The Caller

by Juliet Marillier

  The Lord of the North stood tall and solemn, gazing over the scene of carnage. ‘Remember this day, people of Alban,’ he said. ‘Let the wisdom of the old ways never again be forgotten. Let the power of ancient peoples never again be dismissed. There have been many losses; many sorrows. May this be a day of healing for humankind and Good Folk alike. May we work to mend this broken realm.’

  ‘The light shine upon ye all, and bring ye tae paths o’ truth.’ The White Lady’s form might be that of a beauteous goddess, but her voice was exactly as it had been before. ‘This realm o’ oors, ’tis full o’ the strange and wondrous, ye ken? Full o’ mystery and power. Heed what the Lord here tellit ye. Dinna forget the auld banes o’ Alban, the tales and songs, the rites and the prayers. Those things, they hold a body up when times are hard. They gie a body strength when sorrow comes. They lift a body oot o’ the mire o’ despond. Lose them, and ye rip oot Alban’s very hairt. Heed them, and Alban’s hairt beats inside ye, keepin’ ye strong and true.’ She turned toward me, and her movement was a shimmer, a dance, a celebration. As she spoke, one tiny form detached itself from her and flew around my head in exuberant loops before returning to its place. Piper, without a doubt. I found myself smiling through tears. ‘This lassie, Neryn, she’s done a grand job today, though some o’ ye may no’ ken that,’ the Lady went on. ‘Wi’oot her, there could be nae workin’ together, nae cooperation between humankind and Good Folk. There’s some will reach oot the hand o’ friendship wi’oot the need for a Caller, aye.’ She looked at Sage; at Hollow. ‘There’s some hae an understandin’ o’ this, deep doon. But make nae mistake. This battle’s been won by the work o’ this lassie, and by brave folk that werena prepared tae lie doon and let this fellow here,’ – she cast a glance Keldec’s way – ‘ruin and spoil the land o’ Alban.’

  ‘Who are you?’ spluttered the king. ‘What are you, that you assume so much? I am the rightful ruler of Alban! I have done only what was necessary to keep my kingdom safe! How dare –’ He fell silent as Constant’s large hand came casually around his neck.

  ‘If ye dinna ken wha we are,’ said the Hag, ‘ye dinna deserve tae be king, that’s the truth.’ She turned to me. ‘Would ye speak tae these folk, Neryn?’

  I was so tired. All I wanted to do was lie down somewhere quiet, shed my tears, then sleep. But I had to do this.

  ‘Come, lassie,’ said the White Lady. ‘Ye can dae it. I’m thinkin’ ye can dae anythin’ ye put your mind tae.’

  I straightened my back; lifted my chin. Breathed as I had been taught, slow and steady. ‘My name is Neryn.’ I did not use the ringing, powerful voice of the call, but spoke as I might to trusted friends. ‘I come from a village called Corbie’s Wood that was sacked and burned during the Cull four years ago. And I am a Caller. My canny gift allows me to bring humankind and Good Folk together to work for a common cause. My family died under Keldec’s rule. I have lost many friends along the way. But I have also found new friends, among the Good Folk and among the wonderful people of Shadowfell, so staunch and true, so steadfast in the cause of freedom.’ I looked down at Tali, and she looked back at me, her face blazing with pride. ‘Regan, who formed the rebel movement and who died in its service. Tali, who led the uprising today and who has given so much of herself to ensuring this day came. The man most of you know as Owen Swift-Sword, who gave himself to the rebellion mind, body and spirit; who trod a difficult path during his long years as Shadowfell’s spy at court.’

  ‘I knew it!’ cried Queen Varda. ‘I told you! I told you that man was rotten to the core, a traitor from the moment he came here! If you’d taken heed, if you hadn’t been so –’

  The crowd shouted her down, but she turned on me a look of fury so venomous that it was like a blow. Keldec, too, was gazing at me. His look was quite different. His earlier anger was gone; in Constant’s grip, he looked, quite simply, bereft. He had understood, more quickly than his wife had, that all they had built was gone; that their world, too, would never be the same.

