Above the Snowline (53 page)
‘Nor molest them in any way?’
‘No.’
‘Swear it on the Emperor’s name,’ commanded Jant.
‘I swear it by the Emperor San,’ he said simply. ‘By the Castle’s Circle and the Sunburst Throne. What’s the second point?’
‘You must set boundaries. Already there aren’t enough animals left to support all your settlers. You need meat and furs to sell, but you’ll have scant pickings because you’ve worn out the land. Luckily for you the Rhydanne are drifting away. They’ve gathered enough food . . . um . . . yes, food, to make the journey to new hunting grounds. You must care for Carniss until it has grown rich again. You must not expand further into Darkling.’
‘I agree,’ Snipe said.
‘You know the eastern border adjoins Rachiswater. Now listen. Your south border is the south bank of Carniss glacier. Your north border is the first spur of Caigeann, forty kilometres on. As for your western limit, the furthest you can go into the mountains is a line drawn across the glacier and Klannich just below the altitude of the Frozen Hound Hotel. Ouzel’s bar is the marker; it will be outside your manor and she’ll thank you for trading with the Rhydanne there.’
‘So I have the forest, two promontories, the glacier and its stream?’
‘No more than that. Leave the head of the glacier, Klannich’s summits and all of Darkling beyond to the Rhydanne.’
Snipe shrugged. ‘All right. We can’t breathe up there, anyway.’
‘Then I will draw up a covenant to sign. Lightning, how does one do that?’
I said, ‘Fly to the Castle and ask Gayle the Lawyer to help you. Show the agreement to the Emperor, then take it to Rachiswater and present it to the king. If Tarmigan consents he will set the Royal Seal upon it. Then Snipe will be the second governor of Carniss. Snipe Carniss.’
‘Snipe Carniss . . .’ Snipe repeated, as if tasting the words.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘The King will invest you governor and you may choose your own insignia.’
‘I think I’ll keep the shoot-at-the-moon. After all, Jant was right that we’ll never leave.’
Jant looked rather pained. He said, ‘I’ll also get the Cartographer to chart Carniss so there may be no disagreements in future.’
Snipe thoughtfully rubbed his split nose. All of a sudden he leant forward and rested his forearms on the table with the cup between them. ‘Archer, Messenger, when you mention my name to King Tarmigan you’ll find he already knows it. I were the one who shopped Raven to him in the first place.’
‘
You
were the informer?’ asked Jant.
You
were the informer?’ asked Jant.
‘Yes. I was the grass.’
‘Excuse me?’ I said.
‘Two years ago. He told Tarmigan about Francolin’s coup.’
‘Yes. I wanted to tell you earlier. But I can’t keep it secret any more.’ Snipe stood and crossed the room in three steps, to the box bed. The closed partition hid it from view and, apart from the runners, you would not know there was a cubbyhole behind, with a pallet filled with clean straw and a shelf for a candle. He slid open the panel and sat down on the bed. The coverlet and pillowcase were covered in embroidery - crewel work, the folk art of northern Awia - tiny flowers of saffron-yellow, blue, red and violet. Their stems and foliage intertwined innocently, symmetrical and somehow very wholesome.
The flowers were so delicate they could have adorned the dress of royalty. I realised they were the work of Gerygone’s hand, Snipe’s memento of his wife, and food for thought for another reason: the flowers of Rachiswater meadows will never bloom in Carniss. I hoped Snipe would never crave tapestries of damask silk and gold thread, miniver fur or velvet cushions, festoons or chandeliers. As long as he stays with cotton and folk art, he will be the governor Carniss needs.
It was proper of him to have relinquished the bed to me, but I couldn’t sleep on Snipe’s memories. I made up my mind I’d stay in the keep.
He said, ‘When I was swept along in Francolin’s plotting, it scared the shit out of me. Raven and Francolin seemed unaware how much the palace staff gossiped and how often they listened at doors. At any moment a valet or chambermaid might overhear and spill their plans to Tarmigan. There’d be a noose for every neck! I was terrified but I thought on it and decided to take matters into my own hands. I sought an audience and told him myself.’
