“Tyra freed a rock bear cub from a trapper today, a scruffy fellow with one arm.” Raine shivered. “Ilgtha killed him.”
Gertie grunted. “Good riddance. Trappers are scum. If he’s the man I’m thinking of, he caught Ilgtha and put her in a cage. Raven and Glory freed her in Gambollia. Ilgtha wanted to kill the trapper, right then and there, but Raven persuaded her to wait. Sounds like she finally got her chance.” She looked around. “Where is Raven, anyway? I know he’s busy, but you’d think he’d take the time to wish his mother happy Trolach.”
Raine toyed with a bit of apple and raisin shortcake garnished with heavy cream. “Carr says he’s with a woman.”
“What? No such thing,” Gertie said. “He’s been busy with crown affairs, not some bit of fluff.”
Raine lifted her gaze from her plate. “He has? Doing what?”
“Gorne’s called a ledderad.” Gertie wrinkled her snout. “Kron, I was supposed to keep that to myself, until Gorne makes the announcement. Hedda doesn’t know, and she’ll be mad as a wet rock hen when she finds out. Fancies she has a say-so in things. She forgets Gorne was rowan long before she met him.”
“Yeah, like always,” Raine said.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Raine said, her face burning at the slip. “What’s a ledderad?”
“A king’s council to discuss the coming war.”
Raine’s stomach dropped. “It’s certain, then? Glonoff has declared war?”
“Don’t look so pulled, pet. Nothing’s set in stone yet, but it’s best to be prepared, what with the Eye missing.”
And I know who took it, and it wasn’t Glonoff, Raine wanted to shout, but she wouldn’t. She would honor the devil’s bargain she’d made with Glory and hope she wouldn’t regret it.
“The…um…ledderad…will it be soon?”
“Nah, ʼtwill be some moons hence,” Gertie said. “Some rulers have farther to travel than others, and Gorne wants to give everyone invited the opportunity to attend. There’ll be no waffling or puling excuses that they weren’t given enough time.” Her voice dropped an octave. “Raven’s drafting the proclamations for his father. It’s a matter of some delicacy, as you can imagine.”
“Why doesn’t the rowan do it himself?” Raine asked, “Or ask Carr to help?”
“Carr is a sweet boy, but he hasn’t the experience.”
“He’s only a year younger than Mauric.”
“Yes, but Hedda has cosseted the boy,” Gertie said. “By the time Mauric was Carr’s age, he’d been in the guard four years, but Hedda refuses to let Carr join. It’s a miracle he hasn’t rebelled. She’s kept him tied to her apron strings. Hardly lets him out of her sight. Why, a trip north to visit the Koreks is as far as she’s let him go.” She took a drink of ale, wiping the foam from her mouth with the back of her paw. “As for Gorne, if he has a weakness as a ruler, it’s that he finds diplomacy tedious. Raven, on the other paw, is on good terms with every ruler in Tandara—except for Glonoff, of course—through his shipping enterprises.” There was pride in Gertie’s voice. “Rich as a troll, my boy, and he’s done it on his own.” Her long ears flicked. “Speaking of Raven, here he is.”
Raine glanced up, her heart quickening. Raven strode into the hall dressed in his customary leathers, rather than the finery worn by the other guests at the banquet. He looked tired. With the rowan’s and Hedda’s departures, people had begun to drift from the tables. Several guests called out to Raven as he passed, but he nodded and kept going.
Springing lightly up the steps to the dais, he bent and kissed Gertie on the tip of her wet, black nose. “Joyous Trolach, Mor. Did you enjoy your dinner?”
“ʼTwas excellent.” Gertie patted her hairy stomach. “Valmer is a pretentious cod, but he sets a fine table.”
“I’m sure he would be gratified you approve.” Raven bowed to Raine. “Joyous Trolach, milady. That’s a remarkably pretty gown. You look lovely tonight.”
“Thank you,” Raine said, blushing at the compliment. “The dress is Luanna’s. Lady Asta insisted that I wear it. She’s been very kind to me.”
