The Glass Swallow by Julia Golding
What seemed hours later, the noise of fighting ceased, replaced by the shouts of men arguing over spoils, cursing each other or laughing.
Maybe they’ll just go, she told herself. She couldn’t deal with the fact that everyone she had been with for the last few weeks was probably dead. She refused to even think about it.
A man shouted behind her. A fist grabbed her hair and pulled her up. Rain screamed and swung round to face a bald man with a thin black beard, letting the stone fly in a wild throw. It glanced off his cheek and he shook her as he continued to yell in her face, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying. He dragged her towards the road, snatching her bag from the ground. The other bandits looked up from their job of stripping the dead and hooted.
‘Caught yourself a warrior, Morg?’ jeered one.
Rain shuddered—she didn’t understand many words of Magharnan but she grasped that she was being discussed.
‘I told you there was someone spying on us,’ Rain’s captor retorted. ‘I could feel it in my bones. I’m taking her to the captain.’
Morg thrust Rain into the presence of the leader of the bandit army. A big man with stubbly hair, the crown of his head covered with a black skull cap, arms bare and leather jerkin blood-splattered, he was making himself at home on the thoroughbred horse so recently ridden by the ambassador. At war with the state that had booted him out to a life of banditry, the bandit leader was not averse to enjoying the luxuries his old persecutors had once owned.
‘Krital, look what I found,’ Morg shouted. ‘She was watching us from over there.’ He jerked his head toward the rocks where Rain had sheltered.
Rain was shaking so hard she wouldn’t have been able to stand if the bandit hadn’t been gripping her arm.
The leader eyed the girl curiously. ‘Who is she?’
Morg shrugged. ‘I dunno. She doesn’t seem to understand Magharnan. Can I keep her?’
‘Where from, girl?’ The bandit asked the question in the few words of Common he’d picked up in Port Bremis. Rain’s eyes flew to his face as she realized she could understand him.
‘Holt,’ she whispered. Her gaze strayed to the bodies of the guard piled around them. The bandits paid them no heed, far more interested in the spoils than the dead.
‘Never heard of it. On own?’
‘I’m with my cousin.’ She put her hand to her mouth and bit hard to stop herself screaming: she had just spotted Shadow. His body lay only a short distance from where she stood. His clothes were covered in blood and he was very still so she had to give up any hope that he had survived. ‘Why did you have to kill everyone?’ The horrified question slipped out before she could stop herself.
Krital shrugged as if the answer was obvious. ‘We kill when men fight back. You going fight?’
She shook her head quickly.
He gave her a ghastly smile. ‘I thought not.’
The bandit who held her arm lost interest in the conversation he didn’t understand and decided to explore the contents of her bag instead. He up-ended it, tipping her few clothes, papers, and charcoal out on the road. Toeing through it, he grunted in disgust. He then tugged her necklace off, spilling the teardrops into the dirt when he realized they were only glass.
‘Nothing of worth,’ he complained to the leader.
Krital hadn’t taken his eyes off the little foreigner, intrigued by her colouring: she would make someone an exotic pet slave. ‘I’ll buy her off you,’ he said coolly, not wanting his man to see how much he wanted the girl as that would raise the price. ‘You don’t really need another bondswoman, true?’
Morg pushed Rain to her knees and indicated that she should gather her belongings together. In a daze, she fumbled to collect the beads and put them in the pack with the rest of her things. ‘All right, I’ll swap. You can never have enough horses.’
Krital frowned. Even he had limits to what he was prepared to give for her. ‘Not this one. You can have that one over there.’ He pointed to Shadow’s piebald.
Morg wasn’t really bothered which one he got. ‘Thanks. She’s yours then. But I don’t think you’ll get much work out of her.’
‘The dealers pay for novelties and you have to admit they’ll never have seen hair like hers. There are jettan families who will pay well for a housegirl they can boast about to their neighbours, true?’
‘Yeah, true.’ But Morg had lost interest, busy examining his horse.
