Daughters Of The Storm (42 page)

‘I don't know the first thing about undermagic,' she said.

‘You need only a good teacher.'

Bluebell butted in. ‘Enough of this nonsense. Prove to me you don't mean my sister harm.'

He spread his hands. One of them jerked meaninglessly, as if under the control of a careless puppeteer. ‘I can prove nothing.'

‘Why were you trying to get into the room?'

‘I knocked. Nobody answered. I was concerned she was hurt.'

‘I didn't hear you knock.'

‘Bluebell,' Rose said, ‘we were asleep.'

‘I would have heard,' Bluebell said. ‘I sleep with my ears open.'

‘I believe him,' Ash said. ‘We were tired. We hadn't slept for two days.'

Bluebell harrumphed, but Ash could tell she was backing down now. Unweder was too small and weak, too half-blind and hand-palsied to pose a physical threat.

‘Unweder,' Ash said to him, ‘we seek an undermagician named Yldra. Do you know of her?'

‘Yes, I do. I can direct you there easily. She lives many miles to the north of me. Perhaps you'll travel with me to my house. We can talk a little more of undermagic before you continue on your way.'

Ash turned to Bluebell, who shrugged. ‘I expect you'll do what you want,' she said.

‘Rose?' Ash asked.

‘If he knows the way, that can only be of use to us.'

Ash turned back to Unweder. ‘We would be very grateful if you joined us.'

He nodded, and Ash sensed he was hiding a sly smile. ‘Very well,' he said. ‘We'll travel together.'

Rose slept lightly, determined to be awake before dawn so she could see Rowan in the little bronze loop the old woman had given her. She woke repeatedly throughout the night, then finally rose while it was still dark to go and wait outside, leaving her sisters sleeping, passing the neighbouring room where the strange Unweder slept. She found a long wooden bench behind the back wall of the inn and sat there to wait. The morning chill prickled her cheeks and she shrank from a cold wind that found its way up the alley between the inn and the next building. Clouds lay on the horizon, but as they flushed orange she knew the sun was rising. She untied the seeing-circle from her belt and held it up to her face. The block of ice had softened, was starting to melt. Rose watched as the water gathered in the loop, suspended there by magic. Once the ice had turned to water, the surface rippled and the image formed: tiny, but perfectly clear.

Rowan, in her bed. She slept, long dark hair spread out around her. Ivy was curled on her side next to Rowan. Rose studied her daughter's sleeping face for long minutes, her soft cheek and black lashes. Then the sun got too high, and the water frosted over and began to solidify. Moments later, it was a block of ice again, cold to the touch.

Rose fought a sense of disappointment. No, not disappointment. Just a feeling of not being deliriously happy. She'd looked forward to this moment ever since the old woman gave her the seeing-circle. The hard ache of missing Rowan had intensified, day by day, since they'd parted. But seeing her child was no substitute for feeling her hot, impossibly light body in her arms, breathing in the sweet-salty scent of her skin.

More than that: Rowan was safe. There was no question. Bluebell had put her finest warrior in charge of her safe trip back to Folcenham. Now that she was home, she was no doubt being treated kindly. Even if Ivy wasn't particularly patient, Nurse was there. And Wengest loved her madly, Rose was certain of that. Rowan was a happy, safe, pampered little girl and Rose would see her again in a few short weeks. So why had she fixed the seeing-circle on Rowan, when she could have fixed it on Heath? It had been three years since they were last together, and it might be another three years — or more — before they could be together again. If she could see him every morning in his bed at the garrison, that would be some comfort ...

She leaned heavily back on the wall behind her. It wasn't fair. Was it too much to ask, to know the people she loved most were happy and safe, when she was destined to be apart from them?

Bluebell didn't take her eyes off Unweder. She made him ride ahead of them forty feet, at the very least twenty feet from Ash, and kept her eyes fixed on his slight shoulders. It was their second morning with the undermagician in their retinue. The cold water in her guts told her not to trust him, but Ash was determined to have him around. Bluebell couldn't make sense of it. Her sister had never shown any interest in men. That this man with his
crooked eye and fine fingers could command her attention worried Bluebell. He was an undermagician: could he enchant her? If he'd enchanted Ash, what was stopping him from enchanting Bluebell, too? The experience with the witch in the wood, with her mud wall held together by magic, had terrified Bluebell. She liked to be able to know her enemy; or at any rate to see him coming.

She glared at Unweder's back.

Or see him going.

Rose rode up beside her. ‘The dogs are a long way back.'

‘They always catch up.'

