The Shining City

by Kate Forsyth

  ‘To keep my strength up,’ he said with a wan attempt at a joke, but she did not smile or answer, just dropped her eyes.

  Iain did not speak again.

  At last the soldiers abandoned their search, and allowed the chamber-maids in to straighten the room. Elfrida did not rise from her chair until the last maid had withdrawn, and then she moved so stiffly that Iain came to her side in alarm, and took her arm. She allowed him to help her up, and then went to her dressing-table and laid down her fan and reticule. Iain had changed out of his wedding finery into his night-shirt and dressing-gown, but Elfrida was still dressed in her simple grey gown. She fumbled at the buttons, and Iain came to help her, saying irritably, ‘Why did ye dismiss your maid afore ye were changed, my dear? Ye ken I am all thumbs.’

  She did not answer. He undid the tight, plain cuffs and then laboriously unbuttoned the back. She stepped out of it, and he saw with distaste that she wore a hair shirt beneath it. It had rubbed her fine skin red and raw.

  ‘Elfrida …’ he protested, but she ignored him. He saw her blue eyes were shining strangely, as if with excitement or pleasure. She sat down and began to unpin her hair, which she wore coiled neatly at the base of her head.

  Iain stood by her for a moment, trying to find a way to tell her he disliked her new pastor and thought him an evil influence upon her. But he could not find the courage. He turned to leave, and accidentally knocked the fan and reticule to the floor. He bent to pick them up, but Elfrida was before him, stooping with a cry and snatching them up from the ground.

  ‘Why, that is my mother’s fan,’ Iain said in surprise.

  ‘Is it?’ Elfrida said. ‘I had no’ realised. Does it matter?’

  ‘No,’ he answered. ‘I suppose no’.’

  ‘I kent it would be hot,’ Elfrida said, ‘and I had heard that fans were all the rage again in Lucescere. This one is very pretty.’

  ‘I wouldna have thought it was in your style,’ Iain said. ‘It’s so very heavy and ornate.’ He reached and took it from her, turning it over in his hand. It was very large, with a frame made of thick embossed sticks, and gilded pigskin painted with stylised purple thistles.

  ‘Oh, ye think no’?’ she said and took it back again. ‘Well, I shall no’ carry it again then.’ She opened the drawer of her dressing-table and dropped the fan within, shutting it away.

  Feeling vaguely troubled, Iain went to the door that led to his room. He turned to say goodnight to his wife, but stopped in surprise. Elfrida had quietly locked the drawer of the dressing-table and was hiding the key inside the jet brooch she used to pin her collar. Iain had not even known the brooch had a concealed compartment. Elfrida tucked the brooch inside her jewellery case, and began to brush out her long fair hair. She was smiling to herself.

  Iain dropped his hand and went through to his own bedchamber without saying a word.

  Lewen sat in his cupboard of a room in the Theurgia, watching intently as his knife curled one shaving after another away from the wood he held in his hand.

  His knife was growing blunt. He stopped to whet it against his sharpening stone, and then resumed with his whittling. He was not making anything. For once no shape was emerging from the wood as if it had always been imprisoned inside, waiting for him to release it. He was just whittling the wood away to nothing.

  He did not know how much time had passed since he had returned from his search through the snow-storm. It had been at least an hour, maybe more. Lewen had made no attempt to undress, or to sleep. It felt like he was in a kaleidoscope that had been turned upside down and shaken, all the known pattern of his life jumbled up and changed into a new and quite terrifying shape.

  He heard a sharp rap on the glass of his window, and then a flurry of wingbeats. The rap came again.

  Lewen got up and went to the window. It was still dark outside. He could see nothing. He unlatched the clasp and opened the window.

  A tiny bluebird flew in, its wings whirring desperately. It flitted about Lewen’s head, uttering shrill cries of distress. Lewen put up his hand and caught it, and it lay quiescent in his palm. He could feel its heart pounding away.

  ‘Rhiannon?’ Lewen said. ‘What has happened to Rhiannon?’

  The bird panted, its beak open. He bent over it, and suddenly, unexpectedly, it pecked him sharply just under the eye. Lewen jerked back, then put the fingers of his other hand up to touch the bead of blood welling up from the tiny wound.

  ‘But why?’ Lewen asked aloud.

  The bird spread its iridescent wings, and gave a loud cry. Lewen found himself unexpectedly short of breath, his eyes smarting with grief.

