Raven Flight (11 page)

“What about a boat?” I asked.

“Leave that to Tali,” said Regan. “Once you’re out of the mountains, you’ll travel as a pair of women seeking work. It’s the best choice for avoiding notice. Once you reach the coast, you’ll likely find someone to ferry you over for a few coppers. Flint has been expert thus far at keeping the king’s attention away from the outer isles, using the argument—true enough—that they’re hard to reach and not many folk live there. That can only be to your advantage.”

“There are sure to be Enforcers on the road now spring’s come, especially around Summerfort. The idea of traveling openly does scare me.”

“Between Tali’s good judgment and your instincts, I’m confident you’ll reach the isles safely.” A pause here, as he turned his searching blue eyes on me. “Believe me,” he said, “it never gets any easier to send the folk of Shadowfell out across Alban, not knowing how many will come back in one piece. We’ve lost a few over the years and never found out what befell them. But we have work to do, a message to spread abroad. With Tali to protect you, you’ve a better chance than many of making the journey without coming to harm.”

I said nothing, only nodded. A look passed between Bearberry and Hawkbit. It told me they, like me, were thinking this perceptive human leader had missed the important fact that the Good Folk had played a significant part in keeping me safe on my journey to Shadowfell, and perhaps in those difficult years before. Sage had been watching over me from a distance for some considerable time. Never mind that; Sage was gone. I did need a strong human companion, and there was no doubt Tali was strong, though whether she could be a good companion was yet to be seen.

The rebels left Shadowfell a few at a time, taking advantage of breaks in the weather, going their separate ways. The night before Regan and Fingal departed, I dreamed of Flint riding out from Winterfort with his Enforcer troop, though I could not tell where they were headed. When I woke, Tali was sitting on her bed, polishing an already gleaming knife by the dim light of the lantern that hung out in the hallway. I caught her eye, but the look on her face told me to hold my tongue. I lay awake for some time, as was usual when Flint had appeared in my dreams, and she said not a word. Later, when I had dozed fitfully and woken again, she was folding garments into a pile with meticulous precision—she, who tended to throw clothing in a heap on the floor, unless it was her combat gear, which was cleaned and oiled and stored with as much care as her weapons. I thought of things to say and discarded each of them in turn. Eventually I slept again. When I woke, soon after dawn, she was up and gone. Perhaps she talked to
Regan before he left, perhaps not. When the time came, I bade him and Fingal farewell with the best smile and the bravest words I could find. But it seemed to me that when Regan went down the mountain, Shadowfell lost its heart.

Tali and I were next to go. As we made our way down to the river and across the shaky rope bridge, I tried not to wish it were Flint walking beside me. The longing for him was a physical ache in my chest, all the stronger because we had walked this path together, coming the other way.

We passed the place of last autumn’s ambush, where the bodies of Flint’s Enforcer comrades had been piled up and burned. No sign was left of that carnage. If there had been remains, the rebels had made sure they did not lie there long. We went by quickly, not talking.

We did not take the path along the valley past Corbie’s Wood, the burned village that had been my childhood home, for we wanted to avoid the busier tracks as long as possible. Instead, we went by Lone Tarn, along the ridge that looked westward over the valley. It was a journey of several days from Shadowfell to Three Hags Pass. By night we sheltered in caves, or under overhangs, or—once—in a tumbledown hut: not the place where Flint had tended to me when I was sick, but a ruin that was home only to spiders and beetles. Tali and I barely spoke to each other, except for her curt instructions about taking the left fork or the right, or keeping quiet, or waiting while she scanned the territory ahead. When we camped for the night, she set snares; a rabbit or two supplemented the supplies we carried.

I had wondered if Silver’s clan, the Good Folk who had
helped me when I came the other way, would appear again. Once past Lone Tarn we were back in the Watch of the West, their home territory. But then, Tali was armed; Silver’s people had steered clear of me while I was with Flint because of his iron weaponry. My own knife traveled in its protective sheath. Tali would not shield her blades. “I understand the difficulty,” she’d said. “But there are many dangers between here and the coast, including troops of Enforcers, and I can’t protect you without iron. I need my own weapons and I need them ready to use.”

