‘Too brainless to think of surrendering,’ remarked Marik, cleaning his own blade and replacing it in a scabbard strapped to his back. Crouching down, he peered through the window and into the cellar.
‘It’s safe now children.’ At that moment, Findar began to cry, no longer placated by the sugar. There was no point in hiding anymore, so the two children reluctantly exited their refuge.
‘I like your style,’ said Marik, grinning. ‘If you are going to pick a house to hide in, pick one belonging to one of Finton’s mistresses. You’ve got some nerve.’
‘I didn’t know who it belongs to,’ muttered the young boy, appearing shy in front of the two men. Zastra’s eyes were drawn to the bodies of the dead Kyrginites, and she shivered. As if sensing her thoughts, the ugly man got down on one knee in front of them, masking their view of the bodies.
‘I’m Godral and this is Marik. We won’t harm you,’ he said gently.
His handsome companion bowed with a grin and a flourish.
‘Erstwhile humble soldiers in the Marl of Riverford’s guard at your service,’ he said.
‘Humble, my backside,’ remarked Godral.
‘Shush comrade,’ said Marik, waving him away. ‘We are loyal soldiers of Grand Marl Leodra, sadly fallen upon hard times. Resigned to be soldiers of fortune, flitting about in the shadows, rescuing innocent children, such as your good selves, as well as maidens in distress, at any opportunity.’
Godral snorted. ‘Maidens in distress? What rubbish you talk.’
‘Tush tush, dear Godral. Did not we aid a fair maiden in distress only yesterday?’
‘As I recall, she was not so much fair maiden as a weather beaten old shopkeeper with several warts and at least three chins.’
‘Beauty is beneath the skin, comrade, and she was as fair a personage as I have ever met. Did not she supply us with a feast fit for a Grand Marl?’
‘A bit of mouldy cheese and some stale bread a dog might think twice about. Mind you, I was ready. I’d not eaten for two days. It’s hard being on the run.’
‘And the wine Godral, the dear creature supplied us with the wine of the grand master vintners themselves.’
Godral raised an eyebrow at Zastra.
‘Some old hogwash that she had been unable to sell. Tasted like a mixture of medicine and mould.’
‘Are there many soldiers still loyal to Leodra?’ asked Zastra hesitantly.
Godral sighed. ‘It was a terrible day, the day the traitor Thorlberd’s ruffians took over. Finton betrayed us, opening the gates to the Kyrginite hoard. We tried to muster a defence, but Lord Miraval was already dead, murdered in his sleep. And that evil beast, the migaradon, must have killed a hundred of us. We tried to fight it but any spears and arrows that reached it just bounced off its hide. I’ve never seen anything like it. We even tried using the large catapults, but it dodged our shots easily. They say the riders are mindweavers and I can believe it. Every time the beast swooped, my sight seemed to blur and my head was filled with unnatural fear and strange, confusing visions. We didn’t stand a chance.’
‘How did you escape?’ asked the boy, wide-eyed.
‘Marik and I became separated from our troop. I’m ashamed to say we all scattered, desperately trying to escape the migaradon. Since then we have hidden in the shadows, trying to disrupt Finton’s plans where we can. There are a few others who escaped with us, but we are few and there is little we can do.’
‘Oh, how you complain, Godral,’ exclaimed Marik. ‘Always looking on the gloomy side, and dimming the mood. There’s such fun to be had, chasing Kyrgs and meeting such companions. Might I have the honor of your names, noble Sirs?’
Zastra was half tempted to tell them the truth, to see what reaction she might get, but she remembered Hedrik’s warning about pride and she kept quiet. It would be a foolish risk. Trust no one, her father had said.
‘Hedrik of Trindhome,’ she muttered, trying for her best country boy accent.
‘They call me Boltan,’ said the curly-haired boy.
‘Well met, dear comrades,’ said Marik, bowing low with a flourish and a wink. Boltan laughed at his strange foolishness, but they were soon disturbed by the sound of marching boots. A large troop by the sound of it, heading in their direction.
Marik bowed again. ‘Sadly, our short acquaintance must be curtailed, to my deepest regret. We continue to fight for a free and just Golmeira. Let the tyranny of Thorlberd be overthrown!’ The two men reeled round the corner and were gone.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The boy Boltan eyed Zastra with curiosity.
