Celandine (42 page)

And now the cave-dwellers wanted to send her away. But they
couldn’t
, not after all that had happened. Not now.

She opened her mouth to say something to Micas, and then realized that he had gone. He had slipped
out
into the night, without her even noticing. Celandine walked quickly to the cave entrance and looked about her, but could see nothing. It seemed odd that Micas should go out yet again.

Well, it was none of her business. She leaned against the wall of the entrance and ran her fingers through her short hair. What was she going to do? Her head felt a little clearer, but still she could find no answer.

As she turned to go, she thought she heard a voice – a low muttering from somewhere out there among the bushes. She paused, and listened. Nothing.

It occurred to her that perhaps she was being watched, that there might be unfriendly eyes trained upon her – or more arrows. She crept hurriedly back to the safety of her chamber and tried once more to go to sleep.

Chapter Eighteen

CELANDINE WAS AWOKEN
by the sound of angry words, echoing from the main cavern. Micas she recognized, and Bron. They were shouting at someone.

‘This be no business o’ yourn – and this be no place for thee!’ – Micas.

Other voices, muffled, from outside the cave it seemed. Then Micas again;

‘There be no giants here! Parley, do ’ee say? Then you med tell Corben us’ll see ’un at sun-wane. Aye. All that be here – in Little Clearing. Now be gone with ’ee.’

A few moments of silence, and then Micas appeared at the entrance to her chamber. He looked tired – perhaps he had not slept at all – and his expression was serious.

‘Bist awake, maid? Then maken theeself ready. We can hide ’ee no longer, for th’ Ickren do now reckon ’ee to be here. Come sun-wane we meet, all tribes, and ’tis then thee must run to the tunnel. Aye, thee must go from here when all eyes be elsewhere.’

There was the urgent murmur of another voice, out in the main cavern, and Micas said, ‘Aye, Bron. I
be
with ’ee. Mark me now, maid – come sun-wane, when all tribes be met, get thee to the tunnel and away from here. Heed what I say.’ Then he was gone.

Celandine sat on the corner of her pallet-bed, quite unable to get her bewildered thoughts into any sensible order. Was that it, then? Was it really all over? She looked at her canvas bag, tucked away in a corner of the chamber, and vaguely supposed that she ought to begin packing her things. But what did she need to take? Nothing. And where was she supposed to be going? She didn’t know. She didn’t know why she was leaving, or what she was running away from, or what she would do. She had never even seen the enemy – the Ickren – that were the cause of all this. What were they like, she wondered, these invaders? And what right had they to drive her out?

Corben was now certain that Tuz had not been mistaken after all. The tongues of the Naiad childer had wagged, and the rumours were too many to be ignored; there
was
a giant, a Gorji maid, living among the cave-dwellers – such common knowledge as could not be kept secret for long. The ogre had apparently been in the forest for some time and was considered harmless. Corben had despatched his archers to the caves, with orders to ask questions, but not to attack. They had returned empty handed, and with no further information, but certain that a giant was being harboured in there.

So be it, then. This Gorji was naught but a maid, and could do him no harm for the moment. Such a
being
could not be allowed to leave this place alive of course, but that could be dealt with later. He would have to discover how a giant had got in here in the first place, and ensure that any exit was blocked.

In the meantime he had other matters to consider. The Elders were grown impatient – and the Guard mistrustful. They wanted to know why he did not simply use the Touchstone to find the Orbis. Surely, when the Stone had led them so far, it would lead them to the Orbis itself? Did he not hear it speaking to him? He had claimed to have that power. Why then did he delay?

And there were others of the tribe who viewed him with dull suspicion, he knew it. The two scouts, Peck and Rafe, and the archers of the old Guard – they had followed his lead, but their reluctance had been plain enough. Their loyalty had been to Avlon, and to Una, not to him. Now they all waited to hear him speak.

‘The Orbis be here,’ he said. ‘I know that these forest-dwellers have it. The Stone tells me so, and ’twould lead me to it if I asked. Aye, we could take it before sun-high, if we so wanted. But there would be blood.’ He faced the archers of the old Guard. ‘Would that have been Avlon’s way, think ’ee – to take without parley? Have we not lost enough of our own already?’ Corben paused here for a moment, and there was some cautious nodding of heads.

