Seeker of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  Bolting up the steps three at a time, she reached the porch and dropped her bags. One of the guards started laughing at her. She felt like driving the spear into his fat stomach; there was nothing funny about being spooked by ghostly voices and shadows, not in her world. Her eyes scoured the courtyard as she turned, finding Grudge busy dealing with the battlefield workers and household staff, with Hawk assisting him, while Osprey tried to calm Mrs. Caldwell before she started swinging her broom. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing scary lurked in the courtyard, but she remained jumpy. Grudge finally left Hawk in charge of dispersing the crowd and headed in her direction. Osprey succeeded in turning away the household staff and the head maid, Mrs. Caldwell, spun around in a huff, marching toward the door, her big bottom swinging. By the time the rotund woman had returned to Raven’s Hall, Grudge was at her side.

  “Mrs. Caldwell didn’t want to clean laundry tonight,” Grudge said. “Osprey and Hawk have the situation under control. Let’s get inside.” He pushed his hood away, revealing his shiny bald head, and flashed a gold medallion at the two guards. The Captain’s Badge, passed from each commander to the next, had a raven on one side and the moon on the other, and was proof he was the new captain. Both guards saluted Grudge, by pressing their fingers tightly together and tapping their foreheads; no explanation was needed about Captain Leech’s demise. One guard knocked three times on the large door. It was always three times, some superstition of Osprey’s, but everything was always in threes, even invoking Navenna’s blessing; head, heart, and loins. Three knocks on the door had nothing to do with prayers, however, and she figured it was enough times to get people moving in the hall.

  “What happened to Leech?” Taliesin said.

  “I thought you knew,” Grudge said, pausing when they heard people talking behind the door, growing louder. The heavy wooden beam on the opposite side of the doors could be heard sliding to the side and he continued. “Leech fell off his horse, dead when he hit the ground. Must have been his heart. This job is for young men, not gray-beards.”

  “I’m sure that’s why you were promoted. No gray hairs.”

  “Tempers are running a little high this evening,” Grudge said. “Wolfmen were spotted in a nearby glen.” His gaze lowered, and he noticed the sword at her side. “I’m glad you’re armed. You may have need of it before the night is over. Just for you, I’ve asked your father to allow you into the Black Wings. He’s considering my request.”

  “I’d be the first woman in the Black Wings,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “I said he’s considering it. If you can stay out of trouble for one hour, I’ll convince him it’s a good idea.” Grudge stepped in front of her as the doors were pulled inward by house staff, and he entered, the guards remaining at their post. She hurried after him, noting Doomsayer was bundled up and strapped across his back, making it easier to carry. He carried an axe, and a long dagger hung from his belt, both Falstaff weapons newly acquired. Six guards stood inside the hall, and they saluted when Grudge held up the gold medallion. They immediately came to talk to him. “I’m your new captain, lads,” Grudge said, in good spirits. “Let’s raise a glass to Captain Leech and bid him well on his journey to the underworld.”

  The atmosphere turned from grim to festive as men gathered around Grudge, patting him on the shoulder and giving him a hero’s welcome. Taliesin heard someone say the fires had been kept out, not wanting anyone to see the caravan enter Raven’s Nest. A plausible reason, but considering Wolfmen had followed them home, it hardly seemed time to celebrate. Taliesin dragged her gear to a table. Her eyes quickly grew accustomed to the light coming from the great fireplace. Torches on tall iron stands stationed throughout the vaulted chamber were lit by servants, casting a yellow glow. The walls were covered with tapestries and deer antlers, boars’ heads, an array of impressive swords, and a shield made out of dragon scales. Women were setting pewter plates on four long tables placed in the center of the hall and tossing fresh straw onto the floor, stirring the hairy hounds beneath the tables. A loud commotion could be heard coming from the kitchen. She imagined Hillary scurrying about, preparing the evening’s meal; no doubt he would soon appear to welcome Taliesin home. An old man was hardly a suitable companion for someone her age, but Hillary had been her closest friend until eight months ago, and they still often spent time together, talking over hot biscuits about all manner of subjects. Until she saw Hillary, and knew he was safe, she wouldn’t be able to relax.

