Silver May Tarnish (8 page)

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Authors: Andre Norton

BOOK: Silver May Tarnish
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I came to the edge of Landale and lay on my stomach to look quietly through the bushes and dry grass. It was not yet full Spring and the ground struck chill into my body. I remained motionless, watching. I had been cold before, and those whom I loved lay colder still. I saw below through a sudden mist of tears. Then my gaze sharpened. I felt rage flush my face, fury race through my veins. Below Neeco strutted, walking at the right hand of the older man who gave orders to the ravagers of my home.
Neeco, come home to murder those who had sent him forth. I remembered his threats on that day. He had been assistant kennel-boy in Merrowdale. Here he clearly had
power and status somehow. Perhaps because he knew many secrets in both Merrowdale and Honeycoombe? Maybe the man at whose side he walked had some special fondness for him? I did not know—or care. Neeco had brought death to all I had loved. He should die in turn. How I should bring home that death to him I did not know. But it should be so. I swore it in my heart, then moved to watch from a better vantage point. Know thine enemy.
The cheeky lad I recalled was gone. In his place a man of eighteen strutted. I could see the arrogance in his manner as he spoke to those with him. I thought they did not like or trust him, but something kept them from him. Whatever that was it would not keep me from my vengeance when the time came.
It took two days before those below were done looting. It had been completed with method and with less destruction than I feared. The leader had sent his men from house to house. Everything portable of value had been placed in a farm wagon. It was the largest wheeled thing ever brought through our narrow entrance, I believe. But they had maneuvered it past the entrance stones and down the steep slope.
Six of the big, slow, powerful farm horses came with it. I watched them covetously. If Honeycoombe had such we could have produced more food. There are some things a small pony cannot do, sturdy and willing as ours were. I wondered if I could set the beasts loose in the night, but the leader had them taken to a barn and guarded. As well he might. Each of them was worth a handful of silver to any lord. A team of six was almost beyond price, though all six were geldings and so could not breed.
I waited, and then it became clear Neeco had seen the bees were gone. He came walking with the Leader not far below where I lay hidden. Their talk floated upwards and I listened fiercely.
“No bees. That means they moved them early to the uplands.”
“We've done well enough, dear lad. We have no need of bees.” There was a caressing laugh to the leader's voice as the boy leaned into his shoulder. So that was Neeco's protection.
“It isn't the bees.”
“Then what?”
“The cordial. I tell you, Garlen, lords paid in gold for one small phial,
when
the old witch would share it.”
“The men searched her house. They found nothing.”
“Of course not.” Neeco's tone was patronizing and I saw sudden annoyance flash across Garlen's face. Neeco should be wary.
“Why, of course not?”
“Because she had an apprentice. The girl will be in the high pastures with the hives. The cordial was probably sent with her for safe-keeping. She'll have the village ponies as well. Three of them, all good hill stock. Maybe other things we can use as well.”
“Apart from her, you mean.” Their laughter was evil and I shivered. Little enough of mercy would I get if these found me.
“Well, you were saying only last night that the men needed a diversion. These peasants fight more ferociously than they expected.”
Garlen chuckled. “So I did say. True enough. In the morning we'll hunt out this girl. She can't know what's happened here. Had she been back she would have buried her kin. Unless she's cleverer than I'd give credit to?”
Neeco snorted in open contempt. “She's daughter to that one who pitch-forked Aylin. No brains in the family, just some gift the old witch wanted to foster.”
His leader smiled slowly. “Why then, she'll be easily taken. We have only to go to meet her with the right tale. She'll accept that and we'll have her and all else she may be hiding. As for any gift, that'll go from her as soon as we've had done. Tonight we'll broach a barrel of the ale
you found. We'll set out on our hunt in the morning once we've eaten and recovered somewhat.” They walked away to rejoin their men, who were still laughing in anticipation.
I sneered after them. About my gift they were wrong, I knew. I was not one of the witches from across the seas. The bee-gift is one which is held so long as the possessor wishes. It can be willed from her but not stolen or destroyed. As for Neeco's other plans, forewarned is forearmed, I thought as I lay there. I might not be such easy prey as they expected. Then despair swept over me. I was untrained in weaponry. I was a girl and only thirteen. How could I fight more than twenty trained men?
One of the winged-warriors sensed my fear and grief. He landed on my shoulder and on the opposite shoulder a queen landed, sending me warmth and comfort, cradling me in thoughts of honey-sweetness and the affection of the hive. But from the warrior flowed a deep hunger. The queens would be my advisers, they were the females who were wise for the hives. The warriors would be my weapons. Let the despoilers of the hive keep their ignorance, soon enough they would learn how dangerous even tiny warriors could be.
I did not know what the wing-friends had in mind, but I believed in their promises of protection and vengeance. I slept that night in a nest of heather and dried grass, woke to eat of the food I had brought with me, then drank from my flask, holding out the cap so my friends might drink in turn. Then I lay down at the edge of the valley again to watch. The fires below had burned high late into the night. I'd heard the sounds of men who became drunk and quarrelsome. That explained their slow rising on a fine clear day.
They came lurching and grumbling to where their leader waited. Neeco stood beside him, smirking triumphantly. No doubt but that today he expected to slay the last in the dale that had exiled him. Why he hated so, I could not see. He had gone to a good home and the Lord of Merrowdale
had been well-known as a kind man. Neeco could well have returned to visit his family each Summer once the bees were in the high pastures. Yet that, by his own choosing, he had rejected. Judging from the chaos below it would be an hour or more yet before they set out. I was young, unencumbered, and I knew every inch of the path. I could beat them back to the hives easily. I did so and stood between the two which housed the new queens.
