The Shining City (69 page)

Nina was lying on the bed, dressed in a green satin dressing gown embroidered with huge pink roses. Her chestnut hair was loose and waved wildly over her shoulders. She turned at Dide‟s gentle touch and sat up, pushing back her disheveled hair with one hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. At the sight of her Lewen‟s heart swelled with pity. He could not imagine how distressed she must be, to have her six-year-old son snatched away from her like that.

“I‟m so sorry about Roden,” Lewen said.

Tears welled up in Nina‟s eyes. “I should never have left him, never,” she said. Her voice trembled. “I kent that evil laird had escaped. I should‟ve kent he‟d want to take Roden with him.

I heard him say they would find him again when the time was right. With my own ears I heard him say it. I should‟ve kent!”

“Don‟t distress yourself anymore,” Dide said. He cast Lewen a reproachful look. “Please, have some wine, Nina. It‟ll make ye feel better.”

“I don‟t want wine!” Nina said and pushed the glass away so violently it spilt. She did not notice, sitting up with both hands clasped at her breast, dark eyes fixed beseechingly on Lewen‟s face.

“Oh, have ye come with news, Lewen? Any news at all?”

He shook his head. “No. I‟m sorry,” he managed to say.

She drooped with disappointment, turning back to lie on her pillow, her hand over her eyes.

“Then why have ye come?” Dide asked, not unkindly.

“The little bird . . .” he said and could say no more. From his breast came a soft cheep.

Nina looked up. “Ye have a bird there? What bird?”

“It‟s the bird I carved Rhiannon,” Lewen said. “It came to me. . . . Something‟s wrong.”

Nina sat up and held out her hand. “Give it to me,” she said.

Gently Lewen took the bird out of his breast pocket and gave it to Nina. Its heart was not pounding away quite so violently, but it was still panting and its eye was dull.

Nina held it between her hands and whispered something to it. It opened its beak and gave a high, wild shriek, flapping its wings wildly. She whispered to it again and smoothed down its bright blue feathers, and the bird calmed.

“Dide, can I have some honey water for it?” Nina asked. When her brother had dropped some honey into warm water and brought it to her, she dipped her finger in it and trickled some drops down the bird‟s throat. It drank thirstily.

“The poor wee thing is terrified,” Nina said. “It must‟ve been there when the dragon came for Rhiannon.”

Lewen had a most peculiar sensation, as if the world was receding away from him. “A dragon came for Rhiannon?” he repeated stupidly. “What dragon?”

Nina and Dide exchanged glances. “That‟s right. Ye were no‟ there when they brought the news.”

“What news?”

“Rhiannon escaped from Sorrowgate Tower,” Nina said.

“Rhiannon escaped!” Lewen‟s heart leaped.

“She hit the guard over the head with her chamber pot,” Dide said and chuckled.

“Iseult was infuriated. She called the dragon‟s name. She flew after Rhiannon and brought her back.”

“I saw the dragon fly over,” Lewen said. “The Banrìgh was riding it? But why? Why would the Banrìgh call the dragon‟s name for such a little thing? What does she care whether Rhiannon escapes or not?”

“She‟s convinced Rhiannon murdered Lachlan. She has condemned her to hang at dawn, at the ringing o‟ the bell.”

“But . . . but why?” Lewen suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“Iseult is utterly distraught,” Dide said. “I have never seen her so angry, so wild. She walks in a cloud o‟ ice and snowflakes and turns the world to winter wherever she is.”

“She has lost her husband and all her children,” Nina said softly. “I can understand her sorrow.”

She heaved a great sigh. “But no‟ her rage. She is quite mad with it. Luckily Isabeau thinks so too. She said she would convince Iseult to let Rhiannon drink from that goblet o‟ Connor‟s, to prove her innocence. She should‟ve done so by now.”

“When did she say this?” Lewen demanded, his heart thumping so hard he could barely hear his own voice. “For no one has seen the Keybearer for hours and hours. They were calling for her at the healers‟ hall. The Celestines were all drugged, we think by Johanna, and all the healers too.

Whatever it was they swallowed hit them hard. We almost lost the Stargazer. It‟s been like a madhouse; they had to give them something to make them vomit and walk them up and down the corridors for hours to stop them falling asleep again. Isabeau was no‟ there then, and no one could find her.”