Krital dismounted and approached Rain. She moved back a step before realizing there was nowhere to go. Krital pulled the ribbon off the end of her braid and shook it out. ‘Look, it’s like a chestnut’s tail: beautiful.’ He gave Morg a mocking bow. ‘I’m more than pleased with my bargain.’ He picked Rain up by the waist and placed her on the ambassador’s horse. ‘Let’s go, little one.’
Shard 4
Sky Blue
Peri arrived too late to be of any use to the victims of the bandits. He watched from the upper slopes of the crag as the thieves stripped the bodies of all valuables. There were more outlaws each day, men who, having lost their jobs, were thrown out of the cities with no way of making a living for themselves and their families. From his vantage point high over the road, Peri recognized the big man who had made himself leader of this irregular army: Krital, famous for his wrestler’s build and crafty mind. He was the magnet bringing the others to hunt on the road to the capital. Peri decided to wait until the bandits cleared out, then he would go and see if there were any survivors.
Rogue circled round the battlefield, his hunting instincts sent wild by the sight of blood on the ground. Glancing upwards, Peri feared that his falcon might give away his position. He drew the lure out of his backpack and cast it on the grass, hoping he could recapture the bird before anyone noticed it. Rogue went straight for it, plunging from the sky to pounce on the rabbit meat, allowing Peri to hood him.
‘Keep still,’ he murmured soothingly. ‘What’s down there isn’t for you.’
When he looked back to the road, the situation had changed for the worse. A girl had survived the attack and was being haggled over by Krital and another man; she looked tiny, smaller than his sister, Bel. While Peri was not going to risk himself for dead bodies, he drew the line at watching them harm the girl. But there were too many bandits for him to stand a chance against them; he would have to wait until they broke up to return to their hideout.
Krital took off on his horse with the girl in front of him. He was heading on his own towards the capital, which meant he would have to follow the road round the hill to cross the river in the next valley. That gave Peri an idea: if he could get to the bridge first, he could waylay the bandit leader. With only the two of them, he might even have an advantage as he had Rogue with him.
Peri scrambled down the far slope, holding Rogue clear of the tumbling stones. He ran for Nutmeg and leapt into the saddle, urging the gelding into a canter. He steered with his knees as he loosened the dagger from his saddle pack. Rogue screeched—though hooded, he could sense that his master was disturbed.
‘Hush now, we don’t want them to know we’re ahead of them,’ said Peri soothingly.
They clattered across the ford. Peri slid off Nutmeg and urged the horse to go on out of sight round the bend. There was a patch of grass there that he often grazed so Peri had no fear that he would wander too far.
‘Right, my beauty, time for you to earn your keep.’ Peri took the hood off the falcon. Rogue mantled his wings, a loose feather flying as he tried to escape, but his master had a firm hold on his jesses. ‘That’s perfect. Look as mean as you can, my crotchety friend.’ Shaking his head at his own foolish bravery for the sake of a stranger, Peri took a stance on the bank by the ford. He guessed that Krital would know that the bridge was in a terrible state and not wish to risk it laden down with spoils and a prisoner. Peri didn’t have to wait long before he heard hooves on the road. A stallion trotted around the bend, going slowly due to the uneven surface. He glimpsed a pale face surrounded by a
‘Hold!’ Peri held up the falcon. Rogue flapped his wings and screeched.
Krital reined his horse to a standstill, fetlock-deep in the ford. ‘Master Scavenger, what do you want?’
‘Release the girl.’
Krital laughed. ‘Why?’
Peri let Rogue go. The bird pushed off from the gauntlet, flew low to skim Krital’s head, the down-draught of wings fluttering the girl’s hair. The bandit ducked. Peri took the rope from his belt and began to swing the lure in lazy loops over his head.
‘What are you doing?’ Krital watched the lure with suspicion.
‘Showing what will happen to your eyes if you do not do as I ask. It is illegal to take innocent people as bondsmen.’
‘And I care so much about the law?’ laughed Krital, but his gaze was glued to the revolving lure. ‘Besides, she’s not Magharnan, so she’s fair game, true? You’re a scavenger like me: you should understand.’
