The Shining City (8 page)

brought in an hour or so ago.”

The clerk shuffled some papers, then said, “Och, aye. Accused o‟ murder. Sorry. No visitors allowed.”

“But why no‟? Ye let the laird o‟ Fettercairn‟s skeelie just go wandering off into the city. Why will ye no‟ let me—”

“The girl has no‟ been granted liberty o‟ the tower. She‟s in the Murderers‟ Gallery. No privileges allowed.”

“But I must see her! Please, canna I—”

“Sorry. I canna help ye. Next!”

“But please . . . canna I just—”

“Move along, please, sir.” A prison guard suddenly materialized at Lewen‟s elbow, and he was politely but inexorably moved away from the clerk‟s desk. Fèlice and the other boys trailed after him, all looking upset and angry.

“What do we do now?” Fèlice asked.

“I suppose we had better just go to the Theurgia, like we‟re supposed to,” Cameron said. “Nina said she was going to seek audience with the Rìgh just as soon as she could. I guess we leave it up to her.”

“We‟d better tell her about Dedrie,” Lewen said through his teeth.

“I hope Rhiannon is all right,” Fèlice said, looking about her with a theatrical shudder. “This is truly a most blaygird place.”

“Did ye see the laird o‟ Fettercairn? It was like a royal progress,” Rafferty said.

“They just let that auld nursemaid go wandering off,” Fèlice said. “How can that have

happened?”

Cameron rubbed two fingers together. “Filthy lucre always lubricates the way,” he said.

“Rhiannon has no money,” Lewen said. “Och, if only I‟d thought! I could have given her some.”

“She has some money,” Cameron said feelingly, “because she kept winning all o‟ mine. She‟d bet on a snail race, that girl.”

They pushed their way through the crowd and out into the fresh air, Fèlice taking great gulps, her hand pressed dramatically to her chest. “The smell o‟ that place!” She shuddered. “I declare I feel quite ill!”

“I have to see Rhiannon!” Lewen cried. “I canna bear to think o‟ her locked up in there.”

“But how?” Rafferty asked. “Ye heard that man. No visitors allowed.”

“I must see the Rìgh,” Lewen said. “I must beg him to grant her liberty o‟ the tower, whatever that is.”

“And ye think ye can just charge in there and ask him?” Cameron said skeptically.

“Nay, o‟ course no‟. Though I am one o‟ his squires, ye ken, and he is quite friendly to us, most o‟ the time. I canna just go in and demand audience with him whenever I want, though. But I ken someone who can!”

“Who?” Fèlice demanded.

“His daughter,” Lewen answered.

Olwynne leaned her head upon her hand, finding it hard to concentrate on the book before her.

She was tired yet she could not rest. She felt unsettled and fidgety, like a horse in a rising wind.

She felt she was waiting for something to happen, even though she knew all the other students were in class, and the witches busy about their own concerns.

Suddenly her door crashed open. Olwynne jerked upright. She had not heard anyone walking down the corridor. In an instant she saw why. Her twin brother, Owein, hovered in the doorway.

Like her, he was red haired and brown eyed, with the white lock of the MacCuinn clan curling at his left temple. Unlike her, he was blessed with a pair of glossy, red-feathered wings as long as he was himself. Ever since he had first learned to manage his wings, Owein had never walked if he could fly. He was as restless as a dragonfly, always in motion, always talking and laughing and fighting.

Olwynne had wondered once or twice if that was why she was so quiet and self-contained, so absorbed in her books and her studies. It was the only place where she could outshine her twin.

Owein did not have much interest in studying and only tolerated his classes at the Theurgia because he knew he had to graduate before he was permitted to try out for the Yeomen of the Guard. Like many young men his age, he dreamed of joining that most elite company of soldiers.

Few made the grade, however, and Owein had been told many times that being the son of the Rìgh was no guarantee of acceptance.

“Olwynne, guess what!”

“Ye‟ve been kicked out o‟ school for missing so many classes,” Olwynne replied promptly, eyeing her brother‟s clothes. Instead of being soberly attired in the black robe of an apprentice, as she was, he was wearing breeches, shabby boots, and an old, stained tunic rent from the shoulder.

He grinned and fluttered down to perch on her bed. “Nay, though I must admit auld Jock threatened to throw me out if I missed any more o‟ his classes. I told him he‟d have to catch me first.”

“Owein!”

“Och, he‟s all right, auld Jock. It‟s no‟ that I dinna like him; it‟s just that agricultural studies drives me crazy. So boring! And no one can convince me I need to ken aught about farming to be a Blue Guard.”

