The Glass Swallow

by Julia Golding

  ‘You will do as you are told or I’ll leave you here with Sly!’

  Mikel resisted laughing at the irate falconer. ‘Rain, I’ll feel better if you stick close. My legs are not so good these days; I might need to take your arm.’ He swayed, hoping he looked feeble enough to convince her.

  Rain turned to him in consternation. ‘Oh, of course. Here.’ She took his elbow, fearing he was about to keel over.

  Mikel winked at Peri. ‘Right then, young master, let’s get on with it.’

  Like the gates, the doors to the palace were off their hinges, lying like drunkards in a gutter. The air in the palace smelt foul: the sweet smell of sandalwood lingered, but now there was a new scent of dried blood and smoke. Peri took Rogue out of his travelling basket and went ahead, holding the hooded falcon aloft on his arm like a torch to guide their way. He felt comforted having the bird’s talons at his disposal; the very sight of him should put off most attackers.

  ‘It must’ve been beautiful,’ Rain said, her voice soft as a sigh as she gazed up at the soaring entrance hall. White plaster tentacles snaked from the ceiling. A few had been shattered but most remained, moulded into swirling shapes like branching roots, interlaced in intricate knots.

  ‘They say the hall above has pillars like trees,’ explained Peri. ‘The palace was built as a forest of wonders, everything decorated to give the illusion that you had wandered into another world. This was supposed to be an underground cavern, entrance to the marvels beyond.’

  ‘How wonderful! I could have made some lovely windows for this place.’ Rain ran her fingers over the stonework.

  Peri gave her a strange look. ‘I thought it was your betrothed who was the glassmaker.’

  Rain realized that there was no reason to keep the secret any longer. ‘No, it was me.’

  ‘You must come from an unusual country.’

  She laughed a little sadly. ‘It’s just me who’s unusual. And my father, for letting me practise my craft.’

  They wandered deeper into the palace, moving through rooms that resembled forest clearings, others like hollow trees.

  ‘Why make stone appear like wood?’ Rain mused aloud. ‘Why not use wood for the building?’

  ‘Ah, but where’s the honour in that?’ said Peri cynically. ‘The point was to do the impossible. In my view, the Master could’ve just planted a forest and be done with it. Would’ve saved our taxes.’

  Rain shook her head. ‘You’ve no artistic soul, falcon man.’

  ‘Now you understand me.’ Peri’s smile faded. He stopped in front of her, holding up a hand for quiet.

  They stood silently, listening for the sound that had caught Peri’s attention. Conal knelt and slipped the leash from Sniff.

  ‘Go get, boy!’ he urged the hunting dog.

  The hound darted off into the shadows on their right, yipping excitedly, Conal in pursuit.

  ‘Stay here!’ warned Peri, rushing after the hunters.

  Mikel and Rain exchanged a look, then followed, both determined not to be left behind. The dog led them down a corridor then up a flight of stairs winding round a marble beech trunk until they emerged on a platform built like an ornate tree house. The once shuttered windows had been torn open, giving sweeping views across the River Rol to the line of hills beyond. The floor was strewn with rubbish, the furniture smashed, but in one corner someone had gathered together scraps to build a nest of cloth. Sniff rooted in it for a moment before veering off and barking at a cupboard door, remarkable for the fact that it was still on its hinges. Slipping the leash back on the dog, Conal waited for Peri to join him. The falconer drew his sword and nodded to Conal to throw open the door.

  With a yell, a boy burst from his hiding place, a dagger in hand. He took a wild swipe at Peri who was too surprised to react in time. The blade sliced his arm before he had the sense to use the pommel of his sword to knock the boy back. The lad fell on his bottom, the dagger flying off out of reach. Peri quickly swung his blade to rest above the boy’s chest.

  ‘Easy there,’ he said calmly, ignoring the blood dripping from his wrist to the floor. ‘We mean you no harm.’

  The boy looked right through him, his lips locked together. He only flinched when Rogue spread his wings and screeched.

  ‘If you promise not to try anything rash, I’ll put the sword down and calm my bird. Do we have a deal?’