‘I think of Avlon,’ he said. ‘’Twas my brother’s belief that the Touchstone and Orbis together shall lead us on – true travellers once more – and return us to Elysse. And I believe this also. But even when the
Orbis
be ours to hold, we may be here a moon or more, as I and these wise Elders learn how such a thing be put to use. And how much harder shall our task be if all hands be against us? Would it not be better if the Orbis were freely given? If we can persuade these scare-a-crows by parley to give up that which be ours, then we might save ourselves an armful of trouble.’

Again there were some murmurs of agreement, but Dunch, now General of the Guard, said, ‘They’ll not give it up, not they
Tinklers
. I never saw their like. They that do live as moles and do give shelter to giants – aye, for I knows that there be such a one in there – they’ll not be reasoned wi’. Us were there at sun-wax, as ’ee told us, Corben, and we did have some arglebargle – but ’twere no good. They’ll hold to whatsoever they have, till it be
took
from ’em, whether ’tis Orbis nor ogre.’

Corben gave a faint smile. ‘Then Orbis and ogre
shall
be taken from them, Dunch. Yet I would try parley first. Let all tribes meet at sun-wane, then, and we shall see what a king’s tongue may do to loosen their hold. If they will not then give, so we must take. In anywise we shall have the Orbis come moon-wax, I give my vow.’

It was a bold statement, and Corben saw that it had worked. The Ickri were still with him, and he had gained himself a little more time. But if the cave-dwellers could not be persuaded to reveal the whereabouts of the Orbis, then he was in trouble – for he had not the first idea of where it could be found, and the Stone told him nothing.

* * *

As the forest waited for sun-wane, when all the tribes would be awake and ready to attend the Ickri summons to parley, so Celandine made her miserable preparations for leaving. Micas’s instructions had been clear enough. She was to wait until the Tinklers and the Troggles had vacated the cave, then, when all the forest-dwellers could be presumed to be gathered in Little Clearing, she was to quietly make her way to the wicker tunnel. She was not to linger, and she was not to let herself be seen. She was simply to return immediately to her own kind, and to not come back. This was for her own safety, but also for the safety of all forest-dwellers. The Ickri were savages, and would surely attack any that helped her or sheltered her.

Celandine looked around the dimly-lit stone chamber that had been her home since early spring. So warm and safe she had felt here. The thought of returning to that other world made her stomach hurt.

There was nothing that she wanted to take back with her – the books and the writing materials, and all the useful little odds and ends that she had smuggled in – everything might as well remain. She wished that she could magically turn herself into a pair of scissors, or a ball of wool. Then she could stay as well.

They had given her a present, a pecking bag, such as the woodlanders often wore when foraging for food. This was a large pouch made of some kind of soft leather with a flap that fastened over the top. It had two compartments inside, and in these had been placed some gifts for her – two tinsy pendants and a
bracelet,
a carved wooden comb, a toy boat made out of a walnut shell, and a folded piece of paper. The pendants and bracelet had each been decorated with a flower – celandines, she thought – very simply engraved, perhaps hastily. In the toy boat sat a little figurine, made out of beeswax. Two tiny feathers protruded from the figure, like oars, so that the boat appeared as though it might fly away.

When she unfolded the piece of paper, it made her want to cry.

‘’Tis we,’ said Elina, and so it was – a crowd of names that covered the whole sheet, all higgledy-piggledy, and jumbled up together. The names had been written in pencil, some large and bold, some small and faint, but all were recorded there, down to the very youngest.

‘I did wroten my own,’ said Loren, very proud. ‘And I did put Tadgemole’s for ’un – see? There.’

Celandine looked to where the tiny finger pointed, but could only see a blur. She nodded, and brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. ‘It’s very good,’ she said, and wondered how she could ever bear it. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be leaving like this.

At sun-wane the cave-dwellers were gathered in the main entrance, ready to go to the parley, and it was time for Celandine to part from them.

Micas helped her to adjust the pecking bag so that it would tie around her waist – the strap being too short to go over her shoulder. He shifted the bag around to the back of her, and spent some time
making
sure that the fastenings were secure. ‘’Twon’t get ’ee all of a tangle, then,’ he said. ‘Best leave it so, till ’ee be safely whum.’

