Above the Snowline (52 page)

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Authors: Steph Swainston

Tags: #Fantasy

BOOK: Above the Snowline
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LIGHTNING
 
Some time after midnight I was sitting by the fire, putting the finishing touches to a letter to Tarmigan, in which I detailed how we had prevented the planned putsch. The night was silent apart from the crackling of the logs in the grate and the scratch of my fountain pen across the page.
 
I folded the letter and turned the end of a stick of sealing wax in the candle flame, watching it become glossy and rounded, which is always very satisfying. There was a knock on the door. ‘Come in!’ I called, but the knocking continued with brisk desperation.
 
You’re not in Foin now, I thought, irritated, and pushed my chair back. ‘All right, all right, I’m coming.’
 
I opened the door to Snipe, with Jant behind him, who had changed back into Awian clothes and wore an even more tortured expression than before. Between them they blurted out the news. The shock swept over me, dulling my hearing. I stood, not thinking of anything, and it took me a while to come to myself and realise I was looking down at the rag rug and Snipe’s boot toes. Both Snipe and Jant were waiting like anxious schoolboys for my reaction.
 
‘This is
your
house,’ I said to Snipe, and turned aside for him to enter. They sat down either side of the square table in front of the fire. I whisked the letter into my pocket and drew up a third chair.
 
‘It was suicide,’ Snipe repeated. ‘Suicide. I saw him just step off. Lightning, he spread his wings as if . . . as if he was going to fly . . . and strode off the wall. Off the cliff.’ He raised his hand and tipped it from vertical to horizontal, then closed his fingers. ‘Gone.’
 
Jant flinched and his wings twitched. I doubted that he had come across suicide before. Snipe certainly hadn’t; he was even more stunned. His shoulders were bowed - not with the servility he faked when in Raven’s presence, but in genuine shock. His pallor was so sickly it cast his black eye into lurid contrast. He was no longer the man I had met on the cloud-bound path, when he had mistaken me for a soldier of fortune. He was shaken to the core.
 
He went on, ‘Honestly, if I’d known I would have stopped him. I would have, before he reached the end. I wouldn’t have even let him leave the keep.’
 
I hastened to reassure him. ‘Of course.’
 
‘Raven was strong. Stronger than me, yes - and a swordsman too. I was a long way behind him - ten metres behind him, all the way.’
 
‘Don’t worry,’ said Jant. ‘Nobody is accusing you of having a hand in his death.’
 
Snipe swallowed and nodded. ‘Good, good. I swear I only saw it.’ He heaved a great sigh and stood up. He went to the dresser and opened a door, brought out a bottle of whisky and stoneware cups. He plonked them down in front of us, uncorked the whisky and filled his cup. He knocked it back, sank onto his chair and filled it again.
 
We sat in silence, wondering how desperate Raven had to be to kill himself. Suicides are very rare, and even then it’s almost always the elderly, the insane or those with excruciating diseases without hope of a cure. You only have one life, and if you choose to leave it for oblivion, you should at least heft a sword and use the opportunity to bring down as many Insects as possible. Everyone wants to win immortality, to live for ever; who would take the losers’ way out? I thought it an act of cowardice. Raven had felt trapped, as much as Dellin had been trapped in her cage. He was not prepared to compromise, so chose to die rather than adapt himself to life here. I looked into the top layers of his desperation and I recoiled. Give me solid ground and certainty, I thought. From the way Jant was staring into space I could tell he was thinking much the same.
 
‘Lightning, Comet,’ Snipe said softly. ‘I must tell you, or I’ll have this on my conscience for the rest of my life . . . along with everything else. I swear, if I’d known Raven would react like that I’d never have done it. I thought it would anger him, frustrate him, certainly. I never thought he’d throw himself off the cliff. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry. Honestly sorry.’ He shot us a quick glance from under his brows and I saw how frightened and guilty he was.
 
‘What did you do?’ I asked.
 
