Arrow (Knife) (3 page)

Or at least, her mother had.

‘Oh, Rhosmari.’ Fioled’s face softened with pity. ‘I’m sorry. But your turn will come soon, I’m sure of it. And I promise I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.’

Rhosmari nodded. ‘Did Lady Arianllys say anything else, when you talked?’ she asked. ‘I haven’t seen her today, and she didn’t leave any instructions.’

‘She was called away to a meeting with the Elders,’ Fioled told her. ‘But she did ask if we would recopy a few of the older loreseeds, because they’re beginning to wear out. Here.’ She led Rhosmari into the Archive and pulled out a tray of sleek oval pods, worn smooth and dark by the touch of many hands. ‘These top ones were cast by your father. Maybe you should do those, so the quality will be better.’

From a scholarly viewpoint, Fioled was right. Loreseeds were magical recordings of important events, but they tended to weaken with repeated viewings and had to be renewed. Rhosmari’s father had been a great lorecaster, saving many of their people’s most ancient records from destruction – but his speciality had been the history of the Children of Rhys before the Green Isles, and the loreseeds he had spent his life preserving were records of battle and war. Once as a young child Rhosmari had sneaked into his workshop and touched one of those seeds, and the images that exploded in her mind had given her nightmares for weeks.

She had witnessed death already. She did not care to see it again.

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Not those ones. Give them to someone else. Maybe Broch—’ She caught Fioled’s eye and stopped, embarrassment flooding her as she remembered that Broch had left with Garan and would not be coming back. ‘Well, one of the others anyway. I’ll take these.’

She pulled out another tray, this one full of proceedings from the Hall of Judgment, and sat down at the table with it. Watching the Elders settle disputes between neighbouring farmers or announce the winners of the two hundred and forty-eighth Rhysian Games might be dull, but at least she would sleep tonight.

Long after Fioled had left for the day, Rhosmari remained in the Archive with her tray of loreseeds, copying one after another. But when the last of the sunlight on the waters of Cardigan Bay flickered and went out, she realised that she could not avoid her mother any longer. The evening meal would be served at any moment, and it was her duty to be there.

Reluctantly she slid the tray back onto its shelf, closed up the building, and walked out into the night. Waves surged and hissed against the nearby shore, while the lonely cry of a seabird echoed from the other side of the strait. Rhosmari closed her eyes and inhaled, drawing deep of the salt-spiced air. Then she Leaped.

In an eye-blink the meadow vanished and her ancestral home rose up before her, an airy-looking cottage with sandstone walls and generous windows overlooking the sea. She went in, to find Lady Celyn waiting for her in the dining room.

At first glance this room could have been part of the House of Learning, with its age-darkened timbers and creamy walls. But in other ways the two places could not have been more different. The brass and pottery artefacts displayed upon the shelves had been in the family for centuries, but all were surrounded by spells that rendered them untouchable, so that not even a fingerprint or a speck of dust could mar their appearance. The dishes and cutlery were arranged at precise intervals, and even the fireplace glowed more steadily than any natural flame ought to burn. It was a place of order, and even beauty – but not of comfort.

‘You look tired,’ her mother remarked as she gathered her silken robes and sat down. ‘Was it a teaching day?’

‘Yes,’ said Rhosmari, taking her own seat at the other end of the table. She waited as the servant girl dished out the first course, a creamy fish soup delicately threaded with saffron, then joined her mother in spreading out her hands in gratitude to Rhys and the Great Gardener before picking up her spoon and beginning to eat.

As always, they dined in silence, for it was Lady Celyn’s belief that each dish should be savoured without distraction, to show respect for the hands that had prepared it. Which was why Rhosmari’s mother had no difficulty keeping servants, despite her exacting standards; they all knew she took notice of good work, and rewarded it accordingly.

If only Rhosmari could find her so easy to please.

What did I do wrong?
she wanted to ask.
How did I fail you, that you would punish me this way?
But her courage failed when she looked up and met Lady Celyn’s eyes, cool as jet in the smooth chestnut mask of her face. Rhosmari and her mother resembled each other closely, with the same warm skin, full lips and rippling abundance of hair. But at this moment they might as well have been strangers.

