The Whisperer (5 page)

Tess stared incredulously at Griff. ‘You can hear my thoughts?’ she repeated, her tone suggesting she didn’t believe him.

‘Yes,’ he said, embarrassed. ‘Only the ones that you are so aware of that you…well, you force them out beyond your mind, I suppose.’ He’d kept the secret for years and now he’d spilled it twice in the same day to different people, both relative strangers, although he felt he could trust Tess. The silence stretched until he felt uncomfortable and was about to excuse himself when Tess surprised him.

‘I believe you,’ she said, her expression grave.

‘You do?’

Tess nodded. ‘No-one else could know what you revealed. You had to be able to hear my thoughts to have that information about my sister.’ She looked shaken.

Griff took a deep, relieved breath. ‘I’m sorry about your sister, Tess. I’m sorry that you’re alone.’

‘I have my creature friends,’ she replied sorrowfully but then brightened. ‘And now I have you. I don’t envy you that skill. It must be hard to live with.’

Tess was the first person who had ever sympathised. His brothers thought he was the luckiest person alive to possess such a gift, while Tyren, he sensed, was plotting to find a way he could make use of it. His father had not wanted to talk about it, had even become angry the last time Griff had mentioned his talent. That had been many years ago. He had not discussed it with
anyone since then—until today. He wanted to hug Tess for feeling sympathy. ‘That doesn’t even begin to cover it. There are times when I just want to run away, head for the forest and live alone.’

‘So you do know how I feel.’ She smiled. ‘Hearing others think. Hmmm, that must be truly awful. Is that why you hurried away from the meal tent?’

‘Yes.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m fortunate that it’s only thoughts of high importance to people that I can hear. But a crowd can overwhelm me.’ He looked over at Rix, noticing the veercat’s huge pointed ears erect and moving to catch every sound they could. ‘He looks content.’

‘He’s more comfortable amongst the grasses and trees.’ She stroked him. ‘But he’s not liking this rope.’

‘There’s yards of it, Tess. He can move the full length of this clearing. They won’t hurt one another will they?’

She gave a snort. ‘Don’t be mad. They’re my friends, which means they look after each other.’

Griff turned to regard the centaur with awe once again. ‘Will Davren let me close?’ He’d been glancing at the beast, determined to get to know him better but not wanting to frighten the centaur or Tess with his eagerness. ‘He’s magnificent,’ he added, noticing the creature’s broad chest and muscled physique. Davren’s hair was dark and shaggy, falling in soft waves to his wide shoulders. To all intents he looked like a young man to his waist but from there on he became all beast, similar to a horse. His body was sleek and shiny with dark chestnut-coloured hair covering his withers and flank. ‘He looks so strong.’

She nodded and Griff edged towards the young centaur.

‘Are you talking to him?’

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Reassuring him. You can’t hear?’

‘No. I can’t listen in on conversations. I know it’s hard for you to imagine but all I can do is hear a person thinking something when it’s really important to them. Is Davren scared?’

‘He trusts me. He knows I wouldn’t do this for someone I was not sure of.’

Griff felt a momentary thrill pulse through him. Tess was his first chance at real friendship. Apart from his brothers he lived on the fringe of the show folk, not really close to anyone. That she had chosen to trust him meant everything.

‘Just hold out your hand.’

Griff did so, marvelling at the perfectly sculpted head and torso of a boy, not very much older than himself, who possessed the body of a horse. He was lean and muscled. ‘He’s so incredible to look at.’

‘He’s very strong, as you’ve noticed. But he’s not comfortable here, so he’s a bit nervous.’

‘No parents?’

‘He’s an orphan. He won’t talk about what happened.’

Davren reached out and placed his open palm beneath Griff’s hand.

‘This is his formal greeting. Now turn your hand so that his ends up on top of yours,’ Tess guided. ‘That’s how you say hello properly in Centaurian.’

Griff did as she suggested and won a tentative smile from Davren. ‘How did you learn such things?’

She shrugged. ‘I sense them or the creatures teach me. He likes you. He says you will be a good friend to us. He trusts you. You should talk to him. He understands, he just can’t talk back to you in the normal manner but he can communicate with the others—reassure them about you.’ She too smiled gently. ‘And he can talk to you through me if you like.’

‘I’m pleased to hear that he likes me,’ Griff said, genuinely delighted. He tore his eyes from the handsome centaur and looked at the equally intriguing black-and-white striped sagar. ‘Elph looks calm, too.’

