by Kate Forsyth
‘You have no right to be sneaking around visiting her in the night,’ Zed said. ‘If Aubin hears of this, you’ll be dismissed at once.’
‘Please don’t report me, my lord. It’s hard to snatch a moment together, Annie’s always up here serving Lady Priscilla and I’m always down in the guardroom.’
‘Which is where you should be,’ Zed said coldly. ‘Get back down there now, and do not let me catch you in the family’s quarters again. Have you no thought for my sister’s reputation?’
Wilhelm mumbled another apology and hurried away. Zed led the way down the main staircase, frowning. ‘I wonder if Aubin is getting too old for the job,’ he burst out after a while. ‘It’s a scandal! My father would be furious if he knew.’
‘It must be hard on them, if they’re in love,’ Merry said quietly. ‘Don’t tell on him, Zed.’
Zed cast him an irritated look. ‘Always so soft-hearted, Merry. All right, I won’t tell, but he’d better not come sneaking round up here again.’
They slipped out the postern gate and hurried down towards the lake. The sun was just rising, and grey ribbons of smoke curled from the chimneys in the township.
‘I can’t see any swans anywhere,’ Liliana said anxiously.
‘No,’ Zed said in surprise. ‘Normally you can see them from here, floating on the water.’
Frowning, they strode along the shore, the water before them shimmering with soft dawn colours.
‘Where could they be?’ Zed said.
‘There,’ Liliana said bleakly and pointed. Ahead of them, on a long beach of shingly sand, lay the torn and dismembered bodies of two dozen swans and cygnets. Blood splattered the pebbles and stained the grey sand, and broken white feathers drifted in the soft lap of the water.
‘They’re all dead,’ Zed said blankly.
‘Every one of them? Surely not!’ Merry began to examine the torn corpses, his face pale and haggard.
‘We must pluck it from a living bird, Briony said so more than once. Oh, what shall we do?’ Liliana cried.
‘There is nothing we can do,’ Merry said grimly. ‘They are all dead. We must find our swan feather elsewhere.’
Zed was staring around, eyes wide with shock. ‘But swans are sacred to the Ziv. Who would have dared massacre them like this?’
‘Or what?’ Merry said in a low voice. ‘They’ve been torn to pieces. Some kind of beast did this.’
‘We’ll not find another swan easily, only the Ziv may keep them.’
‘There’ll be some in Zarissa then,’ Merry said, sitting down on a boulder and letting his hands hang limply before him. ‘We will have to find our swan feather there.’
‘Steal a feather from the king’s swans? I’d not like to be caught!’
‘But who did this?’ Liliana cried. ‘And why?’
‘To stop us getting our third feather,’ Merry said grimly. ‘It’s a good question, though, Lili. Who could have done such a thing? It must be someone who overheard us discussing the swans. Which means it’s someone at the castle.’
‘A spy!’ Liliana cried. ‘I told you so!’
CHAPTER 13
The Star and Crown Inn
THE NEXT MORNING, THREE LONG BARGES PULLED AWAY from the jetty at Levanna-On-The-Lake. In the centre was the royal barge, with the count and his family and guests. It was an elaborately carved and gilded boat, with a purple velvet canopy fringed with gold, and a high prow shaped like a swan, with narrow eyes lined with the blackest of ebon and a beak of garnets.
The barge was rowed by forty-eight oarsmen, and guarded by the constable, Aubin the Fair, and twelve men-at-arms. A steersman stood at the back, on a high poop deck, while a lookout lay inside the swan’s wooden skull and gazed out through its black eyes. The glass set inside the elongated shape of the eyes was curved so that he could see further and more clearly.
The count’s lesser servants were carried in the smaller barges before and after. Their vessels were also carved like giant swans, but without the royal canopy or the lavish gilding.
Liliana and Zed sat on one of the comfortable cushioned lounges, arguing in low voices, while Merry sat on the floor nearby, strumming his lute and occasionally marking a note on a roll of ancient parchment with his threadbare quill. Tom-Tit-Tot slept peacefully on a cushion, in the shape of a ferret, his tummy round with food.
‘Well, someone must have been spying on us,’ Liliana said. ‘Which means someone knows what we plan.’
‘But how?’
‘Is there not some kind of spying device you starkin use to keep watch on people?