‘Your loyalty is to be commended,’ I said.
‘Loyalty?’ His voice tilted into ridicule. ‘Nothing to do with it! I was trying to save my skin. And I thought His Royal Highness would give me a stonking great reward. Well, Tarmigan gave me nothing, as it turned out, but he did let me walk free. The following day he swooped on Raven and the others. Raven thought Tarmigan had sent me to join him in exile. Ha! How likely is that? If Tarmigan had arrested me, he’d’ve chucked me in jail and built a scaffold in the square. The tumbril would’ve come for me just as soon as there was a big enough crowd.’
Snipe went to the window and for the first time I noticed he walked with a limp. If frost had bitten off the ends of four fingers and blackened the rest, I preferred not to imagine what had happened to his toes. He poked the oilcloth pinned over the shutter’s vents, which were shaped like gingerbread men, then leant against the sill.
‘Anyway, I had to go along with Raven’s assumption or he’d have suspected me. I ask you, if I hadn’t been the informer, what was the chance of me being pardoned? I’ve been living on my nerves since then, thinking at any minute Raven would come to the obvious conclusion. Fortunately, he never thought deeply about his liege-men. He would’ve been surprised to find we had lives and histories of our own. I know every settler in Carniss and that’s why I’ll be a better governor than him.’
‘I am sure you will,’ I said.
Snipe glanced again at the oilcloth, then unlatched one shutter and pushed it wide. The chill mountain air drifted in, but with it the grey light of dawn. From the direction of the kitchen, knocks and bangs and muted conversation told us people were already awake. He asked, ‘What time is it?’
I flicked my watch open. ‘Six.’
‘The patrols are changing. Bunting will be setting the hearths in Raven’s apartment. I had better make an announcement . . . Lightning, will you help?’
‘Certainly.’
We rose and joined Snipe by the window. Outside, the snow trampled by footprints had turned to solid ice, grey-white and translucent like banded agate. The curtain wall cast a thick strip of shadow. Of the keep itself we could only see the undercroft passage, its gates left purposely open, and the snow around it dotted with trodden-in fragments of burnt wood and cinders. Smoke had streaked the wall above the opening of the staircase tower and the arch of the passage. The ice on every lintel had re-frozen into undulating fringes. A deckle-edged mass of ice draped in the apex of the arch, from which hung enormous icicles as clear as blown glass.
I could just make out the cobbles under the arch, hoary with frost, then a band of snow and the first trunks of the forest. The chiaroscuro of black, white and pine green reminded me of Dellin: her black hair, white skin and eyes as green as chrysoprase. I wondered where she was now, and Jant looked so wistful I could tell he was thinking the same.
Snipe picked up his crampons from the fireplace and went out. I followed him. Jant closed the shutter and tagged on behind. We passed into the other room of his log cabin, out of the front door and into the bailey, as the second day of January, eighteen ninety-one dawned crisp and clear.
In the shadow of the low-pitched roof Snipe paused to slip his feet into the crampons then strode out towards the keep. Jant ran a couple of steps in front of us. He whipped round, hair straggling on his shoulders. He threw his arms wide. ‘I have to go. Give me four hours.’
I said, ‘If you need more time, feel free.’
Jant shook his head, smiled wildly, then turned and sprinted away. His footfalls echoed under the arch, then he ran out of view behind the curtain wall. A second later he lifted into the air and flew up, away towards Klannich.
JANT
Once outside the keep I took off and spiralled up. I rode the constant wind blowing down from Klannich, turning and turning again into it so with each twirl into the current I rose a bit higher. The margin of the forest fell quickly below, till I could see the whole keep on its promontory. Condors and crows had gathered at the furthest tip, screaming and cawing and circling down to feed on something at the foot of the cliffs.
