Arrow (Knife)

by Anderson, R. J.

  ‘You don’t really need me, Lyn,’ said Martin. ‘You’ve got a couple of fine young actors there, and you’ll bully the rest into genius yet. How do you know you’re not part faery yourself?’

  ‘Ha! With this old face? Not likely.’ She stepped outside with them, into the wan grey light. The sky was rumpled with cloud, and the breeze smelled of dust and impending rain. ‘So you’ll be all right, then? I’ve a sense you’re in some kind of trouble.’ Her eyes flicked to Rhosmari. ‘Or is it you that’s the trouble?’

  ‘Rhosmari is far too well-behaved to cause trouble for anyone,’ replied Martin. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.’ He touched his fingers to his forehead. ‘Peace and good fortune to you, Lyn. You won’t regret your kindness.’

  The human woman gave a tight smile. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’ For one last moment her gaze lingered on Rhosmari, as though she were still not quite sure what to make of her. Then she shook her head, waved them both off, and went back inside.

  By daylight, Cardiff looked more friendly to Rhosmari than it had the night before. It still felt strange to be surrounded by pavement and metal, and buildings so tall they made her feel dizzy to look at them. But here and there she glimpsed trees beginning to bud, and grassy spaces where gold and purple crocuses bloomed. And though the fumes of passing vehicles still tainted the air, there were more pleasant smells, too: the aroma of fresh bread wafting from a bakery, the dusky scent of coffee, a floral swirl of perfume as a group of young women hurried by.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’ Martin asked Rhosmari as they walked. ‘I did. You’d be surprised how comfortable it is to sleep as a bird, as long as you don’t have to worry about predators swooping down on you.’

  ‘Like the Blackwings?’ asked Rhosmari, glancing at the sky. Not that there was any point: the air was full of dark shapes, and even her faery senses could not have told a real bird from a false one at this distance.

  ‘I doubt they’d eat me,’ Martin said, as though he were considering the possibility. ‘Though they could certainly make my life unpleasant. But enough of that talk. We need to decide where to start looking for the rebels.’

  ‘You don’t think there are any here?’

  ‘There might be, but I don’t know of anyone specific – and even if I did, we don’t have anything to track them with.’ He stooped to peer at his reflection in a shop window, combed his hair smooth with his fingers, and straightened up again. ‘Besides, Rob was born and raised in London. I doubt he’d take his followers into Wales, not when there are still places in England left to hide.’

  ‘Then perhaps the rebels are in London?’

  Martin appeared to consider this, but then he shook his head. ‘I think not. The Empress might have lost Sanctuary, but many of the London faeries are still under her control, and the rebels would find it hard to establish a stronghold there. I suggest we go north, to somewhere like Birmingham or even as far as Manchester. There are strong Wylds in both those places, and if Rob is looking for allies it would make sense for him to try there first.’

  He obviously had no doubt that Rob had escaped the battle. Rhosmari wished she could be half as sure about Garan and the other Children of Rhys who had gone with him. Garan and Broch had both done well in the Rhysian Games, and Llinos had served in the Council Guard, but none of them had ever experienced real warfare, any more than she had.

  ‘And even if we don’t find the rebels themselves,’ Martin continued, ‘we may meet some sympathisers who can point us in the right direction. Or at least tell us something about them.’

  Rhosmari could not argue with that. Even bad news would be better than uncertainty. ‘Then we’ll go to the Wyld that’s the farthest,’ she said. ‘If the Blackwings are still following us, it will take them longer to catch up with us there.’

  ‘Wisely thought,’ said Martin. ‘Manchester it is. But before we go, I have a suggestion. Take a little of your money and buy a coat, instead of that old-fashioned cloak. It will make it harder for the Blackwings to pick you out from a distance, and you will likely find it warmer as well.’

  At first she was tempted to argue with him: the cloak was warm enough, and surely it could not be that old-fashioned. But it was true that she had not seen anyone else on the mainland wearing one. Could that be why the jeweller in St David’s had been suspicious of her? Had he thought she was too poor to afford a proper coat, let alone own a pearl necklace?

