The Glass Swallow

by Julia Golding

  ‘Put the horses on the barge,’ he ordered Conal as he ran to take up a defensive position with Sly where the path opened on to the landing stage. ‘We’ll let the river take us out of here. Mikel, see if you can find something we can use to steer that thing.’

  Shifting the wide gangplank lying on the deck into place, Rain helped Conal guide the nervous horses on to the barge. Fortunately, it was built for transporting large groups of courtiers so had plenty of room on the wide flat stage in front of the throne. The boy stood watching, not making a move to help.

  Rain was left holding Nutmeg and Sly’s mount as Conal went back for the last.

  ‘Master, I could really do with your help here,’ she called.

  The boy stirred, surprised by the request. ‘You need me to work?’

  Mikel gave him a shove in the small of his back as he passed by. ‘She needs you to help save your own blinking skin, young ’un.’

  The boy was too amazed by the manner in which they were speaking to him to do anything but obey. He took one set of reins from Rain and stroked Nutmeg’s nose soothingly.

  ‘I’ve never touched a horse like this before,’ he admitted.

  ‘I bet you’ve never been allowed to do many things,’ said Rain. ‘Horses are wonderful, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, they are.’

  The barge rocked as the final horse stepped on board. Rain twisted round anxiously as sounds of a scuffle broke out behind her. Sly and Peri were fighting now, driving back the first of the looters.

  ‘Get that barge moving!’ yelled Peri.

  Mikel untied the ropes and shoved off from the landing stage using a plank he had ripped up to propel them out into the current. Conal pushed off at the front.

  ‘We can’t leave them!’ protested Rain.

  ‘We’re not. They’ll catch up.’ Mikel slotted the plank awkwardly into a V-shaped steering column at the stern of the vessel, letting it trail in the water as an improvised rudder.

  When Peri and Sly judged the barge had gained enough distance from the bank, they abandoned their station and sprinted down the landing stage. Rain watched in horror as the gap widened between barge and land. They wouldn’t reach them in time—and they already had looters on their tail.

  She gripped Mikel’s arm. ‘Go back! They won’t make it!’

  ‘I can’t. The river’s got us now. Let’s just hope the lads can swim.’

  Together, Peri and Sly reached the verge of the landing stage and leapt. They landed on the deck but nearly tumbled back into the water as the barge rocked dangerously. Peri grabbed hold of Mikel as Sly grasped Conal’s shirt, all just missing a bath in the Rol. Behind them, men poured on to the bank, yelling insults and hurling anything they could lay their hands on. Rain dragged the boy down behind the throne, covering his head with her arms as missiles pinged around them like a hail storm.

  ‘You would think the horses were theirs,’ muttered Conal, shielding Sniff from a stone cast in their direction.

  ‘So they’re not after me?’ asked the boy in a voice that couldn’t quite hide his fear.

  ‘’Fraid not, your holiness,’ said Mikel. ‘Boys are two a penny, horses mean gold.’ He swore colourfully as a piece of wood spun through the air and slapped his arm.

  ‘Oh.’ The Master slumped against the side of the barge and smiled at Rain—the first she’d seen on his face. ‘That’s … that’s a relief.’

  The looters gave up throwing things once the barge had drifted into mid stream. The Rol flowed faster than it appeared on the surface, a great sheet of silver-grey satin winding round the low cliffs, once-beautiful mansions on their crest like a diamond tiara. The other side of the river was taken up with farmland which looked peaceful compared to the chaos that ruled the city. Rain could even see a farmer scattering seed in his field, his back to the problems across the Rol. Protected today by half a mile of river, Rain wondered how long it would be before the trouble found its way across to blight the farmer’s land too.

  Rain turned her attention back to the most recent problem they had harvested from the palace. ‘Do you have a name?’ she asked the boy as they sat side by side at the foot of the throne.

  ‘I’m the Master,’ he replied automatically.

  ‘We realize that. But before you became him, what did you call yourself?’

  ‘They called me Master-in-waiting.’

  Rain wasn’t ready to give up yet. ‘Surely your mother didn’t name you that?’

  The boy’s tawny eyes shifted to a puzzled expression. ‘My mother? I never saw her. The jettans and priests were responsible for my upbringing.’