  Still the boy said nothing. Peri looked more closely at him: like all Magharnans, he had long black hair, his eyes the golden brown of brandy in the firelight, and he wore the remnants of fine clothing—very fine clothing. Peri had never seen silk trousers in such a rich shade of plum purple or a gold embroidered tunic decorated with sunbursts. A jettan boy separated from his family, he guessed.

  ‘You’ve got to move back,’ Rain urged Peri, arriving at his side. ‘The bird’s scaring him.’

  ‘I thought I told you not to follow us.’

  ‘You really want to argue about this now?’

  He shook his head and lowered the sword so that the point rested on the ground. ‘See, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m going to step away and put my bird on a ledge so we can talk without him spooking you. Understand?’

  The boy gave no sign he’d even heard.

  Rain sighed. ‘He’s too scared, poor thing. It doesn’t help that you’re bleeding all over the floor; I’ll find something for a bandage.’ She went over to the nest of rags to find the cleanest piece of cloth there. The boy’s eyes followed her.

  Peri retreated cautiously. He wasn’t even sure the boy was afraid as Rain thought; if anything, he judged him to be more like a forest creature that had been cornered, liable to attack if he felt he had no other option. He braced himself for another wild swipe at his back.

  ‘See, I’m putting the bird down,’ Peri said soothingly, choosing a lamp niche for a temporary perch. ‘You’ve no need to fear: he’s hooded so he won’t attack you.’

  As soon as he nudged Rogue to jump off his gauntlet, the boy exploded into action. He dived away from Conal and the leashed hound, away from Peri and the bird, and sprinted across the room. He tackled Rain, forcing her face down on to the nest of rags. Kneeling on her back, he groped under the cloth and drew out a broken chair leg.

  ‘Leave or I’ll kill her,’ he shouted, his face twisted in a feral rage. Rain tried to buck him off but he pushed the chair leg into her neck. ‘Be still, servant, or I’ll hit you.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ A red rage tinged Peri’s vision; he could see that the boy was hurting Rain. ‘She was trying to help you! Get off her!’

  ‘Off, boy, or I’ll crown you!’ Mikel seized his own bit of wood and swung it threateningly.

  ‘Leave my palace, scavengers! You render me unclean!’ The boy yanked at Rain’s hair, making her yelp.

  That was more than enough for Peri. He leapt for the boy, grabbed the chair leg and ripped it away from him. His momentum knocked the lad off Rain so that he landed with Peri on top of him. The boy gave a squawk as all the air was pushed from his lungs, then thrashed frantically to get free.

  ‘Unclean! Vile! Filth!’ he shrieked, pounding his feet uselessly on the floor.

  Peri rolled off him and picked him up by the scruff of the neck. ‘Shut up! Rain, are you all right?’

  She got up shakily, her eyes wide with shock at the unprovoked attack. ‘Y-yes.’

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Peri shook the boy. ‘Why turn on the very person trying to help you?’

  The boy had returned to his silent act.

  ‘He must be a fool to take us all on,’ marvelled Conal.

  ‘No, he’s just desperate,’ said Mikel, lowering his makeshift wooden club.

  ‘He said it was his palace; did you hear him?’ Rain hugged herself as she looked round the ruins of a once fine room.

  ‘Aye, I heard him,’ growled Mikel.

  Rain frowned, trying to guess the puzzle. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I am the Master,’ spat the boy. ‘All of you wil
l be executed for daring to speak to me!’

  Conal laughed. ‘The boy’s gone daft.’

  Rain kept her eyes on the youngster, noting how he only looked at her, as if all the others were beneath his attention. She’d seen this behaviour in the jettan she had met. ‘I don’t think so. He believes it.’ She took a step closer. ‘Are you really the Master?’

  He closed his eyes for a moment, blinking back tears, then nodded.

  ‘Where are your servants?’ she asked kindly.

  More kindly than he deserved, thought Peri, tightening his grip on the boy, still angry with him for being rough with her.

  ‘They all left me,’ the boy replied.

  ‘Guards?’

  He shrugged, pretending a nonchalance that he couldn’t quite carry off.

  ‘So you’ve been left here on your own for how long?’

