Above the Snowline (44 page)
‘Good boys. Which of you is Spindrift and which is Snowblink?’
‘Avalanche dogs, ha ha.’ Ouzel bellowed, in a way I began to realise was her norm. ‘Bred by the Rhydanne.’
‘They are remarkable. Dogs of this sort may be useful at the Lowespass front.’
‘Oh no, my lord. Some things are not for your war. Some things are not for sale.’
OUZEL
Raven, Lightning and Jant’s conversation was extremely strained. Raven couldn’t stand Jant and didn’t want to speak to him. Lightning tried hard to smooth their ruffled feathers. He was very polite and debonair but he was obviously furious with Jant as well and couldn’t resist resorting to sarcasm. Nobody I’ve ever met could turn on the sarcasm quite like Lightning Micawater.
After a while I left them to it. I visited a few of the Carniss folk I’ve come to know and helped out in the kitchens, where I felt more at home. At seven p.m., when the governor and Eszai retired to dress for the feast, I went to feed my dogs.
Something odd was happening. Men were coming through the gate, at first in dribs and drabs. Then, on my way back from the kennels I saw the trickle had become a flood. Soldiers were arriving in ragged double file, all muffled up in greatcoats. As soon as they were inside they lidded their lanterns and looked around leerily. I know fyrdsmen when I see them. And I could see no end to them. They were crossing to the captain’s house and looking in. Some stood on his veranda; others wandered off in twos and groups to the chalets and sneaked inside. A very grim wassail indeed.
The owners of the chalets were up in the hall and I wondered if they knew. In fact, everyone was in the hall, starting the feast, and the servants were still busy in the kitchens. I crunched across the snow into the tower and up the spiral stairs. Shoddy workmanship, this building. They mixed the cement with too much grit and too little concrete and it’s crumbling already. I could do a lot better myself. And half the rafters were unseasoned pine, so of course they’ve split. It isn’t difficult to dry pine, but Raven was too hasty. I should give him some advice.
My heavy skirts swung, brushing the steps. I was glad I had changed but unfortunately I had tacked together this old frock years ago. It was my best and only dress but it could hardly be described as a ball gown . . . especially now its hem was soaking with slush and the dogs had slavered down it.
Coloured glass lanterns in the niches cast a jolly glow of green and red. A crimson carpet had been rolled out over the stairs and fat garlands of holly and mistletoe draped low from the ceiling. Their bright berries, glossy leaves and shining white ribbons criss-crossed the receding spiral of the steps above. A wonderful smell of baked bread and mulled ale drifted down to meet me. I was so hungry my stomach churned. I hurried up. I couldn’t wait to fill my belly with roast ox, and plum pudding with brandy butter.
‘So, is it true?’ Lightning’s voice came from around the next turn of the spiral. I stopped and listened - I didn’t want to barge in on one of the Eszai. His shadow - and Jant’s - were cast on the curved wall in front of me. They stood on the little first-floor landing outside the treasury door. I wondered what to do and decided that rather than push past them I had better hold on till they returned to the hall. I rested my hand on the clammy rope rail and waited.
Jant said something in an undertone.
Lightning huffed. ‘You say there’s no truth in it, but how did the rumour arise?’
‘Like any other rumour,’ Jant replied plaintively. ‘Out of the villagers’ imagination. They’ve seen Rhydanne and they’ve seen wolves snatching their children. It doesn’t take a great playwright to meld the two together.’
Lightning’s shadow nodded. ‘All right, I thought that must be the case. And the next point - how
could
you beat up Snipe?’
could
you beat up Snipe?’
‘Oh . . . Did Raven tell you?’
‘How could you think I wouldn’t find out? Snipe looks as if he’s been hit by a mail coach! Brawling in a bar, Jant! Are you mad? Have you any idea what the Emperor will think?’
Jant must have had an idea, because his shadow on the wall looked at its feet. He muttered, ‘Snipe was insulting Rhydanne.’
‘That will be a poor defence in court! Yes, in court! Raven can try you, and he intends to!’
‘I only blacked Snipe’s eye!’