  In Rain’s opinion, they’d done a terrible job: giving him no life beyond the role prescribed for him then dumping him at the first sign of trouble.

  ‘It might be easier if you have a name of your own,’ she suggested gently. ‘People might find it odd to come face to face with someone they think is a god only to find he’s a boy.’

  ‘But I am of the heavens,’ the boy said with absolute certainty.

  Peri had been listening in on the conversation. It beggared belief: the one he had always thought of as all powerful was in many ways the most vulnerable person he had ever met. ‘Rain’s right, your holiness. My family will find it easier to accept you if you disguise yourself to come among us ordinary people.’

  The boy didn’t look convinced.

  ‘Remember the story of the Master and the blacksmith’s bride?’ Peri continued, recalling an old Magharnan folk tale of how the Master had attended the wedding of a worthy citizen incognito, turning the anvil gold with his royal touch.

  ‘Of course. I know all the tales about me.’

  ‘Then imagine this is like one of them. You’ll need a name for us to use.’

  The boy crinkled his nose. ‘What’s your name?’

  Peri told him before going on to introduce the rest of the party. ‘But you can’t have our names. It’s got to be one of your own.’

  ‘Retsam,’ suggested Rain. She shrugged at their bemused looks. ‘It’s master backwards. Just a thought.’

  The boy tested it out. ‘I like it. Retsam.’

  ‘Blooming daft name if you ask me,’ interjected Mikel, adjusting the course of the drifting vessel.

  ‘I didn’t ask you, bondsman.’ The boy raised his brows when Rain started to giggle. ‘What did I say?’

  ‘I think you just made Mikel’s day,’ she explained. ‘He always knew no one wanted his opinion and it’s just been confirmed by the Master.’

  ‘By Retsam,’ the boy corrected her. ‘But perhaps you could call me Ret?’ He looked up at her through his lashes. ‘That’s what my friends call me.’

  ‘Ret,’ she repeated, her smile dazzling.

  Peri shook his head at this byplay. If the Master wasn’t careful, he was in danger of developing a serious crush on the little glassmaker. Peri couldn’t blame him. Rain’s compassion for everyone glowed like light passing through a lamp mantle. She made them all behave like better people just by sharing that brightness with them.

  ‘So, Peri, now you’ve got us on board this chunk of wood, what do we do now?’ asked Mikel, breaking into Peri’s reverie.

  ‘Land it as close to the barracks as we can. There’s a dock not far from the gates; the fishermen use it to bring their catch ashore. At any rate, we want to end up on the same side of the river as the city if we can.’

  Mikel nodded. ‘I’ll do my best, but the river’s in charge of this little voyage.’

  Rain got to her feet and picked up a coil of rope, paying it out to judge its length. ‘Anyone swim?’

  The scavengers shook their heads. Peri admitted to being able to manage a few strokes but no major skill.

  ‘What about you, Ret?’

  ‘Me?’

  She smiled encouragingly at him. ‘You’ll have to get used to people expecting you to take part in things.’

  ‘But I … no, I don’t swim.’

  ‘It’ll have to be me then.
I’m pretty good—my father made sure of that and the sea is a lot warmer where I come from so swimming’s a pleasure. I used to go to the lagoon near my city most holidays in the summer. When we get near, I’ll go ashore and get some help to pull us in.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ said Peri, right on cue.

  ‘I knew he’d say that. Someone sit on him, please. I can manage this, Peri. Let me do it.’ She wriggled out of her tunic, leaving on her cotton shift, and then looped the rope over one shoulder and across her chest. ‘If I get into difficulties, you just pull me back.’

  Sly slapped Peri on the back. ‘Let her do it, my friend. If she says she can manage, it’s better than floating this crazy vessel all the way out to sea.’

  Tight lipped, Peri nodded. ‘All right. But give me the other end.’

  With a huff, she placed the rope in his hand. ‘You really need to work on that calm thing you mentioned. Will here do?’

  Mikel shaded his eyes. ‘Aye, I’ll take us as close as I can. See that little platform there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I think that’s the dock Peri was talking about. There are some people milling about on the shore—a market of sorts—doesn’t look too threatening. Do your best, lovey.’