  “Now let’s raise a glass to Captain Grudge,” one of the Black Wing guards said. Ten guards remained inside the hall, changing posts at intervals to take turns on the decks high in the tree, at the entrance to Raven’s Hall, or in one of the four secret watchtowers located in the Tannenberg Forest. Grudge had a strange look on his face as the men patted him on the back, praised him for his promotion, and made a fuss that reminded Taliesin of little boys eager to please their new master. She placed the silver spear on the table beside her bags and watched Grudge and the guards drink a toast; it was interrupted by a sudden commotion at the door that caused everyone to wheel around.

  “Out of my way,” a man said with a deep, grating voice.

  Two members of the Wolf Clan pushed aside the guards at the door and entered the hall without invitation, something that just wasn’t done. Black Wings stormed into the hall to confront the two burly Wolfmen in gray cloaks, who both drew their swords. Grudge walked toward the Wolfmen, blocking Taliesin’s view with his tall, broad frame, though she could see quite a few spears and swords pointed at the Wolfmen.

  Creeping behind Grudge, she peered around him. Both Wolfmen looked equally dangerous. Each wore a matching steel helmet with a closed visor shaped as a wolf’s muzzle. Long, gray fur cloaks attached to the steel breastplates that covered their chainmail shirts added to their fierce appearance. Plate mail covered their broad shoulders, and ornate greaves were worn from knee to ankle over tall boots. Their swords had jagged edges and were in need of polishing. Neither man had bathed in weeks, and their body odor was ripe. The taller Wolfman, strands of blond hair poking out from under his helmet, noticed Taliesin and pointed his sword at her. The guards glanced in her direction, and she felt Grudge’s gaze upon her. She straightened as she fell in beside him.

  “Our grievance is not with you, Captain,” the taller Wolfman said. He lowered his sword and removed his helmet, holding it under his arm. Long, dirty blond hair fell onto his broad shoulders. His green eyes were cold and hard. “Tell the Raven Master we’ve been sent by Chief Lykus and would speak with him directly. We’ve ridden a long way and require food and drink.”

  “The Raven Master has already been sent for,” Grudge said. “We do not dine until he arrives, but we can offer you ale.” He held his hand out, motioning for the two Wolfmen to take a seat.

  “You’ve no right to enter Raven’s Hall without invitation,” Taliesin said, speaking her mind. The two gray-cloaked men glared at her. “I’m the Raven Master’s favorite daughter. I’ve every right to ask you to show us proof Chief Lykus sent you. Otherwise, you can go outside and eat with the dogs.”

  Grudge took her arm and propelled her behind the line of Black Wings. He released her as she stumbled and fell onto a bench. “Keep quiet,” he said in a threatening manner. “I have no doubt this has something to do with you.” He returned to the Wolfmen.

  A few house servants gathered at the fireplace, stacking wood and stoking the fire, their heads turned as if deliberately refusing to meet her gaze. Taliesin was appalled no one came to give her a tankard of ale, as they always did for everyone who returned from a Gathering. Several servants walked in a side door and continued setting the tables, but Hillary was not with them. The scent of roasted venison drifted into the hall from the kitchen, causing Taliesin’s stomach to growl. An old man came to her table to place a tankard of ale in front of her. Taliesin took a large gulp, turned, and tried to eavesdrop on the conversation between the men. It couldn’t have been that important
, for at that moment the kitchen door opened and Mrs. Caldwell came out, swaying her hips and carrying twenty tankards of ale on a tray. The men grabbed tankards, and the two Wolfmen placed their swords and helmets onto the nearest table and accepted tankards of ale. They drained them within seconds and took others off the tray before Mrs. Caldwell could catch her breath.

  “Bring us as many pitchers as you can carry, Mrs. Caldwell,” Grudge said. “Our guests seem to be thirsty.” The Black Wings lifted their tankards and drank as one.

  “I want meat,” the short, stocky Wolfman said. He had a dirty beard, mangy hair, and fleas were practically jumping off him.

  Taliesin pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, finding both Wolfmen so crude they seemed nothing more than savages.

  “Soon, soon,” Grudge said, placing one foot on a bench. “Tell me, Captain Wolfgar, what brings you here? We noticed your men following us. They came all the way from the battlefield to Raven’s Nest without once paying a visit at our campfires. Were you at the battlefield or did you come straight from Wolf’s Lair?”