  Embarrassed to think that she had made such a foolish error, Rhosmari swallowed her objections and followed Martin to a clothing shop not far from the railway station. They negotiated their way inside, and once she found a fitted jacket that matched the soft brown of her boots, she felt ready to give up her cloak without regret.

  Martin seemed pleased with her choice – or perhaps he was just pleased with himself, because as Rhosmari was counting out her money he gave the girl behind the counter a smile that made her lower her eyes and turn pink.

  ‘Did you put a charm on her?’ asked Rhosmari as they left the shop. She did not mean to sound accusing, but the amount she had spent on the coat was less than she expected.

  ‘Hardly,’ said Martin. ‘It’s a second-hand shop, that’s all. Beguiling’s not one of my talents; I could have stopped time and stolen the coat more easily than I could have confused her into charging you the wrong price for it. Why are you so suspicious?’ He leaned closer, his breath warming her ear, and murmured, ‘Or…were you jealous?’

  Rhosmari felt her face grow hot. Unable to think of a reply, she raised her chin and walked faster.

  Martin laughed.

  They left Cardiff by the next train, heading for Manchester. Rain streaked the windows of the carriage as they sped along, blurring Rhosmari’s view of the countryside until she could see little more than her own shadowy reflection.

  ‘Tell me more about the Empress,’ she said to Martin, as she settled back into her seat. ‘Where did she come from? Why is she so determined to bring all the faeries under her control?’

  Martin shrugged. ‘All I know is that she is powerful, and ruthless, and that she despises humans – although that may be more ironic than any of us guessed. She looks like a porcelain angel, all blonde curls and sweetness; but at the battle of Sanctuary I glimpsed her true face, and it was withered with age. Either her use of dark magic has corrupted her body, or…’ He ran a finger thoughtfully across his chin. ‘Or else she was once human herself.’

  Rhosmari found that hard to believe. Surely the Empress would not find it so easy to hate humans if she had spent most of her life as one? ‘She must be quite old, then,’ she said. ‘Does she think she can live forever? Or does she have some plan for carrying on her empire after she is gone?’

  ‘She has several trusted lieutenants,’ said Martin, ‘who have served her for many years. And naturally, Corbin and Byrne Blackwing are among them. But there is another faery named Veronica who is even closer to her in spirit, and there are rumours that she has already begun to learn the secrets of the Empress’s power. So if you were thinking that all we need to do is wait a few more years for the Empress to die…’ He gave a thin smile. ‘Then you would be wrong.’

  Reluctantly, Rhosmari nodded. Of course the solution could not be so simple. She was beginning to understand why Garan had felt he had to help the mainland faeries in their struggle – though for the Children of Rhys’s sake, she still wished that he had not.

  ‘But enough of that gloomy talk,’ said Martin. ‘Tell me about the Wyld you came from.’

  His expression held only curiosity, and she felt sure he meant no harm. Yet how could she entrust a near-stranger with the secrets of the Children of Rhys? ‘I…can’t,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, come now, you must be able to tell me something. What about this countryman of yours, who left to join the rebellion? Why is it so important for you to find him again?’

  Rhosmari bit her lip, torn between the temptation to confess everything and the fear of what might happen if she did. She
longed to share her burden with someone. Yet Martin owed his own freedom to the Stone of Naming. What would he say if he knew – or even suspected – that she had come to take it away?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last. ‘I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me. But I can’t.’

  Martin’s jaw tightened, and she could see that she had offended him. But all he said was, ‘Very well.’

  The streets of Manchester were dreary with rain, and as Rhosmari followed Martin out of the train station she turned up the collar of her jacket. Humans passed by them on both sides; few gave Rhosmari a second glance, and those who did looked more approving than otherwise. She was glad to have taken Martin’s advice, and left her cloak behind in Cardiff.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Rhosmari, when they had walked along the pavement for several minutes.

  ‘Somewhere private,’ Martin replied. It was the first time he had spoken in hours, but to her relief he did not sound angry, only preoccupied. ‘Finding spells take concentration, and I don’t want us to be interrupted.’

  ‘Finding spell?’ asked Rhosmari. ‘Is that like a tracking spell?’