  Folding the fingers of both hands over the bird, he got up and blundered out of his room. The corridors were mostly dark and empty, with only the occasional knot of students standing about and discussing all that had happened that night. Lewen paid them no heed. He went clattering down the stairs, with no clear idea of where he was going or why.

  Joggled in his hands, the bird gave a little cry of distress. Lewen opened his jacket and went to tuck the bird inside his breast pocket. Olwynne’s nosegay was inside it, withered and brown and smelling of rot. Lewen pulled it out and let it fall, tucking the bird inside the pocket instead, and drawing the jacket protectively over it. His pace lengthened. He felt a rush of new energy, as if he had been climbing a ladder out of a dark hole and at last seen sunlight above him.

  Nina, he thought. Nina will ken what to do …

  The sorceress was not with the other witches, working desperately to rouse the drugged healers and the Celestines. It was a scene of chaos. Apprentice-witches trudged up and down the hall with their shoulders under the armpits of drowsy men and women, forcing them to keep on walking. Many were so lethargic they could not take a step themselves, and the young exhausted apprentices had to slap their faces or shake them to keep them awake.

  Others held basins and buckets for those forced to vomit up the drugged wine. More hurried about with steaming kettles, making restorative teas that had to be held to the slack mouths of those afflicted, forcing them to sip.

  Gwilym came limping down the hall, scowling ferociously. ‘Has anyone seen the Keybearer? Where’s that foolish lad I sent to find her? We need her! The Stargazer is ill indeed.’

  ‘H-h-h-here I am, sir,’ the boy piped up. ‘I c-c-canna find her, sir. Her room is all locked up, sir.’

  ‘Where can she be? Ghislaine! The healer we’ve managed to wake says boiling the root o’ devil’s bit in wine and honey may help, it’ll bring on the sweats and help drive out the poison through the skin. Can ye send someone to the simples room to make us up some as soon as can be? Ye! Lass! I need more o’ that tea!’

  The sorcerer saw Lewen, and said sternly, ‘I thought I told ye to get to bed, Lewen, and get some rest! The last thing I need is ye coming down with fever.’

  ‘Please, sir, have ye seen Nina?’

  ‘Nina is still at the palace,’ Gwilym said. ‘She is utterly distraught. What a dreadful night this has been.’

  He did not pause to wonder why Lewen was asking for Nina, but stumped away, calling for Ghislaine to come and help him at once. Then suddenly he turned. ‘Lewen, since ye’re up, can ye run a message to the palace for me? Tell the Banrìgh the Stargazer is ill indeed, and she canna be seeing her tonight. There’s a horse outside waiting.’

  ‘Aye, sir,’ Lewen said gladly and ran out the door, and into the bitter dark. It had stopped snowing, but a black frost had set in, and the wind was cruel. Lewen grabbed the horse, which was being walked up and down by a shivering, miserable lad, and unbuckled its blanket. He did not wait for the saddle to be set on its back, but leapt up, and urged the horse into a gallop.

  It was a mad ride through the darkness, the road slippery with ice. It was so cold the bones behind Lewen’s ears ached, and each breath pierced his lungs. The wind was driving away the clouds, showing a black frosty sky overhead where the stars were beginning to pale along the eastern horizon.

&
nbsp; Lewen passed on his message to the sentries at the gate, who at once sent a page running for the Banrìgh’s bedchamber, and then he went in search of Nina. Her door was opened by a servant who scanned Lewen’s face suspiciously and demanded his business.

  ‘I need to see Nina,’ Lewen stammered.

  ‘I am sorry, Lady Ninon is no’ receiving visitors,’ the servant replied and went to shut the door.

  ‘Wait!’ Lewen cried. ‘She will want to see me, she will!’

  ‘Lewen?’ Iven’s voice called. ‘Is that Lewen?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said gladly, and pushed past the servant and into the chamber beyond.

  The room was dim and very quiet. Iven was sitting at a table, his fair hair ruffled, his shirt unbuttoned and crumpled, writing letters by the light of a three-branched candelabra. He looked up as Lewen came in and greeted him in a low voice, indicating he could go through to the bedchamber beyond. As Lewen went past, he saw Brun the cluricaun was sitting disconsolately by the fire, a pot of ale before him. Dide sat with him, occupying his hands with six golden balls that he rolled over his knuckles, or poured from one hand to another in a glittering stream. He looked tired and sad, but he made an effort to smile at Lewen, rising to accompany him into the bedchamber.