  ‘Four days.’

  ‘How did you escape the looters?’

  He dipped his eyes to the floor before he could stop himself.

  ‘You’ve a hiding place?’

  ‘I’m not showing you: it’s a secret.’

  ‘Of course. And I don’t want to know. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on here. You see, I’m not Magharnan.’

  ‘You’re not?’ His expression flickered with interest before he could conceal it. ‘I thought you looked funny.’

  She pulled off her scarf, letting him see her mane of curls more clearly. ‘I’m from Holt. I came with a glass-maker to work on the summer palace.’

  ‘An outlander?’ The boy twisted out of Peri’s grip and stood up straight, struggling to regain his dignity. ‘I … I see. Why did you come to find me?’

  ‘Well, I thought … in my country, we take our troubles to our King. I thought you might be able to help your people.’

  ‘I … ’ The boy looked about him as if hoping his courtiers had miraculously reappeared. ‘I would like to but … ’

  ‘But you need help yourself,’ finished Rain. ‘You’ve been let down by those who were supposed to serve you.’

  The boy’s shoulders sagged a fraction. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you really the Master?’ Mikel asked, putting his weight on the wooden stave.

  The boy kept his eyes on Rain and refused to answer.

  She took a step closer, ignoring Peri’s warning to keep her distance. She held out her hand. She was about the boy’s height, their eyes on a level.

  ‘I know you’ve been told you shouldn’t speak to people of other classes—’

  The boy frowned. ‘I shouldn’t be speaking to you either, but I do occasionally say things to my servants so I thought they wouldn’t be angry.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t be angry?’

  ‘My advisers. Jettan Kirn and the others.’

  ‘Where are your advisers?’ She reached for his forearm and slipped her hand down past his wrist to curl her fingers in his.

  ‘I don’t know. They’ve gone.’

  ‘So aren’t you angry with them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then how better to pay them back than ignore their silly rules?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He looked lost, startled by her suggestion.

  ‘Yes, you do know. These men are the only people who’ve bothered to come and find you. Surely you can speak to them? You’re the Master: isn’t it up to you to decide?’

  The boy took a deep breath like a diver preparing to jump from a cliff. He turned to Mikel. ‘Yes, bondsman, I really am the Master. My father died last year and I was appointed his successor.’

  ‘They kept that quiet,’ grumbled Mikel. He looked faintly stunned to be talking to the boy he had been taught was nothing less than a god.

  ‘They always do. We’re all one, according to the priests, one Master with different faces.’

  ‘But you’re just a boy!’ Conal spluttered. ‘I thought … I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t this!’

  Peri found he was less shocked than he expected. His disillusionment with the rigid class system and the rapidity of the collapse of the state had prepared him for the revelation that the Master was only human after all—and a vulnerable one at that. How could they blame a boy for what was so clearly well out of his control before he was even born?

  A bell rang down in the distant courtyard—a harsh sound, like someone beating on an old pan lid.

  ‘Do you hear that?’ the boy asked Rain, gripping her hand as he turned to her for reassurance.

  ‘I do. What’s happening, Peri?’

  The falconer retrieved Rogue from his perch. ‘I guess that’s Sly warning us that we can expect company. We’d better leave.’

  ‘What do we do about him?’ asked Conal, jerking his head at the Master.

  ‘Take him with us, of course,’ answered Rain before anyone else could reply. ‘You can’t stay here, Master; surely you can see that?’

  The boy glanced at the hostile faces of his lowliest subjects, then back at Rain, her eyes alive with concern for him. ‘You think it best?’

  ‘Definitely.’ She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

  ‘They have food?’

  ‘We have food,’ promised Peri.

  ‘Then yes.’ Mind made up, the boy rustled through the rags and pulled out a bundle. ‘I’ll come.’

  Shard 10

  Silver Grey

  The disturbance that prompted Sly to clash together the cooking pot lids proved to be a large group of looters approaching from the gates. They were carrying weapons and towing empty handcarts in anticipation of making off with anything they could find.

  Assessing that they only had a minute to spare before the invaders reached the courtyard, Peri quickly lifted the boy on to Conal’s horse.