  Kicking off her shoes, she gave him a salute and dived neatly over the side. The cold punched the air from her lungs but she surfaced quickly and began swimming strongly for the shore. The current was powerful but she made use of it, angling across rather than fighting it. It was harder work than it had looked from the barge but she eventually found herself entering the slack water around the docking area. Time was of the essence: if she didn’t get the rope fastened quickly, she’d be towed after the barge as it sailed on by. Her icy fingers grasped the edge of the wooden staging and she struggled to pull herself up—only to find her wrists seized by the gnarled hands of a fisherman. He lifted her clear of the water and dumped her on the deck.

  ‘As I live and breathe, a fey mermaid!’ he laughed.

  Relieved he seemed friendly, Rain shook her head, teeth chattering.

  ‘Trying to land that there big fish?’ he asked, seeing the rope around her.

  She nodded and, before she could make a move, he’d taken it over her head and tied it off.

  ‘Come on, mates, let’s give the mermaid a hand.’ Three fishermen joined the old fellow and began reeling in the barge.

  A portly fishwife wearing stout wooden clogs, her bare legs roped with varicose veins, approached Rain and draped a tattered blanket over her shoulders.

  ‘There now,’ she said in her deep mannish voice. ‘Can’t have you catching your death, can we?’

  Rain got to her feet and clutched the blanket around her, shivering with cold. ‘Thank you.’

  As the barge neared shore, close enough for Sniff to be seen, the fisherman’s friendly expression changed to suspicion. ‘What’s this? Scavengers?’

  ‘Some of them are,’ admitted Rain.

  The fisherman spat. ‘Don’t know why I’m lifting a finger to aid them when they’re hoarding all the meat! They only think of their own kind, so why should we help?’ He almost dropped the rope in disgust but Rain caught his hand in hers.

  ‘Please. They’re not like that. They came into the city to rescue me and my friend—he’s a bondsman and I’m a servant.’

  ‘You a servant? Nay, I was right first time: eyes like yours, you have to be a mermaid. Still,’ he picked up the rope again, ‘maybe they did help you.’

  Conal threw a second rope once they were close to shore. The fishwife caught it and tied it to a mooring post to bring the barge alongside.

  ‘Thanks!’ shouted Peri, jumping on to the quay.

  ‘You’re welcome, scavenger,’ said the fisherman coldly, watching Peri with ill-concealed hostility as the falconer lifted the gangplank and moved it to bridge the gap for the horses.

  Rain refused to be daunted by the unfriendly atmosphere.

  ‘Peri, this man pulled me out of the water. And this lady gave me a blanket.’

  Peri looked up from his task, wondering why she was stating the obvious. ‘That’s very kind of them.’

  ‘See, not everyone in Rolvint is like those looters. Some people are ready to come to the aid of others.’ Rain gestured to the fish market on the quayside. ‘Not everything has stopped working.’

  ‘No, I can see that too.’

  ‘Don’t you think it would be a good idea if people like you and these fishermen got together to try and do something about the situation?’

  ‘Rain!’ he said in warning.

  ‘It’s obvious really: who else is going to step forward?’

  He gave a growl of frustration. ‘First you wanted to appeal to the Master and look where that got us; now you’re saying it’s up to us?’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  If she hadn’t been dripping so charmingly all over the decking, Peri would have been tempted to shake some sense into her.

  ‘Forget it, little mermaid, his sort aren’t interested in other people,’ announced the fisherman, turning to leave.

  ‘Yes, he is. He just doesn’t know it yet,’ countered Rain.

  Feeling a little ashamed of his impolite behaviour, Peri held out his hand to the man. ‘She’s wrong: I do know it, but I’m just not sure what to do about it. Shall we start with this?’

  The fisherman looked at Peri’s hand suspiciously. To touch it would be breaking a thousand taboos.

  ‘Oh come on!’ huffed Rain impatiently. ‘He won’t bite.’