I told the queens all I had seen, sharing in my mind the pictures as I spoke. In return a plan was unfolded, spare and elegant in its simplicity. I nodded slowly as I listened. It might work. If it did not I could always die. My mother had found no difficulty and I had the dagger taken from Lord Lanson's house. I hid that in my bodice and went to do what my queens had shown me. There was ample time before I heard the men approaching. I could even add a few touches of my own.
The raiders found my cave in order but empty. I had banked the fire and left my large cauldron simmering. That was the one Ithia had always used to make bee-syrup in Winter. It was of a very good size, and bronze. A prize in its own right and I had filled it with a savory well-salted stew. On a rock ledge nearby I'd set the last remaining flasks of mead, those I had taken from Ithia's house.
I
had known where to look. In that, Neeco had been correct—those who'd come before me had not.
I lay in the beelove and counted as the outlaws came straggling down the valley track. All twenty-one of them were here. No doubt any feared to stay behind lest their fellows find loot and refuse to share. And my own self would not be the least of that expected plunder. Around the rock outcrop in which lay my cave the breeze always swirled. I lay hidden to one side. The light winds would carry their words to me clearly. I listened and waited.
“Girl's not there, Garlen.”
“Make less noise. She's left all tidy. She can't have gone back to the village else we'd have met her on the way here. Neeco, where could she be?”
“Likely she's gone to the uplands. Ithia used to. They look for flowering bushes where they can move the hives in high Summer.”
The leader gave a satisfied grunt. “That sounds likely. All right. Look through her cave but throw nothing about outside. Tarro, go to the hill and watch for her.”
The man addressed growled. “Why me? Let someone else go. I'll not let my chances of finding something here slip by.” His tone turned sly. “Let the boy go. You'll share anything you find with him, won't you, Captain?”
Garlen said no more, but nor did he order Neeco to lookout. It seemed as if the man had some authority over those he led, but not so much they would forego the chance of loot, even at his orders. I smiled to myself. All the better if that was true. I'd left loot for them to find. A cry from my cave signaled that they had done so.
“Garlen! Mead!”
“What's that, lad?”
“Those flasks up there. I've seen them before. They contain mead. Ithia's best.”
A deeper older voice cut in. “Ah, do they? Then we'll have a sniff at this.” There was a pause and I could imagine him grabbing a flask down, taking a mouthful and savoring the fiery distilled contents. There came a loud gasp.
“Wheeoo, Captain. That's mighty powerful stuff. But by the Gods it goes down so smooth you wouldn't know until it arrives.” There came a hubbub as the bandits all clamored to taste. Then the one who had drank first spoke again.
“Look, Captain. There's a fine stew here, mead to drink, and we're where the girl'll not see us when she returns. Let us stay here, use her food and drink …”
“And then her,” another voice cut in. “Reckon it'd be only right if'n she shares her food'n drink with us. Then we shares us with her.” There was rough laughter and cries of agreement.
I thought from the sound of their voices that Garlen had
little choice. There was a dangerous note to the demand. I heard his voice agreeing.
“That's not a bad idea, Saren. All right, find bowls or use your own. Neeco, share out the stew. And you'll not be drinking.” He over-rode the boy's anger. “Saren, wait until everyone has a mug of some sort, then share out the drink. None for the boy, mind.”
I listened to the sounds as men gobbled down my stew. They smacked their lips thirstily over the mead and regretted that there was not more of it. I smiled bitterly. The five flasks were all which was left after Winter. But they would find there had been enough and more for them. They were used to drinking beer. The rough ale they usually drank would make a man sick before he became falling-down drunk.
The flasks of Ithia's mead were twice distilled. Even the mug each of them would drink would be enough to send their wits wandering. Ithia's mead was usually drunk from thick-walled thumb-sized glasses in tiny sips that barely wetted the lips. If it was offered in larger glasses then it was watered down by many times the volume. But each man would here drink ten or twelve times the usual tiny amounts. Neeco would not have known, when had
he
ever sat at the high table to see how Ithia's mead was taken?
In an hour those within my cave were finding the mead a heady brew. Their voices rose. Then one staggered from the cave holding his belly. He groaned, sinking to the ground unnoticed. Another joined him. Now the voices rose, but no longer in their rough humor. There was fear in the sound now. I waited in my hiding place. At last no sounds arose save Neeco's cries to them. Those, too, ceased and I guessed he plundered his erstwhile comrades.
I hummed a silent call in my mind. Winged warriors attended me as I went down to meet our betrayer. He walked from the cave, a bulging pack in one hand.
I nodded politely. “Neeco.”
I saw his face whiten as he took in my escort. But he was quick enough of wits. How should he know how much I knew?
“Meive. I—I have ill news for you. How long have you been here alone in these hills?”
“I came here more than eighteen days ago,” I said truthfully, and saw his mouth curve in a tiny smile of relief.
“Then, you do not know?”
“What should I know, Neeco?”
“The invaders. They found Honeycoombe. All are dead. They came to Merrowdale first. I was out with the dogs and escaped.”
“And the dogs?” I thought that part of the tale could be at least half true.
“I followed the invaders with them. I attacked when and as I could. One by one they killed the dogs. Now I am alone. Then these men found me.” A sweep of his hand indicated the tumbled bodies. “They were bad men. I have prayed to escape them. Now I have.” His eyes fixed on me. “They drank Ithia's mead and died. Why was that, Meive?”
In my mind I touched my warriors. Let them be ready. A humming in my mind assured me that they were. They would strike at my command. At last I could let my hatred show. I smiled.
“Why else, Neeco? Because while it was many days gone since first I came here, I had returned home in that time. I saw what you and your friends did in Honeycoombe. I know you led them here. I came back and poisoned the mead. I knew they would not leave it be.” His eyes were turned fearfully now to my warriors as they rose to surround him.

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