‘I let Dellin out of the cage.’
 
‘You?’ Jant sat up. ‘But you hated her!’
 
‘I didn’t know that freeing her would make my lord kill himself,’ Snipe moaned.
 
‘No,’ I stepped in. ‘Nobody could. Snipe, we are not blaming you, so do not blame yourself. But tell us, why did you release her?’
 
Snipe rubbed his mouth and thought awhile before answering. He had lost the end joints of his little finger and ring finger from both hands, rendering them stubby, blunt and oddly blind where I expected nails to be. His other fingers were blackened at the ends, and the skin of his hands and face was patched red and numb frostbite yellow. I doubted whether he would ever regain his original complexion. He would bear the marks of having been Dellin’s prey until his dying day.
 
‘I had good reason to loathe her,’ he said slowly, ‘and fear her too, but when I saw her in the cage it all began to melt away. She was lying against the bars . . . not looking at anything. I tried to speak to her, but she wouldn’t turn to me. She was dying, Jant.’
 
‘I know.’
 
‘I couldn’t let it happen. I’ve seen trapped wolves lie down that way, when they give up struggling and just wait to die.’
 
‘You pitied her?’
 
‘Oh, you’re surprised. Don’t think me capable of pity, do you, Messenger? Let me tell you something. I was married - once. In Rachiswater, when I was a servant at the palace. How do you think a mere ploughboy came to be Raven’s retainer, anyway? My wife, Gerygone, was seamstress to the queen.
 
‘A year before Raven and Francolin started plotting, Gerygone became pregnant. Now I need to tell you how beautiful my Gerygone was. She was lovely. She surpassed all the maids of honour. Her name meant “echo” and she was so ethereal - I mean slight, so to speak . . . She had such grace that you’d have thought her an echo far too delicate for this world. She died in childbirth . . . while giving birth to our daughter. Two days and nights she struggled in agony, pain so bad I never thought a human frame could bear it. She were very brave . . .’ He looked at his rainbow hands. ‘But the baby wouldn’t come. In the end it sapped her strength. The Queen’s own doctor tried to cut her, but she had no stamina left to endure the operation. He should have tried it on the first day. She just lay there, not looking at anything. Then she gathered her energy and focused on me. She smiled at me, a faint little smile, and she died.’
 
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. Jant said nothing, and perhaps rightly so, because the ‘correct’ words often sound false.
 
Snipe sniffed and rubbed his nose. ‘Our daughter had died hours before. I buried them together. Gerygone and little Owlett, who never saw the light of day.’
 
As if strapping on armour he pulled himself together, hiding his grief beneath a pioneer’s tough pelt. ‘Now you know, immortals. Now you know why I wanted to come to Carniss. There was nothing but bad memories left in Rachiswater. Nightmares every night. Mistaking other women for her in the street. At least out on the frontier, with the fresh air and my hands full of work, a whole half-hour might pass without me seeing her.’
 
‘I know what you mean,’ Jant said quietly.
 
‘When I saw Dellin lying in the cage, she looked exactly as my wife did - so frail she couldn’t possibly live. The more fragile they seem, the more precious. I don’t know why that should be, but it’s true. I couldn’t let it happen again. I couldn’t let her breathe her last. God knows I did all I could for Gerygone, but it was beyond my power. So I saved Dellin.’
 
He looked at his cup of whisky. ‘I gave her her freedom and I didn’t expect her to thank me. She couldn’t understand . . . It’s like, if you let a caged bird free she doesn’t thank you, but it is good to see her fly away. Would that I could have saved Gerygone so easily.’
 
‘By mercy we show we are civilised,’ I said.
 
‘Yeah. Dellin caused us terror, but we still shouldn’t lock her in a cage. She stood against Raven’s might. I kind of appreciated her pluck.’
 
‘Raven captured her,’ said Jant. ‘He stopped her running around, but he could never tame her. Nothing can change her. She’ll die defiant. She’ll die a creature of the mountains whether we trap her or no.’
 
