Dragonclaw (41 page)

For three days the jongleurs travelled along the green road, following the meandering stream and camping every night by its still pools. Dide was in a quandary. He dared not show his fever of anxiety, for his long absences and abstracted silences were already a cause for teasing from the other jongleurs, and he must always be careful to appear like the others, unless they guess his traitorous secret. The penalty for being involved with the rebels was death, and Dide wanted no suspicion attached to him or his father's caravan. However, the chance the witch who had been executed in Caeryla might be Isabeau distressed him deeply, for although it had been eight years since they had met, he had always remembered her and wondered if they would meet again.

Every morning he slipped away to go and stare into one of the pools in case his master should be trying to reach him, or in case Lilanthe returned. On the fourth day, he watched the dark waters shimmer into silver with the growing light without any sense of pleasure at its beauty, when he became aware of another, alien consciousness. With a spurt of joy he looked up and there was Lilanthe, her green hair knotted, her face streaked with mud, her eyes almost closed from crying.

‘I want to join ye,' she said. ‘I want to be a rebel too.'

Thoughts tumbled madly in Dide's mind. His initial reaction was to tell her not to be silly, but part of Dide's job was to find his master new recruits, particularly those with magic of their own. He also recognised the depth of Lilanthe's grief, though he did not fully understand it. ‘Then I'd better take ye to meet my granddam.' he said. ‘She'll ken what to do.'

 

Maya sat in her room, staring out at the sunset, trying to control the little shivers that were running over her body. It was time to contact her father, and the prospect filled her with fear. It was useless to remind herself she was Banrìgh of Eileanan, the most powerful woman in the country. It was useless to tell herself she was far from her father here in Rhyssmadill. The very thought of having to speak to him filled her veins with terror.

Maya's father was a man to be feared. He came from a race of warriors, proud of strength and contemptuous of weakness, their lives circumscribed by long-held traditions and strict magics. Even though it was many years since Maya had lived with her father, having been handed to the Priestesses of Jor when little more than a toddler, the very thought of him was enough to make her bowels clench. Sani knew this, and brought out the antique mirror with a malicious glint in her tiny pale eyes.

The fish-tail mirror was very old, the metal now green with tarnish, although the oval surface was still bright. Not a single scratch marred its polished face, and when Maya held it between her hands and stared at her own reflection, her face took on a mysterious beauty that seemed somehow alien.

Using the mirror as a focus, as Sani had taught her, Maya stared into her deceptively serene face and called out to her father. His many names and titles fell off her tongue in stilted, musical phrases. On and on she sang, and her reflection sank away beneath cloudy ripples. Still she called to her father and, through the distorting veil, his face approached, dark with fury. He was roaring, his mouth wide open, his tusks gleaming yellow.

‘Why have you not contacted me before?' His song sounded more like the pound of breakers on an icy shore than the delicate lap-lap of Maya's voice.

She tried to strengthen the timbre of her melody. ‘It was not safe.'

‘Not safe! Are you not in control there? Are you not Banrìgh?'

‘The palace is full of mutinous lairds and spying servants. I could not risk exposure at this time. The tighter my grip, the more suspicious they become.'

‘Weak and foolish as all women are. When shall I have my way? What is the news?'

‘The Faery Decree is working its will, and faery creatures of all kinds have been surrendered to us. Most are useless, but some … some have proved of use. We have had many rebels and witches revealed to us, for they have pity on the faeries and betray themselves unwittingly. The biggest coup was discovering another rebel stronghold in Rurach, and wiping the entire rats' nest out. The fools had returned to the Tower, and of course I had kept a watch on it. Blèssem and Aslinn are completely under our control as ye ken, and although Rurach and Tìreich remain a little recalcitrant, it really does not matter, since we prevail on other fronts.'

‘And what of our ancient enemies, the dragons?'

Maya would have liked to look away but she dared not. ‘The dragons have risen.'