‘Thanks for not telling them ugly brutes where I was,’ he said. ‘What you doing with a littlun on your own? Where’s yer Ma?’
Zastra found herself unable to say anything. She had tried not to think of her parents, since the feelings that came with such thoughts were crippling. Boltan seemed to understand.
‘Me Ma and Da are dead too,’ he said.
Two chimes rang out.
‘The curfew,’ said Boltan. ‘It’s early today.’
‘It can’t be the curfew already!’ cried Zastra. ‘It isn’t close to sunset and we need to leave the city today.’
‘Too late now,’ remarked Boltan. ‘No one leaves the city once the curfew bells’ve rung.’ He looked at Zastra’s crestfallen face. ‘Got anywhere to stay the night?’ he asked. She shook her head, rocking Findar as he began to fidget.
‘Come with me,’ the boy commanded. Zastra saw no reason to argue. She followed him as he flitted across the maze of streets and alleyways. At length they arrived at a row of shops, where Boltan made for the door of a shop. Its windows were filled with hundreds of candles of different shapes and colours. Seeing Zastra hesitate, he gently tugged on her arm.
‘’Salright,’ he said. ‘Nula won’t mind – a few more ain’t gonna make no difference.’
They made their way past rows of heavily scented candles to the back of the shop and up a set of narrow wooden stairs set against the wall. Zastra began to hear voices and as Boltan pushed open the door, a discordant clamour overwhelmed her.
They were in a large, rectangular room, with a fire already lit, although the evening was not particularly cold. On the fire, a pot full of a bubbling concoction was set upon a tripod, giving off a delicious array of aromas. But the most striking image was that of a flock of children, dashing around in circles, laughing and screaming as they played.
‘Boltan, where in the stars have you been?’ A full-throated female voice yelled out of the chaos. ‘I’ve been worried ever since the curfew rang out.’
The cry came from a large, tousle-haired woman, who was seated by the fire, alternating stirring the pot with nursing a baby.
‘I was chased by some Kyrgs and they nearly caught me. Hedrik here helped me escape. They need somewhere to stay tonight and I said it’d be alright to stay with us, Nula. It is, ain’t it?
Nula squinted across the room and beckoned to Zastra. As Zastra shuffled towards the woman, she became enveloped in a heady scent of herbs and smoke and caramel.
‘Let me look at you. Hmm, looks like you could do with a bit of feeding up. And you’ve a littlun, have you?’
Findar took that moment to pop his little head out of the sling, his blue eyes gazing in rapt attention at the broad face of the over-sized woman.
‘Well,’ said Nula, smiling kindly. ‘There’s always room for another one, if you don’t mind sharing a blanket. Although by the smell of it, this one needs a bath. Phew! I’ve just done my own youngest. Boltan, would you please take the baby’s linen downstairs and wash it. And little…what’s his name, duckie?’
‘Er, Hilfrik,’ said Zastra, saying the first name that came to mind.
‘Right, Boltan, you can do Hilfrik’s too.’
‘Aw, Nula,’ protested Boltan, ‘I only did the washing last night. Ain’t it someone else’s turn?’
‘That’s what you get for staying out late and worrying me so much,’ said Nula, sternly enough to end t
he argument, although there was a hint of a smile behind her eyes. ‘When you come back, you can tell me all about your adventures.’
So it was settled. The new arrivals were welcomed into the heart of the riotous and friendly family, as if it were the most usual thing in the world for two strays to be taken in. Two of the young girls came and took care of Findar, playing with him as delicately as if he were a precious doll. Once the baby linens had been seen to, Boltan regaled the company with the tale of his adventures. He spoke with spirit, aping the actions of the Kyrgs so that the younger children gasped in terror. He’d seen a troop of them manhandling a young girl, so he’d thrown a lump of mud and shouted insults. Two of them had chased him and he’d tried to shake them by running through a house whose back door had been open. As he had burst out the front he had bumped into Hedrik and little Hilfrik. He related how he had turned down the alley and slipped into the cellar. Then, by peering through a grating he had seen Hedrik send the Kyrgs the wrong way. He’d been glad to have an opportunity to help when Hedrik ended up rushing down the same alley.