‘Now,’ said her mother when the last crumb of berry tart had been consumed and the golden plates whisked away. ‘I have been considering what we are to do now that Garan is gone.’

‘Do?’ asked Rhosmari.

‘I believe it would be hasty to try and arrange another betrothal for you straightaway,’ her mother said, ‘but perhaps in a few months…’

Rhosmari’s hand closed hard around her napkin, crumpling it. ‘That is what you want to talk about?’ she said. ‘Another marriage contract? You think I am old enough to be betrothed, but not old enough to go to the mainland when my name is drawn?’

‘It is not a matter of age,’ Lady Celyn told her. ‘It is simply not the right time for you to go. The next time you are chosen, perhaps.’

Which sounded reasonable on the surface, but they both knew that it might be years, or even decades, before her name was drawn again. ‘I don’t understand,’ said Rhosmari. ‘Why is it the right time for Fioled, but not for me?’

‘Because Fioled is not my daughter.’ Celyn spoke mildly, but her tone was edged with warning. ‘There are evils in the human world that you know nothing about.’

‘I am sixteen years old,’ said Rhosmari, ‘and I am being trained as a scholar. I am not ignorant of—’

‘Of some things,’ Lady Celyn cut in, ‘you are indeed ignorant, and I hope you always will be. But this matter is not under debate. I am your Elder as well as your mother, and it is your duty to accept my judgment.’

Rhosmari knew better than to press the matter further. She lowered her gaze.

‘Besides,’ her mother continued, ‘the situation here is unstable, and we Elders have many decisions to make. It may be that we must delay our visits to the human world for a time, in order to concentrate on more urgent matters.’

‘Such as?’ Rhosmari asked, not really expecting an answer.

‘Such as how to recover the Stone of Naming,’ replied Lady Celyn.

Rhosmari’s surprise overcame her resentment. ‘You think we can?’

‘I think we must. The loss of the Stone has thrown our people into chaos. There are all kinds of superstitions about its powers, and many consider its disappearance to be a bad sign. It has even been claimed that Rhys is angry with us and that we are under a curse.’ Lady Celyn leaned back in her chair, the amber pendant at her throat glowing in the firelight. ‘The Elders have been blamed for not guarding the Stone more closely, and for allowing Garan and his followers to escape. There has been talk of a conspiracy to protect Garan, and suspicion has fallen on everyone who was close to him…including you.’

A cold stone dropped into Rhosmari’s stomach. ‘Me? Why?’

‘You were seen speaking privately with Garan, only a short time before he declared his treachery to the Council and disappeared.’

‘He was asking me to release him from our vows of betrothal! Everyone knows that!’

‘Perhaps, but they also think you must have known why he was asking. To break his pledge to you so soon after Timothy and Linden came to us for help in their war against the Empress? Surely you suspected something was wrong?’

She had, but not in the way her fellow faeries seemed to think.
I cannot love you as a husband should
, Garan had told her,
and it would be wrong to pledge myself to you when my heart lies elsewhere.
What could Rhosmari make of that, except that he had been enchanted by Linden’s wide-eyed prettiness, and wanted to be with her instead?

But when Garan admitted to stealing the Stone of Naming and flew off to help the Oakenfolk, Rhosmari realised she had been mistaken. Being attracted to someone you’d just met, even strongly, was not enough to make you betray your own people, disgrace your family, and leave the only homeland you’d ever known. And it certainly wouldn’t be enough to talk thirty-seven other faeries into coming with you.

‘I did not help Garan ap Gwylan or support him in any way,’ said Rhosmari, willing her voice not to shake. ‘I will swear that in the Hall of Judgment, if you like.’

Celyn dismissed this with a gesture. ‘There is no need. Whatever foolish talk may arise, the other Elders are satisfied that no daughter of mine could have taken any part in Garan’s crimes. And we have already taken steps to assure our people that we do not tolerate thieves and traitors, or those who sympathise with them.’ She sipped her wine slowly, as though savouring some private triumph. ‘All we need now is to find the Stone and bring it back.’

‘How can we do that?’

‘I cannot say for certain until I have the support of the other Elders,’ replied her mother. ‘But I know what I mean to recommend. We must send out an armed party to find Garan and his fellow rebels, and make them give us back the Stone…if necessary, by force.’

