Tamlyn (14 page)

‘Have I? I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. There's more,' I added, dreading the words I had to speak. ‘He's one of the Wyrdborn.'

There would be no smiles now, yet, after a few moments, she stunned me a second time. ‘I'd guessed
as much. There had to be some reason your father was riding him so hard; and there was a look in his eyes from time to time that chilled my blood, especially after the news about his mother.'

‘Aren't you afraid for what it means … if I go after him? It's not just for now. I want to be with him always.'

‘That's something else that's been plain to see ever since you returned. Yes, Silvermay, of course I'm worried. Things can end badly for girls who love the Wyrdborn. I don't want that fate for you. But I'm helping you because no ordinary Wyrdborn would let Ossin treat him like a slave, or be so gentle with you. I've seen it, even when you haven't. He looks at you as a man should when he's in love. There's no spell between the two of you, except the one you've cast over him. He may be angry about his mother, and his new sword has become an obsession that will bring trouble, most likely — there's peril ahead for you both — but the choice is yours.'

And I'd made it long ago.

The hug we shared then was more than a simple farewell. We'd never held each other so close in all my sixteen years. There had been times I'd thought Birdie saw no deeper than my skin, or didn't love me in the way other mothers in Haywode doted on their daughters. But I was the luckiest of them all, and instead of leaving
Haywode without a glance over my shoulder, as I'd intended, I stopped twice to wave to the dark figure who watched along the road until I was out of sight.

When I'd walked no more than a mile, Ryall called to me from among the trees.

‘What are you doing here?' I asked him.

‘Waiting for you, of course.'

At least I knew now why the teasing scoundrel had winked at me.

‘Is there anyone who doesn't know what I'm going to do before I do it myself?'

Ryall laughed as he fell into step beside me. Then he said something that brought me back to earth.

‘Tamlyn, maybe. He looked surprised when I said we should wait for you. He's barely said a word since we left this afternoon. All he does is run his hands over his new sword.'

 

Father had told me often about Vonne, but no matter how well his words painted a picture, they were no match for the sight itself. I am getting ahead of myself, though. Before that first glimpse came three days of walking through farmland that seemed familiar even though I had never been that way before. Farmers' fields look the same everywhere, I suppose, and so did the woods that swallowed the road from time to time.

By evening on the second day, we no longer had the road mostly to ourselves. The track from Haywode had joined with others, which in turn fed into wider roads in the way small streams combine to make a river. On the third morning, there were wagons in front of us, wagons behind and wagons passing us by.

‘Be careful, Silvermay,' said Tamlyn as he tugged me out of the path of one. He called up to the driver, ‘You'll crush someone under your wheels if you don't keep watch.'

The driver shouted a reply I'm too embarrassed to repeat.

Tamlyn could have made him regret his curses, but he couldn't afford to make a fuss. He was known in Vonne and not just by his family. By this stage in the journey, he'd taken to hiding his face inside a hood.

‘Everyone's in such a hurry,' I commented.

‘It's the way of the city. You're in for a few surprises, Silvermay.'

Before I could experience the bustle of Vonne, I found myself stunned by its sheer size in the distance. Ryall and I had visited Ledaris, in the north, but it was an overgrown village compared to Vonne. I'd never imagined walls so high, and they stretched so far, with a narrow slit for archers built into the stonework every few yards. Inside the walls, turrets rose even higher.

‘The tallest is part of Chatiny's palace,' said Tamlyn, pointing. ‘And one belongs to my father's house.' He didn't pick it out among the others, leaving me to wonder which high windows my love had stood at as a boy to look down at the city below.

In sight of the gates, he stopped by the side of the road and we gathered in a huddle.

‘There are guardians watching everyone who goes in and out,' he said.

‘Guardians?'

‘Chatiny's men who keep order on the streets. They are his spies, too, and many are paid by Wyrdborn like my father to bring them their news first. One is sure to recognise me.'

‘Won't your hood be enough?' I asked.

‘Not if they demand I pull it back to show myself.'

