"It is for the Witch of Lythos. Unless I am mistaken, that title belongs to you now."
Feran held the scroll out to her and Marta reluctantly accepted it. Not that she thought the 'title' was appropriate, but still there was truth in what he said. She broke the seal while Bone Tapper flapped over from the windowsill where he'd been resting and landed on her shoulder. He perched there, reading along as she did:
"Send to the Witch of Lythos Warm Greetings.
I have need of you again, as we both knew I would.
Please come in speed, but not in haste."
— Alian
That was all it said. Marta rolled the message up again. She realized Feran was still standing and she bade him sit down while she considered what to do. It didn't take long since, to Marta's way of thinking, there wasn't much choice.
"It's too late to leave today. I'll set out for Karsan in the morning."
"As you will; I do not know what the message was, though I was given to understand the matter was important but not urgent." Feran started to rise, but Marta's mind was already somewhere else. "I'll leave you, then."
Marta blinked at him, uncomprehending for a moment. "It's almost dark. You don't want to be traveling now. You're welcome to stay here tonight if you don't need to return immediately."
Bone Tapper squawked, but Marta shushed him with a glance. Feran smiled hesitantly. "That's very kind of you. I'll escort you back to Karsan, if you'd like. No one will fault me if I bring you to the king personally."
"Thank you. Bone Tapper will show you where to sleep tonight. There's room for your mount in our stable, but I would keep him away from Yssara. He bites. We won't be having supper as such, but there's a decent pease porridge on the fire if you're hungry. Help yourself."
While Bone Tapper escorted Feran to the guest room Kath had occasionally used for just this purpose, Marta picked up her mother's accounts book and made her way up the stairs to her old bedroom. She'd slept a few times in her mother's bed, soon after returning home with Bone Tapper and Yssara, but not since. A little while later Bone Tapper joined her there.
"This isn't a good idea," Bone Tapper said.
Marta looked up from the book. "What isn't?"
" Letting that young man stay here, of course! Have you forgotten Laras already?"
"Feran's harmless."
Bone Tapper looked down his beak at her. "Such a judge of young men's character already, are we?"
"Of this one, yes." Marta turned the page, read for a moment, then turned it back. Bone Tapper was still looking at her. "Stop looking at me as if I were a lamb in a thicket! Will you please explain your concern?"
"That should be clear enough! You're practically alone, since there's very little I could do if it came to trouble."
"It won't," Marta said. "Kath did the same, sometimes. It's a long trip from Karsan."
"Kath had Treedle, who in his hob form was stronger than most oxen of my acquaintance," Bone Tapper said, but hurried on when Marta scowled at the name. "It's not proper! A young man and woman, unchaperoned save for a raven—"
"I'm not a young woman," Marta said grimly. "I'm the Witch of Lythos. He won't try anything."
"Perhaps he won't, but what if he does?" Bone Tapper asked. "What will you do?"
"If you must know, I'll shatter his spine like an icicle," Marta said. And to illustrate her point, she picked up an empty stone candlestick and invoked the First Law. In a moment the pieces rained down onto the floor. There wasn't a single one larger than a pea.
Bone Tapper stared at the debris. "Impressive. Just remember that you can't solve all your problems by breaking them.”
"Duly noted. Good night, Bone Tapper," Marta said, in a tone that made it clear that this was not a suggestion.
Bone Tapper, with one last glance at the rubble, shrugged again and wished her pleasant dreams before flapping out the door. Marta then locked that door against all and sundry and spent the better part of the evening studying her mother's books, both accounts book and histories. For all that she had told Laras that the keys to power weren't in a book, she continued to examine these as she had been doing since her mother's death. Perhaps they wouldn't lead her to more power or understanding, but she had to try. As far as she could tell there weren't a lot of other options.
There are archives in the king's palace at Karsan. Perhaps they can be of help to me.
Marta had always assumed that her mother went there for pleasure, but it now occurred to her that, perhaps, there was more to it. That might be worth finding out for herself.