‘Force!’ Rhosmari’s mouth went dry with shock. She pushed back her chair from the table, trying to put as much distance between herself and Lady Celyn as possible. ‘No! How could we do such a thing, without breaking every law Rhys and our ancestors laid down for us?’

‘We have sworn not to shed blood in violence,’ said her mother. ‘But nothing prevents us from restraining other faeries, or even taking them captive if need be. Why do our people train for the Rhysian Games each year, if not to ensure that we never lose our ability to defend ourselves? Even you have—’

‘The Games were meant to be an alternative to fighting, not preparation for it! I know the Stone is precious, but nothing can be worth taking up arms against our own people!’

‘If Garan is prepared to be reasonable, then neither he nor any of his allies will have anything to fear.’ Lady Celyn’s fingers coiled about the stem of her goblet, turning it slowly on the table. ‘All they need do is hand over the Stone, and we will depart as peacefully as we came.’

‘But what about the Empress?’ asked Rhosmari, pleading now. ‘Linden and Timothy told us that she controls nearly all the faeries on the mainland. How can you send a band of armed warriors into her territory and expect her not to notice?’

‘She may,’ said her mother. ‘But if we are challenged, we will explain that we have no plan to interfere in her conflict with the rebels, and that this is a private matter. If she is sensible, she will let us pass without further hindrance. And even if she chooses to oppose us, I think three hundred Children of Rhys should be enough to withstand any attack.’

Three hundred.
Rhosmari felt faint. ‘But…if there is fighting, some of them will die.’ She closed her eyes, seeing in memory the image of her father’s broken body. ‘Mother, you cannot do this.’

‘It is not for you to tell me,
daughter
, what I should do.’ Celyn rose from the table, a pillar of topaz and obsidian in the firelight. ‘I chose to tell you of my plan because I believed you were mature enough to appreciate its wisdom. Clearly I was mistaken, but that is of no account. My fellow Elders will decide what is best for our people, and I am confident that they will agree with me.’

And without waiting for a reply, she swept out, leaving Rhosmari staring blindly into the flames.

The cottage was dark, darker even than the cloud-veiled sky outside. The servants had left, and Lady Celyn had retired for the night. But Rhosmari paced the floor of her bedroom, unable to sleep.

Would the council of Elders agree to Lady Celyn’s proposal? Would they really endanger the lives of so many Children of Rhys, just to get back the Stone? To Rhosmari it was unthinkable, but if they believed that there was no other way to restore peace and win back their people’s confidence, they might be willing to take the risk. Lady Celyn was not only eloquent and persuasive, but she was one of the strongest leaders the Green Isles had. If she wanted an army, she would very likely get one.

But an army was not just a collection of individuals: it was made up of fathers and brothers, mothers and sisters, daughters and sons. Every loss, every death, would leave a terrible emptiness behind. How could Rhosmari face her young students, knowing what was coming to them? Could she really stand by and allow it to happen?

The thought was intolerable. Somehow, she had to find a way to stop her mother’s scheme. But how? She had no authority or special influence that would make the Elders listen to her. She had no power to hold back an army.

But she might know someone who did.

Pulse quickening, she hurried to the window and peered out across the strait at the neighbouring islands. Most of their coves and inlets were lost in shadow, but here and there gleamed a distant star of light. And if she was not mistaken, one of those lights belonged to Lord Gwylan and Lady Arianllys. Determined to act before she lost her nerve, Rhosmari tugged on her shoes, wrapped a shawl about herself, and Leaped.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ said Rhosmari, passing a hand over her rain-beaded hair. ‘But I needed to talk to you and Lord Gwylan right away.’

‘My dear, there is no need to apologise,’ said Lady Arianllys, stepping back from the doorway to let Rhosmari in. Her dark hair tangled about her shoulders and her eyes were shadowed with weariness, yet her expression held only concern. ‘I know you would not have come unless it was urgent.’ She drew her dressing gown closer and called back over her shoulder, ‘Gwylan?’

The door to the adjoining room creaked open, and Garan’s father stepped out. He had a close-trimmed beard and his hair was more wheat than flax, but otherwise he resembled his son so closely that the two of them might have been twins. ‘What is it?’ he asked.