‘Only if you call me Megwin, as the fox does.’
‘I would be honoured Lady Megwin.’ He gave a little nod of his head. It was all I could do to stop the fox from sniggering.
We left the bodies of the landlord and his friends in the clearing where they fell. I wondered what his wife would say when he did not return with my fortune. The fox had the last word on the incident. Much later, he confessed to helping himself to several of the innkeeper’s chickens. That was some small vengeance for all the poor travellers who had been killed by the gang. I suppose, for a fox, it was all the revenge he could exact. I, meanwhile, vowed that if ever I became a Mantle, I would do my best to make the roads and inns safer for travellers. This is something that I have yet to accomplish.
11.
North
‘Look how it has grown, goodness me!’ Channa bellowed.
As soon as Ruthen saw me coming up from the market place, leading Gilbert, he had rushed to the kitchen to tell his wife and they were both waiting for me as soon as I crossed the cobbles of the yard.
‘Come in, come in!’ Channa held me firmly, lovingly by the arm. ‘Oh! look it’s the fox! Well he shall have whatever he wants to eat while he’s here, if it’s already dead.’ She gave him a sharp glance before turning her attention back to me. ‘It’s thinner, I’d say but growing nicely into her woman’s body!’
‘Channa! You’ll embarrass Megwin with such talk. Come my dear, sit and tell us how the world is with you.’ Ruthin pulled out a chair and handed my mantle to Channa who gathered it to her breasts with such reverence. She hung it carefully before gathering up fresh milk and bread which she spread before me and, between bites, I tried to recount my time away from them. It was painful to realise, as they nodded eagerly, that I had not only grown up but also away from them. I gripped Ruthen’s hand, as if that would turn back the time for both of us.
‘Your father and his Lady wife have been told of your arrival,’ he told me. ‘You are to dine with them tonight. I expect you’d like to refresh yourself before then.’
‘Soon,’ I muttered, desperate to remain in the kitchen, desperate to return to the child I had once been. ‘Tell me everything that’s happened here since I left.’ They both laughed and took turns relaying every minor incident they could remember. So eager to keep the momentum of their stories, one began before the other finished, like the sound of a hill stream dashing over pebbles. When they lapsed into silence, I left them.
Dining with my father and his wife was uncomfortable. We sat at the long table and ate in silence except for their asking polite questions about the Palace and what future I saw for myself. The younger me, eager to impress, would have told them about my prospects as a future Mantle, even Silver Mantle, but it would have given none of us pleasure. That night I slept in my old bed but it felt too small, my toes touched the bottom, and the covers made my feet itch. I tossed and turned so much that it woke the fox.
‘It was a mistake to return,’ he declared.
‘But I wanted to see Channa and Ruthen.’
‘And now you have seen them and are happy that they are well. The quest is not here.’
‘Then where is it?’ I slapped the bed quilt. Why was I being sent off into the world when I was too young or too stupid not to recognise my own path? The Souran was wrong about my readiness for all this. It was all going to end badly.
The fox had already curled up. He opened one sleepy eye. ‘Tomorrow we will decide.’ Then wickedly, he added, ‘You could always ask the horse.’
In a manner of speaking, it was Gilbert who decided our direction. We left Brak the following morning after a thousand hugs from Channa and some wise words of wisdom and advice from Ruthen. My father even appeared at his window and wished my a safe journey. I had decided to go north but at the first crossroads, Gilbert lost a shoe and began to limp. The nearest town on the road sign was Stovin, so we went there.
The blacksmith’s forge was in the middle of the town, a humble establishment with one blacksmith and his apprentice to mind the bellows. Stovin itself consisted of square with a few meagre paths leading from it on which the tight-packed dwellings crowded. As we waited for Gilbert, it was only natural to watch the comings and goings for the townsfolk, although in this case all the comings and the goings were in the same direction. Two women walked past us, each carrying a wooden bowl filled with fruit. They paid us little attention and shortly afterwards, two more women crossed the square also carrying bowls of fruit. The fox had only stretched himself and yawned a couple of times before yet another couple followed the last, this time with bowls laden with vegetables. By now, we were intrigued and as Gilbert would not be free for some time, we decided that if any further ladies appeared, we would follow them. Sure enough, one carrying fruit and the other vegetables came down an alley at the far side of the square, speaking softly to each other as they went. We slipped in step, a few yards behind them.
‘I hope this is enough,’ one woman said, a worried look in her eyes.
‘There’s hardly anything left. Someone will have to explain to her that we can’t keep doing this. The harvest is done, winter will be upon us soon enough and no one has anything set by. My apple loft is empty.’ The second woman looked down at her bowl. ‘My vegetable garden is almost empty too.'
‘Perhaps she could move on. Comus has fish ponds and Lauton has plenty of barley growing in their fields.’
‘You can’t tell her to go?’ The first one looked shocked. ‘You shouldn’t even think it. She can read minds you know.’ Now they had my full attention, a reader of minds, indeed. The woman sighed. ‘And who’d be brave enough to tell her?’ She saw me. ‘Where did you come from and what
are you doing here, creeping about like that?’
‘I’m a stranger here, just having my horse shoed. My name’s Megwin.’ I almost told her I was a novice Mantle but my cape was stowed in Gilbert’s packs, so I gave no further explanation. ‘Where are you going? I’ve seen other women with fruit and vegetables. Where are you taken it all. Is there a market here?’