  Nina was lying on the bed, dressed in a green satin dressing-gown embroidered with huge pink roses. Her chestnut hair was loose and waved wildly over her shoulders. She turned at Dide’s gentle touch, and sat up, pushing back her dishevelled hair with one hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. At the sight of her Lewen’s heart swelled with pity. He could not imagine how distressed she must be, to have her six-year-old son snatched away from her like that.

  ‘I’m so sorry about Roden,’ Lewen said.

  Tears welled up in Nina’s eyes. ‘I should never have left him, never,’ she said. Her voice trembled. ‘I kent that evil laird had escaped, I should’ve kent he’d want to take Roden with him. I heard him say they would find him again when the time was right, with my own ears I heard him say it. I should’ve kent!’

  ‘Don’t distress yourself anymore,’ Dide said. He cast Lewen a reproachful look. ‘Please, have some wine, Nina. It’ll make ye feel better.’

  ‘I don’t want wine!’ Nina said and pushed the glass away so violently it spilt. She did not notice, sitting up with both hands clasped at her breast, dark eyes fixed beseechingly on Lewen’s face. ‘Oh, have ye come with news, Lewen? Any news at all?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I’m sorry,’ he managed to say.

  She drooped with disappointment, turning back to lie on her pillow, her hand over her eyes.

  ‘Then why have ye come?’ Dide asked, not unkindly.

  ‘The little bird …’ he said, and could say no more. From his breast came a soft cheep.

  Nina looked up. ‘Ye have a bird there? What bird?’

  ‘It’s the bird I carved Rhiannon,’ Lewen said. ‘It came to me … something’s wrong.’

  Nina sat up and held out her hand. ‘Give it to me,’ she said.

  Gently Lewen took the bird out of his breast pocket and gave it to Nina. Its heart was not pounding away quite so violently, but it was still panting and its eye was dull.

  Nina held it between her hands and whispered something to it. It opened its beak and gave a high, wild shriek, flapping its wings wildly. She whispered to it again, and smoothed down its bright blue feathers, and the bird calmed.

  ‘Dide, can I have some honey-water for it?’ Nina asked. When her brother had dropped some honey into warm water and brought it to her, she dipped her finger in it and trickled some drops down the bird’s throat. It drank thirstily.

  ‘The poor wee thing is terrified,’ Nina said. ‘It must’ve been there when the dragon came for Rhiannon.’

  Lewen had a most peculiar sensation, as if the world was receding away from him. ‘A dragon came for Rhiannon?’ he repeated stupidly. ‘What dragon?’

  Nina and Dide exchanged glances. ‘That’s right. Ye were no’ there when they brought the news.’

  ‘What news?’

  ‘Rhiannon escaped from Sorrowgate Tower,’ Nina said.

  ‘Rhiannon escaped!’ Lewen’s heart leapt.

  ‘She hit the guard over the head with her chamber-pot,’ Dide said, and chuckled.

  ‘Iseult was infuriated. She called the dragon’s name. She flew after Rhiannon and brought her back.’

  ‘I saw the dragon fly over,’ Lewen said. ‘The Banrìgh was riding it? But why? Why would the Banrìgh call the dragon’s name for such a little thing? What does she care whether Rhiannon escapes or not?’

  ‘She’s convinced Rhiannon murdered Lachlan. She has condemned her to hang at dawn, at the ringing o’ the bell.’

  ‘But … but why?’ Lewen suddenly found it hard to breathe.

  ‘Iseult is utterly distraught,’ Dide said. ‘I have never seen her so angry, so wild. She walks in a cloud o’ ice and snowflakes, and turns the world to winter wherever she is.’

  ‘She has lost her husband, and all her children,’ Nina said softly. ‘I can understand her sorrow.’ She heaved a great sigh. ‘But no’ her rage. She is quite mad with it. Luckily Isabeau thinks so too. She said she would convince Iseult to let Rhiannon drink from that goblet o’ Connor’s, to prove her innocence. She should’ve done so by now.’

  ‘When did she say this?’ Lewen demanded, his heart thumping so hard he could barely hear his own voice. ‘For no-one has seen the Keybearer for hours and hours. They were calling for her at the healers’ hall. The Celestines were all drugged, we think by Johanna, and all the healers too. Whatever it was they swallowed hit them hard. We almost lost the Stargazer. It’s been like a mad house; they had to give them something to make them vomit, and walk them up and down the corridors for hours to stop them falling asleep again. Isabeau was no’ there then, and no-one could find her.’