Marta continued reading until the candled burned down and sleep finally took her. By sunrise she was awake again, but her eyes were red and the morning sun, weak thought it might have been, was close to blinding. Feran found her leading Yssara out to the cart when he came to saddle his own mount. Smoke curled from Yssara's nostrils, but Marta was in no mood for nonsense and the beast behaved himself.
"Good morning, Mistress. That's an...interesting breed of horse," Feran said. "I'm not familiar with it."
"He's not really a horse," Marta said, and Yssara snorted another plume of smoke in emphatic agreement. Marta didn't elaborate. "Did you sleep well?"
Feran turned his gaze away from Yssara. "Much better than I would have in a cold camp in the woods," he said. "My thanks."
Marta shrugged. "My mother would have done the same," she said, thinking that it was probably true. She would be like her mother where she could. If all else was subject to doubt in her life there could be that one certainty. There needed to be at least one.
Marta slid the harness collar over Yssara's head. Feran stepped forward to help but Marta waved him back. "He won't let anyone touch him except me...and that grudgingly," she said, pausing to swat Yssara on the nose when he threatened to take a nip out of her thigh. Yssara submitted with bad grace, but Marta finally got him harnessed properly. She'd already packed provisions into the cart but she did let Feran help her load a bag of grain for Yssara. She took a little satisfaction knowing that the beast probably didn't like grain, but in his present form was not capable of eating much else save grass, and there wasn't much of that around this time of year.
Marta climbed up into the driver's seat and Bone Tapper perched on the peaked roof of the cart behind her. Feran mounted his big dun gelding and the set off. They had only ridden for a little while when Marta asked the question she'd been wanting to ask all morning.
"I don't suppose you have any idea why King Alian wanted my mother? If you wouldn't be revealing secrets, that is."
Feran shook his head. "I can't reveal any secrets because I don't know any. I didn't even know the message was a summons until you told me, thought of course I'd assumed so. I've heard no rumors; all at the castle are well as far as I know."
"Including the queen and her son?"
Feran nodded, smiling. "Especially them. A fine healthy boy and the queen is radiant. Motherhood suits her."
Marta was glad of that. She remembered too well what the poor girl had gone through the first time. Still, she was sorry that Feran didn't have any more information for her. She didn't know what to expect when they arrived at Karsan and considered the very real possibility that she would not be able to do whatever it was the king required. She had resolved to try, whatever it was. No point in letting the king think as little of her abilities as she herself did... Marta let the thought trail off into confusion.
What...was that?
The feeling was familiar, but it took her several moments to turn it into something coherent, something she understood on a conscious level and could express in words. The feeling was that of recognition. Something she recognized but that she didn't know. It seemed like a paradox, but it was more like remembering something she hadn't even known that she had forgotten. The last time she'd felt it was just before she'd found the First Law of Power.
I touched one of the Laws.
She was sure of it, but she didn't know which one and, try as she might to
reconstruct the thoughts that led up to it, she couldn't quite get a grip on it. Something about not letting the king know her limitations. How could that be it? The notion was little more than sense, to Marta's way of thinking. Where was the recognition coming from? Marta sighed. Whatever it was, it was gone now. She knew it had been important, but whether in itself or as proof of Marta's ability to feel that connection, she didn't know.
Feran rode beside the cart on her right. "You look very serious, Mistress," he said.
"Marta," Marta said, distracted. The word felt wrong to her. Grating. As if he were accusing her of something she wasn't. There was nothing in Feran's tone or manner to suggest he was being anything other than polite, but she wished he would stop it just the same. "I was just thinking of something; it's probably not important," she said, though she knew better.
Feran smiled, looking sheepish. "It's very difficult for me to get used to the idea of addressing the Witch of Lythos by her given name."
"Even for a King's Messenger?"
"A glorified errand-boy, Marta. Yet it does get me out and into the countryside. I'm from Wittanplace, originally."