“Mauric tells me the queen has invited Luanna to attend her,” Raven said. “ʼTis a great honor.”
“So I hear,” Raine murmured.
Raven’s brows rose. “A tepid endorsement. What’s this, have Hedda’s wasps been stinging you?”
“The queen’s ladies have been most helpful,” Raine said. “Let me see…” She ticked off her list of flaws on her fingers. “I am without accomplishment, my hair is the wrong color, and I’m a strumpet, because I happen to be on easy terms with certain members of the opposite sex, including you. Oh, and I’m a spy sent by Glonoff.”
Raven grinned. “Welcome to court. Now you know why I went to sea.”
“Curse ʼem with boils,” Gertie said. “That will show ʼem.”
“What about the oath?” Raine asked.
“What oath?”
“The wizard’s oath. Bree made me promise not to use my magic to take advantage of drabs.”
“Pah, that’s Mage Guild twaddle. I’m all for responsible magery, but they take the fun out of it. What’s the point of being a wizard if you can’t give your enemies spots now and again?”
Raven chuckled and turned to Raine. “How was your first boondag?”
“Lively,” Raine said. “What about you? Are you taking part in the games tomorrow?”
“Nay, I’ve business to attend to, so I will be late, if I attend atall. Dare I hope that you will miss me?”
Raine blushed at his teasing tone. “I shall endeavor to endure your absence without lapsing into a decline.”
Gertie slapped her paw on the table. “Ho, son, she gave you back some of your own.”
Raven grinned. “Aye, she did and all.”
Gertie yawned and stretched her apish arms. “Well, I’m for bed. You’ve got first watch. Mind escorting the gal to her rooms?”
“Gladly,” said Raven.
The three of them rose and departed the banquet hall. They separated at the top of the stairs, and Gertie dropped to all fours and loped off to her rooms.
“Thank you for teaching Flame to hunt,” Raine said as she and Raven continued down the corridor in the direction of her tower. “I understand there was an incident with a cow?”
“Three cows, actually,” Raven said. “Flame’s concept of numbers and quantity is somewhat shaky.”
“Oh, dear,” Raine said. “No wonder the poor man was angry.”
“He was amply compensated.”
“Yes, and I—”
“Don’t,” Raven said. “It is of no moment.” He cleared his throat. “My brother…” He cleared his throat. “That is, you and Carr are enjoying one another’s company?”
“Yes, he is a delightful companion.”
“I see.”
He fell silent, saying no more until they reached her tower.
“I hope you enjoy the games tomorrow,” he said, pausing at the stairwell door. “I shall be busy with my father’s affairs.”
“The ledderad,” Raine said. “Gertie told me. Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. She swore me to secrecy.”
“ʼTis done, in any event. The kylira have been sent.”
“Kylira?”
“Miniature griffins,” Raven said. “The kylira are the royal messengers of the Finlaran court. They were a gift. From Kron to Finn, I think. They will deliver the invitations to the ledderad.”
“Will everyone come?”
He shook his head. “The elves won’t stir from their wood. They have little use for the outside world. As for the dwarves, my father has mixed feelings about them.”
“Why?”
He opened the door and motioned for Raine to go ahead. “The northern dwarves are surly and suspicious,” he said, climbing the st
airs behind her, “and they despise the southern dwarves. There is sure to be dissension, should both tribes attend. It has ever been so.”
“A feud?” Raine paused on the landing, intrigued. “What started it?”
Raven joined her at the top of the stairs and leaned against the wall. “The trouble began, or so the story goes, thousands of years ago, with two brothers, Groor Mountainbane and Tass Goldenbranch. Groor was the elder and a gem auger—he had a knack for finding rare and precious stones. As a young man, Groor unearthed a magnificent ruby called the Cyan Bloodstone. Big as an ox heart it was and reputed to possess dark powers.”
“What kind of dark powers?”
Raven shook his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps the stone preyed upon Groor’s mind, for his desire for gold and gems consumed him and he left the Bloodstone in his father’s keeping and disappeared into the mountains of northern Sethlar. Years passed with no word from him, and he was presumed dead. Tass, the younger brother, went to his father and persuaded him to give him the Bloodstone. He sold it and used the money to start a successful shipping business.”