Nina stared at him, wild-eyed. “Eà‟s eyes! Do ye mean to tell me Isabeau is missing too? And Rhiannon is still to hang? Oh, my goddess!”

She got up in frantic haste, stripping off her vivid dressing gown. Lewen averted his eyes, embarrassed. “We must find out what has happened to Isabeau, and we must convince Iseult to spare Rhiannon. Surely the first madness o‟ her grief is over, and she will see reason? I swear, if she will no‟ listen, I will knock her head against the wall until she does! No, Iven! Do no‟ try to stop me. Dide! Where is Isabeau?”

“She was going to consult
The Book o’ Shadows,
” Dide said. “She was . . . she was very afraid. I do no‟ ken why. I didna think . . . She is the Keybearer, for Eà‟s sake! Who could harm the Keybearer!”

“We must find her!” Nina cried. “What time is it? Eà, Eà! It is almost dawn now. We do no‟

have much time. Lewen, come with me!”

Lewen nodded. He took the bluebird back from Nina and tucked it into his inner pocket, as Nina dragged on a dress and cloak and pulled on her boots. Brun the cluricaun came and put one wrinkly paw on his arm.

“Remember this, lad,” Brun said solemnly. “There is a body without a heart that has a tongue and yet no head. Buried it was afore it was made, and loud it does speak although it is dead.”

Lewen stared at him in utter stupefaction.

“Think on it, laddie,” the cluricaun said, nodding his head. “Still its tongue and it canna speak.”

“All right,” Lewen said, though he did not understand. The cluricaun sat back, satisfied. Lewen only had time to think that perhaps the old cluricaun was losing his wits with age before Nina imperiously beckoned him from the door. “Come on!” she cried.

Swept along on the wave of Nina‟s vehemence, Lewen did as he was told, though he was so topsy-turvy in all his emotions he could not have said why. Too much had happened in recent days. He had thought he hated Rhiannon and loved Olwynne, but the sight of the judges‟ red mantles had wrung his heart so powerfully that he had been afraid and pressed as close to Olwynne as he could. He had jumped the fire with her and promised to be true to her. Then Olwynne had disappeared. Lewen had been too shocked, and too overwhelmed by events, to know what to think or feel.

Then, hearing from Nina that Rhiannon had escaped, Lewen had been shaken by such joy and longing that he had been ashamed.
Olwynne is my true love. I am handfasted to her. Rhiannon
means naught to me
, he had told himself, but it was not true, not true. He had realized this as he held the bluebird in his cupped hands, feeling its heart beating frantically against his palm, its throat pulsing with life and breath that Lewen had somehow given it. No matter if it had been ensorcelled or not, the love he had felt for Rhiannon had been the truest and deepest thing in his whole life. He could not stand by and let Rhiannon die.

Yet he did not know how to save her.

They found Iseult still sitting her lonely vigil by her husband‟s dead body. Though they pleaded with her, she sat as stiff and cold and white as if dead herself and said simply, “Why ask me?

What power do I have over life and death now? I am naught but a dead Rìgh‟s widow. Ask the Banrìgh.” Her last word was bitter and scornful.

Nina and Lewen did not understand her, and she would not explain. They went away,

confounded and upset, only to learn of Bronwen‟s seizing of power by a serving girl come to stoke up the fires in the hall. So they ran to the Privy Chamber, which was dark and empty, and thence to Bronwen‟s chambers.

The ladies-in-waiting guarding her rooms would not wake the new Banrìgh, no matter how much Nina and Lewen begged and pleaded. They were proud and contemptuous, reveling in their newfound power. Neither Nina nor Lewen had any influence with them. The court was still in such turmoil over the sudden shift in power that no one was at all willing to stick their neck out for a satyricorn girl found guilty of murdering a Yeoman, particularly one suspected of being involved in the Rìgh‟s murder. Nina argued until she was hoarse, to no avail.

So Nina and Lewen galloped together down the avenue to the witches‟ tower, Nina‟s hair streaming behind her like a banner. For once Lewen did not spare the horse, whipping it on with the reins. Breathless, their faces stinging, they ran into the great hall, demanding from everyone they met whether the Keybearer had been found. Anxious denials were all they got.