When he came to the part where the soldiers had appeared, he mimicked Marik’s exaggerated mannerisms so well that the other children were crying with laughter. Zastra said nothing; she was not yet ready for laughter. Nula let Boltan tell his tale, offering only a few remarks on the foolishness of baiting Kyrgs and the likelihood of him getting himself killed well before he ever reached manhood. When he was finished, they were joined by another woman. She was of average size, but the family resemblance to Nula was strong.
‘Merle, we’ve picked up another couple of strays, it seems,’ said Nula brightly. ‘I hope you don’t mind – I’m sure they’ll be no trouble.’ Nula’s sister rolled her eyes, but seemed unsurprised, and the large family sat down to a lively supper. The meat stew was the best meal Zastra had eaten in days, and she ate hungrily, mopping up the tasty sauce with a large piece of freshly baked bread. Bolton raised his cup of water in Zastra’s direction, a wide grin stretched across his face.
‘Wine from the grand master vittler himself,’ he said.
‘What’s a vittler?’ asked one of the younger children.
‘Vintner,’ said Zastra absently. ‘Someone who buys and sells wine.’
‘Well, I think vittler sounds better,’ protested Boltan, who proceeded to exchange extravagant toasts with everyone in turn. As she was eating, Zastra couldn’t help notice that Nula kept looking at her. She lowered her head but felt the eyes of the large woman still on her. After they had eaten and the younger children had been settled down for the night, Zastra tried to hide in the darkest corner of the room but Nula beckoned her over to two chairs in front of the fire. Zastra had no choice but to obey.
‘Sit by me, duckie,’ Nula said, easing her body into one of the chairs. Sturdy though it was, it creaked in protest, seeming destined to break under her weight.
‘I wanted to thank you, for helping our Boltan. It must have taken some guts. Them Kyrgs can be quite scary.’
Zastra tried to mutter something appropriate, but Nula did not pause for breath.
‘I’d hate for anything to happen to our Boltan. People told me he’d be a bundle of trouble, but that ain’t so, he’s a good little soul.’ She looked fondly over at the boy, who was wrestling with Yusa, one of the other children. As they tussled, they knocked over the iron cooking tripod with a huge clatter. Nula raised an eyebrow as she looked at Zastra and shook her head, smiling.
‘Like I said, no trouble at all.’
Zastra couldn’t help returning the smile.
‘Boltan, that’s enough,’ called Nula. ‘Time for bed now.’
‘All right, Nula,’ he said, setting the tripod back on its feet. Nula shifted in her chair. It let out a volley of creaks and groans but by some miracle held firm.
‘So Hedrik, how do you come to be at Riverford, all alone?’
‘I’m not alone,’ said Zastra, ‘I’ve got Hilfrik.’
‘Boltan tells me your parents have passed away?’
Zastra nodded.
‘Do you have anywhere to go? Anyone who can take care of you?’
Zastra shook her head, hoping that Nula would stop asking questions.
‘I don’t like to see littluns on their own,’ said Nula, with a frown. ‘But I don’t like deceitfulness, neither.’
Zastra stared at the floor, unable to look at the woman. Nula bent closer to her, her wild hair blocking out the candlelight.
‘They are stopping anyone with children and it ain’t pretty, I can tell you. Some of the soldiers are a bit overzealous. I worry for you and little Hilfrik. You look a bit conspicuous, just the pair of you. I’m not saying you’ve anything to hide, but you’re no country lad, however you might try to appear like one. I think you’d better tell me the truth, don’t you?’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zastra flinched back, wide-eyed. Nula placed a calming hand on her arm.
‘S’alright, my dear. You’ll fool most people but I’m more observant than most. Nosey, some would call it,’ she chuckled. ‘But I say there ain’t nothing wrong in taking an interest in people.’
‘How did you know?’ asked Zastra.
Nula snorted. ‘Vintner, indeed! No county boy would know how to pronounce that word, let alone know what it meant.’
Zastra was mortified to have made such a mistake.
‘And you aren’t quite smelly enough,’ remarked Nula.
‘Who’s smelly?’ cried Boltan.
‘Boltan here is a good example,’ said Nula. ‘He always manages to sit or roll in something disgusting.’