‘Well, there is a farseeing lens,’ Zedrin replied. ‘We have them installed in every castle, to watch for enemies approaching, and there is one in the crystal tower—there.’ He pointed towards the tall glass spire on the island in the centre of the lake. ‘That one is very strong. Our astronomer says you can see stars and moons and comets with it that are invisible to the naked eye. But that is what it is used for, not spying on people.’
‘Besides,’ Merry said, ‘someone may well have seen us approaching the castle through one of the farseeing lenses, but it still doesn’t explain how they knew we wanted a swan’s feather. You cannot hear through them, only see. I think someone has been eavesdropping on our conversations.’
‘But who?’ Liliana cried.
‘Could it be Zak?’ Merry asked, lowering his voice. ‘After all, he was lurking around while we were talking in the courtyard. He could’ve overheard us.’
‘That buffoon?’ Zed said. ‘I can just imagine him trying to take an axe to a flock of angry swans. They’d have pecked him to death.’
‘Can you imagine him tottering down to the lake in his high-heeled shoes, calling, “Come here, little swannie, come here and let me kill you”?’ Liliana said.
‘I guess not,’ Merry said. ‘It could be one of the servants, I suppose. We never really notice them coming and going.’
‘It’s Aubin the Fair,’ said Liliana. ‘I tell you, he was eavesdropping on us when we were talking in the courtyard, I saw him.’
‘Aubin would never do such a thing!’ Zed said. ‘He reveres everything to do with the starkin. He’s so proud of being the castle constable, he’d never do anything to risk losing his position. I mean, he’s permitted to wear a sword. That’s a very high honour for a hearthkin.’
‘I bet that sword would have made short work of the swans,’ Liliana said.
‘I tell you, he wouldn’t have,’ Zed said, growing angry. ‘He’s the most law-abiding person I know.’
‘We’ll just have to keep a sharp eye out and be careful what we say,’ Merry said. ‘You know . . .’
‘I know,’ Lili sighed. ‘No hissing “starkin scum”.’
‘Whatever are you three up to?’ Priscilla said. She and her maid Annie were sitting nearby, embroidering half-heartedly. ‘You’re all very mysterious, the way you always huddle together whispering. What mischief are you planning?’
‘We were deciding whether to hide slugs in your bed, or worms,’ Merry said.
Priscilla shrieked. ‘Oh, you wouldn’t! Would you?’
‘I’m arguing for slugs, but Zed thinks they might be rather hard to find on board the barge and he’s suggesting dead fish.’
‘Oh, Zed, you wouldn’t! You know I can’t bear dead things. I’ll never forgive you if you do!’
‘I’d check your bed before you climb into it tonight,’ Merry said.
‘Where shall we stop to sleep tonight?’ Priscilla asked.
‘There are inns all the way along the Evenlode,’ her uncle told her. Thin and pale, with an aquiline nose and neatly combed fair hair, Count Zygmunt sat leaning back in a cushioned chair, one hand resting on the knob of a polished walking stick. ‘Each town along the river was built to be a day’s barge trip away from each other. It means we can get out and walk on dry land, and sleep in a proper bed.’
‘I wouldn’t mind sleeping on board the barge,’ Priscilla said. ‘It’d be so romantic, lying under t
he stars.’
‘Being eaten alive by midges,’ her brother teased her.
‘So how long does it take to get there, Uncle Ziggy?’ Priscilla asked.
‘It could take three weeks or more,’ Count Zygmunt replied, sounding weary at the thought. ‘It’s another six days till we reach the river mouth, and then we will hire a ship to sail up the coast to Zarissa. Depending on the winds, it could take another two weeks to reach the palace.’
‘It’s such a long way!’ Priscilla exclaimed. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t fly there, Zakary, instead of coming on the barge with us.’
Zakary was lying back on a cushioned seat nearby, one of the count’s pageboys holding a pink silk parasol to shade him from the sun. Without opening his eyes, Zakary said, ‘Oh, my dear, flying is so exhausting! Besides, how can I give your brother any court polish when I am not around to show him by example?’
‘If I had a sisika bird like Sugar I’d fly him everywhere!’
Priscilla said. ‘Poor bird, he must hate being kept in that cage.’ She glanced towards the barge behind them, where the constant shrieking of Zakary’s sisika could faintly be heard.