Higher still, and the promontory diminished until the keep looked natural, no more than a pile of stones. All human activity shrank to nothing and disappeared into the landscape. The whole of Carniss now fitted into my field of vision, and more - glaciers on either side - the promontory just one of a range of headlands jutting out over the lowlands. All around me the vast mountains and the plain of Lakeland Awia were opening out. Raven and Dellin had been fighting for such a small piece of land!
I flew still higher, now at a level with the double cusp of Klannich, now above it, and I could see greater mountains, dimmed by distance, rising towards the plateau. They linked together and paled into the distance until they merged in the haze. They looked almost like the sea, transformed into waves of granite, standing high above the land.
In the opposite direction, Rachiswater was one blue-white unending plain, stretching out of sight. Plow Hill was a minuscule molehill rounded by snow. The sun cleared the horizon and stood upon it, as if on the edge of a plate. It cast gold rays across the whole of Awia.
Up here I could see no trace made by any living creature. The works of Awian, Rhydanne and human faded to nothing. I was alone in the calm, remote sky, and the fringe of mountains turned slowly beneath me, on the taller prong of Klannich, as if it was the hub. I was suspended between Awia and Darkling, as I always had been. My future lies in the flatlands, not the peaks, but perhaps now I will be able to balance them better.
I breathed deeply the thin air and became immeasurably relaxed. Raven’s death, my losing Dellin and the forestalled coup faded and my mind became quite blank. Nothing existed. Up here I was beyond names - no Darkling, no Awia - the landscape was a continuum and I became part of it. An inanimate part, as if I will always exist here, pinned on the sky.
I sailed on in the wonderful air, making small adjustments with wings and feet to steer in a circle, otherwise in seconds I would be kilometres south, heading towards the Plainslands. Completely out of view to anybody on the ground, the land itself an inconsequential mass, I played with the currents of air and started to prepare myself for what I had to say.
Higher still, the subzero air began to gnaw and a dizziness overtook me. I sensed a cold stream of air flowing eastward. It wasn’t the usual katabatic wind, but something immense, too powerful. I’d only felt it once before. It was the global air stream that cast me from Scree pueblo all the way to Hacilith city when I was just fifteen years old. That river of air has been blowing all this time and is still blowing now. It will never stop. It caught me like a dandelion seed and bore me east, so I ducked down out of it and spiralled past the summit’s prongs, past the cirques biting semicircles from the smooth rock of its horn, to the level where features recovered their names. I flew over Carniss Glacier and the forest on its far bank, to the cliffs called the Stone Flames. Closer, a black ribbon seemed to cut the cliffs in two. A thin rift cave, Uaimh Dellin: Dellin’s Den.
I landed on the terrace. A line of small footprints led into the cave, and the snow around its entrance was scuffed and crushed. Gauzy woodsmoke was issuing out of the top of the rift and dispersing. I could smell kutch cooking.
I approached quietly, but at the sound of my footfalls there was a quick movement in the cave mouth and Dellin ran out, her spear at the ready. She looked larger than she had in the cage; her brilliant eyes flashed in the oblique sunlight. When she saw it was me she lowered her spear and relaxed. ‘How did you know I was here?’
‘I just knew.’
She examined me, taking in my Awian clothes with a grim comprehension. Then she perched on the same ice-covered rock where she had fought the bear. She tilted her face away from the sun in her eyes, or maybe she was flinching - I hoped having been imprisoned wouldn’t affect her for life.
I sat on the rock beside her and said, ‘Dellin, you must go. Leave Carniss. Raven is dead. I just wanted you to know that. I also wanted to tell you that I . . . to tell you that I made Snipe governor and the settlers will remain.’
Other books
The Wicked Duke by Madeline Hunter
Consumed (Dark Protectors) by Zanetti, Rebecca
Fall from Grace by Richard North Patterson
First a Dream (Dreams Come True #1) by Emma Nichols
Sweet Texas Fire by Nicole Flockton
Lo! by Charles Fort
The Way Into Chaos by Harry Connolly
Ratchet by Owen, Chris, Payne, Jodi
The Folding Star by Alan Hollinghurst
Jacques the Fatalist: And His Master by Denis Diderot