Olwynne sighed. She could have tried but she knew it would be a waste of breath.

“So why are ye no‟ in class now?” she demanded.

Owein pulled a face. “Alchemy. So boring! Alasdair and I thought we‟d go hawking. Much too nice a day to hang around in class. I ken Cailean wouldna give us away.”

Olwynne frowned. Hawking, hunting, and other blood sports were forbidden to apprentices, as the Coven of Witches believed passionately that all living creatures were sacred. Witches did not eat the flesh of any animal, nor cheese that had been fermented with the juices of an animal‟s digestive system, nor eggs that had been fertilized. Skipping class would be frowned upon, but doing so in order to go hawking would be punished by suspension and perhaps even expulsion.

Owein rolled his eyes at her. “Dinna be such a muffin-faced prig, Olwynne. I‟ve been good all winter. Ye canna expect me to stay at school and work when the weather‟s finally warming up!”

Olwynne wondered fleetingly how her brother could say he had been good all winter so sincerely when she knew for a certainty that he had regularly skipped school to go tobogganing, ice skating, and hunting with his hounds, not to mention he‟d smuggled a greased pig into the dining room one day and released all the pigeons from the loft another day. She also harbored a very strong suspicion that it had been her brother who had strung Fat Drusa‟s drawers up the flagpole on Hogmanay. Luckily the very large sorceress was also very good-humored, else Owein might have found himself expelled.

“Anyway, dinna ye want to hear my news? Guess what we saw when we were in the mews. Go on, Olwynne, guess!”

“A falcon,” Olwynne said sourly.

“Go on, muffin face! Try, at least. Some witch ye are, if ye canna even read your own brother‟s mind.”

Olwynne looked at him in exasperation. She knew very well that, despite all Owein‟s madcap tricks and tomfoolery, he had had some of the Craft hammered into his head and was quite capable of shielding his mind from her.

“Dai-dein?”
she said hopefully. Her father had little patience with Owein‟s wildness and would have sent him back to school with a flea in his ear.

“No! We saw a winged horse, a black one, and a real beauty. A girl was riding it, a prisoner o‟

some sort. Her hands were bound and she was on a lead rein. They tried to bring her in and she fought them off. Ye should‟ve seen her! She broke Lyndon‟s nose, and her horse kicked Kenneth in the chest and stove all his ribs in. It was grand! Then the captain threw a rope around her shoulders and brought her down, and the mare took off up into the sky. Ye should‟ve seen it go!

What I wouldna give for a horse like that!”

“A black winged horse,” Olwynne echoed. A peculiar hollowness in her stomach made her voice come out too high.

Owein did not notice.

“Aye, with two long blue horns. Reynard had his face opened by one o‟ them. He was lucky no‟

to lose his eye. It was great sport, seeing the Blue Guards routed by a skinny slip o‟ a girl and a horse! Though I tell ye what.” His voice sobered. “Captain Dillon was no‟ at all pleased. I feel sorry for the girl. Lewen says—”

“Lewen?”

“Och, aye, didna I say? It was Lewen who brought her in.”

“Lewen‟s here?” Olwynne jumped to her feet.

“Aye, he‟s in his room. I‟ve just come from there. That‟s why I‟m here: he wants to see ye.”

“Me?” Olwynne felt her cheeks heating and put up a distracted hand to her hair, which was braided back tightly. She gave it a jerk and wished she dared loosen it from its ribbon. She knew it was her only real beauty, but if she shook it out, Owein would jeer at her and wonder aloud what she was doing, and she would be reprimanded by any witch who saw her.

“Aye, he‟s in a real state. Seems he‟s fallen head over heels for this girl, and he‟s afraid—”

Olwynne spun around to face her brother. “He‟s what?”

“Fallen for this girl,” Owein said impatiently. “Hard, by the looks o‟ it. Poor auld fellow.

Anyway, he needs our help. He wants to appeal to
Dai-dein
, try to have her freed. The auld man‟s got a soft spot for Lewen, ye ken, ‟cause o‟ his
dai
, but things look pretty black for her.

I‟m no‟ sure if I got the story straight or no‟, but apparently she killed a Yeoman.” Owein‟s voice hardened with indignation. “By all rights she should hang, and by the look o‟ the captain, he intends to make sure she will. Lewen is just sick about it all.”

“We‟d better go and hear what he has to say then,” Olwynne said.

