Raven Flight (29 page)

The farmer had stepped in front of his daughters and was confronting the fellow who had woken them. “Keep
your distance, lout. And hush your noise; there’s folk here need their sleep.”

“
Calla, move.
”

I backed away, beyond the circle of firelight.

“Who are you calling a lout, old man? Hit me, go on, hit me!”

“Calm down,” the farmer said, not giving an inch. Behind him his wife had put an arm around either daughter, like a hen spreading her wings to protect her chickens. “You’ve had too much ale, lad, that’s about the size of it. Take a breath, back off, leave the rest of us alone. There are children here.” It was an impressive display of self-control.

“You mean those girls hiding behind you? Children? Those are fine big lassies, ripe for the taking. One for me, one for my friend here—”

The farmer’s blow landed on his jaw and he went down like a felled tree. That should have been the end of it, but with roars of outrage the other youths surged forward, and suddenly what had been a foolish scrap became something far more dangerous. The farmer was strong and sober, but angry; the youths were slowed by drunkenness, but there were six or seven of them to the one of him. The other travelers retreated into the shadows, as we had, not wanting to get involved. The woman and her two girls stood paralyzed with fear as the farmer took one blow after another. Now he was reeling, staggering, his punches wide of the target, his face red with effort. Two men held him back. Two more moved in on the mother and daughters.

I couldn’t use my gift, not here among so many folk.
But how could I stand by while an innocent man was hurt and two little girls were assaulted? A man was grappling with the farmer’s wife, trying to prize one of the girls from her arms. One of the youths seized the other girl and threw her, shrieking, over his shoulder.

“This one’s mine!” he shouted.

The farmer was down, with two men kicking his prone form. I quivered with anger and frustration, desperate to run out there and do something.

“Leave that man alone!” Tali strode forward, staff in hand. “Step back and be quick about it.” Her voice cut through the din with calm authority. With the firelight making a flickering pattern of gold and gray on her strong features, she might have been a vengeful goddess from ancient times. Almost before I could draw a shocked breath, she executed a precise sequence of movements with booted feet and staff, and the two attackers were lying on the ground beside the farmer. “You! Put that girl down right now or you’ll be joining them. Back off, the lot of you. Your behavior is a disgrace.”

The youth set the girl on her feet and she ran to her mother, who was on her knees beside her husband now, checking his injuries. The other girl, showing considerable presence of mind, was fetching a waterskin and a cloth from their belongings.

“What sort of woman are you?” The young man’s voice was shaking with bewildered fury. He advanced on Tali. Behind him, one or two of the others—perhaps less drunk or with better judgment—hovered as if uncertain whether
to support him. “I’d say there’s something wrong with you, that’s what I’d say.” He cast a glance around the firelit encampment, as if to draw in the silent onlookers. “Something not right. No woman fights like that. No ordinary woman. Give her a knife, someone. Let’s see how she does in a real fight.”

Tali had not moved. She stood relaxed—I knew from experience how deceptive this pose was—with her staff upright by her side, held loosely with one hand. One of the youths passed the combative one a knife; another held out a similar weapon to Tali.

“I have my own knife,” she said levelly. “But I shouldn’t think I’d be needing it.” She laid the staff down carefully, then walked forward. “Are you quite sure you want to do this?” she asked politely. “Might it not be wiser to pack up and leave this place, so the rest of us can get some sleep before tomorrow’s walk?”

The young man surged toward her, shouting abuse and slashing with his knife. Tali scarcely seemed to move, but a moment later the weapon was flying through the air and the assailant was sprawled on the ground at her feet, wheezing. The knife landed among his companions; they shrank back to avoid injury. Tali made play of dusting off her hands.

“Pack your things and go,” she said quietly. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. These good people don’t want your company. You sully the ground you walk on. You pollute the air you breathe. Is this the best you can do, drinking and quarreling and taking your anger out on ordinary folk who’ve done you no harm? You should be ashamed
of yourselves. Go. Now. And think on my words. You’re young, you’re strong, you’re healthy. Make something better of your lives.”