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Snipe. ‘All I know is, when she hunted me in the forest she beat me fairly. I had no chance in her world. She could have eaten me, but she spared me and let me go. How low would I be if I didn’t return the favour?’
 
I expected Jant to answer, but he was looking into the mid-distance and dreamily fingering his earlobe as if testing costly silk. So I prompted Snipe gently: ‘How did you open the cage when Raven held the key?’
 
Snipe shrugged. ‘He left his coat on the hook while he cleared those burnt pelts off his chair. When his back was turned I picked his pocket. Simple. I took a bottle of liquor down to the kennels and got the guard drunk. He’d been on duty since the fire and he’s fond of a drop. I told him I’d relieve him if he wanted to sleep, and he went to bed with gratitude. For all I know, he’s sleeping still. As a steward, I find it helps to know people. Raven never did - he thought we were all one mass.’
 
‘You unlocked the cage,’ Jant breathed.
 
‘Yes. With sword in hand! I wasn’t going to let her claw me to shreds. I needn’t have worried, though. As soon as the key turned she burst out. She streaked out the door. I’ve never seen
anything
move so fast. Not even you.’
 
‘So, she’s safe?’
 
‘I don’t know. I haven’t a clue where she is. She sprinted out the gate, as straight as a rule, and into the forest.’
 
Jant looked preoccupied and morose, more serious than I had ever seen him. Snipe sipped his drink nervously, but when he spoke his mouth was dry. ‘What do we do? Lightning, Comet, we’re the only ones who know about Raven. The watch changes in about fifteen minutes. In three hours everyone will start to wake.’
 
‘Come daylight we will retrieve Raven’s body,’ I said.
 
‘Yes,’ said Jant. ‘And I’ll tell Tarmigan everything.’ Snipe sucked in a breath. Jant added, ‘He won’t lay the blame at your door.’
 
‘It’s not that. It’s just . . . I don’t know whether to tell you.’
 
‘Tell us what?’ I asked.
 
‘Nothing. Nothing. It’s just . . . Lightning, losing Dellin added to Raven’s woes, I get that, but whatever burden any man’s under, he shouldn’t jump off a cliff.’
 
Jant said, ‘Snipe, you’ve never considered killing yourself, I suppose. ’
 
‘No!’
 
‘Not even when you lost Gerygone?’
 
‘No . . .’ he said suspiciously. ‘Why should I?’
 
‘And you would never miss living in Rachiswater?’
 
‘I told you. I don’t belong there any more. I’m a Carniss man now.’
 
‘Then, Steward Snipe, will you be the next governor of Carniss?’
 
Snipe blinked. He ducked his head so his chin almost rested on his chest. He became the very definition of humility. Then he sat up straight. ‘Yes. Yes, Messenger, I certainly would.’
 
‘When a governor dies without leaving an heir,’ I put in, ‘his steward is usually appointed the new governor. There are many recent examples.’
 
‘Yes, yes.’ Jant waved me away. ‘But that isn’t the point. The point is, he’s ideal for the job.’
 
‘And I accept,’ said Snipe. A new light of hope was beginning to break over his face. As his face was so large and rugged, it was taking quite a long time.
 
Jant said, ‘Lightning and I will recommend to King Tarmigan that you be the next governor
if
you accept two conditions.’
 
‘What conditions?’
 
‘First, you must not harm any Rhydanne whatsoever. Leave them alone and let Shira Dellin be.’
 
‘What if she eats us?’
 
Jant leant back and folded his arms. ‘After this day dawning, I doubt you will ever see her again.’
 
I recognised Jant was having difficulty controlling his emotions. Snipe also seemed to appreciate how much the loss of Dellin was affecting him. He knew from experience Jant was dangerous and feared his tinder temper. He said uneasily but now with the voice of a governor, ‘If Dellin doesn’t prey on us, or lead marauders, then we will never ride against the Rhydanne.’

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