by Ila Mercer
Without the warm and tawny pelt, she shivered in the chilly night air. Her teeth began to chatter, and goose bumps prickled her skin. Just when she was beginning to wonder what had happened to Sal and Yaron, she heard them returning, calling her name softly.
‘I’m here,’ she hissed. ‘Yaron don’t come any closer. Only Sal.’
‘You’ve changed back,’ he said, coming forward, ignoring her plea.
‘Stop!’
‘What’s wr-’ Yaron cut himself short when he realised what had happened and quickly averted his eyes.
‘What a lot of fuss,’ Salt reprimanded them both, ‘it’s only skin. Here.’ She turned sharply on Yaron. ‘Give us your mantle before the poor girl freezes to death.’
Yaron shucked off his mantle and handed it to Sal, looking away.
Lita wrapped it tightly around her body and joined them back in the street. In the distance, they heard the tolling of the Bailiff’s bell.
‘Time to get out of here,’ Sal said. ‘Before they block off every road out of Yawmouth.’
Higher Stakes
Just beyond his cell, the rat who had taken up residence wiped its whiskers with its paws. It had become bolder in the last week, gaining the notice of the guards. Now two wooden traps laced with smelly cheese lay in ambush and Ari had run out of things to throw at the rat to shoo it away.
The rat stopped preening itself and sniffed the air. It peered at the guards and then at the wooden trap. It could smell the cheese and scuttled forward, ears pricked, eyes alert.
‘No, little friend,’ Ari hissed at the rat. He searched his cell again for something to throw. There was of course the chamber pot, but it was too large to fit through the bars of his cell. And he had already thrown a book and a quill a short while ago, causing the guards to glare fiercely at him for a good while.
The rat sniffed the entrance of the trap and then stepped onto the wooden trip. Snap, went the trap, bludgeoning the rat. The guards’ heads jerked up. ‘I think we got him,’ one of them hooted.
Ari turned away and sank onto his cot. He suddenly felt weary to the core of his being. He would never understand these Dracodians with their inherent disrespect for the lives of others.
He lay down and closed his eyes, but he knew he would not be able to sleep that night. The guards had told him he was to be sent away the next morning, to another keep and another master.
He wondered if Katarin knew, and whether they would ever have a chance to see each other again. It turned out Brother Be was right. He should have run when he had the chance. What a fool he had been to think that his efforts to read and write would make any difference. Perhaps he would never see his homeland again. His thoughts became nostalgic then, returning to the fireside of his people. Little Kee would be curled up in Suetta’s lap and Kee’s brother, Ean, would be waiting impatiently for his meal of yammers. The fire light would make his people’s faces glow and they would be joking and sharing their gossip from the day. Once the yammers were cooked, they would dig them out of the coals with a stick and brush off the dirt. Ari’s mouth watered with the memory of the creamy orange flesh. So sweet and tasty. And later, his best friend Lokin, would start the tale telling. Few of his tales were true but they were always so entertaining the elders let him speak first. Then, when the children had settled for sleep, the elders would pull out the lurrah pipe and pass it around. He wondered what his people would have made of Katarin. Would they have welcomed her as warmly as they welcomed other’s mates? And how would she have viewed them? Uncivilized because they lived in mud huts and ate with their hands? Perhaps it was better that he was being sent away. He was suddenly uncertain whether Katarin really understood how great the changes in her life would be.
His thoughts were disrupted by the sound of a newcomer’s voice.
‘Good evening,’ he heard a familiar voice say. Ari swivelled to see a mantled and hooded figure standing on the bottom step. The guards, who’d been playing cards under the light of the oil lamp, stood at once. Though Ari could not see the face of the newcomer, he knew it to be Lars. The three figures bantered about the draughtiness of the dungeon, the turning of the season and the capture of the rat. Eventually, Lars came to the purpose of his visit. ‘I want to share a farewell drink with my friend,’ he said to the guards, holding up a bottle. ‘He saved my life once and it may be the last time we ever see each other.’
