The Wildkin's Curse by Kate Forsyth
Zed scowled at her, but could not kick her or pinch her under the table since Adora was in the way. She turned at once to face the younger girl, her eyes wide with amazement.
‘Why, Priscilla, how can you say so? She murdered your own uncle, on the very steps of the palace.’
Priscilla looked at Zed in appeal, saying miserably, ‘Oh no! That couldn’t have been Mags! She’d never have killed Uncle Ziggy. Why, she—’
‘Cilla!’ Zed cried.
Priscilla stopped mid-word, flushing as pink as a peony.
‘Do I detect a mystery here?’ Adora cried. ‘Oh, I do! Look at you, Priscilla, you’ve gone quite red. Oh, do tell.’
Priscilla stammered something, and Zed said, ‘She just means we know that the ambush was led by one of our own soldiers.’
‘Well, yes,’ Adora said, ‘but of course it must have been the Hag who paid him to attack you. Did you not find a bag of gold on him?’
‘We don’t know who paid him.’
‘But you don’t think it’s the rebels who wanted you dead?’ Adora was surprised. ‘Do you suspect someone else?’
Zed shrugged and repeated that he didn’t know. Priscilla sat silently, knotting the tassels of her scarf together.
‘You say you don’t know who attacked you, yet you don’t suspect the Hag,’ Adora said, looking from one to the other. ‘Priscilla says that she’d never hurt you or any of your family. Could that be because you know her somehow?’
‘Know the Hag? Us?’ Zed hoped his voice did not sound as false to Adora’s ears as it did to his own.
‘If I remember rightly, the Hag is the daughter of that old bandit chief, Diamond Joe, who lived in the Perilous Forest. And as we all know, Estelliana is more than half taken up by that very same forest . . .’
‘It’s a big forest,’ Zed said.
‘Of course, you’re right. What am I thinking? As if you could possibly know a filthy, thieving, murdering traitor . . .’
‘She’s not!’ Priscilla burst out. ‘I mean—’
‘We don’t—’ Brother and sister spoke together, and then fell silent together, cheeks burning, teeth clenched together. Zed cast Priscilla a reproachful look, and she looked down at her hands, tears in her eyes.
Fear those you love, not those you hate, Stiga had warned him. He had never suspected that it would be his own sister who would betray them.
‘There’s no need to worry,’ Adora said softly. ‘Aren’t I your cousin? I won’t tell anyone. I must admit I’m afire with curiosity, though. How on earth could you have come to know the Hag? Could it, by any chance, have anything to do with your mother’s mysterious escapade all those years ago?’
Both Zed and Priscilla made small involuntary movements, and Adora smiled. ‘I see. She went into the Perilous Forest, didn’t she? The lair of Diamond Joe. And if I remember rightly, she came back to Estelliana Castle with a handful of hearthkins who helped her wake her brother from his enchanted sleep.’
‘That’s right,’ Zed said. ‘That was how she met our father. Have you ever heard the story? It’s really very romantic.’
For a moment he thought he had successfully deflected Adora, because she said, ‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard the story. It was the scandal of the season! I was only a girl, but I remember it well. I wondered how she dared. But now . . . well, if only I’d had the courage to marry where I wanted, and not be sold off to a fat, sick, old man just because he was a prince. I believe they’ve been very happy.’
‘They are,’ Zed said curtly.
‘I remember envying you all when I came to visit that time. Estelliana seemed idyllic. Except for that pale, thin boy your parents were fostering. He was as miserable a child as I’d ever seen. What was his name?’
‘Merrik,’ Zed muttered. He wondered desperately how Merry was doing. Was he lying hurt somewhere? Had Liliana found him? He wished he could get up and go and search, but he knew the eyes of everyone at court were upon him. He forced himself to sip at his apple-ale, a false smile pinned to his mouth.
‘Merrik, of course. That’s the name of your squire, isn’t it, the dreamy dark one with the lute. Merry, you call him, don’t you?’
Both Zed and Priscilla nodded mechanically. A plate of roast dormice was offered to them by a squire, all curled up pink and naked amid a bed of spring lettuce. Priscilla rejected them with a little cry of distress.
‘Merry . . . who you say the Hag would never harm.’
