by Mike Shevdon
"Maybe they don't see themselves that way?"
"The boats sit tied up in t'harbour. They say there's no fish, that the sea's turned its back on them."
"Has it?"
"There's fish, but you have to work for 'em. They don't jump into your hold on their own. It's hard, I know, but you don't catch fish in port."
"Maybe they're only allowed to catch so many. Aren't there quotas for fishing these days?"
"Aye, there are. None of our boats are close to reaching 'em. If they go out they come back wi' nowt. Empty nets, empty holds. It happens. The sea has lean years like everything else. It's happened before, it'll happen again. You don't stop. You keep at it until the nets are full again and things come right."
"Maybe they've over-fished it. Maybe it needs time to recover."
"Aye, well, it's time they don't have. No fish means no money. If they can't pay the loans on the boats then the banks'll pull the plug. By the time it comes back we'll be buying fish frozen from Norway. The town'll die and that'll be that."
"There are other things. The call centre looks pretty impressive. Won't that keep things going?"
"The council's golden goose? Don't be daft. It's only there cos of grants and incentives. As soon as the money dries up they'll move the jobs out to India or somewhere."
"What about tourism?"
"Look outside. It's not Scarborough, is it? That beach is so steep that if you get in t'sea you can't get out again. No, this town lives and breathes fish, and at the moment it's mightily short of breath."
"That's a very pessimistic view."
"It's a realistic view. The women of this town are the lifeblood. When you never know if the men are coming back, they've had to be. Once the women start leaving, it's the beginning of the end."
"Maybe they didn't leave. Maybe something happened to them?"
"Something did happen to them. They lost faith." He turned to the book on the desk. "Every man that ever went missing, lost, drowned, is in there. There's no book for missing women, and I'm not intending to start one."
He turned away and stomped down the stairs, leaving me with the book of names and the pictures of lost vessels. It was a sobering experience. I leafed through the pages, seeing the same names crop up again and again. By the time I'd reached the present day, I was wondering why they ever left port at all. To me it was inconceivable, after suffering such personal loss, to send another family member out on to the waves. But then, as he'd pointed out, I wasn't born here. I wasn't part of this community and I would probably never understand what kept it going.
After a while I went back down and passed the printed guide back to him. There was no word of thanks or invitation to return. He didn't speak, just took the sheets from me and replaced them where he'd found them. As I turned to leave, the street door opened and a middle-aged man stepped inside.
"It's bucketing out there. Fit for neither man nor beast." He shook the water from his sleeves.
"Back again, Ted?" said the man behind the desk.
He looked sceptically at my umbrella as I approached the door, knowing it would be useless in the wind, but then held the door open for me so I could leave. The water dripped from his orange waterproofs leaving a puddle inside the door. I stepped through quickly, not wanting to keep the door open longer than necessary and then found myself struggling to fasten buttons and turn up my collar in the blustery wind.
Within moments, I was wet again. The rain found every gap, every crease. I made my way back to the harbour front, shoulders hunched against the wind, the halyards on the moored sailing boats tinging like manic vespers bells against the aluminium spars. Rather than make my way back to my room, I headed for the Harbour Cafe. The door was so swollen with damp that I had to push hard to get inside. I wedged the door closed again, shutting out the weather.
I took my jacket off and shook it over the doormat, earning a disapproving look from Geraldine. I hung it over the back of a chair at a table by the window and took the other seat.
Geraldine bustled up. "What'll it be?"
"Coffee, please. Filter will do."
She looked expectant, so I disappointed her further. "That's it, thanks."
Her walk as she returned to the kitchen said just what she thought of men who ordered only coffee when it was still officially lunchtime. A scalding mug of coffee was delivered moments later, making me wonder whether she had simply put a mug of this morning's dregs into the microwave. It was far too hot to drink, but I was in no hurry and the cafe was all but empty.
The windows of the cafe were steamy with condensation inside and running with rain outside, offering little in the way of a view. It left me to my thoughts: of the men and boats lost in storms like this one, of the girls and their different reasons for leaving the town, and of Blackbird. Where was she now? Where could she go that would be safe with Deefnir stalking her? The desire to follow her down to London was strong, but what would I do when I got there?
I was lost in thought and took no notice when the door juddered open again and slammed against the stop before being shunted carefully back into place.
Geraldine came forward and then hesitated.
"I'll have whatever he's having." The voice brought me out of my reverie.
"Raffmir."
"May I join you? I find the weather here quite inclement, even for this forsaken backwater."
I remembered Garvin's instruction to find out what he wanted. Then I remembered who it was I was talking to. "There are plenty of other tables."
"True, but I thought we might talk."
"About what?"
He sat opposite me, unconcerned by my rudeness.
"I was wondering whether you'd had an opportunity to consider my offer to assist you in the matter of your daughter's whereabouts," he said.
"Her whereabouts?"
"Oh, come. You're not still pretending you know where she is? Surely we're past that, aren't we?"