  ‘The rebels welcomed me despite their reservations,’ I went on, struggling to keep my voice steady, ‘and made me one of them. These wise presences, the Guardians of ancient lore, watchers over our fair land, shared their wisdom with me and taught me to use my gift well. Good Folk great and small offered me their trust, their friendship, their guidance and protection, and many died for their commitment to our cause.

  ‘I am not the only one who has suffered losses. All of us grieve for family, friends, comrades fallen on the long path to freedom. Some of you may struggle to accept the change that has come about today. Remember that we are all brothers and sisters under Alban’s wide sky. The fire of Alban’s truth burns in our hearts. The light of Alban’s courage shines in our spirits. Each day we breathe the clear air of Alban’s hope. And the river of Alban’s story, flowing from time before time, brings a wisdom we must never again set aside. Remember this day. Tell the tale to your children and your grandchildren. Let those we have lost on this field of battle, and all those fallen over the years of Keldec’s reign, never be forgotten.’ My knees felt suddenly weak; I sat down. The crowd was roaring approval.

  ‘People of Alban,’ said the Master of Shadows, drawing himself up to his full, more-than-human height. ‘You’ve a lot of mending to do. Make sure you do it well. This was a wrong brought about by humankind, and it’s for humankind to set it to rights. You have good leaders; let them guide you forward. We will depart, taking our own folk with us, and leave you to begin the long work that lies ahead. But there’s a question to be answered first: what’s to become of this so-called king of yours?’

  Shouts from the crowd, then: ‘Death!’ ‘String him up!’ ‘Kill the tyrant!’

  The strong voice of Lannan Long-Arm came over the baying for blood. ‘Even for the most base of tyrants, there should be due process.’

  The shouting grew louder, an insistent chorus. ‘Death to the tyrant! Death to Keldec!’ I saw indecision on Tali’s face, and on those of several chieftains. The king was silent. ‘Death! Death! Death!’ I remembered my brother breathing his last at fourteen years of age, with an Enforcer’s spear through his chest. I remembered the flaming boat in which my father had died, and Sorrel screaming with an iron chain wrapped around him, and my grandmother after the enthralment, a pathetic shell of her old self. Regan’s head strung up on the walls of Wedderburn fortress. Garven crushed and broken. Little Don, Ban, Killen, all slain for the cause. Every village sacked during the Cull, every life lost, every family destroyed. All those who lay now on this field in their blood. Did the man who had done all that deserve mercy?

  ‘My lords. My ladies. People of Alban.’

  My heart gave a great leap. The voice was Flint’s. People made way as he came to the front of the crowd, supported by a Wolf Troop man on one side, and on the other, the rocky being who not so long ago had tried to kill him. His eyes were masked with swollen red, his face was marked by the rents of that great claw, his clothing hung in tatters. But he was alive. I put a hand in front of my mouth to stifle a wrenching sob of relief.

  ‘I understand your need to see punishment meted out against this man who has so wronged you, and who has so wronged Alban,’ Flint said, his voice growing stronger. ‘It would be easy to do as you ask and string him up right now, so you could watch him die and reassure yourselves that he was truly gone forever. It is not for me to decide what becomes of him. But I would ask that you consider this: if we satisfy our need for quick and bloody resolution of our grievance, are we not showing ourselves to be no better than he is?’ His eyes were on Keldec, and the look in them was not of hatred or resentment, but of compassion. ‘This should be given time,’ he went on. ‘Time for all of us to come to terms with the great change that has occurred today. Time for us to think on loyalty and on the reasons why we sometimes obey orders when we know in our hearts that they are wrong. Lannan is wise in asking for due process. The king and queen and t
heir advisers should be held in secure custody until the regency is established, then tried in an open hearing. If the verdict of that hearing is death, so be it.’ A pause; nobody spoke. ‘Each one of us has in him the capacity to do good or ill,’ he said. ‘Each of us bears some spark of greater things.’ He looked up at the Guardians. ‘Not all of us manage to find that spark. Not all of us keep it alive. But even he, even this tyrant, has the ability to change. At least give him time to contemplate what he has wrought here.’

  I glanced at Keldec and saw to my astonishment that tears were rolling down his face. Varda was quivering with rage; a red flush stained her pale cheeks. Brydian sat with his head in his hands.

  ‘What place of incarceration would be strong enough to hold such a man?’ asked Gormal. ‘And which of us would want to keep him?’