Zed moistened his dry lips and tried to think what to say, but Adora went on inexorably. ‘Merry, your foster-brother, left at the castle by his mother after his father died. I remember the story now. Your parents were deeply grieved because his father had been drowned, hadn’t he? Drowned by starkin soldiers. Accused of being a sorcerer and drowned. And so the boy came to live with you. But tell me, what happened to Merry’s mother?’
‘She . . . she . . .’
‘Did she turn rebel, by any chance? Is the reason she would never harm him because she is his mother?’
Both Zed and Priscilla jumped as if stuck by a pin. Adora smiled in satisfaction, and although Zed immediately laughed the idea to scorn, and teased Adora for all her odd notions, and tried to act as if it were all a very big joke, he had a dreadful sinking feeling in his stomach that Adora did not believe a word of it.
Zed swallowed, his mouth dry with fear. Would Adora tell anyone? She was looking at the astronomer, signalling to him with her fan, and Zed’s stomach cramped.
What would the king do to them if he discovered they were all in league with the Hag?
CHAPTER 28
The Pit
LILIANA CREPT ALONG THE DARK PASSAGEWAY, HOLDING A FLICKERING candle in her small brass candle-holder. Tom-Tit-Tot scurried along before her, leading her deeper and deeper into the maze of cellars under the palace.
She heard voices and hurriedly ducked behind a pillar, blowing out her candle. Two guards went past, grumbling to each other, each carrying a lantern on a pole. They did not notice her slight form, wrapped in the Erlrune’s cloak, almost invisible in the shadows.
When they moved out of sight, they took their light with them. Liliana was left in an impenetrable darkness. She waited, listening with all her being, but everything was silent. After a long while, she lit her candle again, her hands shaking so much it was difficult to get the scraps of bark and moss in her tinderbox alight. There was no sign of Tom-Tit-Tot. Liliana hurried down the passageway, looking for him everywhere, feeling sick and shaky with anxiety.
Where are you, Merry? Are you hurt? What has happened?
She checked door after door. They all opened to show sacks and barrels and tubs, piled high in musty, unlit rooms. There was no sign of the omen-imp and no sign of Merry.
If I find you, I swear I will never let you go again, she told Merry in her mind. I’ll love you so hard you’ll never wish to be free of me . . .
At the moment when the sun reached the zenith of the sky, the astronomer stood and raised high his arms, and called to everyone to celebrate the coming of spring and the days of warmer weather.
‘The time for new growth is upon us. It is a symbol of new beginnings. The king wishes all of his loving and loyal subjects to lay aside their grief and anger, at least for this one day, and rejoice in the return of the glory and power of the sun.’
People cheered and shouted, and drank toasts, which got progressively rowdier as the speeches continued. Gifts were exchanged, mostly small bundles of fragrant incense sticks, or sweetly scented candles, or soaps carved in the shape of flowers and rabbits and birds. Zed smiled mechanically, all the time sick with worry and fear.
Adora rose, smiled prettily, and said, ‘If you’ll please excuse me, I must visit the garderobe.’
‘Oh, I’ll come too,’ Priscilla said, bouncing to her feet. ‘I can assist you and you can assist me! These dresses are so awkward, aren’t they?’
Zed gazed at his sister in admiration as she linked her arm in her cousin’s and led her away. A
The musicians began to play and people got up to dance or to play the games that had been set out around the fountain. There was a parade of beribboned and flowered hats, a hopping race, and egg-balancing competitions, since the spring and autumn equinoxes were meant to be the only days that one could balance an egg on its end.
Priscilla and Adora came back, arm in arm, and at once the astronomer came to ask Adora for a dance.
Zed tittered, in his best imitation of Zakary, and said loftily, ‘My dear man, you can see my beautiful cousin every day. I haven’t seen her in years! Surely you can let me enjoy a few hours with her. We return to the country all too soon.’
The astronomer could do nothing but bow, smile with stiff lips, and retire. Adora smiled sweetly, and fluttered her fan with agitated fingers.
Another course was brought, and Zed ate without knowing what was on his plate, and talked and laughed without knowing what he said. Adora talked and laughed too, while Priscilla sat, miserable and silent, knowing the danger she had brought upon their heads.