‘And broke his smile. You’ll have to pay a fine or take a prison sentence. I hope it’s the former - you won’t be a useful Messenger in prison! Do you think San will keep your position open? Do you think he’ll wait out your sentence? I don’t think so!’
‘What would he do?’
‘Open a competition for a new Messenger!’
Jant leant on the wall and covered his face with his hand. Further angered by the gesture, Lightning poked him in the chest. ‘Are you sorry?’ he demanded.
I shrank back involuntarily. In the silence that followed I could hear the night wind piping in the upper reaches of the tower.
‘Are you sorry?’
‘No, I’m not,’ Jant said eventually.
‘Well, you had better pretend to be! When we return to the table, apologise to Snipe. Make it sound genuine and make sure Raven hears it.’
‘No! I told you. I punched him because he kept insulting the Rhydanne.’
‘And would you let a Rhydanne get away with derogatory remarks about Awians?’ Another pause in which Jant hung his head. ‘Look at you in that costume,’ Lightning continued. ‘The King of the Rhydanne! I know how you feel for Dellin but love has turned you into the worst diplomat of all time. You’ve crumbled the ground from under us. Now I’ve no position from which to negotiate, and if we fail, the kingdom is lost!’
‘Then Dellin can have Carnich back. The Emperor will be pleased.’
Lightning let out an exasperated yell and shoved Jant all around the landing. I heard him clang off the grille of the treasury. ‘All right!’ he bridled. ‘I’ll apologise to Snipe!’
‘Very good,’ said Lightning breathlessly.
At this point I suppose I could have stomped up a few steps, feigned surprise at seeing them, called a cheery greeting and escaped into the hall. God knows the smell of spiced beer was tempting enough and the freezing draught blowing down the steps was making my knees knock. But this was the best entertainment I’d ever had. I figured that between them Jant, Raven and Dellin had wrecked my business, so the very least they owed me was the chance to listen in on their New Year’s cabaret. And now Lightning had joined them: the Archer himself, over a thousand years old! I’d never thought I’d hear the Archer tearing a strip off the Messenger. And Jant certainly deserved it. I shrank against the wall and continued to listen.
‘About Raven,’ said Lightning. ‘
Will
you concentrate?’
Will
you concentrate?’
‘I guess . . .’
‘This is what we do: we wait until tomorrow, until the very moment he arms his troops for the march, then we swoop.’
‘Will he assemble his men with us here?’
‘He doesn’t know what to think. I tried to confirm his assumption that our mission is concerned with Dellin, and I believe I was successful. Whatever you do, don’t destroy that impression in the next few hours.’
‘Of course not.’
‘I have no doubt Raven has sent word to Rachiswater and his supporters are preparing as we speak. Have you seen all the soldiers down there?’
‘I saw lights in the stable block.’
Lightning folded his arms to wrap his coat about him, rested his foot behind him with the boot sole on the wall and leant back on it. ‘Those are just the vanguard,’ he said seriously. ‘If you listen you can hear more . . .’
They listened, and I held my breath. Sure enough the rhythmic thud of booted feet was echoing through the undercroft.
‘The barracks are already full,’ Lightning continued. ‘Snipe’s house is next to them, so I had a good view of them just now. I estimate about two hundred men so far, which means the remainder of the division are still climbing. Raven is billeting them with the villagers and in the stables. Even the horses are making room for warriors.’
‘He’s hiding them.’
‘Exactly. We must be quick now, because he will worry that we are snooping about and come looking for us.’
Lightning was right: even the kenneller’s house had been packed with strangers. They had looked rough and practically frozen. They were warming themselves around the fireplace until their long coats ran wet with melting ice. They had kept their boots on and piled their accoutrements - waxcloth knapsacks and snowshoes - up against the wall.
‘They’ll be pissed off at missing the Shattering,’ said Jant.
‘Forget the Shattering; they will be glad of a hot meal. Listen, Jant, we must not let Raven leave. He must stay in Carniss. Do you understand?’
Jant’s sapling shadow on the grey wall nodded. He sat down on a step. ‘And Dellin . . .?’