  ‘Entrust your king to me.’ It was the Lord of the North who spoke. ‘In my hall there are many chambers, and all of them are guarded by magic. I will keep him safe until you are ready.’

  ‘And the queen?’ asked Lannan.

  ‘Oh, leave her to me,’ said the Master of Shadows. ‘My folk will have a fine appreciation of the task.’

  ‘I’ll house the councillors and the Caller,’ offered Ness of Corriedale.

  ‘This fellow’s deid.’ Sage spoke flatly, from where she stood beside Esten’s limp figure.

  Had Esten’s last attempt to call stretched his body and mind beyond endurance? Or had someone from Stag Troop helped matters along with a pair of thumbs to the neck, choosing a moment when people’s attention was elsewhere? Had Brydian removed the protective shield once it became clear the king’s Caller was no longer useful? I tried to feel sorrow for a man who had been more misguided than bad, but right now my head was swirling and everything had started to turn in circles around me. The White Lady was saying something, but her voice kept fading, and then everything else was slipping away, and I thought, Maybe I am dying too. Maybe that’s what happens when Callers overreach themselves . . .

  Chapter Fifteen

  My eyes struggled open. Dim light. Quiet. Somewhere familiar, indoors. I was bone tired, my aching body already tugging me back toward sleep. But I could not sleep, something had happened, something important . . . I sat up with a start, and everything spun around me.

  ‘Slowly, Ellida. Or should that be Neryn?’

  Toleg was sitting on the side of the pallet, reaching out to steady me with a hand on the shoulder. I breathed, blinked, came piece by piece back to myself. I was in the infirmary, on one of the beds reserved for the sick.

  ‘I was getting concerned,’ Toleg said with a smile. ‘You’ve taken a long time to come back to us.’ He peered into my eyes, then got up and fetched a water skin. ‘Drink. It will help the headache.’

  The headache was a dull throbbing, not unbearable, but enough to make me crave the oblivion of sleep.

  ‘Best if you stay awake now,’ Toleg said. ‘Drink more water, eat a little. There are rather a lot of folk waiting to talk to you. But I’ve only let one of them in.’

  I turned my head, and there was Flint sitting on the next pallet, a ghost in borrowed clothing – Gormal’s green – with the claw marks livid across his face. The wounds had been cleaned and salved. Within the mask of bruising, his grey eyes gazed at me steadily. There was no need for him to say a word.

  ‘It’s true, then.’ My voice came out as weak as a kitten’s mew. ‘We’ve really done it. The rebellion’s over.’

  ‘I’m still finding it hard to believe.’ Flint rose and came over to take Toleg’s place beside me. ‘But yes, it is true. A new Alban. The place of justice and peace we longed for. Really here. Not a hopeless dream but . . . tomorrow and the next day and all the days after. I thought you would never wake up.’

  Through the fog of weariness I felt warmth stealing through me. Tomorrow. The time after. Perhaps, until now, I had not truly believed there would be a future for the two of us beyond today.

  ‘I’d best go.’ Toleg picked up a laden basket. ‘We’re tending to the wounded in the annexe, since there are so many. Scia’s down there with the other healers; they’ll be needing me. Send a guard if you want me, there are men on the door.’

  ‘How many were injured?’ How could I hold so much happiness and so much sorrow at the same time? ‘I should come and help –’

  Toleg halted in the doorway. ‘You’ll stay here, the two of you, and that’s an order. Eat, drink, talk about something inconsequential or don’t talk at all. And don’t let too many folk in at once. You’re worn out.’

  He went out, shutting the door behind him. I sat up, and Flint’s arms came around me. He held me gently, as if he feared I might break or disappear. I knew how he felt. I could not help wondering if it was all a dream, and I would wake up in the women’s quarters to find midsummer was still to come. For a while I let myself drift in the warmth of his embrace, hardly able to believe we were free to touch at last, free to speak without watching every word. Then I made myself say what must be said. ‘Toleg didn’t answer my question. How many were killed?’

  ‘Toleg said you should eat first, and that was sensible advice, dear one. Let me fetch the tray.’