Home, she thought? Was that where she was going? She felt as though she were leaving home, not returning to it.

Micas looked out towards the evening sky. The light was beginning to fade, and a broad band of dark cloud had arisen, creeping threateningly over the high tree-line. Another storm seemed likely.

‘We’m in for a soak,’ he said, ‘afore this night be done. Mark what I say then, maid, and don’t ’ee tarry. Once ’tis dimpsy-dark, away thee go.’

Celandine nodded, but couldn’t speak. She didn’t know how she was going to say goodbye.

Micas raised his arm toward her, and she thought that he meant to shake her hand. She reached out uncertainly, but Micas merely brushed his fingertips against her palm and turned to go. He had said nothing. As her eyes followed him, she felt another brief touch, and then another – Elina . . . Bron . . . Mab . . .

One by one, the cave-dwellers filed past her, each reaching up and touching the palm of her hand, almost as though they were placing something there for safe keeping. None of them spoke. She looked down at the bobbing procession of heads and saw how badly she had cut their hair – the little tufts and wisps that she had missed, the bald patches where she had cropped too close. It seemed to her that she had spoiled them, had made them look ridiculous, and more vulnerable than ever. The other tribes
would
laugh at them, she thought. And that would be her fault. Everything was her fault.

The last of the tribe passed her by, and at the very end came Loren, carrying baby Tadgemole. Loren looked much healthier than he had done a few weeks previously. His cheeks had filled out and had a little more colour to them. The baby, too, looked well.

‘Goodbye, Loren.’ Celandine couldn’t just let them go without saying a word.

Loren glanced back at her. He smiled, and then turned away once more – holding his little brother closer as he carefully picked his way down the bank of shale. He got to the bottom safely and hurried to catch the rest of the tribe as they disappeared down the winding path between the hawthorn bushes.

The final glimpse that Celandine had of them was of Tadgemole’s tiny face peeping over Loren’s shoulder, the dark eyes wondering, but calm, untroubled. The cave-dwellers had no way of saying goodbye, she realized – no word for it. And if none of them had ever parted from this place, or from each other, then why would they?

A terrible silence settled all around her. The cavern entrance felt cheerless now – no
tink-tink
of distant hammering, no snatches of song, no echo of laughter. There was nothing to be heard but the tiny sputter of a lavender lamp, somewhere back there in the darkness, the final
pitta-pit
of a spent wick, drowning in its dish of oil. Then nothing. Celandine was deserted.

Her shoulders gave an involuntary judder and she
stepped
out onto the loose bank of shale at the cave entrance. The darkening woodland had also become depressingly quiet. No bird sang, and the air was growing damp and chilly. She had never liked this sad hour between evening and nightfall, when the light begins to fail and the day dwindles down almost to nothing – like a lamp wick. But tonight she felt completely desolate. There was such an ache of loneliness in her chest that it seemed as if the surrounding silence was pressing down upon her, squeezing the breath out of her.

The thought of Fin came into her head, and she realized that she hadn’t seen him for days. Was she really to leave him without a word, and never speak to him again? Had she to keep this place a secret all her life, and to forget all that had ever happened?

No. This was unbearable. She would not be driven from here by an enemy she had never even glimpsed. She would not simply creep away to the tunnel. She had to know what was going on.

There were so many of them. Celandine had never seen the tribes all gathered together at one time, and now almost the entire area of Little Clearing was filled with the jostling murmuring crowd.

The laurel bushes that she crouched among were obscuring her view. By gently parting the foliage and craning her neck this way and that, she was able to get a fragmented idea of the proceedings, but little more.

Near the centre of the enclosed space stood the ancient beech tree that had been struck by lightning, deeply shadowed now against the summer evening
sky.
Around the tree were grouped the Various tribes, spreading out towards the edges of the clearing. Immediately in front of her were the Wisp. Celandine recognized the back view of Gwill and Moz, and a few of the others. The Ickren were apparently on the far side, and she couldn’t get a clear sight of them. Perhaps if she was able to get a bit higher . . .