‘I don’t know,’ one of the guards answered. ‘We were told not to let anyone in or out.’
‘Not even me?’ Lars said.
The guards glanced at each other and one of them shrugged.
‘Here,’ Lars said, pulling another bottle from inside his tunic. ‘What about a nip or two for yourselves?’
One of the guards shook his head but the other reached out and took the bottle. ‘A dram or two can’t do no harm.’
The other guard looked on dubiously.
The guard with the bottle said, ‘It’d take a keg or two before it fuddled my head. I’ve been known to drink my own weight before I fell over. Not like some,’ he boasted.
‘Gorn then, give it here,’ the other guard said, grabbing the bottle and uncorking it with his teeth.
When the two guards had both had a drink Lars said, ‘You’ll let me into the cell of course?’
Ari did not care for a drink with Lars. He disliked their firewater and yet he decided he would not say anything. There were many things he wished to say to Lars, and it would be easier if they had greater privacy.
‘Why, can’t you pass it through the bars?’ one of the guards said.
‘What harm can come of it?’ Lars replied. ‘I tell you what, you can lock me in too and when I come out, you can lock it back up.’
The guard with the bottle shook his head vehemently. ‘I don’t know.’
‘He won’t move from his cot. I give you my word.’
By this time, Ari sensed that Lars was up to something and he wondered what it might be.
The guards muttered something that Ari could not hear and then both of them came over to the cell. ‘One twitch,’ the boastful guard growled as he pointed his finger at Ari, ‘and we’ll not let the Senna in to see you.’
Ari did as he was told, careful to remain perfectly still.
The guard unlocked the gate, his eyes drilling through Ari’s the whole time. And then Lars climbed into the cell and the guard locked the door again. Neither of them spoke, until the guards had wandered back to the base of the stairs.
‘I’m going to get you out,’ Lars said under his breath.
‘However do you plan to do that?’
‘You’ll walk out, of course,’ Lars said with a glint in his eye before passing the bottle to Ari. ‘Pretend you’re drinking.’
Ari wondered what Lars had in mind, for he could not imagine how they would overthrow the guards. They were both as thick and broad as a pair of oxen. Before he could ask, the sound of someone’s footsteps pattered down the stairwell.
‘Not a moment too soon,’ Lars said, as a feminine figure appeared.
Ari’s heart hammered in his chest, until he heard the voice. It was not Katarin.
‘Quick,’ Lars said, squinting at the guards. ‘Take my mantle and put it on.’
The woman on the stairwell said something in a low voice and allowed her cloak to slip open, revealing that she wore a dress with a low-cut bosom. The guards leaned in, their eyes transfixed on the maiden.
‘Who’s that?’ Ari asked as he slipped into Lars’s cloak.
‘Mika,’ Lars answered. ‘Put the hood on too. And swap places with me.’
Ari did as he was told and glanced at Mika again. Now she was pouting and pleading coyly with the guards. He had never seen her behave in such a manner before and only hoped the guards were too distracted by her flirtations to question her motives.
‘What now?’ Ari said.
‘We carry on as before. Pretend to drink a little more. And then when it is time for me to go, I will stay, and you w
ill walk out in my place.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Of course,’ Lars answered. ‘They will see what they expect to see. You of all folk should understand that. Besides, they’ll have drunk a bottle of Brother Be’s most potent gin by then.’
Ari had doubts it would work but he did not say this to Lars. He appreciated the effort. Still, it was just as well the oil had burned out in his lamp an hour or so before. The gloom of his cell, and the shadows cast by the bars would do much to camouflage the differences between them. ‘Will you pass on a message to Katarin?’ He asked after a moment.
‘But you can do so yourself,’ Lars replied.
‘What do you mean?’
‘She is waiting for you in the orchard. If you go through the cellars there is a door at the end, and it takes you under the moat.’
‘Then she has not changed her mind.’