With his legs still crossed, Owein flung open his wings and shot up into the air. As he stretched out his long legs, reaching out his hand to open the door, he knocked over some of her books and sent her papers flying. He did not seem to notice. In one smooth motion he was soaring out the door and over the balcony rail. Olwynne picked up her books and papers with a long-suffering sigh and followed more sedately.

The boys‟ dormitories were on the far side of the garth and, in general, were out of bounds to the girls. However, rules were much more relaxed for the older apprentices, and as long as everyone was back in their own rooms by lights out, no one much cared. As Olwynne crossed the garth, she heard the bell ring, then the sound of several hundred students packing up their books and closing their desks. She quickened her pace, having no desire to run into any of her friends, who would want to stop her for a gossip.

Both Owein and Lewen had recently been promoted to senior students and so their rooms were up on the top floor. Owein, of course, simply flew up and over the balcony, calling mockingly over his shoulder, “Come on, slow coach!” Olwynne had to go up by the stairs.

Lewen‟s door stood ajar, and she knocked on it tentatively before going in. Lewen was lying on his bed, his arm flung up over his face. As Olwynne came in he dashed his hand over his eyes and sat up. He was white and haggard, his eyes red-rimmed. Shocked at the sight of him, Olwynne went swiftly to his side and put her arms about him. He gave a great sigh and slumped against her.

Lewen MacNiall of Kingarth was the twins‟ greatest friend. He had first come to the Theurgia at the age of sixteen and, being only a few months younger than they were, had been put in their class. Owein and Olwynne had been at the Theurgia since the age of eight and knew everyone and everything. Lewen had never left his parents‟ farm before and had been stricken by acute homesickness, which he had done his best to hide. At first it was his misery and the gameness with which he sought to conceal it that touched Olwynne‟s tender heart, but soon his skill at games had won Owein over completely too. The three had been inseparable ever since,

particularly once Lewen was appointed squire to the Rìgh in honor of his father, who had once been one of Lachlan MacCuinn‟s most trusted officers.

“What in Eà‟s name is the matter?” Olwynne asked.

Lewen seized her hands. “Ye‟ve got to help me, Olwynne. The captain‟s got Rhiannon locked up in prison and they willna let me in to see her! I‟ve got to see her, Olwynne!”

“But why? Who‟s Rhiannon?”

Lewen got up and went to the window. After a moment, he said, “She‟s from Dubhglais. She‟s half satyricorn. She was raised in the mountains by her mother‟s herd, but they despised her for being so human-looking. When her horns didna grow, she thought they‟d kill her and so she tamed a winged horse and flew it down out of the mountains. I found her and the poor exhausted mare and took them back to Kingarth. We thought . . . Mam and
Dai-dein
and I . . . that she had best come back with me to Lucescere. She has Talent, ye see. Strong Talent.”

“But Owein says she was a prisoner . . . that she was bound and tied to the horse.”

Lewen nodded, not turning around.

“But why? What has she done?”

“She killed Connor the Just,” Lewen said, very low.

Owein had been floating up near the ceiling, but at this he exclaimed aloud and dropped down lightly to his feet. “Connor the Just! No‟ our Connor? Johanna‟s brother?”

Lewen nodded and leaned his head against the windowframe.

“Eà‟s green blood!” Owein exclaimed.

Olwynne was distressed. “But why? How?”

“No wonder the captain was so grim,” Owein said, marveling. “Damn! He‟ll be out for her blood. And
Dai-dein
too. Och, she‟s gallows apples for sure.”

“Owein!” Olwynne said softly. Obligingly he shut up and she went over to Lewen, tentatively putting her hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what happened,” she said.

He would not look at her. “Connor was captured by the herd, riding through their territory.

Rhiannon helped him escape, but he was captured again by Rhiannon‟s mother, who is First-Horn o‟ the herd. He tried to fight free. Rhiannon shot him to save her mother.”

“Did they no‟ ken he rode in the Rìgh‟s service?” Owein demanded, scandalized.

“Dubhglais is deep in the mountains, a million miles from anywhere,” Lewen said wearily. “The satyricorns are wild there. They ken naught.”

“Ignorance is no defense,” Owein said. “The satyricorns have signed the Pact o‟ Peace. They had no right to hinder a Yeoman, let alone murder him!”

“I doubt these satyricorns have even heard o‟ the Pact o‟ Peace,” Lewen said. He shrugged off Olwynne‟s hand and went to sit on his bed again, his face in his hands. “Anyway, none o‟ it should matter,” he said in a muffled tone. “Rhiannon is naught but a lass, and she shot him to save her mother‟s life. Besides, she‟s shown herself brave and true. She rescued Roden on the way here and saved his life. That has to count for something.”