Her father threw back his head and roared again, and the mirror was filled with the unsavoury sight of his tongue and tusks. ‘So be it,' he said at last. ‘Each time we have struggled to regain what is rightfully ours, the dragons have set their will against us. I am displeased, though,
daughter
.' He spat the note out with contempt and, indeed, for him to remind her of her lowly status was to insult her. To him and his kind, daughters were mere pawns in the games of power they all played so relentlessly. If times were hard, it was the girl babies who were drowned so there would be more food for the boys. If a female child survived to adulthood, she had no control over her future, being mated to whatever male her father or brother favoured at the time. Manliness was proved by displays of brutality and strength, and the dividing up of food, space and women decided by manliness. Maya had only escaped by a strange twist of fate which had seen her given to the Priestesses of Jor, who recognised power in her and thought to use it for their own ends.

‘You have failed,' he continued. She did not allow her expression to change or her gaze to falter, but she could not prevent the sweat from springing up on her forehead. ‘You were supposed to flatter the dragons with those glib and slippery words you
women
use so well. You were meant to send them fine gifts and smooth promises until their guard was relaxed, and then fall upon them with the poisoned spears. What did you do wrong?'

Maya fixed her eyes upon his, and said smoothly, ‘A contingent of Guards, searching out witches in the Whitelock Mountains, panicked when a dragon came down to investigate their presence. They had their poisoned spears with them. I am sure His Highness would be glad to know the dragonbane worked just as he predicted.'

‘Of course, it worked, fool. And do not expect me to believe the Circle of Seven have risen merely because a dragon was killed. Accidents do happen. Such a thing could easily be explained by the men succumbing to dragon-fear, as they so cowardly do. The dragons know they cannot come too close—'

‘The dragon was female, and with child.'

He snorted with disgust and scorn. ‘I suppose that would make their cold blood boil, they have such strange notions. Why did you not send a conciliatory troop to the dragons' valley? Once they had let your heralds in, you could have fallen on them then.'

‘We did,' Maya stuttered, ‘but they would not accept our heralds.'

‘Not accept your heralds! Not accept the heralds of the Rìgh of Eileanan? You must have insulted them grievously indeed. No, there is something you are not telling me. What of those other sea-urchin spikes in our flesh? What of the Arch-Sorceress? What of her?'

Despite herself, Maya licked her lips and swallowed. ‘We have reason to believe the Arch-Sorceress Meghan NicCuinn reached the dragons before us and spoke against us. We had tracked her down to her secret hideaway beneath the shadow of Dragonclaw, and there surprised her and some of her Coven in their filthy secret rites. Some of the witches were killed, though they called on the powers of earth and fire. The Arch-Sorceress escaped, though we have caught and executed one we suspect to be her apprentice, a powerful witch. We are now hard on the Arch-Sorceress' trail, and confident we shall soon have her by the heels.'

‘Oh yes, confident. Confident as you've been before. For sixteen years you've been confident of destroying her, and I've seen nothing but empty words. So she spoke to the dragons against you, and now the dragons are risen. By Jor! That I should be forced to rely on a puny female as my instrument! Pluck out this spur for me, or else, by Jor, I'll have your blood!'

‘Aye, Your Highness.' Maya bowed her head, and tried to keep her face serene.

‘And what of the Cripple? I notice you say nothing about him. I hope you have not failed me there too?'

‘We did locate the leader of the rebels in the mirror, using his witch knife and staff, and so were able to spy on him and know where he was travelling, sure he would eventually lead us to Meghan. Many times he did trick and deceive us, and each time we drew the net tighter about him.'

‘So? Last time we spoke these were your same words. I want to know if the net drew tight enough to hold him. I told you last time not to risk losing him in those Jor-cursed mountains, where one valley looks much like another. I told you to capture him as he came through the Pass, and twist the Arch-Sorceress' hidey-hole from him there. Did you not do this?'

Maya was sweating again. ‘Aye, Your Highness, only—'

‘Oh, I see. Another excuse? How have you failed me now?'

Maya spoke rapidly. ‘Meghan's apprentice foiled our plans. She rescued him the night of his capture, and lead our men on a sardine chase while he escaped into the mountains. We caught her, though, and executed her.'

‘While the Cripple has slipped through your fingers again. Why have you not been able to relocate him?'

‘He has stopped scrying.'

‘So he knows you are watching him!'

‘It would seem so.'

‘And would you have told me this if I had not asked?' he sang in a deceptively mild voice. She tried to think how to reply, but he curled back his lip, showing his gleaming tusks, and began to roar again. Maya almost flinched back. When at last he was finished, he panted, ‘Curse your feminine mysteries. Curse your sleek, sly ways. That I should have to leave such matters in the hands of fools and weaklings! That the proud children of Jor should have fallen so low to depend on an imbecilic half-breed woman!'