  The fisherman gave her a gap-toothed smile. ‘He just might, but I’ll risk it.’ He took Peri’s palm in his work-roughened fist. ‘The name’s Murdle. These here are my crew, Gator and Arlo.’ He gestured to the two fishermen hovering at his back. ‘And my wife, Marla.’ The stout woman gave Peri a brief nod. ‘Come find me when you’ve worked out what you want to do. Me and the other fisherfolk are here most days, or on our boats when things get dicey.’

  ‘I’m Peri Falconer and these are my friends.’ He quickly introduced the others as they led the horses off the barge. ‘And I expect I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Yes, I expect you will. No one turns down a mermaid.’ The fisherman tipped his cap to Rain and returned to his friends by the market stalls.

  His wife lingered a moment longer. She surprised Peri by poking him in the chest with her forefinger. ‘Now you get this little one into the warmth,’ she said threateningly. ‘Or you’ll answer to me.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Peri quickly.

  She strode off, her clogs clumping on the deck.

  ‘Can we go home now, Rain, or do you have any more adventures planned for us?’ Peri asked her, rubbing his rib where the fishwife had prodded him.

  ‘No, that’s it for today,’ Rain said primly, squeezing out her skirt. ‘At least, until I think of something else.’

  Shard 11

  Citrus Yellow

  ‘I’m sorry, Peri, but I just don’t like her.’ Katia Falconer pounded the grain in the quern, beating out her bad mood. They had only been back a few hours but Peri’s mother had already worked up a temper. Late afternoon light poured into the common room; most families were outside making the most of the warmth but the Falconers had guests for supper and too much to do. ‘She’s trouble.’

  Peri said nothing, searching for an argument to change his mother’s mind. She had taken in Mikel and Retsam without a protest but had treated Rain with cold suspicion the moment she saw her standing in the gateway wrapped in a blanket. Katia’s motherly instincts had gone on high alert, recognizing a threat to her son, all the more dangerous for being prettily pack aged.

  ‘Look what she persuaded you to do today. I still can’t believe you went all the way into the Master’s palace. You all need your heads examining. What were you thinking! You could have been killed.’

  ‘But we weren’t.’ Peri took the quern from her and brushed the flour into a mixing bowl. They had almost enough to make bread for the eveni
ng meal, but with three extra mouths to feed there wouldn’t be much to go round.

  Katia added a pinch of salt. ‘She’s manipulating you. You can’t see it because you’ve fallen under her spell.’

  ‘She’s not a fey, Ma. She doesn’t do magic.’

  Katia waved her whitened fingers dismissively. ‘Of course not. She’s foreign. I meant she’s charmed you into doing things which you know are foolish. That’s not my Peri. You were always the calm and careful one—the only child I never had to worry about.’

  A squawk of protest burst from the far side of the room as Ret took a ball in the stomach. Helgis stood in the doorway glaring at him.

  ‘Don’t you even know how to play catch?’ Helgis asked in disgust.

  ‘No, I don’t, unclean one.’ Ret rubbed his stomach, shocked that someone had dared inflict pain on him.

  ‘Who are you calling unclean?’ Helgis’s fists were bunched but Ret was too inexperienced to recognize the signs.

  ‘You, of course.’ His tone was imperious.

  Helgis took a swing, knocking Ret to the floor. He then jumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground. ‘Apologize!’ he snarled.

  Peri crossed the room in ten strides and hoisted his brother off the boy.

  ‘What’s got into you?’ Peri asked Helgis, giving him a shove away from his victim. ‘Ret is new; I told you he’s not used to playing with boys his own age.’

  Ret got up from the floor, wiping at his nose which was trickling blood. ‘I don’t want to play with him, Peri.’

  ‘I’m not surprised when he treats you like that. Helgis, what have you to say?’

  Helgis scuffed the ball, kicking it out of the door into the sunshine. ‘He called me unclean.’

  Peri prayed for patience. ‘Unfortunately, for Ret, that isn’t an insult but a fact.’

  ‘He’s rude.’

  ‘Not intentionally; he just doesn’t understand, like a hatchling that needs training.’

  ‘Sorry,’ muttered Helgis, barely audible.

  ‘No more name calling, agreed? Let’s start again, shall we?’ Peri brushed off Ret’s dusty tunic. ‘How’s the nose?’