by Ila Mercer
Ari took the sash and wound it around his worst arm. Just below his right knee, it was tender where the sow had struck him. He must have winced because Katarin set Yaron on the ground and came to his aid.
‘Let me help,’ she said, wrapping her arm around his waist.
Though he did not really need her assistance, he did not discourage it. Together they hobbled back to their picnic site. Ari sat on the rock as Katarin and Yaron packed up the basket, and then the three of them set off on the path back to the Keep.
Once again, Yaron skipped ahead, peeping under rotting wood, picking up pine cones and other items of interest. Clearly, he had put the whole ordeal out of his mind.
With every step, Ari’s leg pulsed with a dull ache. His only consolation was the nearness of Katarin. Through the barriers of fabric between them, he felt her soft warmth. And whenever he turned his face to speak to her, he caught the scent of her hair – a spicy apple blossom scent.
*
On their return to the Keep, its folk were abuzz with excitement. News of the escaped Beasts had come that morning. Three of them had been recaptured on the Downs lands, high in the mountains that overlooked the Keep and the man who bore the news had stopped at the Keep for a night’s rest before continuing the chase. That man, Ari learned, was the famed Hunter of Yawmouth.
Katarin
Those who met Katarin for the first time often made the mistake of thinking that her genial and easy-going nature equated with compliancy. But those who knew her best would have laughed at such an appraisal, for at her core, Katarin had a will as unrelenting as forged steel. Once she set her mind to something, it was very hard to bend her thoughts another way. Which was precisely the difficulty Mika was having at that moment.
‘He was very displeased,’ Mika said, as she pulled and strung the last hook on Katarin’s corset.
With a slight cough, brought on by the constriction of her ribs, Katarin answered, ‘So what if he was? Do I demand to know where he is every waking moment?’
Mika sighed. ‘It’s different for a man.’
‘What? Just because he has a different organ between his legs?’
‘You will come to fear that organ if you do not temper your actions,’ Mika warned.
And for a moment, Katarin regretted her words. Mika’s marriage, blessedly cut short and turned into widowhood, had been one of violence and debasement.
‘It was a harmless afternoon.’ She turned to face Mika. ‘As long as you forget the incident with the wild sow. It was a chance to get to know him better.’
‘What for? No good can come of it, you know. And if you had to go, why not take me?’ Mika asked, turning, offering her back so that Katarin could help her to tie her corset now.
‘I think you make him nervous,’ Katarin answered as she gave the stay a swift tug.
‘Easy,’ Mika said with a grumble. ‘I need some room if I’m to swallow any food.’
‘There,’ Katarin said as she fastened Mika’s little silver buttons. ‘Look at us.’ She stared past Mika into a long mirror on a stand. ‘Like little gingerbread dolls cut by the same mould. If you tie my hair up and pinch my cheeks, it should please Worrel well enough.’
‘Just be careful, and don’t fuel his anger, that’s all I’m saying.’
Katarin picked up Mika’s hand and held it between hers. ‘Not all men are like that Mika. And I don’t want to be the sort of wife that gives in at the first hint of her husband’s displeasure. It is better that he understands now, what sort of wife he is getting in the bargain.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ Mika said squeezing Katarin’s hand. ‘But I have seen the way he looks at you.’
‘Who? Worrel?’
‘No. The Beast.’
Katarin laughed uneasily, and felt her cheeks go hot. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Oh Katarin,’ Mika said. ‘But I think you do.’
*
As they travelled down the passage to the dining hall, Katarin reflected on what Mika had said. Could it be that she was right, and that Ari had feelings for her? Her belly fluttered as she thought about their closeness on their journey back to the Keep. To say that she had not noticed the strength in his arms, his towering stature, and his strong square jaw line would have been a lie. And she had compared him to other men in the Keep, particularly Worrel. But with what eye? Not as a mate - a husband. She was curious about him, about his folk, she had told herself. But she did find his form pleasing and there was a quiet dignity in the way that he moved. She also admired the tenacity with which he applied himself to his learning. He had proven within the space of a few weeks that his intelligence and quest for knowledge were equal to any Dracodian. So, she was glad she had offered to help him, and she was eager to prove Brother Sneet and others of his Order wrong. Imagine that? A Beast who could read and write the Cartal – and taught by a woman, no less. Except it was no longer a mission of ideals for her. She was really starting to like Ari and she wanted him to succeed so that he could win the right to return home.