Fèlice was kneeling before the fire, stirring a great cauldron from which rose a ghastly bitter smell. She turned and rose to her feet, pushing back her disheveled hair with one hand.

“Nina! I heard about Roden. I‟m so very, very sorry.” It was clear Fèlice had been crying. Her nose was red and her eyes were swollen, and she was so pale she looked as if she might keel over at any moment.

Nina nodded. “All we can do is pray to Eà that Finn finds them,” she said tersely. “Fèlice! We need the Keybearer at once. Have ye heard the news? Rhiannon is to hang at dawn. Iseult has commanded it, and we canna get in to beg the new Banrìgh to pardon her—they willna let us in.

They will let Isabeau in, though. We must find her!”

“Rhiannon is to hang? At dawn?” Fèlice put out her hand and grasped Nina‟s arm. “No!”

“Aye! Unless we can stop it.”

“No one‟s seen the Keybearer,” Fèlice said rapidly. “Though someone said they saw an owl fly in her bedroom window some hours ago . . .”

Nina and Lewen exchanged a quick glance and then began to run up the stairs, taking two at a time. Behind them, Fèlice looked out at the paling sky and bit her lip, tears running down her face. Then she threw down her spoon, and ran out the front door, calling frantically, “Landon!

Cameron! To me!”

Lewen reached the Keybearer‟s door first. He banged his fist upon it, shouting at the top of his voice. There was no answer. Nina reached his side and added her voice to his. Again and again they knocked, and called Isabeau‟s name, and rattled the door handle, but there was no answer.

Then Lewen heard a faint moan.

They looked at each other, filled with a dreadful fear; then Nina took a deep breath and began to sing. Higher and higher her voice soared, until the pitch was so unbearable Lewen had to press his hands over his ears. The bluebird lying against his heart shrieked in terror.

There was a flash of blue fire as the wards on the Keybearer‟s door suddenly burst asunder, leaving a lingering sigil burned upon Lewen‟s eyeballs. The door blew off its hinges, crashing to the floor. Nina stepped in, holding her arm up over her face to protect herself from the blue sparks hissing all round the frame. Wordlessly, Lewen followed.

Isabeau was curled in a fetal position on the floor, her chin pressed down into her chest, her hands held over her face as if trying to hold off a blow. Every now and again she jerked, as if stung by a doom-eel.
The Book of Shadows
lay facedown on the floor, its pages bent beneath it as if it had been thrown or dropped. There was an unpleasant smell in the air, like burned leather.

Glancing at the ancient tome, Lewen saw its red cover was scorched with dark, smudged marks like handprints.

Calling Isabeau‟s name, Nina felt her forehead, and then her pulse. One was clammy and cold, the other tumultuous. The Keybearer did not respond to the sound of her name. When Nina tried to pull Isabeau‟s hands away, she cried out and cowered away.

“Isabeau! What has happened!” Nina cried. “Oh Eà, help me! What could have happened?”

Isabeau‟s pale lips moved. A croaking sound came out. “Gwilym . . . Get Gwilym.”

Nina bent over her. “But what has happened?” she asked. “Are ye ill?”

“Ensorcelled,” Isabeau whispered. “Very strong . . . I canna . . . get Gwilym.”

Nina turned to Lewen, and he rose from his knees, ready to go and fetch the sorcerer as asked.

Just then, the bluebird stirred inside Lewen‟s jacket and began to trill. Outside another bird answered, and then another.

“It is dawn,” Nina said heavily. “We are too late. The bell will ring at any moment. Oh, poor Rhiannon!”

Lewen stared at her, his breath catching in his throat; then he turned and began to run.

T
hey had left Rhiannon a candle marked with lines that showed the passing of the hours. She had not wanted to be alone in the dark. She watched the flame slowly devour the candle until all that was left was a pale nub crouched in a pool of wax.

It was still dark when they came for her. They unlocked her chains and manacles and set a fine breakfast of baked ham and coddled eggs before her, which Rhiannon could not eat. She asked for the goldensloe wine Nina had brought her for midsummer, and they stood by and watched as she drank it. It helped ease the trembling of her hands. No one spoke much, which she thought was kind. Then they brought hot water and harsh soap for her to wash with, and another shapeless grey gown with seams that made her itch unbearably.
The Keybearer’s fire did not get
rid of all the lice
, Rhiannon thought.