Return to Golmeira

by Marianne Ratcliffe

  ‘Room for another?’ she asked. Berynder made a show of looking either side of her.

  ‘Sorry, no room here. Perhaps there’s space by the ovens? You’d feel right at home.’

  Berynder giggled at her own wit. For the second time that day, tears prickled behind Joril’s eyelids.

  ‘You can sit here if you want.’ A doleful voice came from behind her. ‘Always a seat next to me.’

  The voice belonged to Myka. He was sitting at the end of an adjacent table. Joril set down her tray gratefully.

  ‘Don’t let them get to you. Berynder thinks she’s better than everyone else, just because her mother’s rich. She’ll learn. No one cares about your family here. It’s all about how powerful you are.’

  Fester walked behind Myka and slapped him on the back of his head.

  ‘Hey, it’s Myka the mighty! Any sign of those mindweaving powers yet?’ He was followed by Florian and a couple of other purple-shorted trainees. Myka didn’t respond, and they passed by with no more than a snicker.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Myka muttered glumly.

  ‘Is it true? You haven’t got any powers?’

  ‘Jallal says it’s because I don’t want to be here. That I’m not trying.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t you want to be here?’ Joril couldn’t conceive why anyone would not be overjoyed to be a blueblood.

  ‘I miss home. They took me away without even letting me say goodbye to Ma and Pa.’

  ‘Haven’t your parents visited?’

  ‘It’s not allowed,’ Myka said glumly.

  ‘Surely that’s not true? Jallal says I can go and see my mother at Moonscross.’

  ‘Did she now? That’s funny, because they don’t usually let unproven go any further than the outer ramparts. I tried to escape once and they locked me in my room for the whole of Moonscross. I don’t trust any of them, and especially not Jallal. She’s tries too hard to be your friend.’

  ‘I think she’s nice.’ Joril fingered the handkerchief that Jallal had given her. The gong went to signal the return to lessons. On the way back, Joril kept a wary eye out for Bodel, but it seemed her aunt had given up, at least for now.

  Joril worked hard at her lessons, eager to impress. Her enthusiasm drew ridicule from Berynder and some of the others who thought she was trying to be the teacher’s pet. Joril didn’t care. She had come to be a mindweaver and she was determined to succeed.

  The Moonscross holiday arrived and they were released for four days without lessons. Joril woke early and remembered her intention to visit Dalka. Even though Bodel might be there, Joril felt she owed her mother an explanation. She was armed with the information, obtained from Jallal, that it was the law that she be trained by a fully qualified mindweaver. Bodel had no say in the matter. Even so, Joril didn’t much relish facing her aunt. She had looked mighty angry when Jallal slammed the classroom door in her face.

  She found her teacher eating breakfast in the kitchens. Jallal set down her spoon and dabbed a napkin delicately around the corners of her mouth as Joril made her request.

  ‘Oh yes, my dear. I’d quite forgotten. You’ll need a chaperone of course.’

  ‘A chaperone?’

  ‘A mindweaver. To protect you.’

  ‘Why? I’m only going to the village.’

  ‘Thorlberd has many enemies and you’re valuable property now. It’s too dangerous for you to go anywhere unaccompanied. There are all sorts of people who would love to get their hands on a young mindweaver, even an unproven such as yourself.’

  ‘You’re the only mindweaver I know. Will you take me?’

  Jallal shook her head fretfully.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m far too busy today, my dear.’

  ‘But you promised me I could go.’

  ‘Perhaps tomorrow.’

  Another mindweaver sat down next to Jallal and started a conversation about something that had happened in a council meeting. It sounded boring, and they clearly didn’t want Joril around, so she went in search of Tomik. If she couldn’t see Dalka, at least she could ask her father to send a message. She found him in the stables, brushing down a bay mare with a white stripe on her forehead. With him was Myka.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Joril looked at Myka in surprise.

  Myka took hold of the bay’s tail and began to run a comb through it, gently untangling the knots.

  ‘Young lad’s a natural with the horses,’ said Tomik. ‘Southlanders often are, right enough. Myka gives me a hand now and then. What brings you here, duckie?’