Ryall was looking at the road, where yet another wagon lumbered past, this one loaded with chickens in wicker cages piled ten feet high.

‘I've got an idea,' he said.

Tamlyn followed his eye to the wagon. ‘I'm not hiding among a bunch of chickens. They search wagons, anyway.'

But Ryall was already gone, trailing after the wagon. He came back soon after with a sack and a length of rope.

‘Here, put this over your head,' he told Tamlyn, handing him the sack.

‘It stinks of chicken manure.'

‘It's the only one I could steal.'

‘I can see why. Even the farmer doesn't want it.'

‘It'll only be for a minute. Put it on and stop complaining.'

‘Of course I'm complaining. You wouldn't put this over your own head, would you?'

‘My face isn't known to half the city.'

‘No, we'll have to think of another way.'

‘Fine. Go right ahead,' said Ryall, folding his new arm neatly over his old.

Tamlyn pondered a minute, then scanned the passers-by and behind us into the woods. Finally, he snatched the sack out of Ryall's hand. ‘This had better work.'

What a strange sight we made; certainly, every eye turned towards us, which isn't exactly what you want when you're trying to go unnoticed. In this case, it was understandable, because how often do people see a man with a sack over his head and a rope tied around his neck?

‘What's this?' asked a guardian who stopped us at the city gates.

‘My brother,' said Ryall. ‘He's crazy in the head.' He rolled his eyes and used his finger to trace large
circles around his ear in the sign of madness. ‘We're taking him to a doctor in the city who might be able to cure him.'

‘Why the sack over his head?'

‘So he can't see all these people,' Ryall explained.

This was the genius of his plan. He'd got the idea from the horses we saw that wore blinkers.

‘My brother goes into a frenzy when there are too many people around him,' said Ryall, as though he had told the story a hundred times. ‘Last year he grabbed a sword and cut off my arm. Look!'

He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt; since he'd taken off his mechanical arm, there was nothing to see but the stump. Tamlyn gave out a long, menacing moan.

‘Urgh!' said the guardian, stepping back in alarm. ‘Get moving, the three of you.'

With a tug of the rope, Ryall happily complied.

When we'd walked far enough from the gate, Tamlyn whispered, ‘Find some place I can take this sack off without being seen.'

‘That's not as easy as it sounds,' said Ryall. ‘There's a lot of people around.'

This was certainly true, but we had just passed an empty lane that would have done fine, and another was coming up, which Ryall also ignored. He tugged on the rope and winked at me.

‘Hey, I'm not a donkey,' Tamlyn called. When he heard me chuckling, he grabbed wildly for Ryall, catching him by the shoulder. ‘Get this sack off my head or I
will
cut your arm off.'

Ryall led us down a narrow lane until there was no one likely to see. ‘All right, off it comes,' he said, amid a shower of tiny chicken feathers and worse.

Although he was still grinning when Tamlyn's face emerged, he quickly wiped the smile off his face. My poor love was furious over the way he'd been made fun of, and when a Wyrdborn is furious it's best to be careful.

I put my hand on his arm. ‘Just a bit of fun. This is what commonfolk do to each other. It's a sign of affection, really.'

He looked at me doubtfully and grunted, the fire not yet gone from his face.

‘You have to admit it was funny, and Ryall's trick did get us past the guardians,' I said, pressing myself closer against him.

Much to my relief, I felt the tension go out of his body and there was even a smile of sorts. That was better. The Wyrdborn didn't smile at jokes, only at misery.

I wished my father had been there to see Tamlyn's face. Birdie's words returned to my ears as well:
He looks
at you as a man should when he's in love
. Oh, to see what she had seen. I was greedy for every look he sent my way

With Tamlyn's face again hidden by his hood rather than a smelly sack, we ventured into the crowded streets. I had visited the market square in Ledaris, but the press of bodies there was nothing compared to this. Traders called customers to their stalls, prices were haggled over, cheats were shouted at, ribald comments drew belly laughs from men who seemed to be there just to be entertained. Among it all, we quietly asked for directions from strangers who barely glanced at our faces.