‘Well, you couldn’t fly anyway,’ Zed said lazily. ‘Only starkin lords are permitted to ride sisikas.’
‘You could if you wanted to,’ Merry said.
‘I don’t really want to,’ Zed replied. ‘Vicious creatures, sisika birds! I’m quite comfortable down on the ground.’
‘I wonder sometimes what it would be like, to fly so high in the sky,’ Merry said, resting his head back against a cushion so he could gaze up at the cloud-strewn arc above him. ‘Imagine the view!’
‘Oh, my dear, it’s absolutely terrifying,’ Zakary said. ‘I keep my eyes shut most of the time and just hope Sugar takes me where I want to go. Really, I fly very rarely. I do hope you appreciate the sacrifice I’ve made for you, Zed darling, coming all this way just for you.’
Zed flushed red and said stiffly, ‘Really, Zak, there was no need.’
Zakary looked at him with one delicate eyebrow raised. ‘Trust me, Zed, there is! Imagine if you turned up to court wearing those?’ He snapped his fan shut and used it to point at Zed’s long black boots. ‘You look like a farmer. Really, I shall need every minute of every day, and even then, I must admit my heart is filled with despair.’
‘What’s wrong with my boots?’ Zed said crossly. ‘At least I can walk and run and fight in them, which is more than you can do in those stupid shoes of yours.’
‘Zed’s not really interested in fashion,’ Priscilla said.
Zakary shut his eyes in exquisite pain. ‘Not interested in fashion! What else is there to be interested in? Luckily you, my sweet Priscilla, are a far more worthy subject for my genius. I think I’ll be able to manage to make you really quite presentable!’
‘Thank you, Zak,’ Priscilla replied demurely, with a quick mischievous look at her fuming brother.
Two days later they crossed the border into Hespera. The difference between the two counties was apparent at once. In Estelliana, their passage had been cheered on by the farmers in the fields, and men and women working along the riverbank, mending weirs and fishing nets, and washing clothes. The people had all looked sturdy and strong, with warm clothes and thick leather boots to protect them against the late winter chill.
In Hespera, the people were thin and surly-looking. Some wore little more than rags, with dirty old sacks tied about their shoulders. The cottages were ramshackle, with ox hide tacked above the doorways instead of doors.
‘Everyone is so skinny and sick-looking,’ Priscilla whispered, as they disembarked the barge and walked up the road to the inn where they were to spend the night. ‘Why do they glare at us so?’
‘The Count of Hespera is a harsh man,’ her uncle told her. ‘He does not believe in looking after his people like we do in Estelliana.’
They passed a wooden pillory where a man hung, his head and hands locked through the boards. A nail had been driven through his tongue, fixing it to the board. It stuck out from his mouth, black and swollen and hideous. Priscilla cried out in distress and turned her head away. Merry’s stomach heaved.
‘Why?’ Liliana whispered. ‘Why do such a terrible thing?’
Zakary looked at her in surprise. ‘Why, for speaking seditious words, of course. No doubt the fool spoke out against the count. He is lucky he did not lose his tongue altogether. Though, of course, he still may.’
Faces averted, they walked past. Zed offered his arm to his sister, who had stumbled in her distress. Merry would have liked to have done the same for Liliana, but dared not. He could only exchange a horrified glance with her, to show he shared her feelings. Tom-Tit-Tot pressed himself against Merry’s neck.
‘I have heard,’ Count Zygmunt said to Merry in a low voice, ‘that the Count of Hespera has a great deal of trouble with the rebels here. The local people hide and shelter them, and the count has to deal with constant sabotage.’
Merry looked up at once, his gaze hopeful. Count Zygmunt shrugged, saying in a low and gentle voice, ‘I do not know, Merry. None of us know where she is. We get messages smuggled in sometimes, but we have not seen her for a long time.’
Merry’s shoulders slumped. He saw Aubin the Fair scrutinising him closely, and tried to hide his disappointment that once again there was no news of his mother. He knew the constable, such a stickler for rules, would not approve of Mags. Liliana surreptitiously nudged him with her arm, to show she understood, and he gave her a wan smile in return.
A crowd had gathered to watch the travellers from Estelliana pass. They did not throw flowers, or call blessings, but stood, hunched, arms wrapped about their thin bodies, their eyes hostile.