Traveling with Tali was quicker than it had been with Flint. I was fitter, of course, after a winter of warmth and good feeding, not to speak of all that running up and down the Ladder. But there was more to it. I began to realize how careful Flint had been for my welfare on that earlier journey, making sure I rested and ate well, pacing the walks to suit my shorter legs, often refusing to let me help with the tasks of making and striking camp. Tali treated me as an equal or, on occasion, a not especially useful underling. She made few concessions. When night came, I slept the sleep of sheer exhaustion.

Once we were over Three Hags Pass, Tali changed into her female clothing. From here on we would encounter more and more other travelers, and the less of a warrior she appeared, the less likely she’d be to attract attention. There was no need for her to say she hated wearing a skirt; the way she walked in it made it perfectly clear.

With the pass behind us we were in the Rush valley, where the river tumbled and roared and swept its
way down to lose itself in Deepwater, close by the king’s stronghold of Summerfort. So early in the season it was unlikely Keldec would be in residence, but there would be Enforcers guarding the place, and folk coming in and out with supplies—while the king only lived at Summerfort in the warmer months, he maintained permanent households both there and at Winterfort in the east. There was only one road down the valley, and that was the king’s road, which crossed the Rush by the king’s bridge, where there were always guards. We wouldn’t be using that bridge.

“Hollow will let us over,” I told Tali as we descended the upper valley in our working women’s clothing. Tali had a swathing kerchief around head and neck, concealing her unusually short hair and her tattoos. “He’ll provide a night’s shelter too. I just need to speak to him nicely, make sure he remembers me.”

“A brollachan.”

“A brollachan, yes. No stranger than some of the others you’ve encountered in recent times.”

“Aren’t brollachans fiercely territorial? That’s what I recall from the old stories. The idea of sheltering in one’s house doesn’t sit well with that.”

“Hollow can be fierce; when I first met him, he almost knocked me off his bridge. But we soon became friends. It’s just a matter of saying things in the right way.”

Tali glanced at me sideways. “Or being a Caller.”

I shrugged. “It probably helped, though I never called Hollow. His job is to leap out when anyone sets foot on his bridge and stop them from crossing. But we’re approaching the other way this time.”

“Wonderful. What happens when a brollachan thinks he’s being attacked from the rear, by stealth?”

“It will be all right, Tali, I promise. Just one thing.”

“What?”

“You’ll have to wrap up your weapons. Not so much to protect him—I’m sure he has the strength to withstand iron, or he wouldn’t have been able to hold the bridge for so long—but as a sign that we mean no harm.”

She said nothing, simply looked ahead down the track, where now we could see a scattering of farmsteads on either side with strips of grazing land behind, and farther down the hill the narrowing of the valley that signaled the entry to the defile. In that place, for the length of two miles there was only room for the track and the river; sheer rock walls rose on either side. When Enforcers had caught up with me there, only my gift had saved me.

“No need to put your knives away until we’re nearly at Brollachan Bridge,” I told her. “It took me half a day to walk between there and the defile last time. Of course, I was sick then. We’ll be a bit quicker.”

“You’re not looking so well now.” Tali glanced across at me.

“There’s a farm farther down where I sheltered and woke to find myself cornered by folk with pitchforks,” I said. “Just about everyplace on this path has bad memories. Even Hollow’s lair. A friend of mine died by the bridge. That was the only time I’ve seen iron used as a weapon against the Good Folk, and it was hideous. If you’d been there, you’d understand why I insist on knives being guarded.”

After a moment she said, “I do understand, Neryn. I
just don’t like it much. I’d rather fight with a good blade than use my hands or a nearby lump of rock. Let’s hope this Hag of the Isles has some insights into the problem of iron. It looms as serious if we’re expecting these folk to stand up beside us when the time comes.”

We passed the farm where Flint and I had been sheltered overnight. We passed two more dwellings. There was nobody around, though smoke from hearth fires threaded up into the cold morning air. Then without warning Tali grabbed my arm and pulled me down into the concealment of a drystone wall.

“What?” I whispered, my heart juddering.