They passed Yaron’s open doorway, and Katarin turned when she heard the maid scolding the small boy. ‘Put your arms up, for heaven sake. Else how am I to get the tunic over your head?’
Poor Yaron, he had such a look of determined recalcitrance on his face. It was apparent he hated the restrictive dinner dress as much as she.
‘I’ll help him if you like,’ Katarin said, entering the room.
‘We’ll be late, Katarin,’ Mika warned from the hall.
‘You go ahead. Explain that I’m helping Yaron and will be down in a moment.’ In the corner of the room, the wooden horse creaked back and forth in ever decreasing arcs.
The maid planted her hands on her hips. ‘Good luck with that. He’s fought me every step of the way.’
‘You go,’ Katarin said. ‘I think he’ll do better without an audience.’
Once the maid had gone, Katarin shut the door. She turned back to Yaron who still had a look of sullen defiance on his face. ‘What about a pony ride first? Then you can dress.’
He grinned, and within moments had scrambled onto the horse. With wild glee he rocked the horse hard and fast. Katarin laughed. ‘Where are you trying to get in such a hurry?’
Yaron did not reply, but his grin deepened.
As Yaron rode his horse, Katarin glanced around the room. It had been her old room whenever she stayed at the Keep as a child. She had always loved coming to the Downs for the summer months. They had so many good times as children, playing hide and seek throughout the Keep, stealing fruit from the orchard, building forts at the back of the kitchen garden. Worrel had been fun when he was young, but there had been a change in recent years. Somehow, he had become hardened, as though he was slowly calcifying. If she had not known the young Worrel, she would have pleaded against the match. But she lived in hope that the younger Worrel would re-emerge – that their marriage would not be cold and stale, as she sometimes feared. She wasn’t even sure if he loved her. With the passing of her father, he would inherit, through marriage, half of Dracodia’s merchant fleet and lately she had wondered who Worrel was truly marrying – was it her or the fleet?
She felt a tugging on her sleeve and looked down. Yaron stood before her holding his tunic.
Very gently she helped him to pull the tight hole over his head, and then hand in hand they left for the dining hall.
She hated the formal dinners that Jogan put on whenever he had a guest. Everyone was expected to wade through course after course, well after their hunger was sated. It was, to her mind, a frivolous display of the Downs wealth.
As she entered the room, she counted about twenty heads, all of whom she recognised except one – the guest of honour, who sat next to Jogan at the head of the table.
The Hunter turned sharply to face her, and he did not drop his gaze as polite men might. It disconcerted her, but she returned his gaze – for she understood that he measured her pith as much as her appearance.
&nb
sp; He wore a goatee, and this surprised her. It was terribly old fashioned, and she would later learn that it was his small homage to the Beasts that he chased. A puckered red scar ran from his left eyebrow to his lip. She disliked him at once, not only because of what he did, but also for the way the way he made her feel – as though a dangerous asp had slithered over her skin. As she thought this, the Hunter’s gaze shifted, returning to Jogan, who prattled on, oblivious that the Hunter’s attention had strayed for so long.
‘You’re late,’ Worrel hissed, as she sat beside him. ‘We’ve all been waiting for you.’
‘Didn’t Mika explain?’ Katarin replied calmly. ‘Yaron was upset and I helped him to dress.’
‘The maid could have done that.’
‘Well she couldn’t, as it turned out. She was being too forceful with him – and it was apparent that he was going to dig his heels in.’
‘You’re all too soft on that child. It does him no good. I would have given him a swift cuff about the ears and that would have sorted him out.’
