“Ealian has gone, too, and Brea – what letter?” Daric was all but pulling his hair out, staring wide-eyed at the dragon.
Otto stood and cleared his throat. “I think perhaps we should leave this until the morning. It appears we all have some catching up to do.”
Daric and the others did not need persuading. He and Si’eth were out through the iron-wrought gate before the others had finished their salutes. The dragon climbed over the wall – stepped over it, really – and a few seconds later, Olivia saw the beast flying west towards the wolf camp. Otto and Odaman had their heads together. She didn’t think he would notice her leaving, but just before reaching the palace door…
“Stay close to the palace, Olivia,” Otto said. “The city will be dangerous now. Besides, I might need your help calming the others.”
His voice was calm, full of concern. Help calming the others! She didn’t need to ask who he meant by that. Bryoni and Battina would be jostling for position, trying to force their ideas on him. The pair did love the sound of their own voices. But what Otto thought she could do about it was a mystery. Still, it was nice to have the king’s trust.
After curtseying, Olivia waved Chrissa back into the palace. Elucia would want to hear about this, especially the news that Vila’slae was on her way to Eiras, and the Brea girl was following her.
She made her excuses to Chrissa, saying that she wanted to rest and change out of her day clothes. The woman still insisted on walking with her to the door of her apartments, though, which was annoying. She wanted to run.
Once inside, Olivia locked the door behind her and threw her shawl over the chair. Her study was chilly, despite the heat outside. A plain room – there was only the desk, chair, and shelves for furniture. A few paintings depicting summer scenes hung on the walls. A window, open as always, looked out over the ocean. Olivia would generally check her mail – Levanna would leave any correspondence on her desk. Instead, she rushed through her bedroom and into the tall closet.
Pushing the ironbound chest out of the way, she fumbled under the shelf for the Lier’sinn, and then reached up for the flask she stored on the top shelf. She quickly made space on her dressing table, set the Lier’sinn down, and filled it from the flask. After pricking her finger, and letting a few drops of blood fall into the bowl, she waited… and waited, pacing up and down.
Eventually, after what seemed like an age, the Lier’sinn started to bubble. Placing a finger from each hand – it could be as many fingers as you wanted, as long as there was at least one from each hand – she waited for an answer.
“Olivia? You next report isn’t due for a week? I hope this is important.”
Olivia caught her breath. She hadn’t expected Elucia to answer. “Sorry, Madam Elucia. I know I’m early, but I have important news.”
Elucia was a stocky woman, not fat, but broad. Her hair was in black ringlets that fell below her shoulders, and her deep-set, dark eyes peered intently from either side of a prominent nose. As usual, she wore her white blouse and had her Barrowstone necklace prominently situated in her cleavage.
Without a pause, Olivia explained everything that had happened: the dragons’ arrival, the destroyed Barrow Shard, Vila’s plans, the Brea girl… everything.
Elucia smiled. “Yes, we thought something might have happened to the Barrow Shard. There was a shadow in the Voice a few days ago. When did Vila leave?”
“If what the dragon said is right, the earliest she could have left was the day before yesterday.”
“Then we can expect her anytime tomorrow. I will inform the Witches Circle. It will be interesting to hear her excuses, after nearly one-hundred and thirty years. Good work, young lady. Your mother would be proud.”
Olivia felt herself blush. “Do you think I might come home after this, just for a visit? I’ve been longing to see Eiras for the first time.”
“We’ll see. I have a feeling many things will change over the coming weeks. Be patient, and remember Bailryn is your home, too. Your mother loved your father very much.”
That wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it was the closest Elucia had come to saying yes. She had longed to see her mother’s home, ever since discovering that Sophia was a witch. Still, if she had to keep the secret a few more weeks… “I understand, Madam Elucia, I will be patient, you can count on me.”
“Good girl,” Elucia said. Smiling, the woman looked as near to compassionate as Olivia had ever seen. “Now, you get back to your work before anyone wonders what you are doing. I’m sure they have duties for you. Let me know if anything changes. And once again, child, well done.”