‘Not true, and I’m nothing like you,’ Peri replied quietly. He gave a shrill whistle and Rogue exploded out of the sky to snatch the meat. The falcon landed it on the ground and gave a shriek of triumph. ‘Think what my bird could do to your face, bandit.’
‘You can’t scare me with that,’ Krital said derisively, taking his hand off the girl to reach for his sword. ‘You’ll have to fight me if you want her. I’ve a trader who’ll pay good money for something a bit different.’
Peri didn’t move an inch. ‘So be it.’ He held out his gauntlet. ‘Rogue!’
The bird fluttered up to Peri’s arm, dragging the lure with him.
Taking advantage of the distraction, the girl suddenly threw herself from the saddle, landing backwards in the river with a splash. The bundle she was clutching went flying. Scrambling to her feet, she ran for the bridge, fleeing both men, her only thought to get to cover and hide. Krital cursed, knowing that the wooden planks would not take the weight of his horse. He dismounted and ran after her, his long strides eating up the distance she had managed to put between them.
‘Get back here, girl, or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life!’ he yelled, making a lunge for her but coming away with a fistful of shawl.
Peri had to think fast. He did not fancy his chances in a fight with Krital; he had to distract him.
‘Go!’ He released Rogue, directing him towards the stallion. Smelling the blood on the ambassador’s saddle, the falcon swooped, claws extended. Spooked, the horse reared and bolted, heading back down the path.
Krital caught the girl in the middle of the bridge and shook her till her teeth rattled. The bridge groaned, a plank dropped into the stream and was quickly swept away by the current. The structure shuddered and slumped, water now running over the centre.
‘Krital—look to your horse!’ called Peri.
The bandit spun round to see his prize disappearing down the road. He swore, having to choose between the girl and the stallion.
‘I’ll get you for this, scavenger!’ he shouted. With another curse, he released the girl and ran off in pursuit, leaping the broken section of bridge. The prisoner crumpled to her knees, hugging a post as if fearing he would return to drag her away.
‘It’s all right now. He’s gone,’ Peri called, holding out a hand to her. He didn’t want to step on the bridge in case his weight caused it to collapse but he had to get her off before the whole thing ended up floating downstream.
She raised a pair of shocked blue eyes to him, round with fear. The words Peri meant to speak froze on his tongue. He’d never seen anything like her. In Magharna, everyone had straight black hair and dark eyes; she looked like one of the fey people from children’s tales, hardly human, with her wild curls and strange-coloured irises.
He swallowed. ‘Really, it’s all right.’ He dropped his arm, suddenly doubting himself in front of such a perfect creature. Perhaps she did not want to talk to a scavenger, maybe she thought he’d make her unclean? Annoyed by the thought, he strode to the river and salvaged her bundle which was caught on a fallen branch. ‘Here. We’ve got to go. Krital might be back any moment.’
She still didn’t react.
He could feel his anger building but he refused to let it show. The foolish girl was going to drown if she stayed where she was. He pointed in the direction Krital had gone. ‘Do you want him to catch you again?’ He made his tone neutral.
She shook her head. So at least she understood him.
‘Then come on.’ With a whistle, Peri summoned Rogue from a nearby tree and crooned praise to the falcon as he replaced the hood.
Rain made herself let go of the wooden post. She had passed beyond terror and was now numb. She’d fallen out of the clutches of one bandit and into the power of this strange young man with his cruel hunting falcon. What was he going to do with her? At least with Krital she had understood the man’s moods and intentions; this stranger’s calmness, even facing down a bandit twice his size, disguised his emotions from her. His face was made up of angles and planes like cut glass crystal: high cheek bones, hawkish nose, stubborn jaw. He seemed as hard and polished as the bird he carried. Perhaps it would be better not to know what he was going to do.