  Vibrant green eyes stared at Grudge. The man’s face was angular, pale, and covered with dirt, along with a week’s growth of blond fuzz. His nose was long with flared nostrils, and his mouth wide with thin lips. Taliesin found Wolfgar rather handsome, in a wild sort of way, and imagined the blond savage running naked through the forest in pursuit of a deer before killing it with his bare hands. Wolfgar caught her staring and smiled over the brim of his tankard, sending chills along her spine.

  “You know me?” Wolfgar said, regarding Grudge. “I don’t know you. Must be new around here? What happened to Leech? I never thought that old bird would die, and I tried to kill him several times in the past. Never liked him much.”

  “Leech died on the way here. I’m Captain Grudge. This is Taliesin, the Raven Master’s daughter, and she is correct about protocol,” he said firmly. “Entering another clan’s hall without permission just isn’t done. Do you have the proper letter of transit from your lord? If so, I’d like to see it; then I’d be glad to offer you something to eat.”

  Wolfgar sniffed. “This is Lieutenant Udolf,” he said, wiping his nose across his arm. “And I’ve got such a letter. It’s for the Raven Master, not the Captain of the Black Wings. I don’t care for protocol, so read it if you like. But you should know captains don’t need permission to enter a hall. Any hall. Same rule would apply if you showed up unannounced at Wolf’s Lair. But we’d feed you.”

  “Same as Wolf’s Lair,” Udolf repeated. “But there would be meat.” He took a drink of ale. “This ale is better than what we have at Wolf’s Lair, though; that’s for certain.” He didn’t cover his mouth when he belched.

  The Black Wings started sitting as well, legs in the aisle between the tables. Wolfgar and Grudge sat across from each other as Grudge placed his axe on the table. Taliesin slid along the bench until she was an inch from him and placed her elbow on the table, resting her head on her fist. She was so tired she wanted to go upstairs, bathe, and then sleep. But that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon, and she suppressed a yawn behind her hand.

  “As captain to captain then, answer my questions,” Grudge said, not repeating what he’d asked before. He leaned forward, arms on his legs and a tankard held between his knees.

  “We came straight from Wolf’s Lair. Udolf and me. If my men followed you here, then they’ve their own reason for doing so.” Wolfgar reached into the neck of his chainmail shirt and removed a folded piece of parchment with an unbroken wax seal, which he handed to Grudge. “It’s official business,” he said. “Has to do with the Raven Master’s daughter.”

  “Which one? Master Osprey has forty adopted daughters of all ages,” Grudge said, chuckling. He looked at the letter, refrained from breaking the seal, and placed it under his belt. “I asked you which daughter you’ve come here to inquire about.”

  “That one,” Wolfgar said, pointing at Taliesin. “The red-haired bitch.”

  “This is Taliesin. The Raven Master’s favorite daughter, and I’ll ask you not to refer to her as a female dog. The Raven Master will open the letter, now that I see you have one.”

  “Fine.” Wolfgar made the one word sound like a snarl. “We’ll wait for the Raven Master and hope he’ll feed us. I don’t mind answering a few questions now about the girl. It won’t take long to find out what we want to know. I have a few tests I’d like to put to her.”

  Several pitchers of ale were placed on the table by Mrs. Caldwell and her staff. Udolf grabbed a pitcher, ignoring his tankard, and drank his fill. Wolfgar poured his own drink and sniffed at the large woman, sending her hurrying to the kitchen. He took a sip and looked at Taliesin, licking his lips when he lowered his mug.

  “Taliesin is a member of the Black Wings,” Grudge said, “and as such, you will treat her with the same respect you show me. We’re not in Wolf’s Lair, Captain, and Taliesin has earned a place among the men.”

  “Then she doesn’t need to be coddled,” Wolfgar snarled. “I don’t mind if you answer for her. Captain to captain. But you’ll be honest. Agreed?”

  “Agreed, but keep it civil,” Grudge said.

  “Chief Lykus has reason to suspect this woman is a witch,” Wolfgar said, coming right to his purpose for being there. “It’s no good having a witch among the clans. Magic is outlawed and no clan can harbor one. That’s King’s Law and Clan Law. If she’s a witch and I can prove it, Chief Lykus wants her burned at the stake. That civil enough for you, Captain Grudge?”