‘What’s disgusting?’ said Boltan.
‘Bed!’ cried Nula. ‘Unless you want a flannel bath. And remember we only have cold water.’
Boltan screwed up his eyes and shook his head comically, before ducking under the nearest blanket and pulling it tight over his head.
Zastra hesitated. She had not forgotten her father’s words but all her instincts were to trust Nula.
‘You are right,’ she said at last, ‘but I can’t tell you the truth. It could put you in danger. I’m sorry.’
Nula patted her lap with both hands.
‘It’s me as should be sorry. Always poking my nose in other folks’ business. It’s a terrible habit of mine. You helped our Boltan, that’s enough for me.’
‘Thank you,’ said Zastra.
‘Now,’ said Nula, ‘We plan to stay in Riverford a few more days and then we’ll be returning to our home in Borsha. It lays a few days journey east of here. My husband is due back anytime now. He’s a sailor on board a trading ship and I’d like to be sure that he’s safe, in these strange times. Would you like to come with us?’
They were interrupted by a heavy pounding on the door of the shop. Zastra sprang up in alarm.
‘What’s that?’ she cried. Merle took a candle and went to investigate. After a few moments, she returned, accompanied by a young woman with a sharp nose and thin lips.
‘This is Kep, who helps us in the shop,’ explained Merle.
‘Blue fever!’ cried Kep. ‘Blue fever in the southwest quarter!’
‘Ssh,’ hissed Nula. ‘Kep, keep your voice down. Now, what’s this about the fever?’
‘I overheard a healer telling a friend to leave the city,’ said Kep, still breathing heavily. ‘He said to keep it quiet so he can leave the city before the alarm is raised.’
Nula nodded. ‘Quite right. If Finton finds out they’ll close the gates and quarantine the city.’
‘We’ll be trapped,’ exclaimed Kep with a shudder.
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Merle. ‘It’s scaremongering, is all.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ said Nula thoughtfully. ‘Me and Boltan were down in the southwest quarter this morning and we saw a little baby dying in her mother’s arms. She was in the street, homeless, poor dear, but there was nothing we could do to help them. I thought the baby’s lips looked blue, so I came right away. That’s the te
ll-tale sign, you know. Blue lips, that’s why they call it the blue fever.’
‘Is it very dangerous?’ asked Zastra.
‘Oh, yes duckie. A terrible, terrible thing. Not many people survive once the fever is fully upon them. The disease sits in the brain and even them that live through it can have problems for years afterwards. Visions, loss of memory, things like that. It’s awful contagious too.’
‘There was a woman,’ said Zastra, frowning, ‘She told us to get out of Riverford. I didn’t understand her at the time, but maybe that’s what she meant.’
‘Where did you meet this woman?’ asked Nula.
‘I’m not sure where we were. Not far from the Westgate. There were beggars on the street and the houses looked about to fall down.’
‘The southwest quarter,’ Nula said, glancing at her sister. ‘What exactly did this woman say?’
‘Not much,’ replied Zastra. ‘Just to get out of the city, it wasn’t a place for littluns. Something like that.’
‘We must get out, now!’ said Kep, pacing nervously first to the door and then to a cupboard. She flung open the door and began to rummage around furiously.
‘Stop floundering about, Kep,’ said Nula firmly. ‘We can’t leave until they open the gates in the morning. But I suggest we try to leave first thing. You too, Merle.’
‘I will not. I won’t leave the shop for looters and beggars to fight over.’
‘You always were a stubborn one,’ sighed Nula. She turned to Zastra. ‘You’ll come with us, won’t you? You’ll be less noticeable hidden amongst my brood.’
‘But what about the mindweavers at the gate?’ Zastra asked. ‘They’ll read your mind and then they will know we aren’t your children.’
‘We’ll think of something,’ said Nula. ‘Anyway, not all these littluns are mine. I take care of them of course. Look at Boltan, his Ma died in childbirth and then his Da drowned in the floods five years ago. No one else would take him in, so now he lives with me. I like a noisy household as you can see. Only three of these are mine, the other three are strays I’ve picked up along the way. Another two won’t look so odd. Let’s just hope they don’t close the city.’
Realm of Mindweavers: Book one: Tales of Golmeira Page 14