"I'm not sure what it is that we're supposed to be past. Why don't you tell me what you want and then you can go and find somewhere where the weather suits you better. I think Mars is supposed to be dry."
"You don't trust me. I understand that. I sympathise."
"Fuck off, Raffmir."
"No need to be abusive. I'm trying to help you."
"I neither want nor need your help."
"That's where you're wrong. You need my help more than anyone's. I'm the only one who can bring you to your daughter."
"You don't know where she is." It was a statement. I was calling his bluff.
"I know where she will be."
Geraldine appeared with another mug of coffee. This one was freshly made and smelled considerably better then the one I was drinking. He smiled at her as she leaned down to place it at the table for him and she hesitated, then blushed, and hurried back to the counter.
"Are you flirting with the staff?"
"Flirting? Good grief, no." He shook his head, then sampled his coffee and grinned at me.
Mine was still too hot to drink.
"How will you know where she is, Raffmir? You don't have any more idea than I do."
"Ah, then you admit you have lost her."
"Now who's playing games?"
"You are a hard man to help, Niall Petersen."
I sighed. "You're not helping me. Whatever it is you're doing, you have your own reasons for doing it and they do not involve helping me."
"That's where you're wrong. Hear me. Without me, your daughter will be lost to you. Without me, you will never reach her in time. Time is running out, Dogstar. Soon, you will have to make your choice."
"What choice?"
"The choice between obedience and duty, between honour and love."
"What are you talking about?"
"That time is fast approaching, but you need to trust me."
"Why should I trust you? What possible reason would I have?"
"Because I have sworn to see you unharmed. Because, despite your rudeness a
nd your arrogance, I know you will do what's best. We are cousins, you and I. We are alike."
"I am not like you."
"We are more alike than you know."
"We killed your sister, Blackbird and I." It was a remark meant to taunt, and for a fraction of a second there was something in his eyes that looked like hate. It vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"It was the witch's hand that did the deed," he growled.
"It was her hand, but raised in my protection. Your sister would have killed me otherwise, trial or no trial, rules or no rules. You know it's true."
"I will not gainsay it." He drank carefully from his mug.
"So why would you help me? You owe me nothing, Raffmir, nor I you."
He stared out of the rain-smeared glass for a moment. "I cannot tell you why. You are right. There is more to this than can be seen, but hear me when I say this: your daughter's life hangs by a fragile thread. Her fate is intimately bound in with mine, I know this now. When I tell you that I am the only one who can help you recover your daughter, you know it's true. The lie would be obvious to you, were it otherwise."
"OK. But nothing is free, is it? What do you want in return?"
"For now? I need your silence. I am aware that Garvin and the other Warders will want to know what we have discussed. It is only natural that they will try and come between us. But if you want your daughter back, you must keep the subject of our discourse to yourself."
"What? No way…"
"Then you seal her fate. Will you do that, Niall Petersen?" He looked straight into my eyes and spoke levelly and calmly. "For as sure as you can hear the truth in my words, if you tell them, your daughter will die."
FIFTEEN
"Are you threatening her, Raffmir? Because if you are…"
Raffmir shook his head. "As always, Dogstar, you interpret my actions in their least favourable light, and quite unfairly, I might add. I have taken an oath that I will not harm your daughter and I intend to keep it. If you will only let me help you, I will see to it that you are reunited. How can I say fairer than that?"
"You could tell me what you're doing here."
"I did tell you. I'm trying to help you. There are things here that I am not at liberty to discuss, but I am not the only one who is holding things back."
"What does that mean?"
"Has Garvin told you how the negotiations are progressing?"
"In summary, yes."
"He's not mentioned any of the detail, then?"
"He doesn't normally discuss the inner workings of the High Court with me. I'm not his confidante."
"Even when those discussions concern you and yours?"
"What does that mean?"
"I am merely saying that while you are ostracised here in outer obscurity, negotiations are taking place that affect you and all the other mongrel fey. Did you never wonder why neither you nor any of the other half-breeds are part of those negotiations?"
"That's clever, Raffmir. Without directly saying anything you attempt to drive a wedge between me and the other Warders."
"Then why are you here?" He gestured through the rain-streaked window at the blurry harbour.
"I'm here because of you. Garvin's well aware that if I stayed at Court, you would create some sort of incident. It's just the sort of thing you would do."
"I am offended. Have I not sworn to see you unharmed?"
"Then call Deefnir off. He's out there somewhere, harassing Blackbird."
"Deefnir is not mine to command."
"How convenient."
"That still does not explain why you were sent all the way out here. If the purpose was to keep you away from me, we can both agree that it isn't working. Perhaps there is another reason."
"Garvin wouldn't lie to me."
"Neither would I. There would be no point. Can I suggest that the reason you are not in Court is because your very presence would prejudice the negotiations. With you there, it would be awkward to place certain options on the table."
"Suggestion and innuendo – it's your usual trade, isn't it Raffmir?"
"You are letting your prejudice blind you to the truth."
"And what truth would that be?"
