The Well of Shades

by Juliet Marillier

  At last Bedo managed to engage one of Breda’s handmaids in conversation. As Breda’s entourage swept across the courtyard, it happened that the king’s dog, Ban, was passing, and the dark-haired girl stopped to pat him while the others went on.

  “You like dogs?” Bedo had been close by and seized the opportunity.

  She nodded. “I have one at home; a terrier. I really miss her.”

  “We have mostly hunting hounds at Raven’s Well. This is King Bridei’s dog, Ban. He’s quite friendly. Oh, my name’s Bedo, son of Talorgen, by the way.”

  “Cella. My father is one of King Keother’s advisers. I know who you are. You and your brother introduced yourselves to Lady Breda the other day. Or tried to.”

  Bedo grinned. He had his father’s infectious smile, and the girl smiled back. “Uric and I would be happy to help entertain the lady, if we could discover what amuses her,” he said. “Riding, maybe, or playing games?”

  Cella’s look was assessing. “I did hear Lady Breda say she’d like to see the royal baby,” she said. “That seems difficult to arrange. Of course, it’s early days, I know.”

  Bedo thought fast. “My father’s a close friend of King Bridei’s,” he said. “Uric and I see a lot of little Derelei; we’ve been helping to keep him busy with one thing or another. Later on today I expect we’ll be in the garden with him. Maybe we could…?”

  TALORGEN’S DAUGHTER FERADA had been acting as the queen’s watchdog. She was a tall young woman with sleek auburn hair, known for her immaculate grooming and excellent deportment, and her position as educator of the daughters of Fortriu’s noble families meant she carried a great deal of authority. With Ferada guarding the door, the only visitors admitted were the tried and true ones.

  Thus far Anfreda was proving an easy baby, placid and quiet, feeding well and sleeping soundly. When first allowed to see his sister, Derelei had spent quite some time standing by her basket, examining her gravely; he had reached to touch the dark wispy hair, the snub nose, the neat rosy mouth. He had moved his hand in the air above the cradle, making a flock of tiny, sparkling birds appear momentarily over Anfreda’s sleeping form, and Tuala, watching, had seen Ferada’s eyes widen, though her friend had made no comment.

  “Nice baby,” Derelei had pronounced, and bent to give his sister a kiss. Then he was off to seek other amusements.

  Today the nursemaid had taken Derelei out to the garden. Ferada was sitting with Tuala in the royal apartments while the baby slept nearby. The wise women had retired to a grove below the walls for private prayers and, as Ferada put it, a break from the overwhelming nature of family life.

  “It is so much quieter at Banmerren,” Ferada remarked to her friend. “Even in my part of that establishment, which as you know is full of girls all missing home and wanting to tell one another about it, there is a great sense of peace and order. With babies and little children, one has to be there all the time, to feed them, or wipe some portion of their anatomy, or tend to their noisy woes.”

  “You and I, of course,” Tuala said with a smile, “can always get helpers to do those things. I have a bevy of folk here who are only too glad to take care of the children for me. I do far more of it than people think quite proper for a queen. But the fact is, I don’t entirely trust other folk to do the job adequately. Not with these particular children. And I suspect I’d be the same even if Derelei and Anfreda were quite ordinary.”

  Ferada regarded her friend, a smile passing over her severe mouth. “You know, you still look about sixteen,” she said. “It seems extraordinary that you’re a mother of two. I admire you for doing so much of the hard work yourself, when you need not. I find tending to infants quite exhausting. Give me a little scribing or reckoning any day.”

  “Oh, but I do it because I want to,” said Tuala. “They don’t stay small for long. Besides, other people do help. Your brothers, for instance. And, of course, Broichan, when he’s here.”

  “You’re looking washed out.” Ferada’s tone was firm. “I think you should accept more help. I can stay awhile longer; my work is in capable hands.”

  “And Garvan’s due at White Hill any time now,” put in Tuala with a grin. Ferada’s friendship with the royal stone carver was not a public matter. It had grown up quite unexpectedly during a time when stone masonry was being carried out at Banmerren, and Tuala knew references to it were likely to provoke a sharp denial from Ferada herself. How she and her lover would manage things in the far more public setting of White Hill was interesting to consider.