"That's east of Karsan, isn't it? I've never been there, though I think my mother spent some time in the area once." It was where Treedle had entered her service, if Marta remembered what her mother had told her aright. Marta blinked, and thought of something she hadn't before.
"Bone Tapper, you were with Kath when Treedle entered her service, not so?"
"Yes," Bone Tapper said from his perch on top of the cart. "Why?"
"Where did it happen? Was it at Wittanplace?"
"No, but very near to it. Averdale, I believe. Wretched little village."
"Yes, though I'm sure the villagers had a much higher opinion of you," Marta said dryly.
Feran looked from one to the other, clearly without a clue as to what they were talking about or what it meant. Marta wasn't totally certain of that herself, but when her duty to the king was done she thought she just might find out.
"You may have just done me a service, Feran."
He blinked. "I have? How did I do that?"
"By reminding me of something I should have thought of myself, and weeks ago at that. Don't concern yourself about that; it's private. I am grateful, though."
Feran shook his head, looking bemused. "On a first name basis with The Witch of Lythos and she's in my debt as well? This is starting out as an amazing day."
Marta blushed slightly, though for the life of her she didn't know why she should. "Well, a small debt...more than likely. Real enough, though."
Feran looked at her intently then. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes," Marta said, though with more reluctance. There was a hint of calculation in Feran's eyes that she hadn't seen before, and she didn't like it at all. In a moment, though, he seemed back to normal, and in a little while Marta stopped thinking about it. Feran was a much more pleasant conversationalist than Bone Tapper tended to be, and the day passed very quickly. By evening Marta knew most of Feran's family history and much of his childhood, and she'd revealed more about herself than she'd really planned. Still, she couldn't see the harm in it, and it had made for quicker travel. It wasn't until they had camped for the night and Feran had gone off into the trees to pay heed to nature that Bone Tapper spoke again.
"You're thinking Treedle might have gone home."
"I am. Aren't you?"
Bone Tapper shrugged. "He's been gone for years. It wouldn't be his home now."
"It wouldn't? Surely he has some family left there."
"Who would stone him as a revenant or worse, more than likely, assuming they even recognized him."
Marta frowned. "They would? Why?"
"You didn't see me before I was changed back to a raven. You haven't seen Treedle in any form except a hob. You wouldn't know about this."
"About what?"
"When the body is changed for service it's as if the old form is put in storage...that's not how it really works, I know, but the effect is the same. When I was a man again I was exactly as I was the day I entered your mother's service, and not a day older. It will be the same for Treedle. He would return a young man, just as he was. If he returned a proper graybeard he could make up a story of running away to see the world or some other poppycock. What would he tell any family remaining when he returns a youth? That he was enchanted?"
"Well...wasn't he?"
"That's not the point! Would they believe him? Would anyone even recognize him? That's the point."
Marta glanced to heaven. "Bone Tapper, I swear by the Powers that if you found an emerald in a dung heap you'd complain about the smell!"
He cocked an eye at her. "Wouldn't you?"
Marta's mouth set in a hard line. "We will search around both Averdael and Wittanplace," she said. "When time permits, since even a hint of a direction is better than none, and I will not let Treedle escape his debt. So. What else do you wish to say? I know there's something else nagging at you."
"That boy, as if you didn't know."
"Feran? What has he done?"
"Nothing."
Marta scowled. "Bone Tapper, we've come a long way today, and I've probably spoken more than I have in a month and I really need some hot tea and supper. I'm tired. I'm not in the mood for a riddle."
"No riddle. You asked what he'd done and I told you. That doesn't mean he won't do anything. I saw that look on his smiling face when you talked to him about that niggling 'debt' you may owe him. I know that look, if you don't. He wants something."
Marta shrugged. Her head was starting to hurt. "Everyone wants something. It's not a sin."