"That if it is to the High Court's advantage, they will sacrifice you and all the other half-breeds without a moment's thought. You are pawns, and this is a game with very high stakes."
"That may be true, Raffmir, but we've had this conversation before. You're not offering any better, are you? Whatever the outcome for the half-breeds, it will always be better than anything you and your friends have to offer."
"You're assuming that loyalty works both ways, Niall."
"And you're assuming I'll follow your convoluted logic. I have sworn loyalty to the council and they have sworn not to harm me or mine. I trust them more than I trust you."
"Then your trust may be misplaced, for they will always choose the path that benefits them most, regardless of who stands upon it. It has ever been thus."
"That's irrelevant. I still don't trust you."
"And I have given you no reason to, a mistake that I will remedy. Come." He stood in one easy movement."
"I haven't finished my coffee."
"It is bitter and spoiled."
"I could say the same of you."
He sighed with exaggerated impatience. "Accompany me now and I will share with you a secret of the wraithkin, something that none of your Warder companions can do for you. I do this as a gesture of good faith against some future need, so that you may better care for you and yours. There, is that good enough, or will you sit and sulk for no other reason than that you are too cynical to do otherwise?"
I watched him, considering. He had carefully avoided mentioning anything I didn't already know, while attempting to undermine the relationships I already had. He was being evasive and deceitful. None of that was any surprise. Still, I would not find out what he wanted sitting in the cafe.
I rose and put on my coat, making a show of straightening it where Raffmir had leaned on it, then collected my umbrella. He ignored me and went to the counter to pay. I stood and watched him while Geraldine smiled and then laughed at some comment he made.
When he came back, I held the door open. The worst of the wind had died down, but it was still raining steadily.
"You two are getting on well. Will you be returning later?"
"Politeness costs nothing, Dogstar. You would be well advised to remember that." He stepped out into the rain and I followed him.
"Nah," I said. "She fancies you something rotten."
"I do not fraternise with her like."
"You're fraternising with me. It's just one big slippery slope, when you think about it."
"Do you make a habit of goading me?"
"Everyone should have a hobby."
We walked up the hill in silence. It was quite rewarding to realise that I could get under his skin. It was also an interesting development; after all, he didn't have to be here. It left me even more convinced that he wanted something from me. I had only to find out what it was.
He walked uphill into the layer of wet clouds shrouding the upper parts of the town, and navigated directly to the Way-point, stepping easily up on to the spongy grass and making no attempt to conceal our presence. As we climbed the grassy bank, the billowing mist blurred the houses below and then obscured them completely. It felt as if we were alone. A prickle of tension crept up the back of my neck. Had he brought me here so that we would not be seen? He had sworn not to do me harm, but if no one saw what had happened, who would accuse him?
"You know how to use the Ways?" he asked.
"Of course."
"Do you think you can follow where I lead?"
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere dry. You do not need to be concerned."
"I'm always concerned when you're involved."
"This is where you have to decide to trust me. Once I've gone, you'll need to follow quickly or you'll lose the trail. Try and
keep up."
"Is this where I choose between, what is it… honour or love?"
"That comes later." He stepped on to the node and the mist swirled in around him. The vortex turned and collapsed and he was gone.
At that moment, part of me wanted to set off back down the hill and forget him. Part of me knew that whatever he wanted, it was in his interests, not mine. All of me knew that whatever it was, it would lead nowhere good. The vague insinuations about my daughter, the innuendo about Court politics; they were a smokescreen for something, but I couldn't help feeling that not knowing would only make it worse.
I stepped on to the node and felt the Way rise beneath me. The sense of a passage in the Way was there, a trail left by another traveller. Unlike Blackbird's warm trail this felt cold, but it was distinct. I let the Way pick me up and hurl me after him, sensing the warp of space as I swept through the emptiness, echoing his passing. The Way contracted around the next Way-node and then veered at the last second, bypassing the node and flinging us back into the black. We sped through a night-black veil streaked with hanging clouds of luminescent frost until we reached another node and slingshotted around that, not touching, but whipping tight around it, accelerating outwards and away. I found myself spinning, legs and arms outstretched, unable to orientate myself while my eyes watered without blinking, unable to focus. Space contracted and blurred and then shot me out, bouncing and rolling on to the hillside, my umbrella flying out of my hand. Instinct and training broke my fall, slowing me down until I could roll to a stop and rise to my knees.
Raffmir stood, watching me. "You have no style," he said.
"That," I said as I picked myself up from the grass and collected the umbrella, "was interesting. Where are we?"
"I promised you better weather, did I not?"
I looked around. We were on the rise of a high hilltop, with other hills arrayed around us and deep valleys in between. The overcast sky lent a sourceless light, but even so the shade deepened in the valleys. The grass was dry, and it was obvious it hadn't rained here today.
"Wales?" I asked.
"It's really not important. We are not here for sightseeing."
"Then why are we here?"
"You have not yet promised me that you will keep our conversation from Garvin."