  Joril took a guber-root between her fingers and thrust it towards the mare’s mouth. It nearly took her fingers off as it snaffled the vegetable.

  ‘Not like that.’ Myka opened out her hand and placed another guber-root on her palm. This time, the horse took it from her gently. Joril giggled as the rough tongue tickled her skin.

  ‘Fancy being a groom’s daughter and not knowing how to feed a horse,’ Myka remarked. Tomik chuckled.

  ‘Our Joril’s never been much interested in my job, ’cept to ask which horse Lord Rastran rides.’

  Joril looked around the stables.

  ‘Well, which one is it?’

  ‘Lord Rastran has quite a few favourites. Took two of them with ’im on this expedition of theirs. Lord Thorlberd’s took ’is white stallion, more’s the pity. A lovely fella that.’

  Myka nodded. ‘I’ve seen him. North Plains stock for sure. All our best horses come from there.’

  ‘How’s things in the village?’ Joril interjected quickly. Once Tomik got started talking about horses, he’d be hard to stop. ‘I couldn’t get anyone to chaperone me today, but tell mother I’ll definitely see her tomorrow.’

  Tomik removed his cap and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

  ‘Yer Ma ain’t good I’m afraid, duckie. She perked up a bit when we told her you was safe, but now that Bodel’s up and left, she’s gone down bad again.’

  ‘Auntie Bodel’s gone?’

  ‘Aye. Day after she was up here looking for you. Said she didn’t want to bring trouble to us. I don’t know what in the stars she was talking about, but she seemed in a mighty hurry to leave. Funny thing though; the next day a couple of mindweavers came by asking to speak with her. There were soldiers with them.’

  ‘Funny indeed,’ Myka remarked drily. He increased the length of the strokes he was using to brush out the mare’s tail and finished with a flourish before he set down his comb.

  ‘Fancy a walk, Joril? We could go round the outer ramparts. It’s such a nice day, we might even see as far as the sea.’

  ‘Really?’ Joril jumped up and down in excitement. ‘Oh, I’ve never seen the sea before.’

  They bid farewell to Tomik and headed down the gentle slope to the ramparts. An elevated walkway inside the battlements allowed them to walk side by side. It was accessed by wooden steps arranged at intervals around the walls. Joril was disappointed to find that the sea was too far away to be visible, even though the day was clear.

  ‘I can see your village,’ Myka remarked as they approached the archway. Below her, the same portly guard was on duty as when Joril had come to the castle. She nudged Myka and skipped down the nearest steps, which took her close to the guard hut. She fingered her purple sash.

  ‘You are such a show off,’ Myka whispered. Joril stuck out her chin.

  ‘Guard!’ she called imperiously. The woman squinted at her.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Um…’ Joril realised she hadn’t actually thought of anything to say. ‘Many people in and out today?’ she asked hurriedly. The woman eyed her every bit as dismissively as she had previously.

  ‘Some. But don’t think you’ll be getting out, young lady, unless you’ve got a ticket from your teacher.’

  ‘That told you,’ Myka remarked, as Joril slunk away, red-faced. They took the next set of steps to regain the battlements.

  ‘At least she called me young lady this time.’

  ‘Why do
you care so much what people call you?’

  Joril stopped and looked out across Highcastle Forest. Myka was right, she could see her village in the distance. She even thought she could spot the roof of the bakery and the open yard next to it.

  ‘Ma isn’t always well,’ she said. ‘She had blue fever when I was a baby and her memory never recovered. She forgets things and that makes her nervous. Everyone calls her Mad Dalka, and I’ve always been known as Mad Dalka’s daughter. Or else Flour-head. I’m fed up with it. A few years ago, a parade came through. All the Marls and their consorts, and mindweavers wearing golden robes. They looked so fine and everyone was cheering them. No one called them names. I wanted to be like them. And now I can. I don’t get why you want to turn it all down and go back to Southland.’

  ‘Have you ever stopped to think whether mindweaving is right? Peeking into folk’s minds? Is it any of our business what people think?’

  ‘Jallal says that if people are planning treason, it’s better to know, so we can stop them before they hurt anyone.’