In the hush that followed, I heard the older girl sobbing quietly and the groans of the farmer as he came back to consciousness. And I heard, as the young men gathered their things and walked out of the encampment, someone muttering, “What ordinary woman fights like that? Something wrong there.”

Later, while the encampment slept, Tali and I lay close together and conducted a conversation in whispers. I did not chide her for breaking our self-imposed rules. She did not apologize for drawing attention.

“Maybe we should head up into the hills.”

“Now, in the dark?”

“Tomorrow, early. Those men might talk.”

“There are people everywhere, Neryn. You saw them. Running off now is more likely to create suspicion. It would look like an admission of guilt. We should stick to the plan, stay with other people, blend into the crowd.”

To this, I had nothing to say. If that was her idea of blending, we were in serious trouble. But I understood entirely why she had done it.

“Another few days and we’ll be close by Summerfort. That’s the time to break away, when people’s attention is on something else.”

“If we went now … they could hide us, maybe. Sage’s clan. I could ask them.”

“No!” The protest was sharp, and there was a sleepy
mumble from someone nearby, reminding us of the peril of unguarded words. “You can’t bring them out, Neryn, not with so many people around. It’s too risky. Now we’d better be quiet. Try to get some rest.”

We headed on eastward. Today the farmer and his family were giving us a wider berth. They did not speak to us, nor did they offer to share their food, but turned their faces away rather than meet our eyes. Even among themselves they weren’t talking much. The others who had camped alongside us had dispersed into the greater crowd, and on the next night we slept beside strangers, apart from the farmer’s family, who established themselves on the opposite side of the encampment. No doubt they knew Tali had taken a risk to defend them, though just how much of a risk only the two of us understood. No doubt they were grateful. But folk feared trouble, and with Summerfort so close and Enforcers out on the road in increasing numbers, they dared not be seen speaking to us in case the young men had been right, and Tali’s outstanding combat skill was a canny gift. If we had not been so on edge, we might almost have laughed at that.

On the second morning after the attack on the farmer, the throng on the road was so big that it became hard to make any progress at all. A cart got its wheels stuck in the ditch ahead of us and overturned, spilling a cargo of flour sacks, some of which burst as they landed. We were trapped in a crush of people behind this obstacle, waiting for a group of frazzled men to clear the way. I had never felt so tempted to bolt up into the woods and hide. I longed
to be by a campfire with my fey friends, listening to Sage’s wise advice and watching as Red Cap tended to his precious infant. The wee one must be almost a year old by now; I hoped it was thriving back in its home forest, if indeed they were here and not out spreading the word across the west. I missed them. I missed the Hag and Himself. I wondered where Flint was now. It was a long time since I had dreamed of him.

“Hold still there!” A man’s shout, deep and commanding, snapped me out of my reverie. The crowd fell silent. A rider threaded his way through, coming from behind us: a masked rider on a tall black horse, the harness jingling with fine silver. Behind him came two more. Suddenly, everyone was standing very still indeed. And although, before, there had hardly been room to move, somehow room was made for the Enforcers.

They rode up to the fallen cart and halted. Two got down and began issuing crisp orders; the third stayed on his horse, his gaze moving over the crowd. After a moment he bent down to speak to someone standing beside him.

“
Calla.
” Tali’s voice was an urgent undertone.

“What?”

“Take this. Take my knife. Vanish into the crowd. Now.”

No time for questions. I managed to snatch the bag as she slung it off her shoulder. I grabbed the knife and stuck it in my belt. As I shrank back into the press of bodies, thankful that folk’s attention was all on the king’s men, I heard the sound of hoofbeats behind me, and the Enforcer’s voice, closer now.

“Is that the woman you saw?”

“That’s her.”

I knew that second voice; it was one of the boorish youths from our encampment. Nausea rose in my throat. I clenched my teeth on a cry of protest.