  ‘Not exactly. For a tracking spell you have to be looking for a specific person, and you need something of theirs to use as a focus. With a finding spell, you’re only seeing if there are other faeries nearby.’

  She had never heard of such a thing before, but that was no great surprise; it made sense that separate groups of faeries would develop their own magical specialties. She would be willing to wager that Martin had never heard of loreseeds, either.

  ‘The only thing is,’ Martin went on, ‘is that to cover an area this large, we’ll have to cast the spell together. Ah. Here.’ He grabbed Rhosmari’s arm and whisked her into a narrow space between two buildings. ‘Come behind these boxes, so no one can see us from the street. Are you ready?’

  Rhosmari gave a cautious nod. She had never cast a spell in partnership with another faery before. Yet magic was in her blood, and instinct told her everything she needed to know. She faced Martin, and stretched out her hands to meet his.

  She was not prepared for the caress of his thumb across her knuckles, nor the possessive way he twisted her hands upright and laced their fingers together. Blood surged into Rhosmari’s cheeks, and she almost pulled away – but then she felt the magic beginning, and did not dare to break it.

  Martin closed his eyes, drawing on their shared power and sending it outward. Hastily Rhosmari collected herself and did likewise, willing the spell to grow and expand. For a long time she felt nothing but a steady pulse of magic, rippling over the buildings around them and spreading in waves across the city. But then…’

  ‘There they are,’ murmured Martin as a starburst flared in Rhosmari’s inner vision, followed quickly by another. ‘Two of them at least. Let’s see if we can find more.’

  The stars glowed brighter, then winked out. An instant later they sparked back into Rhosmari’s awareness again, closer and hotter than before.

  ‘They’ve sensed us!’ exclaimed Rhosmari, and snatched her hands away. But were the other faeries allies, or enemies? There was no way to tell. All she knew was that they were coming, and quickly.

  ‘I’ll mask our scent,’ said Martin. ‘You make us invisible. Don’t move or speak until I tell you it’s safe.’

  They crouched behind the boxes, watching the mouth of the alley. Humans strolled past without even glancing in their direction. On the far side of the road, a lorry beeped its way into reverse. Rhosmari was beginning to wonder if she and Martin had been anxious for nothing, when a slender figure stepped off the pavement and headed down the alley towards them.

  The faery was female, with skin the colour of old ivory and a shining black waterfall of hair. She stopped just short of their hiding place, a frown creasing her brows. ‘Where are you?’ she asked in a lilting voice.

  All at once Martin backed up against Rhosmari, pushing her deeper into the shadows. The muscles of his shoulders were tensed like steel. ‘What is it?’ she whispered – but then a second faery stepped up behind the first, and she almost cried out for joy. It was not just his ocean-breeze scent that thrilled her, it was the familiar lines of his face, with its mild expression that had always seemed so at odds with the spear he used to carry as one of the Council Guard.

  ‘Llinos,’ she mouthed, and leaped up to greet him – but Martin yanked her back down. His breath scorched her ear as he hissed, ‘Don’t move.’

  How dare he try to keep her away from her own people? For the first time in her life, Rhosmari was angry enough to fight. She dropped the invisibility glamour and struggled free of Martin’s grip, crying out, ‘Llwynog! Llinos!’

  Martin swore. With a snatching gesture he summoned two of the crates stacked against the wall and sent them flying through the air, knocking Llinos and the female faery off their feet. Rhosmari made a strangled protest, but Martin had already cast a second spell, stunning both the newcomers unconscious. Then he clapped a hand over Rhosmari’s mouth and dragged her to the back of the alley.

  She kicked and writhed, but Martin did not slow his pace. He wrestled her through the narrow passage, across the short gap behind the buildings, then down another alley that opened onto the street. Rhosmari let her legs buckle, turning herself to dead weight in a last attempt to break free, but Martin was too strong. One hand still covering her mouth, he heaved her upright and pushed her against the wall.

  ‘Are you insane?’ he snapped, eyes blazing inches from her own. ‘Those faeries belong to the Empress!’

  Furious, Rhosmari shook her head, but Martin did not relent. ‘No, I am not mistaken. The female is Lily, one of the Empress’s oldest and most devoted servants. And the male…he’s under the Empress’s control as well. Didn’t you see his eyes?’