  A flask of mead, a platter of delicate little cakes, some bread and sliced mutton, fruit in honey syrup. A feast for an invalid. With so many out there hurt and broken, it did not seem right to eat it.

  ‘A bite or two, Neryn. It’s good for you.’

  I nibbled obediently. ‘Don’t try to soften the truth for me,’ I said. ‘If friends have been killed, I want to know. I saw Whisper die. I saw Andra cut down on the field. Who else?’

  ‘Both Brocc and Ardon. Those deaths lie heaviest on me, since I brought the two of them back from enthralment only to see them slain trying to protect me.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘I had wondered for a long time if the enthralment charm could be reversed. It was not something my mentor ever taught me or spoke about – it was not relevant to the true practice of mind-mending. Rohan convinced me to try it, thinking my guards might be prepared to set me free if I could break their loyalty to the king.’ He looked down at his hands, avoiding my eye. ‘There was no certainty that it would work at all, or that if it did, they would not go straight away to report me to Keldec. In their situation, I believe my strongest feeling would be anger at those who enthralled me in the first place. But Brocc and Ardon kept their anger for the king. They chose to stand alongside us at the end. For that, they paid with their lives.’

  ‘You didn’t try to escape once you’d reversed the enthralment?’

  ‘That was what Rohan intended. But I couldn’t do it. I needed to be there. I wanted Keldec to hear those words from my lips, even if he killed me for it.’

  ‘So that was why Rohan wanted a double dose of Oblivion. In fact, enough for four more men.’

  ‘Our two enthralled men from Stag Troop were also treated. They, too, chose forgiveness over anger. Both survived the battle.’ He sounded weary to death. Weighed down by sorrow.

  ‘Who else has been killed?’

  He told me. The Shadowfell rebels had lost not only Andra, but nine others, including Dervla and Gort. And Galany had not been the only friend I had among the Enforcers who had fallen today; many had lost their lives. It made no difference which side of the battle they had been on. Only that they had fought bravely, and that they were gone.

  ‘I thought Andra was invincible,’ I said, wiping away tears.

  ‘There’s more, Neryn. Take a sip of the mead, that’s it.’

  I waited.

  ‘I’m afraid Morven is dead,’ he said. ‘He was among those found on the field afterwards. I’m sorry.’

  ‘His real name was Brenn.’ A brave man. A sweet, good, funny man. A stalwart friend and a courageous rebel. If he had not volunteered to come with me, he would still be alive. ‘What of your comrades in
Stag Troop?’

  ‘Stag Troop avoided the worst of it. Rohan planned their role; he wanted to make quite sure the king did not escape justice. Not that all of them knew what was coming. But they trust me, and they trust him. The Wolves were the same. Becoming sickened by the loss of good men over the years; growing weary of the mad decisions the king foisted on us. Other troops also had their dissenters – the Seals, the Bulls. Obedience goes only so far. Galany was a great loss. He and I clashed often over the years, but at the end he was a strong voice for truth.’ He fell silent for a little, then said, ‘The men have been talking to me about you. Asking me whether a Caller can influence human folk as well as Good Folk. They’ve been saying things changed here from the day you first arrived, even when they hardly knew you existed. You became their friend, and men who not so long ago were obedient to the king’s orders, misguided as those orders might be, became open to thoughts of freedom and justice, even though you never spoke a word of those things.’

  ‘I don’t think that can be right. It’s not in the old tales about Callers.’

  Flint gave the sweetest of smiles. ‘Nonetheless,’ he said. ‘It seems you’ve made many friends here. One man said you were like a candle burning in the dark; another that you were a bright flower growing in a place of shadows. Not the kind of words one expects from Enforcers.’

  We ate a little more; drank a little more. Held each other’s hands; gazed into each other’s weary eyes. I began to feel stronger. ‘Are you ready for visitors?’ Flint asked.

  ‘Is Tali here?’

  Flint opened the door and there she was, leaning against the wall and not quite managing to look nonchalant. Beside her was Rohan Death-Blade. Flint let them both in. Tali had changed her bloodstained clothing; she wore a neat tunic and trousers in Gormal’s colours. Her face was white, and the lines and shadows there spoke of the long weary preparation for this day, and the terrible losses endured along the way. But she was composed, as always; a true leader.