“Let me guess,” Raine said, “Groor returned and wanted the stone back.”
“Aye. Tass went to the buyer and tried to persuade him to sell it, but the new owner refused. Groor blamed his brother, and the two of them came to blows. Groor lost an eye in the fight and fled north, never to see his family again. The enmity between the two brothers has lasted unto this day, poisoning the generations that followed.”
“Who bought the Bloodstone?”
“Glonoff.”
“I might have known,” Raine said. “What a troublemaker.”
The door to the sitting room opened, and Drifa looked out. “There you are, milady. I thought I heard voices.”
Raine left Raven on the landing and went to her room. Drifa helped her undress and brushed out her hair.
“I’ll wake you early, milady,” she said when Raine was in bed. “There’s sure to be a crush at the stadium tomorrow, and you don’t want to be late.”
She bid Raine good night and left. The door had barely closed behind her when Mimsie appeared in a clingy blue toga, her light brown hair braided over one shoulder.
“I thought she’d never leave,” the ghost said. “Get up. You’ve got things to do.”
“Hello to you, too,” Raine said, sitting up. “Like what?”
“Don’t be dense,” Mimsie said. “It’s Holgunnatt.”
“So?”
Mimsie rolled her eyes. “Use your noodle, girl. What happens on Holgunnatt?”
“I don’t—” Raine gasped. “The rowan…and Raven’s mother. You know about the curse?”
“My boyfriend’s a god, Mary Raine. Who do you think pronounced the damn thing?”
“Kron cursed Raven’s mother?”
“Not just Ronnie—the other gods, too, except Xan and Magog. Xan had already relocated to Deadsville, and Magog was bonkers.”
“Raven’s mother, do you—”
“Know who she is? You’re darn tooting, but I can’t tell you. The curse works on ghosts, same as everyone else. The gods were very thorough. If there’s a loophole, I haven’t found it.” Mimsie propped her hands on her hips. “Are you going to sit there, gal, or get shaking?”
“And do what?”
“Don’t you want to find out who Raven’s mother is, and break the curse?”
“Me? Why me?’
“Why not you?” Mimsie waved a hand and the bedroom window swung open. “Raven’s outside the door. There’s no help for it. You’ll have to go out the window.”
“Go out the—how?”
“I swear, Mary Raine, you would try the patience of a saint. You’re a wizard. Turn into a bird and fly.”
“I can’t. I suck at birds.”
“Can’t never did do nothing. Try.”
Raine knew that tone. Mimsie was like a badger. Once she got her teeth into something, she wouldn’t let go. Raine got up and went to the window. Hundreds of feet below the tower, the sea thrashed and churned against the cliffs. The thought of stepping into that nothingness made Raine’s head spin.
“I can’t,” Raine said, clutching the windowsill. “I’m telling you, I can’t do birds. I’ve tried.”
“Take a deep breath and try again. You’re a Carlisle, and Carlisles don’t quit.”
Reluctantly, Raine inhaled. The air was crisp and lemony, and exhilarating. “The air smells of magic.”
“Strong night,” Mimsie said, “and you’re a wizard. You’ve got this, baby girl. Fly.”
Raine took another breath. Her very pores tingled. Mimsie was right. She could do this.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated. The image of the bird formed in Raine’s mind with exquisite clarity. It was large, with blue, white, and black plumage, a perky crest, and a broad, rounded tail. Her skin tingled, and she felt a strange, pulling sensation.
“A blue jay,” Mimsie said. “Interesting choice. Some people don’t like them, but I always have. They’re tough little bags of feathers, and they don’t back down. Blue jays mate for life—did you know that?”
“Toolool,” Raine whistled, and soared into the night.
Her flight almost ended before it began. The wind off the sea caught her and sent her tumbling in a downward spiral. She got her wings under her and quickly flapped behind the battlements. Shaken, she landed on the walkway to settle her feathers. It was a bright, moonlit night. The moons were up and smiling down upon the city. The hour was not advanced, but few people were about. Too much ale and rich food, Raine thought, clicking her beak. A sentry passed by and moved on. In the distance, over the steady moan of the sea, she heard the unending, dulcet chime of the Wailing Tree.