‘Once she has set her mind to something-’
‘Are you disappointed in me?’
‘Disappointed?’
‘For stealing her away from your brother.’
Lars shrugged. ‘I guess I should have predicted it. Worrel did not stand a chance against you. Anyway, he doesn’t deserve her. I just wish it didn’t have to end like this. I wish…’
‘We have both been… I don’t know the word.’
‘Fools?’
‘Like children - who know nothing of the ways of the world.’
‘You’re right. I thought my father would honour his word.’
‘And I thought I could show that my people are Dracodia’s equals. But I guess this may never be.’
They fell silent then, and they heard Mika farewell the guards.
‘I am afraid I am the one who has disappointed you,’ Lars said, his head bent so that Ari could only see the crown of his head. ‘I promised much when I first brought you here. And I have let you down.’
‘No-’
‘Let me finish,’ Lars butted in, raising his eyes to met Ari’s. ‘I said I would ensure your freedom and then I became complacent because I thought you had all the freedom you would ever need, right here. I didn’t want you to leave and so I told myself you were happy. I never imagined my father’s promises would be so fickle. But I promise you this, you will be free after tonight. And I will do all I can to make sure no slave ship ever leaves our port again.’
Ari nodded. It was true, all that Lars had said, and yet he did not blame him. ‘I have something for you too. Well, really it is for Yaron.’ He reached across Lars and drew the small mechanical nightingale from a box under his bed.
‘You fixed it?’ Lars asked, as Ari placed the bird in the palm of Lars’s hand.
‘Yes,’ Ari replied. ‘But now you must promise me something in return.’
Lars curled his fingers around the little metal bird. ‘Whatever you say.’
‘You really must talk to Yaron about his mother. That is what your boy really needs. I think you will find it is good for both of you.’
Lars nodded and stared at the wedding band on his finger. ‘I know I should, and I will.’
Shortly after this, they called the guards over. With the dim light, Lars, who had lain down and turned to face the wall, was little more than a shape on the cot. As Ari stood by the door of the cell, he drew his hood forward to shadow his features. Once he had passed through the gate, the door slammed behind him and the guard turned the key in its lock.
A sudden memory of the gate in that long-ago sinking ship came to him. That was twice now, that Lars had rescued him. He hesitated for a moment, wishing he could glance back at his friend. Instead he strode across the flagstones. Not once did the guards show any sign of suspicion. They bade him goodnight and he nodded in return. The guards returned to their bottle and barely glanced at Ari as he climbed the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, Mika waited in the shadows. Silently she took hold of Ari’s elbow and led him through the Keep. They trod on tiptoes across the cobble and hugged the shadows cast by the buildings. Though few lights illuminated their path, for the hour was late, Mika was as sure footed as a cat.
Ari’s innards churned. Since learning that Worrel meant to kill him, he had resolved to leave Katarin behind. He feared that taking Katarin would further inflame Worrel’s jealousy and he trembled to think what might become of her if they were ever caught. He knew that she would never agree to staying, so he would have to tell her a lie, and the thought of what he must do made his heart heavy with sadness.
Mika led Ari down to the stores and they passed through a room rich with the scent of newly bagged barley. Beyond this room, they travelled the labyrinth of cellars until finally they came to the secret doorway. ‘This is where I leave you,’ Mika said as she turned the handle. ‘She is waiting for you in the orchard. Look after her well. She loves you dearly. More than I have seen any woman love a man.’
Ari nodded. ‘You are a good friend to her,’ he said, not wanting to say anything now that would make Mika or Katarin question his motives later. And with that he slipped through the doorway.
When he came out the other side, he could not see Katarin and realised she must be waiting in the deep shadows. He looked over his shoulder and saw two guards stationed on the dimly lit wall walk.
The sweet perfume of ripening fruit assailed his senses, but he caught a trace of Katarin’s scent amongst the others and then he glimpsed her, standing under an old apricot tree. His heart beat faster, and his stride quickened. When he reached her, she crushed her body against his and pressed her face to his chest. ‘I was worried you’d never come,’ she said, tilting her face to meet his gaze.