  Rhosmari’s confidence faltered. His eyes? She had not thought to look closely at them. But Martin had to be wrong. Llinos could not be the Empress’s servant…could he?

  ‘There is a look that all the Empress’s slaves have when they are carrying out her orders,’ said Martin. ‘And having been forced to obey her any number of times myself, I know it all too well. Whatever that male was to you once, you can’t trust him now.’ He added in a quieter voice, ‘I’m sorry.’

  A gasp burst from Rhosmari’s lips as Martin took his hand away. She turned her face to the rough stone of the wall, shaken. To think of gentle Llinos controlled by the Empress, his will and conscience twisted into doing her bidding – she had never imagined such a thing was possible.

  But if it could happen to Llinos, it could happen to Rhosmari, too.

  ‘Please,’ said Martin. His eyes were wild now, and he kept glancing at the sky as though fighting the urge to go there. ‘Trust me this much, this once. We cannot let them capture us. We have to get away.’

  Part of her still wanted to deny it. But Martin obviously believed she was in danger, for he had fought to rescue her – even though he could simply have turned himself into a bird and flown away. And now he was begging her to flee and she was standing there like a witless child, waiting for the tide to come in.

  ‘You’re right,’ she managed to say. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Then Martin’s hand locked around her wrist, and they took off running.

  To Rhosmari it seemed that they fled through the streets at random, darting down laneways and shoving through clusters of baffled humans in a frantic effort to escape. But eventually they ended up back at the train station, and somehow Martin got them both inside, and before her whirling mind could take it all in they had scrambled onto another train, moments before it pulled away. She staggered down the aisle and collapsed into a seat, arms wrapped around her heaving sides.

  Martin sat down next to her, looking grim. ‘I was a fool to cast that finding spell,’ he said. ‘I should have guessed the danger. But I never imagined that when we met the Empress’s servants, one of them would be someone you knew.’

  Rhosmari’s head throbbed with
misery, and every breath stabbed at her heart. She had always known that the Empress’s trick of stealing faeries’ names was evil, always pitied those who had to live under her control. Yet she had seen it as a problem that afflicted the mainland faeries, not the Children of Rhys.

  Now she knew better, and it terrified her. To imagine being trapped without power of escape, forced to do the very opposite of what her mind believed and her soul desired, bent wholly to the Empress’s bidding—

  ‘Rhosmari.’ Martin laid a hand over her wrist, gently healing the bruises he had given her. ‘Who was that male back there? Was he the one you were looking for?’

  ‘His name…’ She fought to push the words past the dry tightness in her throat. ‘He was…’

  And then her eyes welled up, and she turned her face blindly against Martin’s shoulder as the train rattled out of the station, heading for Birmingham.

  six

  ‘No good,’ panted Martin as he dropped out of his bird form and landed on the rooftop beside Rhosmari. ‘They didn’t know anything about the rebels, and I had to back off before they got suspicious.’

  Nearly three days had gone by since they left Manchester, and in all that time they had found no other faeries who could help them in their quest. Afraid to cast another finding spell, they had been reduced to searching the streets of Birmingham using their wits and senses alone. Rhosmari’s sense of smell was keener than Martin’s, so she had been the first to pick up a trace of the elusive green fragrance that meant their fellow faeries were nearby. But when they finally succeeded in tracking the others down, Martin had advised her to stay well back and let him do the talking.

  ‘None of the Empress’s servants have seen us together yet,’ he told her, ‘not even the Blackwings, and I’d like to keep it that way. Besides, I know how to tell which faeries are safe to talk to and which ones aren’t.’ He arched a pale brow at her. ‘Can you say the same?’

  He was right, of course. More and more, Rhosmari was grateful for the way Martin looked out for her, how faithfully he was repaying her for saving his life. Though she still had not confided in him about her mission, it was not because she doubted his trustworthiness. It was only that she feared, now more than ever, that Martin would try to talk her out of taking the Stone back to the Green Isles…and that after seeing what had happened to Llinos, she might be tempted to agree with him.