Olivia took her fingers out of the liquid and waited for the picture to fade before pouring the foul-smelling brew back into the flask. Keeping her secret was difficult at times; not using her power was even harder, but Elucia was right – it wasn’t the time for that. Diobael was coming, and her job was more important than ever.
CHAPTER 16
Aleban’s Lot: Part Three
“And why is that so funny?” Aleban asked, squinting sideways at Farnok. The big wolf could hardly contain himself. “It was an honest mistake. If it wasn’t a crested caracara in that tree, then what was it?”
Farnok stopped laughing long enough to reply. “I thought you Rukin kept books on everything. Really, if you didn’t know what it was, you should not have answered so forcefully.”
“I thought it was a caracara,” Aleban insisted. The big wolf was still laughing. Aleban felt like biting him on the shin. “Again, why is that so funny? It certainly looked like one; broad, orange beak, black cap, white neck and tail fan. And no, we don’t keep books on everything.” Farnok gave him a look that said he doubted that very much. “Like I said, if you know the answer, my Darkin friend, then tell me what it was.”
“I don’t know what it was, I wasn’t looking. But I didn’t have to see it; caracaras don’t hunt, they scavenge. They are smaller than most eagles, and they don’t live in mountains – they’re ground-dwelling. So far as I’m aware, they live on the plains south of the canyon.”
So, the arrogant black wolf did know something. “Fine, I admit it, I was wrong; that wasn’t a caracara.”
Annoying wolf, I’ll never hear the end of this. Best change the subject.
“Now,” Aleban said, taking a deep breath, “if we are talking grassland birds… Over there, on that high branch, that’s a seven hills sparrow. On the right is a western meadowlark. The call from the north is a Karan hawk – though what it’s doing this far south is anybody’s guess.”
There, now let him say that is wrong. What a ridiculous argument. Of course, there wouldn’t be an argument if he had not insisted the damn bird was a caracara. Nevertheless, he was sure that it was. Oh well, live and learn.
Farnok shook his head. “No, I think you’ll find that’s a Eurmacian falcon, not a Karan hawk.”
Now he knew the fool was being argumentative. “Eurmacian falcons don’t come this far north, Farnok. Besides, they are nocturnal.”
Was that a smile? Was this all just taunting…? “That was a caracara, wasn’t it?”
“Honestly, Aleban, why should I care what it was? I’m a wolf.”
“So you just made all that up to—”
“Gods, will you two stop arguing for five minutes!” Arlec, the old archer, sat on his horse, arms folded, glaring at them. “We will be at Oxley soon. We need to decide how we are going to approach them. No, don’t say we’ll go around. I want to sleep in a bed tonight. I’m sure Sarai and Kalina think the same.”
Farnok groaned. Aleban waited for the inevitable “I told you not to bring them” argument, but none came. Maybe Arlec’s mood had an effect on the big wolf. If so, he would have to ask how the old man managed it. It was the first time in two days that Farnok didn’t have something to say.
“I haven’t been this far east in a long time,” Arlec said. “But if memory serves, Oxley is a big town, there should be plenty of rooms at one of the inns.”
Arlec looked annoyed. He obviously hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe there’s a farm with a big barn, or maybe—”
“Don’t worry about us,” Renik interrupted. “We’ll make do camping on the edge of town. You take the ladies to an inn. I’m sure they will appreciate a little home comfort.”
Sarai coughed. “Speaking as a lady I would like to second that.” Riding on the other side of Cren, Aleban could hardly see her horse, let alone the woman.
“It’s settled then,” Renik said. “We’ll camp on the outskirts; you go find an inn.”
So no sleeping indoors or hot, home-cooked food for Aleban. Still, at least Arlec looked happy.
Dusk was rolling over the land when the Broan River came into view. It was wide here, much wider than the Raithby. The dirt track they were travelling along led to the only crossing: a wooden footbridge, barely wide enough for a horse, and none too sturdy, by the looks of it. Across the river, Aleban could see that Oxley spread a few miles along the bank in each direction. The bridge would bring them out in the centre of town, so Arlec said, with no chance of slipping past unnoticed, even if they had wanted to.