The words that Ari had planned to say dissolved to nothing and he leaned down to press his lips against hers. From the moment she fell into his arms, he had realised something with a spike of astonishment, something that changed everything, something that made the stakes higher for both of them.
Cottage in the Mountains
Since leaving Yawmouth, Lita had been aware of a strange difference. It was as if she had gained an extra sense, for she was now aware of a mild thrumming emanating from everything around her. It came from the sun above, the rocks and the trees and the meadow. It also came from the horse she rode, from Yaron and Sal but not so that she could recognise one thrumming from another – it was all mixed up like a fragrantly spiced soup. She felt it had something to do with the power she’d discovered at Madam Grist’s. One moment it filled her with excitement, and then the next, when she remembered what she had done, it filled her with dread.
Midmorning, when they stopped for a rest, Lita stalked off alone, into the woods, and tentatively drew on the power around her. She felt the slow tingle of the Change, even though it was broad daylight and she opened her eyes with a start. Surrounding her, in a perfect circle, the grass had burnt to a crisp and the air had gone chill. She tried it again with the same result. The Change itself felt the same, but she was different. It was as though she had found the means to navigate. Before, whenever she had experienced the Change, she had been at the mercy of the moon like a rudderless boat drifting with the currents, but now she had her hand on the tiller and was steering her own way, using the power around her instead of letting it use her. She felt a small thrill of excitement, until she remembered the death of the Madam and the Brother.
She’d felt shame before, when she killed the she-wolf. Only this was worse. This time she’d taken the lives of folk. She wondered what MaKiki would have said to that? Would she have understood that Lita never meant that sort of harm? And if there really was an afterlife Lita wondered if she would be held to account for her sins, even if they were unintentioned? Her thoughts spun, and the weight of her actions made her innards churn. MaKiki would have known what to do, Lita thought. Even if it did come out her mouth in a bristly kind of way.
Shortly after this, she returned to Yaron and Sal, filled with unease. She did not breathe a word about what she had done. She needed time to decide how she felt about this new
power.
*
By early morning they reached the foothills of the Downs County. In the distance lay purple tinged mountains, for which they were bound. The trio gave the Keep a wide berth and travelled through the pine forest that bordered the grasslands. At one point, Lita spied the flag of the Keep, waving above the tips of the trees, but other than that, she would not have known they were near the settlement.
Not for the first time, Lita wondered about Madea. Had she run from the Keep after Lita’s capture? Or was she foolish enough to believe that the danger had passed? She wondered too if Madea had ever stumbled on the secret power. She did not think so, for surely Madea would have said something about it.
All morning the horses climbed steadily, following a deer track into the hills. The terrain changed little until around midday when the pine trees gave way to wilder cousins – split limbed birch and grizzly old oaks. The air was colder on the mountain, and Lita drew her cloak snug around her body, and wrapped her scarf tight around her head and throat. On occasion the track petered to nothing and Yaron would pause, survey the line of the mountains and measure their journey against a few errant outcroppings. Each time, they travelled on, adjusting their trajectory. Each of them was silent, mulling on their own concerns.
By mid afternoon, their ascent was halted by a sheer vertical cliff. Yaron led them along its base until their track vanished, just like that. Lita began to wonder whether Yaron had lost his way, when suddenly he dismounted. He took hold of their horse’s reigns and gently pulled it toward a shadowy crevice in the cliff face, murming to his stead with encouragement. To Lita’s astonishment, the crevice, which had been camouflaged by shadow was wide enough to allow their passage. Once they were inside the ravine, Yaron re-mounted. The walls of the ravine were tall and steep, and only a sliver of the grey sky could be seen when Lita glanced up. The sound of the horses’ shoes reverberated through the ravine, and the cold stone leeched the last remaining warmth from Lita’s bones.