Gathering her courage, she stood up and walked off the bridge, her slight weight making no impression on the creaking structure. The falconer did not try and take her hand again, just beckoned her to follow him, speaking too quickly for her to understand his rapid Magharnan. Knowing she didn’t really have a choice, she trailed after him down the road to where a stocky chestnut horse grazed under a tree. The young man busied himself placing the falcon in a travelling basket while she huddled against the trunk, shivering from cold and shock. She felt very far away from what was happening, as if watching herself from a great height. He was talking to her now, opening the canvas bundle and pulling out the first change of clothes he came across. He threw it towards her and gestured to her to put it on.
‘W-why?’ she stuttered through chattering teeth, wishing she had learnt more than very basic Magharnan.
‘You’ll catch your death of cold if you don’t get out of those wet things,’ he explained, his tone a touch impatient. ‘But hurry, mistress, your admirer will be back at any moment and we must be gone.’
She couldn’t follow half of what he said: something about death and a threat that she’d be caught again. Feeling horribly powerless, she picked up the dry clothes. He turned his back while she changed. She only realized as her fingers caught on the slashed material that he had handed her the jettana’s robe. She was going to be sick: the woman was dead, lying on the road not a mile away with her cousin, left for the scavenging crows.
Rain rushed behind a tree and retched until her stomach hurt. Tears poured down her face; her nose was running. She felt so miserable, she wanted to die.
‘Easy now, fey lady.’ The young man’s voice was strangely soothing, even if his words were unfamiliar. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder blades, rubbing in a circular motion.
Rain swiped her wrist across her mouth and stood up straight. Wordlessly, he took a step back and handed her a waterskin to rinse the taste away.
‘Thank you,’ she said huskily, tears still sliding down her face.
‘Come now. We’d best get you to the capital. At least you’ll be safe there.’
She nodded, understanding most of what he had just said.
He boosted her up to sit on the horse’s back, then took a seat in front of her so she could hold on to his waist.
‘I’m sorry you have to touch me,’ he said.
Rain didn’t care: just then it felt wonderful to cling on to someone warm and kind.
‘You can take a ritual bath at the main gate so that you’ll be purified.’
Rain didn’t follow what he was saying, something about baths. She did feel dirty after the attack, but was now worried that she must smell really bad to him.
‘I want a bath,
‘I expect you do, being forced to share a saddle with an outlaw and now me.’
Again, he was speaking too quickly for her to follow. She decided not to say anything.
‘You must belong to one of the jettan households,’ he continued, gesturing to her robe. ‘What are you? A drummer? A wealer’s daughter?’
He appeared to be asking about her identity.
‘I am Rain Glassmaker.’
‘Ah, an artificer. I wouldn’t have guessed: your robe is too fine for that. Or perhaps your family is one of the very wealthy ones? I’ve been told they live like the jettans. They won’t like the fact that you’ve been in contact with a scavenger, will they?’
He’d lost her again. She expected him to reply with his name in response to hers, not this long speech full of words she didn’t understand. She tried again.
‘I am Rain Glassmaker. Who are you?’
‘Peri Falconer.’ He made a slight dip of a bow in the saddle. ‘Pleased to meet you, my lady.’
This she did comprehend as it had been in Shadow’s first lesson.
‘Please to meet you, Peri Falconer.’
Peri smiled at her carefully spoken polite words. Of course her kind manner would only last as long as she needed him; as soon as they were back in Rolvint she wouldn’t even look at him. Then he remembered something Krital had said.
‘You are not Magharnan? You certainly don’t look it.’
‘No. I origin from Holt. My betrothed glassmaker for summer palace.’
He grimaced: another useless craftsman being paid extortionate amounts to decorate one of the Master’s many houses while ordinary people went hungry. But he’d never even heard of Holt, let alone met people from there.
Wait a moment: what was that about a betrothed?
‘Your man: where is he?’
Rain shuddered. ‘Dead on road. With the ambassador and his wife.’
It was worse than Peri feared. He had suspected that the cavalcade had been a particularly rich one, but he hadn’t thought it belonged to a member of the government. This would be terrible news for the people of the capital, proving how little control the Master now had over lands beyond the city gates if even ambassadors were cut down within a few hours of home. Peri spurred Nutmeg on.