“You! Halt!”

Not me; Tali. This was what she’d anticipated. She’d spotted the young man close to the Enforcers and known what was coming. And since there’d be no getting herself out of this particular tight corner, she’d stepped away from me so that I would not be taken too. For Tali was not Regan’s secret weapon: I was.

I could not move farther away without pushing people aside and drawing attention to myself. I must hope nobody chose to identify me as her traveling companion. I watched, my belly churning, as the Enforcer swung down from his horse and seized her by the arm. This time she chose not to fight. She stood silent, passive, as the king’s man delivered a brutal blow to her jaw, sending her reeling; as he pinned her arms behind her back and bound her wrists together; as he flung her up over his horse, on her belly, and remounted behind her. She hung there limp and silent. I cursed the promise that would not let me use my gift to save her.

The cart and its spilled contents were cleared from the track. The Enforcers rode off eastward, and Tali was gone. Taken for the king. Taken for the Gathering.
Why didn’t you fight back?
I asked her silently, but I knew the answer. Not because one woman against three Enforcers would be ridiculous odds—that wouldn’t have stopped her. She’d
reasoned that the less of a scene there was, the more likely I could slip quietly away.

The crowd followed the riders; I was drawn along with everyone else, heading toward Summerfort. All day I walked, until my back was on fire with pain and my legs were shaking with weariness. There were moments when I might perhaps have made a run for it, headed up a side track without attracting too much attention. But it was never truly safe. Carrying the two bags, I would not be able to climb quickly to the cover of thicker woodland, and if I stopped to repack, folk would notice. There might be someone here who had seen me and Tali walking together earlier. One of those young oafs might think to amuse himself by turning me in as well.

So I plodded on, stopping briefly to drink and to force down a mouthful or two from our meager rations. When the glittering water of the loch began to darken and a wash of violet-gray spread across the sky, I drifted after a group of folk who were looking for a place to camp, and settled myself on the northern edge of the spot they chose, a narrow strip of level ground between the road and the steep wooded hillside. It was not the most comfortable place, but that was good; with luck, no more would come to join them.

As the dusk deepened, I unpacked Tali’s bag and transferred the contents to mine. Her knives I rolled in a shawl and stuffed into the bottom; it seemed unlikely I would be using them.
I’ll keep them safe for you
, I told her.
I’ll keep them oiled and polished and ready
. I folded her clothing as flat as
I could; when she escaped, she would want her trousers, her boy’s tunic, her gauntlets, her wrist braces. In an inside pocket of her bag something small was tucked away. I drew it out, and in the pale light of the rising moon I saw that it was a tiny bird carved from oak wood, a raven, wrapped in a square of soft woolen cloth.
You will fly again
, I told her, and now I could not hold back my tears; they flowed hot down my cheeks.
You’ll fly swift and straight as the raven. Nobody can bring you down
. They would take her straight to Summerfort. A fine, strong fighter. If she’d been a man, she’d have made a perfect Enforcer, once they rendered her loyal. But women did not become Enforcers. What would they do to her?

What comes next, Tali?
I asked her.
What is the plan now?
I knew what she would tell me.
On your own, you’ll be safer in the forest. Get off the road and head straight back to Shadowfell
.

“Sorry,” I whispered, tucking the little raven into my own bag. “You’re not just a comrade, you’re my friend. And I’m not leaving you behind.”

MY FATHER HAD TOLD ME ABOUT THE MIDSUMMER Gathering. Before Keldec’s reign it had been a celebration of all things good in Alban, an opportunity for the chieftains to speak with the king and his councillors, a chance for ordinary folk to show their mettle in games and tests of skill and strength. There had been music, dancing, feasting. The gates to Summerfort’s practice area had been flung open so people could go freely in and out from the great encampment that sprang up on the banks of the Rush, close to the place where it flowed into Deepwater. The Gathering had been held over three days and nights. It had drawn folk from all over Alban, and when it was finished, they had headed home with new heart.