Aleban exchanged a look with Farnok. It appeared the other wolf had the same thought. “Do you think this is wise?” Farnok asked Arlec. “If we cross that way, we’ll be in the town square before the locals have any warning. Frightened people do stupid things.”
“Oh, they’ll know,” Arlec said. He sounded certain. “The bridge gateman will spread the word before we are all over the river. Have no fear of that; we won’t be ‘frightening’ anyone.”
“Easy for you to say,” Farnok grumbled. You’re not eight-foot tall or a wolf.”
“All the same,” Arlec said, “I wouldn’t go talking about dragons and the like. They’re simple folk around here, but that don’t mean they can’t use a crossbow or sword.”
Farnok sighed, and Renik chuckled. Aleban felt like apologising for Arlec. If there was one thing the old man was good at – other than archery – it was cooking the goose when it was already in the oven. Aleban sometimes thought Arlec said those things to reassure himself, and have matters straight in his mind. Whatever the reason, the commentary was not necessary, nobody but a fool would bring up dragons with strangers.
Arlec led them down the shallow slope towards the bridge. A leather-faced old man with a cloth cap peeped over the bridge gate and looked suspiciously in their direction, glaring, would be closer to the truth. Bobbing his head up and down, the old man must have been on a gangway of some kind; the gate was at least two spans high.
They were still twenty paces away, when…
“What’s all this then?” the old man croaked. “It’s too bloody late in the day for strangers. Go to the north bridge, or wait ‘til morning.”
Arlec pulled his horse onto the wooden ramp at the foot of the bridge. “Ere, I know you,” the old man said. “You’re Arlec Bormann. What you doing back ‘ere?”
Arlec started. The old archer leaned forward, squinting at the man, and then straightened up in his saddle. “I should ask you the same question, Meridd Yban, what are you doing this far to the east? I thought you were in Beugeddy. And who in Ein’laig’s name put you in charge of a gate?”
There was a moment of silence. Then the old man at the gate burst into raucous laughter. “Just a minute, old friend, I’ll come down and let you in. Just a minute.”
The head dropped out of sight, but Aleban could still hear the clang and clatter as the old man climbed down from his perch. The hinged creaked as the gate swung open – it apparently wasn’t used very much.
“North gate? There must be another bridge, too.” Farnok said.
Arlec shrugged. “I told you it has been a long time since I was down this way.”
“Wonderful,” Farnok said. “So we could have gone around.”
“Too late now,” Toban said. “They’re going to know we are here. Might as well go this way.”
Arlec led the way, followed by Renik. Then the three Surabhan, the wolves, and the rest of the Cren. It was quite a procession.
The old man looked small now that he was down on ground level. He was a good hand shorter than Arlec, not much taller than Kalina. Dressed in a well-worn cloak, he stood with his cap in his hand, bowing as everyone passed by. He gave a little shriek at the sight of Farnok and the other Darkin. Evidently, they hadn’t looked so big from atop the gate. “Wood folk, Arlec, you been collecting wood folk – and giant wolves, too.”
Aleban blinked as the old man stared straight at him.
“Well, one of ‘em’s normal size, at least. Or are you just a baby?” he asked.
“I am Aleban, Meridd. Second of the Rukin. And no, I’m not a baby.”
He wished he could have the words back as soon as they left his mouth. Meridd stumbled backwards and landed on his rear at the foot of the ladder.
“Gods save us; talking wolves!” Meridd scrubbed dirty fingers through his hair. “I’ve heard of such, but I never thought I’d see one for me self.” The old man looked down the line of Darkin. “Can you all talk?”
“Yes,” Farnok said, “but I’d just as soon you forgot that for the time being.”
Meridd scrambled to his feet and bowed to the big wolf. “No need for that, Mr. Wolf, no need at all. I promise you, you’re safe with me. We are all friends here, my word on it.”
No need for what? Did Farnok threaten him somehow? Aleban didn’t notice anything.
Still, his word or not, Renik pulled a fat coin out of his pocket and gave it the man. “Just a… friendly gestured, Mr. Yban.”