Suddenly a little girl ran forward and cried in a shrill voice, ‘Look, master! See my dolly?’
Merry’s heart suddenly pounded. He looked down at the limp ragdoll thrust at him. ‘Why, she’s lovely. What’s her name?’
‘Lily, sir, like the lilies in the field.’
‘She’s nice. Very nice. You must love her very much.’
‘Oh, I do, master, I do. Like all mamas love their babies.’
‘Thank you for showing me,’ Merry said, opening his purse and taking out the gold coin he had won from Zed in their knucklebone game. He offered it to her, and she grabbed it with one grimy hand before melting away into the crowd at an incredible speed, as if afraid he would change his mind.
Priscilla was delighted. ‘See, not all the hearthkin hate us. That little girl would never have showed us her dolly if she didn’t like us and want to impress us.’
‘Impress us with a filthy collection of rags like that?’ Zakary said with a theatrical shudder. ‘I’m glad you didn’t touch it, Merry. It was probably infested with fleas.’
‘Oh, surely not!’ Priscilla cried, looking at Zakary in distress. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’
‘It was lovely of her to share her dolly with us,’ Count Zygmunt said warmly, looking around at the surly crowd. ‘We feel greatly honoured.’
The mood of the crowd seemed to lighten at the count’s words. He looked out at the filthy, ragged gathering, then bent his head and had a quick word to his chamberlain, who rather unwillingly began to throw out handfuls of coins to the crowd.
‘The Count of Estelliana bids you all eat and drink well tonight, to celebrate his travels through your country,’ the chamberlain shouted. ‘He wishes you well today and all your days to come. Enjoy!’
‘I wish we could do more for them,’ Liliana whispered.
‘One day,’ Merry whispered back, and she gave him a quick, luminous smile.
The Star and Crown Inn was, like all starkin residences, built for strength and grandeur. It had a massive gatehouse with a portcullis that was lowered at night, and guards that patrolled the battlements with fusilliers over their shoulders. Merry smiled reassuringly at Liliana as they passed under the portcullis, and she cast him a rueful glance in return.
There was a grand hall with a roaring fire laid, and chandeliers blazing with candles. Everything smelt sweet, and Merry noticed small glass oil burners filled with almond oil. The innkeeper was round and burly and brown-haired, with a bulbous nose of a peculiar red colour so deeply pitted it looked like a strange kind of diseased fruit. He bowed deeply to his starkin guests, drawing out chairs for them and pressing a plate of sugared figs upon them. He then snapped his fingers at Merry and Liliana and said unpleasantly, ‘Why are you just standing there, boys? Serve your betters some wine!’
They shared a sardonic look, but did as they were bid, realising that their new livery was not just for show now they were away from Estelliana. While they poured wine and served food, the travellers and the innkeeper talked idly of the weather and their journey to Zarissa, and then Count Zygmunt complimented the innkeeper on his hospitality.
He beamed. ‘Indeed, yes, we make sure we have all the food and wine that could possibly tempt the delicate palate of those of starkin blood, my lord. We have soft white cheeses from Danika, and sugared grapes, and milk-fed veal, and—’
‘What is the name of your inn, sir?’ Merry asked.
The innkeeper was rather affronted at being interrupted by a lowly squire, but answered, ‘The Star and Crown, being loyal to the king and the court as we are.’
‘Oh,’ Merry said. ‘I thought it was called the Lilies in the Field . . .’
The innkeeper looked scandalised. ‘That lowdown hovel! Why, that’s a hearthkin place, near the west gate. No-one could ever mistake our fine establishment for that rundown old place!’
‘My apologies, sir, I must have misunderstood,’ Merry said, and poured Zed some more wine, his friend grimacing at him in apology.
Zakary did not partake of any of the sweet honey-cakes, saying, ‘Oh no, my dear, they’re simply deadly for the waistline! Priscilla, I do not see how you can! You do not wish to lose your figure before you have hooked a husband, do you?’
Priscilla looked at the little cake doubtfully and put it back down on the plate. Liliana at once caught it up and ate it with a defiant look at Zakary, which he did not even notice as he was fussing about the mud on his high, crystal heel. ‘This is the consequence of walking,’ he sighed. ‘I knew I should have ordered a litter.’