‘We are closer to victory than we have ever been, Father!' Maya fixed her father with a burning gaze. ‘Do you not always say that the tidal waves of Jor's wrath roll slow, but to sand the rocks shall be ground?'

He eyed her with a fierce, pale eye and then laughed chillingly. ‘True enough. But know this, come winter, when the birthing is done and the pup is swimming, then we shall come! You had best be sure I am glad to see you, and that wrinkled-up, oyster-faced priestess-hag too!'

Then he was gone, and Maya's own reflection came swimming towards her through the rippling depths of the mirror. She was shocked to see how? ashen was her face, how frightened her eyes.

Sani was frightened too. ‘Ye fool! Just because he is on the other side o' the land is no excuse for provoking him in such a way! His arm is very long. Do no' think ye are so high and mighty powerful, my fine lass, just because ye ensorcelled a rìgh into marrying ye. Ye are still nothing! Ye are still a worthless half-breed daughter, less that a grain o' sand to the great rock o' His Highness, Lord o' all the Seas, Master o' Storm and Tidal wave, Rider o' the Sea Serpent! Let me tell ye, if ye endanger yourself ye endanger me, and do no' think I will allow ye to bring me down!'

‘Enough!' Maya screeched. ‘My father's arm may be very long, but mine is still closer.' And she struck out at the little old woman, knocking her against the table so that the mirror shot over its polished surface.

The old woman raised herself slowly. ‘Be careful, my dear. Be very careful.' She picked up the mirror reverently, and wrapped it again in its faded silk. ‘I am your only friend here, remember, and the only one to take your part with your father. What if I tell him the many details ye so cannily left out o' your accounts?'

Maya felt like screaming, but she drew herself up to her fullest height so that she towered over the old woman, and said silkily, ‘I suggest
ye
be careful, Sani. Remember, I am still Banrìgh here.'

‘Och, aye, my dear, how could I forget? Just remember, come winter, your father shall come, and your precious Rìgh shall be dead. What shall ye be then?'

Maya had nothing to say. It had been a mistake to lose her temper. She had known the high-priestess Sani all her life, had indeed been brought up by her, and so had a very healthy respect for the shrivelled-up old woman. Sani forgot nothing and forgave very little. Biting her lip, Maya picked up her plaid and threw it over her shoulder, saying briskly, ‘I am going for a walk. I feel in urgent need o' some fresh air.'

‘Enjoy your walk, my lady,' Sani said smoothly.

As Maya strode down the hall, she almost fell over the old cook's back as she rubbed industriously at a brass door handle. ‘Sorry, my lady, but as my dear mam always used to say, nothing gets done proper unless ye do it yersel'! The lassies on this floor do be getting terrible lazy! Is anything wrong, my lady?' Maya shook her head, and marched on, wondering again if Sani could be right about this old woman spying on them. Looking at Latifa's serene old face it seemed impossible, but in Maya's present mood, she could have lashed out at anyone. Turning on her heel, she said quietly, ‘Do no' let me find ye hanging about my private quarters again without leave, do ye hear me?'

Latifa looked up in distress. ‘But my lady—'

‘Do ye hear me?'

‘Well, aye, my lady.'

‘Good!'

 

The long ride to the sea from Rhyssmadill only exacerbated Maya's temper. She had to make her way through the thronged streets of the city with her plaid over her head so none would recognise her and wonder why she rode the streets at night, alone. Although the last light still glimmered on the waters of Berhtfane, it only showed her the thickly clustered masts of the ships that dared not venture outside the river mouth. The streets were filled with boisterous sailors who drank away their savings even though no-one knew when the merchant ships could again set sail. With a sour twist to her mouth, Maya quit the city as quickly as she could, angling through the thick forests and greedily sniffing the salt of the air. She was trapped, she saw it now. What would happen if her father's will prevailed? She would be Banrìgh no longer, powerful no longer, free never again. With a sharp stab of anxiety, Maya dismounted, leaving her horse to graze freely, then ran the final hundred yards to the edge of the forest, scrambling up the defensive bank to gaze at the sea.