"True enough, but what Feran wants he wants from you. Your mother understood what that meant but you don't. Until you learn you're like a lamb in a thicket, bleating for the wolf."
"Again, duly noted, and thank you once more for the reminder of how wanting I am compared to Black Kath of Lythos. Now be still; Feran's coming back, unless I misunderstand all that noise in the undergrowth. Have a look around the campsite to make sure no one else is about."
Bone Tapper flew off without another word. In another few moments Feran returned, bearing an armload of dead wood. He cut several shavings with a small knife in his tinderbox and had a fire going in almost no time at all. Marta brought an iron tripod from the cart and soon had a broth and water for tea simmering to go with their bread and cheese. Bone Tapper didn't return until supper was long done, but when Marta asked, the raven replied that there was no one for miles and he had dined elsewhere, thanks just the same. Marta, remembering the deer, didn't ask further. Bone Tapper fluttered off to the top of the cart and settled in to cleaning his feathers.
"I don't think I could ever get used to talking with a raven," Feran said.
"I should think it would be far easier to get used to speaking to one than to being one," Bone Tapper said, "but I'll admit all my experience is of the latter."
Feran looked embarrassed, but Marta just smiled. "I've been doing it all my life. I think it would be rather strange without Bone Tapper around."
"Here's hoping you have the experience," Bone Tapper said grumpily, "and that I still have a life to pursue elsewhere."
"I think I could bear that," Marta said. "Now go to sleep. We've got another long day before us tomorrow."
Feran finished his tea. "What did he mean by that?" he asked in a lower voice, clearly hoping Bone Tapper wasn't listening. Marta rather believed otherwise, but the raven didn't bother to comment.
"He means that he's looking forward to the day he's free from me," she said. "When his debt is paid. He'll resume his old form then."
"He's not really a raven? Like Yssara is not really a horse, even though he looks like one...mostly. Is that right?"
"That's it. They're both bond-servants under the terms of their debt to my mother...to me, now."
"Like slaves..." Feran reddened, looked away. "I meant no offense Mistress... Marta. I don't think I could do that."<
br />
"It's a condition of the Arrow Path," Marta said, remembering some of the words in her mother's account books. "I have almost as little choice in the matter as they do."
"Can't you free them?"
"Only if I want to bear their debts myself," Marta said stiffly. "You may think ill of me for that, but I've enough of my own without adding to it. They made their choices freely; I won't feel guilt for what I must do as a result."
"What if someone you cared about came to you for help?" he asked, after a while.
Marta met Feran's gaze squarely. "It would pain me a great deal," she said, "but it wouldn't make a jot of difference."
"I'm sure I wouldn't know," Feran said, and he didn't say anything else for a long time. For the first time since they had set out that morning the silence turned awkward. Marta took the kettle and pots and washed them out in a swift stream nearby, her thoughts colder than the water.
What does he expect of me? To be other than what I am?
No one had that right, and Feran least of all. She was thinking of telling him so, but when Marta returned, she found Feran already curled up in his blankets by the fire, eyes closed. She went to her own place in the cart and firmly closed the door. By the next morning her urge to say anything at all to Feran had diminished considerably. Conversations during the next few days were polite but no more than that. Bone Tapper, for his part, seemed almost unbearably smug. Marta was more than a little relieved when Karsan finally came into view.
Bone Tapper flew ahead to see about Marta's lodging, but Marta bade him fly on to the castle and meet her as soon as that was done. She had no idea of what to expect there and she wanted all the help that was hers to call. Feran escorted her to the antechamber near the main hall where the Chamberlain was to be found, then took his leave as soon as he had discharged his duty. Marta pointedly ignored him as he walked away from her, turning all her attention on the Chamberlain.
The Chamberlain was a small, balding man with a bit of a paunch and a nervous, distracted manner. He had been away from Lythos on Marta's last visit. Marta hoped it wasn't a diplomatic mission, because in just a few minutes she had come to the unescapable conclusion that the man was a complete and unredeemable fool.
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