‘All in good time,’ said Lightning, and a trace of sympathy transfused his voice. He reached out and rattled the grille. ‘We cannot let this fortress stand. Not only is it the base for his offensive but it’s grossly in breach of Imperial law. Tomorrow when we arrest Raven I will take command of his soldiers and we will dismantle the keep . . . in front of his very eyes.’
‘May your Wishes come true, Raven Carniss . . .’ Jant muttered.
‘The soldiers must be aware we’re here.’
‘Yes, they’re very quiet.’
Unseasonably quiet, I thought. Nasty, in fact. I’d called ‘Happy New Year!’ to them but received only suspicious stares in return. I had hoped they had money to spend and hearty appetites. The Hound needs new customers untainted by Dellin and Raven’s battles, but this bunch wanted more than a bowl of stew to warm them.
‘Then stay in the hall,’ said Lightning. ‘If they see you, they’ll think we have informed Tarmigan of the coup.’
A coup!
‘They’d assume right,’ Jant agreed. ‘I can reach the king in a couple of hours.’
‘They will know that if they’ve lost the element of surprise they’ll be heading to their deaths. If Tarmigan is prepared, he’ll massacre them. So now they will fear his retribution and be loath to follow Raven. I will gather them in the bailey and tell them we won’t deliver them to Tarmigan if they cooperate.’
‘Will Raven stand by and watch?’ Jant asked, dubiously.
‘What else can he do? Our authority over the fyrd is greater than his.’
‘He could tell them to hack us to shreds?’ Jant’s dual shadow, cast by the two coloured lanterns, separated and thinned. He had turned to ascend to the hall.
Lightning delivered one last barb. ‘Don’t ever,
ever
beat a mortal again.’
ever
beat a mortal again.’
‘Sure,’ Jant said flippantly. ‘Never again.’
‘Oh, very well,’ Lightning snapped. ‘Go on, we’re missing the Shattering.’ His shadow merged into Jant’s and faded as they climbed.
I breathed out. How could I enjoy the feast now I knew Raven was secretly plotting a revolt and the Eszai were trying to foil him? Well, the answer’s straightforward: with baked potatoes and tipsy cake, of course! What difference does a war in Awia make to me or the Hound? I waited awhile, then hitched up my skirts and sauntered after them into the hall.
The feast was in full swing. The hall was packed with people - I had never thought I’d see so many in my life again. Carniss was a town, a walled town, and Raven had invited all his people. I joined Jant and Lightning, who were sitting next to Raven and Snipe - in that order - along the same side of the table so as to have a good view of the hall. A number of bottles of wine were clustered in front of Raven and the Archer, but waiting for me was a jug of beer and a tankard, and Spindrift was lying under the table, chewing Snipe’s bootlaces.
There was no main course yet, just snacks of pinwheel rolls filled with raisins and currants, or with cow’s cheese - a rare treat. The tables were arranged in a square and in the centre, on a stand of red and white glazed bricks, stood the kiln. I have seen Shattering kilns of all shapes and sizes, but this was by far the most ornate. It was shaped like a lantern of openwork wrought-iron curlicues. Raven’s initials embellished it and the gold Rachiswater eagle perched on its apex like a standard. It was two metres tall and open at the top so the flames rose around the eagle. I thought it was truly the possession of a prince; it burned so fiercely that the two fires in the hearths had been kept to a minimum. Only a few lamps were lit and cosy shadows crowded the corners.
Other books
Always (New Adult Erotic Romance) (The Tryst Series #3) by York, Marie
Unforgotten by Kristen Heitzmann
Bull (Red, Hot, & Blue) by Johnson, Cat
Judgment Night [BUREAU 13 Book One] by Nick Pollotta
The World According to Bertie by Alexander McCall Smith
Nelson: The Essential Hero by Ernle Dusgate Selby Bradford
Watkin Tench's 1788 by Flannery, Tim; Tench, Watkin;
Death of a Sunday Writer by Eric Wright
Twelve Minutes to Midnight by Christopher Edge
Stranger in my Arms by Rochelle Alers