  ‘Who’s this?’ asked Sly.

  ‘The Master,’ Peri replied.

  ‘You’re joking, right?’

  ‘No, I’m deadly serious. Hurry.’ Peri realized that the main approach was impassible with so many after easy pickings. Horses were too valuable to let pass. ‘Is there another way out?’ he asked the boy.

  The Master nodded and tugged a chain out from around his neck. On the end hung a gold pentagonal disc.

  ‘This is the key to a gate on the river side of the palace. It goes down to my private landing stage. There’s a barge there.’ His face took on a stubborn cast. ‘That’s if the jettan families left it when they fled.’

  ‘It’s better than trying to ride three valuable horses through that lot,’ said Conal, jerking his head at the approaching crowd. ‘If there’s no barge, we can always wait down there until they’ve gone.’

  There was no time for further debate. The double-mounted horses trotted swiftly away from the looters, following a path that wound through the gardens. Once they emerged from the cover of the trellis fence, they heard a shout behind. The looters had seen them. Peri urged Nutmeg to pick up his pace. Anxiety spiking, Rain clung on to his waist like a limpet.

  ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart: I won’t let them catch us,’ Peri said confidently.

  She wished she felt so certain; instead she pressed her head to his back and closed her eyes, accepting that she had no control over what would happen next. With the boy’s directions they reached the gate without losing their way in the gardens. Peri handed the reins to Rain and slipped off. When he reached the ground, the boy tossed him the key. The gate was a smaller version of the ones leading from the city, the pentagon crafted to fill a leaf-shaped keyhole near the handle. He pressed it into place, finding it fitted snugly in the mechanism, and opened the gate with hardly a sound. Wasting no time, Conal and Sly urged their horses through the portal. Peri took Nutmeg’s bridle and guided him safely over the narrow threshold so he could lock the gate behind them. When he mounted, the other two horses were already out of sight—welcome news as their pursuers had not given up. He could see people running through the trees headed in their direction, and the fence, though tall, would not stop a really determined man from scaling it. Peri remounted an
d dug his heels in. Nutmeg clattered down the steep gravel path, hooves struggling to find purchase on the sliding surface. Peri dared not make him go any faster for fear of taking a spill. Rain’s grip was painfully tight around his waist but he said nothing, understanding she was terrified and unaware that she was hurting him.

  The path wound to and fro down the river cliff until it levelled out on a wooden landing stage floating in the river. The platform was huge, built for state ceremonies and capable of harbouring many vessels. All the moorings were empty, bar one. A gold painted barge remained tethered in the central berth, the celebratory flags hanging limply from the striped awning that protected the throne in its centre.

  Peri tapped Rain’s hand. ‘You can let go,’ he murmured, relaxing a little now the immediate danger had passed.

  ‘Oh, sorry.’

  ‘You’ve probably given me bruises. I didn’t realize how strong you are.’

  She rubbed the heel of her palm over his stomach in a quick gesture of apology before slipping off Nutmeg.

  ‘Oh, don’t stop: I was enjoying that.’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, falcon man: I’m not that sorry,’ she said tartly.

  Biting back her own smile, Rain joined the boy as he stood gazing at his barge. ‘How do you sail it?’ she asked.

  ‘I can’t imagine why they left it. They’ve taken everything else.’ The boy shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘They probably left the blooming thing because they couldn’t move it.’ Mikel kicked at the rope tying it to the bank. ‘I can’t see no oars.’

  ‘It doesn’t have oars. My bondsmen use long poles to push it along.’ The boy searched the dock as if expecting them to materialize out of thin air.

  ‘Can’t see no poles neither,’ grumbled Mikel. ‘We’re stuck. Blinking stupid idea to come down here in the first place.’

  Sly, who had been watching the path up to the garden gate, gave a shout:

  ‘Peri, we’ve got company!’ He drew his sword. ‘They’ve climbed the fence.’

  Peri quickly calculated their chances. They were cornered unless they could escape by river. Perhaps they could fight off the looters but he didn’t want to risk Rain, Mikel, and the boy getting hurt.