Tali put a finger to her lips. We waited, motionless. After what felt like a long time, there came the sound of bleating, movement on the path down the hill, a sharp whistle, the bark of a dog. Memories crowded me. I clenched my teeth and tried to concentrate on the here and now. Let these folk pass; let us get down to the defile unnoticed. Let me not meet someone who remembered me from last time I was here.

“Now,” murmured Tali, who had put her head up to scan the track. “Quick.”

No running; I knew that without being told. Instead, it was a creep from stone wall to outhouse, from outhouse to trees, from trees to rocks, each time waiting under cover until Tali gave the sign that it was safe to go on. I could hear the sheep still, up behind a run-down barn. The barking had ceased; maybe the dog was too busy to scent strangers close by. Only when we were clear of the
scattered settlement and within a few hundred paces of the defile did I risk speaking, and I kept my voice down.

“Thanks. I didn’t see them coming.”

“Doing my job, that’s all. Now wait here while I go and look through the defile. We’re not going in until the road’s clear ahead.”

The canny gifts possessed by some human folk, thanks to a fey ancestor, were of numerous kinds. Tali’s gift was unusually sharp eyesight. I stayed crouched in the concealment of some low bushes while she went forward. The way she moved made a mockery of her disguise; every part of her body was finely tuned, on guard, ready for whatever might come. Before we left Shadowfell, she’d set out for me what I should do if we were attacked: keep out of things and let her do the fighting. Escape by any means I had at my disposal—my staff, my knife, my canny gift. I had reminded her that if I called the Good Folk to help us and others saw the encounter, word would soon get back to the king’s men.
If you must use it to save yourself, use it
, she’d said.
Regan needs you. And, Neryn? Never forget the rebel code—the cause comes first, no matter what. If you can escape by leaving me behind, that’s what you do
. Each of us had a little packet of hemlock seeds concealed in her clothing. Since the death of Andra’s brother, the rebels had carried these close to their bodies, within quick reach. When Fingal had given me mine, I had asked him whether anyone had ever used the seeds. His face had gone very still. And he’d said, “Best that we don’t speak of that.”

Tali was back, crouching down beside me. “Folk
approaching the defile from the other side. Not Enforcers; people on foot, with children. After them it’s clear. We wait. Up there.” She jerked her head toward the oaks on the hillside behind us.

The trees were leafless still, providing scant cover, but we found a hollow sheltered by rocks. There we waited, taking the opportunity to drink from our waterskins and eat a little of Milla’s waybread. There was no talking. After some time a family of five came out from the defile: a man and a woman, each carrying a sack of grain, three weary-looking children with bundles, and a little dog. As they passed the point nearest to our hiding place, the dog pricked up its ears and turned its head toward us. But one of the lads had it on a rope lead, and when it pulled in our direction, he cursed it and hauled it after him.

They moved on up the valley and out of sight. Tali checked the defile again, and now someone else was coming. We waited until a boy had passed through with a bow over his shoulder and a pair of rabbits dangling, limp, from his hand. Someone would eat well today. Tali checked a third time and gestured for me to come down; the defile was clear.

“Right,” Tali muttered. “Straight through, and if I’m wrong and someone comes, we don’t speak unless we have to. And if we do have to, we stick to the story.”

“It would help if you could walk a bit less like a warrior,” I murmured. “Couldn’t you slump a little?”

“Not every woman of Alban is a downtrodden drudge, Neryn. I don’t see you doing any slumping.”

“No, but … never mind.”

It was shadowy in the defile. The river coursed along beside us, swollen by the melting snow. Its voice clamored in our ears. The rock walls threw back the sound, making one river into many. Tali set a quick pace; I made sure I kept up. As I passed, I murmured a belated thank-you to the stanie mon somewhere in the cliff above us, the one who had hidden me when the Enforcers came. Not his fault that the farm folk had found me and apprehended me soon afterward. He had answered my call straightaway; he had saved me from torture, enthrallment, maybe death.

We were nearly through when Tali halted suddenly, and I just avoided crashing into her. She put a hand up, signaling silence. I felt the thump of my heart; I made myself breathe slowly. Then she turned and mouthed one word.
Enforcers
.