  “Don’t worry, Tuala, we’ll be discreet.” Ferada’s lips twisted in a self-mocking smile. “I don’t wish to cause any offense to you and Bridei, or to my father and stepmother. Besides, it’s most important, in view of my new role as educator of the daughters of the highborn, that I be seen to be a model of good behavior.”

  “Only seen to be?” queried Tuala.

  Ferada, usually a confident woman, was reluctant to meet her friend’s eye. “We’re grown-up people,” she said. “What we do is our own business. What folk don’t know cannot offend them. That is my belief.” And, after a lengthy pause during which Tuala simply fixed her with her large, questioning eyes, “These things just come out of nowhere, Tuala. I didn’t expect it; I didn’t really want it, it’s awkward and inconvenient. But there it is. I do like him. I like him a great deal. He’s so… so strong and deep. And quiet. Like a slow-flowing river.” Abruptly she fell silent.

  “You’re happy with this the way it is?” Tuala’s question was tentative. “Seeing each other only from time to time, when Garvan’s work brings him your way? Keeping what you feel for each other secret?”

  “It can’t be any other way, Tuala.” There was an edge to Ferada’s tone now. “As a craftsman of low birth, Garvan would be considered unsuitable for me. I might persuade Father to agree, given sufficient time. But I see no reason to formalize our relationship with a handfasting. I intend to stay at Banmerren and make a success of my project; there’s so much more to do there. The nature of Garvan’s craft means he must travel widely and spend much of the year away from home. Besides, the main purpose of marriage is children, surely. I’ve never wanted them and I don’t now. I’ve made that clear to Garvan and he understands.”

  Tuala’s gaze was searching. “Ferada,” she said, “have you asked Garvan what he wants?”

  Ferada was spared from replying by a tap on the door: one of the maids, perhaps, carrying a basket, or Fola returned early and not wanting to walk straight in.

  “Think about it,” said Tuala as her friend went to open the door.

  “See baby!” First in was Derelei, making his way on small, confident feet straight over to his sister’s cradle. “Bedo ‘n’ Uric see!”

  Ferada’s brothers were on the threshold, Bedo flashing an apologetic smile, Uric leaning against the frame as if, at fourteen, he was really too much of a man to be interested in babies, but would tag along in case there proved to be some amusement in it.

  “What are you two doing here?” Ferada made no secret of her displeasure. “It’s too soon for visitors; the whole household was given that message.”

  “I don’t mind, Ferada.” Tuala smiled at the two lads. “Uric and Bedo may have a quick look if Derelei wants to show them his new sister. Tread softly; she’s sleeping.”

  Ferada stepped back and the boys came in. A moment later, it became apparent that they had not come alone. A vision appeared in the doorway, all shimmering golden hair, wide eyes, and figure-hugging sea-green gown. Tuala saw Ferada open her mouth to say, “No visitors,” and bite back the words. One could not risk offense to this particular visitor, who stood in the delicate position of potential political hostage and possible bearer of tales to her influential cousin Keother. Although Ferada remained silent, she failed to keep the annoyance from her features. Her sharp eyes went first to Bedo, who at fifteen should have known better, then to his lounging brother.

  Tuala rose to her feet. “You must be Ana’s
sister,” she said. “What a surprise. You’re very like her.” This seemed both true and untrue. Ana had been a close friend of both Tuala and Ferada, sharing their education and spending five years at court under Bridei’s kingship. This girl, thought Tuala, was physically similar: shapely, though shorter than her sister, possessed of the same breathtaking head of hair and the same beauty. The eyes were different. In place of Ana’s serene gray, these were blue and seemed to be defying the queen to question Breda’s presence here. Something else as well; a subtler difference Tuala could not quite put her finger on. She was staring. “I’m sorry I could not be in the hall to welcome you on your arrival,” she went on hurriedly. “Anfreda is only a few days old. It will be some time before I am ready to appear in public again. Indeed, we are not receiving any visitors other than the wise women who attend to us and the queen dowager, Lady Rhian. You’ve met Ferada, daughter of Talorgen? She is my close friend, here at White Hill to assist me for a while.”