Eventually, we left the noise and crush of people behind and found ourselves before a modest house in a street that few people wandered down. We knocked, and soon the door swung back to reveal a man whose eyes widened like flowers opening to the sun.

‘What are you three doing here?' asked Miston Dessar, since he was the man we'd come to find.

He poked his head out into the lane to see if anyone had followed us, and for a moment I feared he would send us packing.

‘Get in off the street,' he said finally and just about dragged us inside.

‘You said you would help us,' I reminded him.

‘Help you! Help you get yourselves killed and me
along with you, I suppose,' he said grimly. I didn't think he was as afraid as he made out, though.

‘Help us to free Lucien,' I said.

‘From my father,' Tamlyn added, as he pushed back the hood with one hand. His other clutched the new sword so that it didn't scrape against the wall in Miston's narrow entrance hall.

‘Why not steal stars from the night sky — it would be easier,' said Miston.

‘Then you won't help us?' I asked. ‘You want us to go before Coyle finds out we're hiding in your house, is that it?'

Miston let his eyes roam from Tamlyn, to me and finally to Ryall and the odd fingers of steel that poked from his sleeve. ‘Not much of an army to beat a man like Coyle Strongbow, but no, I won't throw you out. There's a lot at stake. Come in, welcome to my home.'

Miston lived alone, it seemed, because there was no sign of a wife or children, just a house scattered with books. A servant climbed up from the cellar, emerging from the stairs on the far side of the room. Beyond the stairs was another doorway, leading to Miston's bedroom, I guessed. At a murmured command from his master, the servant brought cheese, bread and a bowl of olives. When they were set out on the table, Miston invited us to sit and help ourselves.

‘Your father hasn't left Vonne since your mother's death, Tamlyn,' he said.

‘Since he murdered her, you mean.'

‘He's got away with the crime, it seems. No one speaks of it any more on the streets.'

‘Does he have Lucien with him?' I asked.

‘I doubt he's in Coyle's house. As I told you in Haywode, Silvermay, Ezeldi was sure he wasn't there, and if Chatiny gets word of where the child is, he will demand that Coyle hand over the prize. You can be sure of one thing, though: the boy won't be far away. Coyle won't trust anyone to watch such a valuable prize for long, not without checking it often with his own eyes.'

‘Then he must visit him,' said Ryall, speaking for the first time. ‘If we watch his house, Coyle is sure to come out sometime and all we have to do is follow him.'

We stared at him in silence.
All we have to do
… If only it could be that easy: follow a man, slip in behind him, steal what he is hiding and run off into the night. It didn't sound so hard, as long as you left out that this was the most dangerous man in the kingdom, that we wanted to steal something he'd already killed for, and he wanted us dead in any case.

‘Ryall has a point,' said Miston. ‘You can't rescue the child until you know where Coyle is holding him.'

‘A vigil outside his gate, then,' I said. ‘Could we do that, Tamlyn?'

He took a moment to think about it and I had the impression his mind had been on other things. ‘The house looks down into a square. There are often food stalls, entertainers. We could linger among the crowds until he appears.'

‘Not you, though, Tamlyn,' said Miston. ‘His servants would pick you out, no matter how well you hide your face. The way you stand, the set of your shoulders — you are too clearly who you are.'

‘It's up to Silvermay and me, then,' said Ryall.

‘Two people alone will find it difficult,' said Miston. ‘The gate will need to be watched day and night. Let me talk to my colleagues who've seen the horrors of the mosaics, just as you have. We scholars are no use with swords, but we can keep watch and trail a man without raising suspicion.'

‘What am I supposed to do while this is going on?' asked Tamlyn, not at all impressed.

‘I see you've barely left your sword alone since you arrived,' said Miston. ‘Be patient, Tamlyn, and you will get a chance to use it.'

So it was settled, or at least we had agreed on some kind of plan. There was one thing that still bothered me, though, and I decided to face it as soon as Miston
had led Ryall down into the cellar where Tamlyn and I would also sleep.