A smile creased the old man’s face until it was almost unrecognisable. “I’ll not tell no one, I promise you that Mr… uh… Mr. Woodsman. I’ll not tell a soul, not even those Black Hand. I promised, yes I did.”
Aleban managed to suppress a growl. Farnok, however, both growled and snarled. He looked about to speak when Arlec interrupted.
“The Black Hand is in Oxley? How long?”
Meridd bit his lip and tightened his grip on the cloth cap in his hands. “That they are, my friend. Arrived yesterday, most of ‘em, but I’d bet a krùn there’s a few been around for days.”
“Do you have any idea why they are here?” Renik asked.
“You have been in the woods, haven’t you?” Meridd said, flicking his eyes between Arlec and the Cren. “They’re ‘ere to stop trouble, so they say.” Meridd paused. Licking his lips, he scratched the back of his neck. “You must have heard about the dragons, about Redgate, I mean. They were attacked a few days ago. Twenty dragons came down out of the mountains and destroyed the town… uh… well, most of it. Destroyed the supplies, anyway. You should be safe enough here, though. They don’t reckon they’ll come down here, we ain’t got nothing worth destroying.”
“Well, I’m not sure about ‘twenty’, but… Have the Black Hand caused any trouble?” Arlec asked.
“Not really. That captain of theirs has ‘em tied up pretty tight. Doesn’t let them wander. He’s got ‘em camped out behind the old mill. If you ask me, they’re waiting for something.”
“Have you heard of the Black Hand going anywhere else, Master Meridd?” Arlec asked.
“Now you mention it, yes. One of the merchants up from Townhill said he saw a wagon train of supplies coming up from Whitecliff with Black Hand guarding it. Don’t know where it was going, though.”
Arlec just nodded. Renik dismounted, ordering the rest to do the same. Not even Farnok commented. What were they doing here?
“We should keep to the backstreets,” Arlec said. “Has Eddar Flinn still got those big stables at the back of the Blue Goose?” he asked Meridd.
“Aye, that he has. Keeps trying to sell ‘em to the smithy, but Martrin don’t wanna pay nothin’ for ‘em.”
Arlec gave Renik a knowing look.
“It’s as good a plan as any,” the Cren said. “I doubt the backstreets will keep the townsfolk from knowing we are here, but we have to stop somewhere. Lead on, Arlec.”
“Gods protect you, Meridd my old friend. We’ll let you get back to your work.” Arlec said.
“You, too, Arlec, and your friends. And don’t you worry about me sayin’ nothing. I ain’t got much, but my word is still worth something.”
Arlec bowed and led them away.
Aleban walked beside the old archer. Their way steered them along dirt streets not much wider than a wagon and lined on either side by the back gardens of shops, warehouses, and the occasional three-storey house – probably inns.
“Arlec, why did you ask whether he had heard more of the Black Hand? Was it just a guess?”
“An educated guess,” Arlec admitted. “We don’t know much more than what Daric told you about this Faelen character, but this whole invasion seems to hinge on the witch working with someone from Bailryn. Strikes me as being well organised. I would not be surprised if they haven’t been planning it for years.”
“Planning?”
“Yes, whoever is helping the witch is getting something for their troubles. Black Hand waiting for orders, supply trains moving northeast, raids on the Cren; it’s clear we’ve only scratched the surface. I hope someone in Bailryn knows more, because, at the moment, we are running to catch up.”
Arlec stopped by a tall fence and waved Renik forward. “Can you reach over there and undo the latch?”
Renik leaned over, and after a moment Aleban heard the clunk of a bolt being pulled back. The gate swung in and Arlec led his horse into what looked like the large backyard of one of those three-storey buildings. Renik held the gate while everyone else followed.
Aleban moved to the side to get a clear view of the yard. Two rows of stables lined either side of a central cobbled courtyard. At the far end, lamplight from the inn’s windows made a pool of orange around an outdoor seating area. The central courtyard was wide, probably twenty paces, and the low stables, with their dark tiled roofs, were long, probably enough for twenty horses each. No wonder the landlord wanted to sell one of his stables; the inn was big, but not big enough to have required stabling for forty horses.
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