  Nina stared at him, wild-eyed. ‘Eà’s eyes! Do ye mean to tell me Isabeau is missing too? And Rhiannon is still to hang? Oh, my goddess!’

  She got up in frantic haste, stripping off her vivid dressing-gown. Lewen averted his eyes, embarrassed. ‘We must find out what has happened to Isabeau, and we must convince Iseult to spare Rhiannon. Surely the first madness o’ her grief is over, and she will see reason? I swear, if she will no’ listen, I will knock her head against the wall until she does! No, Iven! Do no’ try to stop me. Dide! Where is Isabeau?’

  ‘She was going to consult The Book o’ Shadows,’ Dide said. ‘She was … she was very afraid. I do no’ ken why. I dinna think … she is the Keybearer, for Eà’s sake! Who could harm the Keybearer!’

  ‘We must find her!’ Nina cried. ‘What time is it? Eà, Eà! It is almost dawn now. We do no’ have much time. Lewen, come with me!’

  Lewen nodded. He took the bluebird back from Nina, and tucked it into his inner pocket, as Nina dragged on a dress and cloak, and pulled on her boots. Brun the cluricaun came and put one wrinkly paw on his arm.

  ‘Remember this, lad,’ Brun said solemnly. ‘There is a body without a heart that has a tongue, and yet no head. Buried it was afore it was made, and loud it does speak although it is dead.’

  Lewen stared at him in utter stupefaction.

  ‘Think on it, laddie,’ the cluricaun said, nodding his head. ‘Still its tongue and it canna speak.’

  ‘All right,’ Lewen said, though he did not understand. The cluricaun sat back, satisfied. Lewen only had time to think that perhaps the old cluricaun was losing his wits with age before Nina imperiously beckoned him from the door. ‘Come on!’ she cried.

  Swept along on the wave of Nina’s vehemence, Lewen did as he was told, though he was so topsy-turvy in all his emotions he could not have said why. Too much had happened in recent days. He had thought he hated Rhiannon and loved Olwynne, but the sight of the judges’ red mantles had wrung his heart so powerfully that he had been afraid, and pressed as close to Olwynne as he could. He had jumped the fire with her, and promised to be true to her. Then Olw
ynne had disappeared. Lewen had been too shocked, and too overwhelmed by events, to know what to think or feel.

  Then, hearing from Nina that Rhiannon had escaped, Lewen had been shaken by such joy and longing that he had been ashamed. Olwynne is my true love, I am handfasted to her, Rhiannon means naught to me, he had told himself, but it was not true, not true. He had realised this as he held the bluebird in his cupped hands, feeling its heart beating frantically against his palm, its throat pulsing with life and breath that Lewen had somehow given it. No matter if it had been ensorcelled or not, the love he had felt for Rhiannon had been the truest and deepest thing in his whole life. He could not stand by and let Rhiannon die.

  Yet he did not know how to save her.

  They found Iseult still sitting her lonely vigil by her husband’s dead body. Though they pleaded with her, she sat as stiff and cold and white as if dead herself, and said simply, ‘Why ask me? What power do I have over life and death now? I am naught but a dead Rìgh’s widow. Ask the Banrìgh.’ Her last word was bitter and scornful.

  Nina and Lewen did not understand her, and she would not explain. They went away, confounded and upset, only to learn of Bronwen’s seizing of power by a serving-girl come to stoke up the fires in the hall. So they ran to the Privy Chamber, which was dark and empty, and thence to Bronwen’s chambers.

  The ladies-in-waiting guarding her rooms would not wake the new Banrìgh, no matter how much Nina and Lewen begged and pleaded. They were proud and contemptuous, revelling in their newfound power. Neither Nina nor Lewen had any influence with them. The court was still in such turmoil over the sudden shift in power that no-one was at all willing to stick their neck out for a satyricorn girl found guilty of murdering a Yeoman, particularly one suspected of being involved in the Rìgh’s murder. Nina argued until she was hoarse, to no avail.

  So Nina and Lewen galloped together down the avenue to the witches’ tower, Nina’s hair streaming behind her like a banner. For once Lewen did not spare the horse, whipping it on with the reins. Breathless, their faces stinging, they ran into the great hall, demanding from everyone they met whether the Keybearer had been found. Anxious denials were all they got.