At last the course was taken away, and the musicians struck up another dance.
‘Will you excuse me?’ Adora said sweetly and rose to her feet. Zed rose too, and bowed, watching her with an uneasy feeling of anxiety. She walked along the back of the high table, bent and whispered a word in the astronomer’s ear, then went down into the milling crowd of laughing, gossiping courtiers.
Zed followed her, glad to be away from the high table. Priscilla came with him, clinging to his arm.
‘You know, Zed, I don’t think I like court after all,’ she said as soon as they were out of earshot of the king and Lady Vernisha, still stolidly eating her way through a platter of eel pie. ‘Do you think we could go home soon?’
Zed nodded, making a quick decision. ‘Yes, Cilla. I think we should go just as soon as we can. Do you think you could slip away now? Put on some travelling clothes. Pack yourself a few necessities. Money, your jewels, some tinder and flint, that sort of thing. Then go down to the harbour and tell our captain I want the Wind Dancer provisioned and made ready to sail at once. Wait for me until sunset, and then if we haven’t come and there’s no message, I want you to go, just as fast as you can.’
She gazed at him wide-eyed. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m going to find Merry and Lili and come to join you. If we can’t get there in time, we’ll find our own way home, don’t you worry,’ he answered, his eyes fixed on Adora. ‘But I’ll feel much better if I know you’re safe. All right?’
‘Yes, Zed,’ she replied in a subdued voice, looking about her with frightened eyes. A moment later, she flitted away, disappearing into the crowd.
It was easy enough to follow Adora, for the crowd parted for her and she was a striking figure in her red gown and widow’s veil. She went to the fountain and asked for a cup of apple-ale, which one of the attendants poured for her.
Zed cast a quick look back and saw the astronomer was wending his way through the crowd. ‘Are you allowed to dance?’ Zed asked Adora with a strained note of gaiety in his voice.
‘Oh! Zed. I don’t know.’ Adora cast a quick glance at the astronomer, who frowned and turned and walked away. ‘I suppose I might be allowed just one dance.’
So Zed, who could think of nothing but the fact that he and his two best friends could be arrested for treason at any moment, danced the farandole with the dead prince’s widow. Anything to stop her telling the king’s spymaster that Merry was the son of the Hag.
The pit was just large enough for Merry to sit with his knees bent under his chin, his broken arm cradled against his chest. A man, or even a tall boy like Zed, would have had no room to crouch. For the first time in his life, Merry was glad he was so small and thin.
It was very frightening, crouched alone in the darkness at the bottom of a filthy pit. To keep himself from terror, Merry kept his brain busy with other things. He thought over all he had seen and heard, and what it might mean.
Dark forces gnaw at the roots of the throne, bright ice shall cut to the very bone . . . Either she would die or she would fly, and the king would be bled dry . . . dawn at sunset, and frost in spring . . .
But, trapped in a deep, hollow darkness, these words only brought panic and so Merry thought instead about feathers. Soft and warm and pale, feathers meant freedom, feathers meant repose, feathers meant peace.
Seven feathers, sewn in the true and rightful order, and the magic of the cloak will be restored . . .
Eagle, Owl, Albatross, Raven, Swan, Nightingale, Pelican.
The words almost made a song, when strung together. He amused himself by singing them softly under his breath. Albatross, Raven, Nightingale, Swan, Pelican Eagle, Owl . . .
He floated in the darkness, riding upon waves of pain, thinking. Seven feathers. Like seven notes in a scale. When playing scales I play them up and down, up and down, C-D-E-F-G-A-B, or B-A-G-F-E-D-C, but when I compose a song I change them around, I put them in a new order, I make melodies and harmonies . . . The first letters of the birds almost sound like notes . . . A-R-N-S-P-E-O . . . or maybe perhaps S-N-A-R-E-O-P, that’s where I am, in a snare, a trap, don’t think about it, think of something else. R-E-A-P-S-N-O, they say you reap what you sow, so did I sow this pit, this pain . . . What else, what else, S-P-E-A-R-O-N, now that’s a good melody, what are we doing if not making a spear for ourselves . . .