  Breda gave the queen a deep, graceful curtsy that fell just short of mockery, then turned to Ferada and gave her a perfunctory nod. Perhaps she did not know that Ferada, too, was of the royal line of the Priteni. “I’d like to see the baby,” Breda said.

  “Baby,” echoed Derelei, who was on tiptoes peering into the cradle where Anfreda lay wrapped in layers of fine wool.

  Tuala avoided Ferada’s eye. This was precisely what they’d been trying to prevent. Well, Breda was here now, and there was nothing to be done but pretend the situation held nothing untoward. “You may look at her, of course,” the queen said. “She is very young yet and needs her rest, as do I. We must keep the visit brief.”

  Bedo was crouched by Derelei. The smile on the young man’s face was good to see, a spontaneous grin of delight at something so tiny and perfect. In her sleep, Anfreda had wrapped her hand around one of her brother’s fingers. Derelei stood extremely still, as if the baby might break if he moved. By the door, Ferada was now conversing with Uric in an undertone. Tuala was certain a lecture was being delivered, and justifiably so.

  Breda stalked across to the cradle. She stood there a good while, staring down at the infant form. Tuala watched a series of expressions cross the lovely, discontented features, none of them reassuring. It was plain Breda was thinking hard. There was a powerful urge in Tuala to offer some placatory, apologetic statement such as, I know she looks a little unusual, but she’s quite ordinary, really. She did not speak. She would not apologize for her daughter who was, by many measures, quite perfect. Breda was only a girl; barely seventeen. Her interest was probably superficial and in no way dangerous. What Bridei had told his wife of this visiting princess was that she seemed very young for her age and had less grasp of the niceties of behavior than her sister. It was foolish to be afraid of what she might do. Yet as the girl stared down at Anfreda, Tuala saw something disturbing in her eyes, and a shiver ran through her.

  “May I hold her?” Without waiting for a reply, Breda reached into the cradle as if to scoop up the sleeping baby. Tuala moved swiftly to stop her, but someone else was quicker.

  “Oh!” exclaimed Breda, flinching away before her fingers could touch the infant. “What was that? That hurt!” Suddenly pale, she stared at her own hands, which were shaking violently.

  Derelei had taken a step back. He was looking anywhere but at his mother. Tuala made a subtle gesture, and the charm of ward that her small son had thrown over his sister was undone. “Were you bitten, Breda?” she asked, forcing her voice to be quite calm. “I’m so sorry. We are having quite a problem with insects now the weather has turned so warm. Ferada, perhaps you could take Breda down to the stillroom and see if Elda has some lotion? A mixture of wormwood and lavender is very effective.”

  Ferada stood by the door, her eyes conveying a firm message that the visitors had outstayed their welcome. Reading their sister accurately, Uric and Bedo headed out. “Wait.” Breda’s tone was cold. “That was no midge or fly, I’m sure of it. It was more like—like a kind of… wall. As if the child were encircled by a solid but invisible barrier. And it was somehow alive. It sent a shock into my hands. That’s very odd. I don’t know how that could happen. Or who could do it.” She glared at the queen, then at Ferada.

  “How strange,” Tuala said mildly. “I suppose, when we are a little tired or lonely or out of sorts, we can imagine all kinds of things. Breda, the baby is waking up; we’ve made too much noise. I think you must go with Ferada now. When Anfreda is a little older, I will be able to bring her out and let folk admire her. If you are still here at White Hill, of course you can see her then.”

  “I see.” Breda’s tight voice registered her understanding that she had been dismissed.

  “Come,” said Ferada. “Elda’s good with healing herbs; I’ll show you her quarters. They’ll likely be full of small boys. But then, you like children, don’t you? Tuala, shall we take Derelei with us?”

  “Derelei will stay here awhile. Please find Garth and ask him to come and see me straight away. Thank you, Ferada.”

  When she was alone with her children, Tuala called Derelei and lifted him onto her knee. Anfreda was barely stirring; it would be some time before she needed feeding. Tuala addressed her son quietly, although what he had done had alarmed her.

  “Derelei? It’s all right now. The lady’s gone, and Anfreda is quite safe.”