  ‘But who’s to say what’s treasonous? Say I disagree with something Jallal said. Should I be sent to the dungeon for it?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. No one would get sent to the dungeon for something like that.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure. What about your Auntie Bodel? Does she deserve to be arrested? Because I reckon that’s what would have happened if she hadn’t scarpered.’

  ‘Why would anyone want to arrest her? I mean, she’s annoying, but if you got arrested for that, the dungeons would be bursting.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s suspicious that she disappeared the day after she locked horns with Jallal? Do you really think they send two mindweavers and a bunch of soldiers just to talk to someone?’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this. If anyone hears you talking such rubbish we’ll both get in trouble.’

  Joril ran off, leaving Myka behind. He was no fun to be around. She spent the rest of the day avoiding him. Why ruin the holiday being miserable?

  The next morning, Joril was woken by a knock at the door. As she got up to answer, she noted Berynder’s bed was empty. Ever since her roommate had learned Joril was daughter of a baker and a groom, she had wanted nothing to do with her. At the door Myka was wearing his usual glum expression.

  ‘Sorry if I upset you,’ he said. ‘I hope we can still be friends.’

  He looked so forlorn, she took pity on him. Besides, it wasn’t as if anyone else at the castle was jumping at the chance to be her friend.

  ‘Breakfast?’ she suggested.

  ‘You read my mind. No wonder everyone’s expecting great things of you. Are you sure you’re not a mindweaver already?’

  Joril was delighted with the compliment and they headed for the kitchens together. She had just polished off a large bowl of sweetened porridge when Jallal entered. Joril jumped up.

  ‘I’ll show you that you’re wrong about Jallal. Come on.’

  Jallal beamed her usual smile of welcome as they approached, but then she stopped and clapped her hands over her mouth.

  ‘Oh, Joril dearie. You wanted to go outside the castle today, didn’t you? I’m terribly sorry, but Highmaster Strinverl himself has just called a council meeting. It will last all day and probably tomorrow too. I can’t possibly get out of it. We’ll just have to wait until next Moonscross.’

  ‘Oh.’ Joril turned away, deflated. As they left the kitchen, Myka pulled her into a side chamber.

  ‘Now do you believe me? I told you she’d break her promise.’

  ‘She can’t help it if the highmaster has called her away,’ Joril said loyally. Myka pressed his palm against his forehead as if it pained him.

  ‘I’m sure she was lying. I’ve felt it before, but this time I’m certain.’

  ‘What do you mean? I thought you couldn’t read minds.’

  ‘I can’t, but something felt wrong. Quick, tell me a lie. Anything, as long as it’s not true.’

  ‘This is crazy,’ Joril protested.

  ‘Just do it. Please.’

  ‘Ok. I’m eighteen years old.’

  ‘LIE!’ he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at her. Joril rolled her eyes.

  ‘Well, obviously,’ she said drily.

  ‘And now the truth. Tell me something truthful.’

  Joril decided to humour him.

  ‘I want to be a mindweaver more than anything.’

  Myka shook his head. ‘Sad, but true.’ His voice rose in mounting excitement. ‘Tell me things that are either true or false and let me figure out which is which. Come on, come on.’

  ‘Um… I hate guber-root.’

  ‘False.’

  ‘Lucky guess. How about this one; Tomik has a big wart under his left armpit.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Well, you could have seen that when you were scrubbing down the horses.’

  ‘I haven’t, I swear. Come on, give me another one.’

  Joril had never seen him so animated. She thought for a moment.

  ‘What’s the last present Bodel gave me?’

  ‘How should I know? Myka protested. ‘I can’t read minds remember? Idiot.’

  ‘Hey, I’m not an idiot!’

  ‘False!’ Myka grinned. ‘Ow! No need to hit me. All right, I admit that one doesn’t count. Seriously, Joril, I think I’ve found my talent.’

  ‘She gave me a book.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Bodel. She gave me a book. True or False?’

  ‘True.’

  Joril’s chin dropped. ‘That’s amazing!’ She grabbed his hands and swung him round in a jig. ‘Oh Myka, I’m so pleased for you. No one will make fun of you now.’