Merry remembered with a bitter pang the afternoon they first met Liliana, when, to taunt Zed, Tom-Tit-Tot had chanted: ‘Swift as a sword, sharp as a spear, indeed I am a weapon to fear!’
Tom-Tit-Tot, Tom-Tit-Tot, where are you?
For long minutes, Merry was lost to fear and regret and bittersweet longing, but he wrenched his mind away from that pit of despair and set it resolutely to work. A song, a scale, sung in the true and rightful order. S for Swan, O for Owl, A for Albatross, R for Raven, P for Pelican, E for Eagle, and N for Nightingale, and that gives us S-O-A-R-P-E-N . . . Soar pen . . . soar like a bird, free of this pen . . . soar like a bird, my words . . .
Zed held his cousin by the hand and danced down the courtyard, twirled her through an archway of raised hands at the end, then linked his arm with hers and skipped back. For the first time ever he was glad for the years of dancing lessons, for his feet moved without need of help from his brain. He was able to keep watch on the astronomer at the high table, make light conversation with Adora, and worry all at the same time.
Merry had drifted into a half-doze, despite the pain of his broken arm, when he heard a scuffling sound above him. Fearing rats, he raised his head. Dreadful thoughts flashed through his mind. Would rats fall upon him in a waterfall of hunger and greed? Would they nip and tear at him, devouring him while he was still alive? Would he be drowned in a river of filthy grey fur?
He buried his head in his arm, bracing himself, but the clatter of claws and slither of fur was light and quiet, and in a moment he felt a warm, lithe body press against him.
‘Tom-Tit-Tot!’ he cried in relief, and pressed the ferret to him, weeping a few tears of relief into his silky black fur. In an instant the ferret had changed shape, and he was holding a creature of claws and hooked wings who, nonetheless, embraced him enthusiastically, wailing, ‘Merry lost and buried deep, it’s enough to make me weep.’
‘You came,’ Merry said.
‘Of course, fast as a horse,’ Tom-Tit-Tot replied.
‘I didn’t know,’ Merry whispered. ‘I’m so glad! It’s so good to see you.’
‘You’re battered and bruised,’ Tom-Tit-Tot said indignantly, examining Merry carefully. In the darkness, his eyes gleamed red, like the windows of home. ‘I’ll batter and bruise them, I will!
‘Tom-Tit-Tot,
‘Reach, screech,’ the omen-imp said crossly but burrowed around inside Merry’s pocket until he had found and withdrawn the pelican feather.
‘Tell Lili I’ve been thinking about the feathers . . . tell her the secret is “soar pen”. Can you remember that? “Soar pen”. Tell her to sew the feathers to the cloak, and get Rozalina out of the tower. They plan to blow the tower up when the fireworks go off. Dawn at sunset, tell her . . .’
‘No go,’ the omen-imp said piteously, but Merry was insistent. He repeated his words over and over again until he thought the omen-imp understood.
Whimpering in distress, Tom-Tit-Tot spread his leathery wings and flew up out of the pen, leaving Merry alone in the darkness again.
Liliana wandered the subterranean labyrinth of cellars, storerooms, and corridors, lost and afraid. Soldiers marched by at regular intervals, forcing her to hide, her heart hammering with fear. She no longer had any sense of direction, and so looked for any steps that might lead her back up to the ground floor of the palace, so she might reorient herself. She could find none, however, and so could only go on quietly, shielding her candle with her hand.
She saw a pale flicker of movement ahead of her, and stopped instantly, her pulse jumping. Her first impulse was to blow out her candle, but she had no kindling left in her tinderbox and the idea of being lost down in these cellars without a light was too frightening. Already she had used two of her candles, and had only a stub left. Cautiously, her stomach clenched with fear, she tiptoed forward.
A woman stood in a low archway, one hand on a door handle, the other beckoning urgently. Liliana’s legs began to shake as she noticed the woman’s floating white dress, the long black hair that drifted about her frail form.
‘Shoshanna?’ Liliana whispered.
The ghost nodded, and beckoned again. Liliana obeyed slowly, her skin shivering with an unearthly chill. The ghost moved through the archway, disappearing through the door in a way that made Liliana feel quite sick. She tried to follow, but the door was locked fast.