  “No hurt baby.” He seemed to be aware that he had done something that was both necessary and, at the same time, wrong.

  It was impossible to explain to him. The situation was far too complex for his limited understanding of language. And yet, instinctively, he had done what was required to protect his sister. Somehow, without really knowing what this was about, he had used his craft at precisely the right moment. Perhaps all Breda had intended was to cradle Anfreda a little, as girls like to do with babies. All the same, Tuala herself had sensed peril in that moment.

  “Derelei,” she said, “no charms when other folk are here. No magic, understand?” And, as his mouth drooped and his head bowed, “You were good, Derelei. Good boy. You helped Anfreda. But from now on, let Mama do it. You can use your magic with Mama and with Broichan. That’s all. Do you understand, Derelei?”

  He was only two years old. “No hurt baby,” he said again, glancing over at the cradle.

  “Next time, wait for Mama.”

  The large eyes turned to her. “Bawta home?” he said hopefully.

  Abruptly, Tuala felt herself on the verge of tears. “I hope so, Derelei. I hope Broichan will be home very soon.” She imagined the druid back at court, surely changed by his winter in the woods, but still devoted to her son and ready to resume the education without which, she realized more strongly as each day passed, Derelei’s startling abilities could quickly turn from gift and blessing to danger and burden. “You miss your lessons.”

  “Bawta home.” It was by no means certain whether this was a statement of foreknowledge or simply one of hope.

  Tuala cuddled him awhile, then put Anfreda to the breast while Derelei played on the floor with the little stone horse Garvan had made for him. Later, Ferada returned with Bridei’s bodyguard Garth, and Tuala formed with him a plan to ensure that, even when her attendants were absent, no visitor save those previously approved by name might approach within a certain distance of her door. She was reluctant to do it, since it would mean at least two of Bridei’s best men were removed from other duties at a time when the influx of powerful guests meant every guard was constantly busy. But she knew Bridei would agree. If both she and Derelei had felt that sense of danger, then the threat was real. Unfortunately, there existed dangers of a kind even the most expert of guards was helpless to combat.

  10

  THERE’S THE HOUSE,” Faolan said, pointing ahead to an impenetrable tangle of dark oak branches hazed with green.

  “I don’t see any house.” Eile was tired and out of sorts. Her chest was aching and her head was dizzy; she had lied to Faolan about being well enough to travel, an
d now she was paying the price. As soon as Saraid had been running about again and eating with enthusiasm, Eile had declared herself fully recovered. There was no way she was going to hold Faolan back from getting to White Hill and delivering his urgent messages. She’d delayed him too long already. She’d cost him a fortune and embarrassed him with her proposition. He didn’t want her. It was becoming evident, as they neared King Bridei’s court, that Faolan had important things to do, a life in which she could take no part. She knew better than to expect anything of him. So why did it hurt so much? Since Mother died, she’d always been alone. She’d always done things on her own; she’d always coped. She didn’t need anyone. Not even Faolan. She had to stop feeling let down. She couldn’t afford to be sad. There was Saraid to think about.

  “There, between the oaks.”

  “I can’t see it.”

  “Cat!” exclaimed Saraid, wriggling to be let down from Faolan’s back. “Little cat!”

  The striped feline shot off into the undergrowth with a flourish of its bushy tail.

  “Down, please?” Saraid requested.

  He set her on her feet. They had come to Pitnochie on a barge ferrying logs; with nobody on the jetty, they had walked up to Broichan’s house.

  “Stay close!” Eile warned her daughter. “If the cat wants to be found, it’ll come out. It’s probably half wild.”

  Faolan set a hand on Eile’s shoulder and pointed ahead again, between the branches. “Bridei used to say Broichan—the druid who owns Pitnochie—had set a spell on the trees so they moved about to conceal his dwelling,” he told her as Saraid crouched in the ferns calling to the cat.

  Eile regarded him skeptically. “Why would he need to do that?”

  “To protect Bridei while he was growing up. There were plenty of folk who didn’t want him to become king. Fortriu has its own share of plotters and schemers. In that, it’s not much different from home.” His smile was grim. He did not seem happy to be back. But then, that woman, Ana, was probably here: the one he loved and didn’t want to see.