  “You’ve been seriously misinformed, if that is indeed what your chief thinks,” Grudge said. “Taliesin is not a witch. There are no magic users at Raven’s Nest. We have an herbalist, an old croon who can read Tareen Cards, and a blacksmith who reads tea leaves. But no witches or warlocks. Why does Chief Lykus think Taliesin is a witch? What proof do you have?”

  Taliesin set her tankard aside. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “If that’s what your chief thinks, then he’s got bats in his belfry,” she shouted. No one moved. No one spoke. Grudge and Wolfgar glared at her, each for different reasons. “I’m not a witch. Anyone who says that about me had better be ready to have their teeth knocked in. That’s an ugly accusation, and it’s a lie, so take it back.”

  “What?” Grudge said and Wolfgar at the same time.

  “You heard me. Take it back.” Taliesin finished off her ale, stood, and stepped over the bench to face Wolfgar, so angry she stomped her foot and shook her fist. “I won’t have you slandering my good name or making up lies about me, Captain Wolfgar. If you won’t take back what you said, then this conversation is over, and you can leave right now! Tell those dogs at our gates to return to their kennels or I’ll be the one to teach them a thing or two about manners. I don’t like Wolfmen urinating on our fence.”

  The laughter among the men, both Raven and Wolf, was enough to send Taliesin into a fury. Her cheeks turned red. She felt her blood boiling and imagined beating Wolfgar over the head with the nearest trough of meat, and skewering his smelly friend with a fork. She turned around and reached for her bags, intending to go to her room, but Grudge caught her by the arm and yanked her onto the bench.

  “Not another word,” Grudge said. “That’s an order, Taliesin.”

  Udolf let out a growl and drained his tankard. “No bitch speaks out of turn at Wolf’s Lair.” He slammed the tankard on the table. “More ale!”

  “Mrs. Caldwell,” Grudge called out in a loud, booming voice. “Bring more ale for our guests, and send a kitchen boy to find out what’s keeping Master Osprey.” He crossed one leg over the other. “Let’s hear why Lykus thinks Taliesin is a witch. Apart from her red hair and bad temper, I can assure you she’s as normal as any other Raven girl.”

  “But she’s not afraid of me,” Wolfgar said, in a throaty voice. Taliesin lifted her chin higher; it was a compliment, at least to her, and he nodded at her, acknowledging it. “Most women are too afraid to me
et my gaze. This one thinks her good looks will spare her a gruesome death. Pretty or ugly, witches are treated the same in the end. Can’t have her casting spells on our clan, now can we? As I said, we’ve a few tests we can conduct, and if she passes, we’ll leave and take our scouts with us.” He set aside his tankard, untied a pouch from his belt, and placed it on the table, half-turning to open it. “You ever hunt witches, Grudge?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “A dash of salt will raise boils on their arms or face. They cast no reflection in mirrors and are unable to drink holy water. If she passes these tests, then we look for suspicious markings on her body like moles, blemishes, or extra teats witches use to feed their familiars.”

  “Familiars?” Taliesin said, unable to remain silent. She didn’t know much about witches, other than they were supposed to be ugly, not pretty, have warts like Minerva, live like hermits in caves, and boiled strange things in large kettles. Nothing but stories. No one had seen a witch in decades, and none had ever been at Raven’s Nest, not since magic was outlawed.

  “A black cat, toads, perhaps a rat, and some witches have been known to keep spiders,” Wolfgar said, going through his pouch. “The text is very specific. Here it is.” He tossed a small, dirty book with a grimy cover onto the table. “I’ve done this before, Captain Grudge. I know what I’m looking for and how to deal with a witch. Perhaps we could examine her...”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” Taliesin stood up again, walked to the other table, and picked up the book, standing between the two Wolfmen to do so. Wolfgar sniffed at her; so did Udolf, and she felt like taking the book and hitting them both over their heads. Instead, she read the cover. “‘How to Recognize Witches and Other Supernatural Creatures’ by C. W. Pedigrew. Well, let me tell you something, Captain Wolfgar, I no more like a witch hunt than I’m sure you like wolf hunts. I can assure you I don’t have any extra tits.” She threw the book onto the table, spotting a nearby salt cellar, pulled it over and stuck her fingers into the middle of the white crystals. “No boils,” she said, stepping away from the table and returning to sit next to Grudge. “Do you have a mirror and holy water? Might as well get this over with.”