She took wing once more and flew low over the sprawling castle grounds, searching for the crumbling tower she’d seen in the mirror. She found it near the north gate, a mossy finger of stones with a moonlit courtyard. A faint light burned in an upper window of the tower, a golden speck in the darkness. Raine landed in a lavender bush and tucked her feathers. The night was heavy with expectation. Raine cocked her crested head and waited.
The woman stepped out of the darkness and into the moonlight, moving with sensuous grace. She was barefoot and clad in a simple gown that clung to her curves. She raised her arms and slowly turned, as though drinking in the night, then moved eagerly toward the tower door.
A dark, wavering shape appeared in the courtyard, barring her way. With a soft whir of alarm, Raine huddled deeper within the lavender bush.
“Will you yield and come to me?” a silken voice said.
Growing bolder, Raine peered through the branches. The flickering form was a revenant, she realized, and not a real man.
“Never.” The woman tossed her long, wavy hair. “My answer has not changed, nor will it.”
“ʼTis folly,” the specter said. “Do you not weary of this game, my love? Come to me, and I will see the curse lifted.”
“Liar,” the woman spat. “ʼTwas your deceit that set brother against brother, lo those many years ago. Your treachery that set the curse in motion. To lift the curse, you would have to admit your perfidy, and that you will never do.”
“Come to me,” the phantom insisted, and Raine felt the pressure of an implacable will brought to bear. “You suffer needlessly.”
“I will not,” the woman cried in her sultry voice. “I will never be yours, Glonoff. Now, begone. You are but a shadow. You have no power here.”
She waved her hand and the figment dissolved with a furious shriek. Hurrying to the tower door, she opened it and disappeared inside. Raine fluttered from the lavender bush to the window glowing softly high above. She cocked her tufted head and peered through the mullioned glass. Finn had shed his Gorne disguise and sat by the fire, his head in his hands. A wine bottle lay empty on the floor. The
latch on the door lifted with a soft scritch, and he sprang to his feet with a hoarse cry as the woman entered the room. He closed the space between them in two strides and snatched her close.
“Gwen,” he said, covering her face with kisses. “I feared I would never see you again.”
Lifting her in his strong arms, he started for the bed.
“Nay, we cannot,” she said. “You belong to another.”
“I belong to you, and no one else.”
“You have a wife.”
“In name only.”
“It matters not. You are wed.” She traced his face with her fingertips, as though memorizing his features. “Should I leave?”
“Nay.” Finn carried her to the chair and sat down, settling her in his lap. “I am content to hold you until dawn.”
The woman called Gwen was tall and shapely, with long legs that dangled across Finn’s muscular thighs. Sighing, she turned in his arms and buried her face against his neck. “Gods, how I have missed you.”
Raine stared at the bottoms of the woman’s feet. They were pretty feet, slim and arched, but for the ugly white scars on the soles.
Raine nearly tumbled off the window ledge in shock. She knew those scars. She’d seen them before on Gertie’s paws.
“Jay-jay,” she called in surprise, launching herself into flight.
She flew in circles around the tower, chucking and whirring in agitation. The rowan was in love with Gertie.
Raven’s mother hadn’t abandoned him. Raven’s mother was Gertie.
Glory and Gertie were sisters. No wonder they fought like cats and dogs.
Gertie was Gwen, and she’d been cursed, and Glonoff was somehow behind it.
Raine left the tower and flew back to the fast, her brain whirring. She had to talk to someone.
She flapped back to her room, but Mimsie was gone. She darted out the window again and made her way to the east wing. Landing on a windowsill, she peered inside. It was the wrong room. Four windows down, she found what she was looking for. Glory sat before a low fire in her dressing gown, her head bent over a bit of needlework. Raine pecked on the glass.
Glory set aside her embroidery and rose. “Who’s there?”
A Muddle of Magic Page 30