‘Elph is
always
calm. Sagars are sleepy creatures until they’re frightened or disturbed in some way. So long as Elph has food, somewhere soft to sleep and is near us,’ she said, taking in herself and her creatures with a wave of her hand, ‘he’s happy.’ Griff grinned at Elph’s long, strong snout that he could use as a tool for everything from feeding himself to
exploring with. His six thick stumpy legs intrigued Griff.

‘And Helys seems fine, too.’ He smiled at the small creature that reminded him of a hairless puppy—her features were fine and delicate, like a mouse. She had very long whiskers that twitched constantly, seeking information from the surrounds, and her round ears moved equally incessantly, picking up every sound in an equally anxious manner. Her eyes were huge and dark with long dark lashes. He thought her most beautiful.

‘Yes, she seems fine but she’s not because she’s pale blue today, which means she’s very nervous.’

‘What is her happy colour?’

‘Normally a buttery-yellow colour signifies she’s feeling safe and happy—she goes a bit orange when she’s joyous. Green is her calm, content colour.’

‘Does she get cold with no fur or feathers?’

‘No. I don’t really understand how her body works but she’s off the purples, so this place is more to her liking. She thinks you’re handsome by the way.’

Griff felt his cheeks redden. ‘Well, she’d be the first to think so. Trust my luck…a califa!’

Tess giggled. ‘She’s incredibly pretty by califa standards.’

‘I can see that—even though I didn’t know until now what a califa looked like. Please tell her I think she’s very beautiful,’ Griff replied, no longer blushing. Tess must have told Helys because the little creature glowed orange momentarily. He cleared his throat. ‘So you feel comfortable with your friends here? I’m sorry they’re tied up, Tess, but we just have to prove to Tyren that you are cooperating.’

Before Tess could answer, the showmaster stomped into the clearing with Chauncey, whose mouth was slack with wonder when he sighted the animals. ‘You’re not defying me are you, young Tess?’

‘No, Master Tyren,’ she replied, glancing at Chauncey, who appeared entranced. ‘Er, I took Griff’s advice and each of the creatures is secured by a rope. They feel safer here than among the wagons.’

‘I’ve explained to Tess that we don’t always stop in places where woods are so near, Master Tyren,’ Griff lied, but he knew precisely how the showmaster’s mind worked and decided he would cut off any objections before they arose. ‘I think if we can just win the creatures’ trust in these early weeks whilst we’re still moving along the fringe of the woods, then by the time we reach somewhere like Cupsley, or Bridgetown, they will allow us to house them beneath a tent or in a wagon.’

‘But what if someone should see them here?’ Tyren exclaimed.

Tess shook her head. ‘They won’t. My creatures know how to hide themselves. They are well practised. And we’re not here long enough are we?’

Chauncey didn’t reply and got a dig in the ribs from his boss to prompt him to pay attention.

‘Sorry, Master Tyren,’ the big man said, ‘Cor, these beasts will fill the tent over and over.’

Tyren threw him a greedy look of agreement. ‘How long are we here?’ he repeated.

Chauncey tore his gaze from the quartet of curious creatures and shrugged. ‘We perform tomorrow; we’re gone the next morning, Boss.’

Tyren’s eyes narrowed, deepening into his fleshy face. ‘Alright. I’m holding you responsible, Griff. This was your idea. If I lose a single creature, you and your brothers will go without wages for a year.’

Griff nodded, hardly even hearing the threat. ‘You won’t lose any of them, I promise.’

‘How can you be so sure she won’t run?’ Tyren demanded. Then as though something had dawned on him, he smiled. ‘Ah, of course. I understand how you know. Very good. I want to talk to you, Griff. Come see me later. It’s important.’

Griff did not allow his anxiety to show. He simply nodded, although he knew what it meant: Tyren was going to ask him to perform.

‘Settle in, Tess and start thinking about your act, what you’re
going to wear and how you’re going to approach presenting the beasts,’ Tyren said over his shoulder. ‘Don’t even think about escape. Griff here will tell me if you do.’ He left with Chauncey in tow, both chuckling quietly.

‘So, you’re spying on me?’ she asked, a combination of looking aghast and angry in her expression at the same time. She folded her arms.