‘Well, I think you’re wrong,’ Katarin replied. Mika gave her a swift kick under the table. Katarin knew she was goading Worrel, but somehow, she couldn’t stop herself.
Worrel huffed but dropped the topic. ‘At least you’re dressed properly tonight.’
‘Why thankyou.’
Worrel’s shoulders dropped, and he placed a hand over hers. ‘That came out wrong,’ he said. ‘In fact, you look lovely.’
‘Thankyou,’ Katarin said, taken aback. It was the first kind word from him in days.
Soon after this the first course of their dinner was served, and Katarin was pleased to discover that it was a green pea soup laced with fresh mint. At least Ari would be able to eat this, she thought, as she caught his eye.
He appeared uncomfortable, and who could blame him with the Hunter dining at the same table. She sent him a sympathetic smile, which he returned. His wounds could not have been too bad, she thought, for he had made it to dinner. She wondered whether Brother Be had given Ari a draught for the pain.
Yaron, who had wedged himself into the seat between Ari and Brother Be, now laid out sticks and rocks on the table and Ari obligingly carried on their earlier game, teaching the boy the signs of his people. Katarin had not seen Yaron so lively since the death of his mama. It was obvious that Ari had reached the small boy in some way.
‘A coin for your thoughts,’ Lars said softly. He was seated on her other side.
‘I think Ari is good for Yaron.’
Lars nodded. ‘I think so too, but my father wasn’t pleased when he heard about your trouble in the woods today.’
‘What do you mean? Does he think we’re at fault? That might have happened when Yaron was with the Jims. It was pretty unlucky. Who could have known that Yaron would take it into his head to pick up a wild piglet? Usually you can’t even get close to them.’
‘Sh, sh, I know, you don’t need to tell me,’ Lars said, cupping his hand to his mouth.
‘Sorry,’ Katarin said, lowering her voice.
Katarin was conscious that Worrel had stopped conversing with his neighbour and had leaned in to listen.
‘Can we talk about it later?’ she whispered.
‘Of course,’ Lars replied.
‘What was that all about?’ Worrel asked when she reached for her goblet of wine.
‘Nothing,’ Katarin replied.
‘I think I know. After dinner, you and I will be talking about that.’ It was said mildly enough, but Katarin felt uneasy all the same.
For the next course, Katarin remained silent. She wanted to leave, however custom dictated otherwise. She was aware of the Hunter’s gaze resting on her every now and then, and then lifting like a butterfly, to light for a few moments on someone else. He was subtle now in the way he watched them all, but no less thorough in his dissection.
The conversation lulled, and Jogan leaned back in his chair. Addressing the whole table, but targeting the Hunter beside him, he said. ‘Did you know we have a Beast in our midst this evening? I wonder if you can guess which of us it is.’
Katarin thought it was a wonder that Jogan had not made mention of this earlier, but then she realised he had orchestrated it this way. He was a man of drama and would be delighting now as the sport unfolded. Katarin felt sick with embarrassment. What must Ari think of them all? She dared not look at him because she did not want to betray him to the Hunter.
‘Well,’ The Hunter said, folding his napkin neatly at the side of the plate, ‘One would hazard a guess it’s not you.’
Jogan roared with laughter and slapped the Hunter on his shoulder.
The Hunter’s voice was like oil sliding over water, Katarin thought. Too slick, too arrogant. She let her eyes glide across everyone on the other side of the table, noting that Ari had worn his gloves to dinner that evening. Good, the hunter would not see his branding scar. Not that it mattered though, Jogan would still humiliate Ari in front of the others.
The Hunter smiled, revealing a sharp set of incisors, ‘I do not need to guess. I knew the moment he entered. Your fellow there, next to the child. That is your Beast.’
Jogan laughed again and clapped his hands. ‘I see your reputation is well deserved. Tell me, how did you know? I for one would not be able to tell. Our Beast is clothed in the finest Dracodian garments, he speaks our tongue fluently, and is better groomed than half the men at this table.’