  But after a couple of skips, Myka pulled up with a deep frown.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘If I really can tell truth from lies, then it means I was right about Jallal lying to you earlier. The only question is why?’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kylen and Zastra retreated into the forest to wait for the others. They daren’t risk making camp too close to the fortress in case they were spotted by the migaradon, which circled above Finistron every morning and evening. Each time she saw it, Zastra itched to shoot it. She blamed the migaradon for losing her brother. But killing the beast would bring a troop of soldiers upon them. A few leagues north of the fortress, they found a network of caves halfway up a rocky precipice, from which they could see anyone approaching below. It was also possible to light a fire in the inner caves without it being visible. They stowed their few belongings and set up station by the side of the track to wait for the others. Ithgol was first, the others lagging behind.

  ‘You took long enough,’ Kylen remarked. Ithgol looked questioningly at Zastra, who shook her head. Dalbric came next, just ahead of the others. He was still pale and the bump on his head had grown to the size of an egg.

  ‘Fin?’ he asked. When Zastra couldn’t meet his gaze, he sank to his knees. Ithgol helped him up and Zastra and Kylen led them back to the caves where Polina applied a cold poultice to Dalbric’s head. After a dish of hot broth he looked a little better. Zastra related what had happened.

  ‘Well, that’s that,’ Hanra said. ‘It’s a shame, but Fin wouldn’t want us getting killed on some doomed rescue attempt.’

  Zastra turned to Polina.

  ‘Pol, you’re a mindweaver. Anything you could do to get us inside the castle?’

  ‘I’m willing to try. Do you know how many mindweavers Ixendred has?’

  ‘Four at least. We watched the fort for some time yesterday morning. Two mindweavers are always stationed by the gates, along with a full guard. They question everyone who tries to enter the fortress. At noon there was a change of shift and two new mindweavers took over.’

  Polina sighed. ‘I doubt I could fool so many. Even if I could defeat them all, they would certainly alert the guards.’

  ‘We need to get closer,’ said Zastra. ‘Perhaps Finistron has a weakness that we ca
n’t see from a distance. There’s a kind of shanty town outside the gates. Someone there may have useful information.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Kylen offered. ‘No one will notice another Sendoran. Dalbric could probably pass for one too.’

  ‘Dalbric is not well enough,’ Hanra protested.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Dalbric insisted. ‘I want to help.’

  Zastra hadn’t the heart to refuse him. ‘Very well. I’ll team up with Kylen and Polina can go with Dalbric, so that he’s protected if you encounter a mindweaver. Ithgol, you’ll have to stay here with Hanra. You’ll draw too much attention.’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Hanra cried. ‘I refuse to stay here alone with this… this thing!’ She waved her arms in the general direction of Ithgol although she refused to actually look at him. ‘Dalbric, I insist you stay here with me.’

  But Dalbric would not change his mind. As they argued, Zastra began to prepare. With some reluctance, she decided she must leave behind her crossbow and her sword. They would draw attention. She took only a knife for protection, tucked inside her left boot. Kylen’s cape and hood were designed to hide the broadsword slung diagonally across her back and Zastra didn’t dare suggest the Sendoran leave it behind.

  ‘Kylen and I will go first. Don’t follow until we give the signal. If it is a trap, there’s no point in all of us getting caught.’

  ‘Got it,’ Dalbric said grimly. Hanra stormed out of the cave. Zastra didn’t envy Dalbric the tongue lashing he was likely to receive on his return.

  ‘Good luck,’ she said, as she adjusted Dalbric’s cap to hide his bandage.

  ‘Thanks, I’ll need it,’ Ithgol responded glumly. Kylen and Zastra were still chuckling as they left the safety of their camp and headed towards Finistron. They left Polina and Dalbric at the top of the escarpment and made for the collection of squalid huts and makeshift tents in front of the fort. They received looks and glances, as any strangers would, but no one challenged them. Zastra stopped to fiddle with her belt, the signal to Polina and Dalbric that it was safe.

  ‘Fish? Fresh vizzal meat? Good prices.’

  A gaunt man thrust a tiny river trout and some grey meat that looked suspiciously like scrittal under Kylen’s nose.