‘Don’t be daft, Tess. That’s typical Tyren, making sure none of us trusts one another. Just remember what your creatures told you about me. If you trust them, then trust me. Come on. We have to plan your act. We’d better go see Madam Tyren about some clothes for you—she’s in charge of the show wardrobe.’

Tess softened and threw a worried glance at her friends.

‘They’ll be safe,’ he reassured, taking her elbow. ‘You’re right. No-one knows they’re here and they know how to hide should anyone stumble into the clearing. We can check up on them regularly.’

‘I do trust you, Griff. Just so long as you don’t try and talk me out of sleeping in the woods with them tonight.’ She glared at his look of surprise. ‘I’m like Elph,’ Tess assured him, ‘I don’t feel the cold.’

Janko’s welcome home banquet had been a lavish affair. Rodin had ordered the most impressive royal feast the palace had seen since Lute had been born, and the kitchens had worked themselves into a frenzy of activity to impress the returning hero.

The highlight of the dinner had been what was known in the region simply as ‘Serephon’. It came from the ancient language and meant ‘blessed creatures’ but was used to describe a complex dish that began with roasted ox. Within the carcass was a cooked deer, which was in turn stuffed with mutton that, when opened, revealed a goat that was stuffed with a small pig, and which ultimately revealed hares stuffed with tiny voles. It was a mighty achievement by Lambert, the head cook, that each of these animals were beautifully prepared and cooked to
perfection within each other; each bringing different flavours of meats and herbs and, of course, being a spectacular centrepiece for the royal banquet table.

Lute hadn’t partaken of the Serephon but had nibbled on the simple roasted slices of meat that Pilo had cut from a haunch of cold beef and served with fruit chutneys, soft cheeses and thick hunks of warm bread smeared with butter. Lute had joined in the many toasts to the Duke and laughed politely at all his uncle’s jests when the guests—all important men and women of the realm—had somehow become a willing audience for Janko to regale with stories of his adventures. It was then that Lute noticed his mother was not at all as riveted as his father and everyone else seemed to be. Her attention was wandering and she looked unimpressed when Janko’s audience clapped or cheered.

Soon enough Pilo had leaned over his shoulder. ‘Time to go, your majesty.’

‘So soon?’ Lute asked, a plea in his voice.

‘You have to be up for the dawn ride, don’t forget, my Prince,’ Pilo said. Pilo always said just the right thing, thought Lute. He could have just said, ‘It’s time for bed’ and made Lute feel as though he were a mere child being taken from the grown-up part of the banquet. Instead Pilo made it appear as though it were Lute’s duty, as Crown Prince, to get his sleep.

‘Of course. I shall just wish my parents good evening.’

Pilo gave an almost imperceptible nod as Lute walked over to the three adult royals.

‘I must take my leave. Good night, Mother,’ he said, formally kissing her hand. ‘Father, sleep well,’ he said, bowing to the King. ‘Uncle Janko, see you in the morning.’

‘I’m looking forward to it, young Lute,’ Janko said softly over his shoulder. ‘I can’t persuade your father. Serious affairs of state apparently await, but I’m sure we shall have a lively time nonetheless.’

‘My mother would—’

‘Er, no, darling,’ Miralda said, smiling indulgently. Lute had
never seen that expression before. It seemed forced, overly polite as she tinkled a soft laugh clearly for Janko’s benefit. ‘Both of you, and Pilo, can rise with the birds and enjoy the dawn.’

Lute saw Janko throw a look of sympathy at his mother. That expression seemed equally fake. ‘A queen must get her beauty sleep,’ he said.

‘Can I just thank Lambert?’ Lute murmured as they moved away from the chamber.

‘In case your mother forgets to, you mean?’ Pilo said, striding so quickly that Lute had to hurry to keep up.

‘She won’t forget,’ Lute assured.

‘That’s my point. I think you were wondering if there were any stickycakes going begging.’

Lute grinned. He’d been found out. ‘Well, you made me leave before they were served.’

Pilo gave a soft sigh that said it was alright to go via the kitchens. Inside the cavernous wing at ground level of the palace there was a soft warm fug of food smells and people’s toil. A vast assortment of servants was fetching, carrying, cleaning, tidying.

Lambert spotted the young Prince and clapped his hands furiously to get everyone’s attention. The kitchen staff bowed, welcoming Lute.

‘I didn’t mean to interrupt your work, Master Lambert. I’ve just excused myself from the banquet but I wanted to quickly thank you and all the people in the kitchen for the magnificent meal that was served tonight.’