‘You told me. All of you,’ the Hunter said casting his eye over everyone who sat at the table.
‘What do you mean?’
Katarin looked at Ari. Surprisingly, he held his head high, and listened to the Hunter with the same interest and attention as everyone else.
‘It is the way that you look at him, or don’t look at him,’ the Hunter said, pinning Worrel with his last remark. ‘We are fascinated by Beasts. We wonder what it is like to possess their bestial power. We are attracted to it, and we are repulsed by it. For we fear that if it is so close to the surface in a Beast, who appears just like us, then somewhere inside us, we too have the makings of a wild thing.’
‘Then you agree they are animals, underneath it all,’ Worrel said.
‘I did not say that,’ the Hunter replied. ‘I have the greatest respect for the Beasts. They are far more cunning than a Dracodian, and far more dangerous. If it were up to me, I would ship the lot of them back to Baaran. I say no good will come of slaving the Beast. And, I have to say-’ he turned to Jogan, ‘that you are bound to regret the day you allowed a Beast under your roof. It is a folly if you think educating him and dressing him in fine cloth will turn him into a Dracodian.’
‘You may be right,’ Jogan said, serious at last. ‘But I have given my word. Our Beast will have his chance at freedom, he deserves no less than that for saving my son.’
*
Later, as they left the dinner hall, Katarin, broke away from Worrel and grabbed Ari by the sleeve.
‘I’m so sorry you had to endure that,’ she said.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he replied, his gaze silding away from hers.
‘No, it does matter. We don’t think like that, not all of us anyway. And I think it was shameful, the way Jogan did it too.’
Ari, smiled wanly. ‘Thankyou Katarin, that means a lot to me.’
Worrel approached, with a tight look of annoyance on his features. ‘Katarin, we need to talk,’ he said, guiding her away from Ari. He did not say a word as he held on to her elbow, steering her, as though she were a wooden skiff, sailing the stormy seas of his displeasure.
When they entered the library, he sat her down in a chair near the fire while he paced to the window. In the dim firelight his face was lit from below, causing shadows to harshen his features.
‘You know why I have brought you here,’ he said at last.
Katarin, swallowed her anger. She would let him say his piece and then she would say hers. ‘Say what you must.’
‘You must stop this business with the Be
ast.’
She felt her cheeks flush with anger, but she was determined to keep her voice level and calm. ‘It was an innocent trip to the woods. Yaron was with us. And if you are referring to the trouble with the wild sow, I can assure you that Ari handled the situation with great speed and valour. Yaron was-’
‘I don’t mean that,’ he spat. ‘You are to stop this business of teaching him, of meeting with him at all.’
‘No.’
‘What do you mean, no?’
‘No. I won’t stop. He is entitled to learn, and how is he to do it on his own?’
‘I don’t care whether he learns or not. In fact, I don’t believe the Order will honour their side of the bargain anyway. You’re a fool if you think they will ever let him set foot on his soil again.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Whether you believe me or not, doesn’t matter. Obviously, you haven’t heard the gossip around the Keep.’
Katarin’s heart hammered in her chest. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘About you and the Beast.’
‘There is nothing between us.’
‘Of course there’s nothing between you,’ he said, raking his hand through his hair. ‘But I won’t have them say it. You have to stop the meetings.’
‘I can’t do that,’ Katarin said, gripping the arms of her chair.
Worrel had such a look of horror on his face, that Katarin felt sorry for a moment.
‘Even though you know how it hurts me – hurts our good name?’
‘I have to, Worrel,’ Katarin said. ‘Because it is the right thing to do. Have you thought what it is like for him? To be separated from his folk, to know how everyone looks down on him, thinking that he is something wild and savage?’
‘No Katarin,’ Worrel said, his voice flaring with anger. He loomed in close to her face, his teeth bared as though he wanted to bite her. ‘You will do as I say. For I am not asking. I am telling you that it must stop, and if it does not, I will tell everyone that you have been spoiled by the Beast. See then how many suitors come knocking at your door.’