Rose nodded, looking behind her again. Bluebell sensed it wasn't the dogs she was worried about. ‘What is it?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Good, then,' Bluebell said, and they rode side by side in silence up the wide, grass-edged road a while.

Then Rose said, ‘Rowan wasn't in the seeing-circle this morning.'

Ah, so this was the problem. ‘Maybe the magic isn't working any more.'

‘No, it's working. I saw her bed. It was empty.'

‘Perhaps she was up early.'

‘She's never been an early riser.'

Bluebell glanced at Rose. Her eyes told the story: she was panicking. ‘You see, this is why I didn't want you to have that thing in the first place.'

‘You never told me not to take it.'

‘I thought about telling you. But you're not a good listener.'

Rose's eyebrows twitched downwards.

‘Rowan will be fine. She's with her nurse, who takes good care of her; her father, who adores her; and her aunt, who ...' Bluebell trailed off, struggling to think of a single good thing about Ivy. ‘... who is her aunt,' she finished.

Rose sighed, her gaze going out across the long grass. ‘I wish I wasn't so far from her.'

‘Have you asked Ash?'

‘She says she can't see or sense anything.'

‘Then stop worrying.'

‘But she said herself, she has little control over what she sees.' Rose's voice dropped. ‘She wasn't telling me everything. I'm sure of it.'

Bluebell smiled. ‘Rosie, don't make problems where there are none. Listen to me. Perhaps Rowan woke up early because there was a noise outside. Perhaps one of Nurse's ducks escaped and was quacking at the door. Perhaps she ran out into the early morning to chase it away.' She could see Rose's shoulders start to relax, so she continued. ‘The most you have to worry about is her running about barefoot in the dew.'

Rose smiled weakly. ‘Thank you, Bluebell. That makes me feel a little better.'

Bluebell dropped her voice. ‘What do you think of Unweder?'

‘He's an ugly little man, is he not?'

‘I don't care how he looks. I care that he seems to have some hold over Ash.'

Rose watched his back for a while, then her eyes flicked to Ash. ‘Ash doesn't make bad decisions,' she said. ‘Ever.'

Bluebell turned this thought over in her mind. It had truth about it.

‘He's unlikely to try anything despicable as long as you're around, Bluebell. He wouldn't dare.'

‘My sword is little use against magic.'

‘Magic isn't always bad.'

Bluebell nodded. ‘I will watch him closely. As for you, stay close to Ash. Distract her from him. Be a good sister and talk girlish nonsense with her.'

‘Would that put your mind at rest a little?'

‘Yes.'

Rose smiled. ‘Then we have done each other a favour this morning.' Rose touched her horse's side lightly with her foot to urge it forwards. Bluebell hung back, at the back of the retinue, never taking her eyes of Unweder, even for a moment.

Ash woke to a light mist of rain. At first, she tried to keep sleeping, screwing her eyes shut. The rain lifted for a few minutes, but then intensified. She sat up to look for her moleskin in her pack.

That was when she noticed Unweder, lying on his side in the rain, very still, but eyes open. Looking at her.

She frowned. At first she thought she had misread the direction of his gaze. But then he blinked slowly, and she understood he was studying her carefully. The fire was low, giving his face a faint amber flush. She didn't want to speak and wake her sisters, who were both already under their waterproof skins. So instead, she lay back down. He kept his good eye on her. Not sexual interest, not even curiosity. Just watching her and blinking slowly.

She wasn't afraid of him, and understood he wasn't afraid of her either. Not the way Yldra had been.

She closed her eyes, wondering if he would watch her all night, while she slept.

Sleep slipped beyond Rose's fingers. No matter how many times she listened to Bluebell's reassurances again in her head, the cool itch of doubt persisted. She dozed, startled herself awake, wondered how close to dawn it was, dozed again, falling into troubled dreams where something had been lost and forgotten,
something as vital as blood. Light rain washed over them on its way to the sea and she woke before dawn, sticky with humidity under her moleskin cloak. She sat up, fumbling at her waist for the seeing-circle.

The light paused a moment behind the world, holding its breath. Or perhaps Rose was holding her breath.

Then the ice melted and shimmered and there was Rowan's bed. Empty.

The hot rush of fear made her joints loose. She didn't know what to do with her hands, they seemed suddenly too big for her body. She clambered unevenly to her feet, gasping Bluebell's name.

Bluebell sat up, pale eyes open and hand on her sword.

‘Rowan's gone,' Rose said.

Ash stirred as well. Unweder slept on.

‘She may be —' Bluebell started.