They Mostly Come Out At Night (15 page)

Despite his victory that night, the Magpie King was not yet satisfied for he wanted the princess’s heart, not just her bed.

Some months later, word reached the palace of a newcomer to the area, a rich man from one of the furthest Tytonidae settlements who had established a new lodge close by and had invited all in the palace to a great feast. All chose to attend, servants, nobles, king and princess. The hunting lodge was vast, and on this night all manner of game and greens were served to the welcome guests. Their host, a man of fair complexion but unusual mannerisms, was gracious to all, but paid especial attention to the young princess.

As night began to turn into morning, their host called for stories, beginning the round with a tale about a black squirrel eating the sun like a nut. Guests took it in turn, until only the princess was left. She smiled, and then said in her honeyed voice, "I have a tale, but this one must be whispered. Come close, my wonderful host, so I may whisper into your ear."

With great excitement, the host, who was of course the Magpie King in disguise, pushed his way to the princess's side. She leaned forward as if to speak softly to him, but then grabbed his disguise and tugged it off to the great shock and disgust of all onlookers. The Magpie King shot the princess a look of fury, and she responded with, "You shall not fool me twice, crow."

Consumed with frustration, the Magpie King fled back to the borders of his forest, and there fell into an uncomfortable sleep. In his dreams, he was visited by a great white owl who demanded of him, "Why do you continue to pursue me?"

Knowing this was only a dream, and that here he could speak his true mind without betraying his weakness to anyone, the Magpie King responded in a whisper choked with sadness, "Because I am overcome with you. You are in every thought that invades my mind. Even if you forced me to chase you until the ends of my days, growing to hate me as I hate death itself, I would still continue to pursue you."

At these raw emotions, the haughtiness of the owl softened, and a smile formed across the human face that it sported just before the dream faded.

He awoke on the edge of the forest, greeted by the sight of his white-haired wife staring back at him.

"Why now?" was the only phrase that he could bring himself to mutter.

"Because I am no longer afraid," was his wife's response. "Because you were a gentle lover. And because the thought of a life with you excites me."

Together, they flew hand in hand back to the Magpie King's forest home, to rule over our dark land.

Lonan was the first to wake, probably because he had had so much sleep the day before. The cellar door was still closed and the lack of light creeping through the joins in the planks of wood suggested it remained dark outside.

Dammit. Why’d I have to leave the dream, just as things were starting to look up?

Despite his disappointment at waking so early, he could not help himself smiling. There was a new Magpie King. The power Lonan had felt from Adahy in those few moments before he awoke was unlike any sensations he had ever experienced in his life.

Artemis protect them, and please do not let that be my last dream of the prince. Of the king, now.

In his bunk, Harlow gave a grunt of unrest. Lonan expected it to wake Inteus or Mother Ogma, but neither appeared to stir. It must have been earlier than Lonan had thought for Mother Ogma to miss one of Harlow's infrequent noises.

He pondered the still figure of the visiting courtier, fully convinced the man was not who he claimed to be. Lonan’s dreams had shown him the fall of the Eyrie, and yet this man claimed to have travelled from it only a day ago. He could not be a complete charlatan - he did have details of the villagers and their Knacks, after all.
Well, most of them
, Lonan thought, grinning again.
Mother Ogma said last night that my Knack was my dreams, and I’m inclined to agree with her. How else could I explain this ongoing tale of events that marries up so well with events in the village?

Perhaps Inteus had fled the Eyrie on the night of the attack, looking to use information from its libraries to milk the village of its resources in the name of a king he now assumed to be dead. The villagers were also vaguely aware of peoples throughout the world who were not Corvae. Perhaps this man was sent to gather information for a foreign power, in preparation for an attack. With the Eyrie occupied, the forest would be an easy target for an outside force.

He studied the sleeping figure, lightly snoring in his purple robe and thin sandals, ill fit for a working man's life. Lonan's eyes rested on the parchment lying by the liar's bed. Taking a peek at the words would do Lonan no good for like most in the village he was unable to read. Still...

Aping the movements of the wild cats that he shadowed when out foraging, Lonan hunkered down on all fours and slowly crept across the room towards the man's bed. The floor of the cellar had originally been a thick clay, but decades of movement across it had beaten it into a flat, almost polished surface. Lonan's fingers stabbed into this clay due to the tension in his body. He moved forward within reaching distance of the parchment. His hand stretched out, planning to take only one sheet from the mess of writing that had been abandoned by the bedside. His fingers closed on the paper and Lonan's eyes moved upwards, expecting Inteus to wake now and catch him in the act. As the sleeping man remained undisturbed, Lonan slowly pulled the parchment away from its brothers. He clenched his teeth as the dry material cracked free of the folds of the roll, but still Inteus remained unmoving. With a wicked grin on his face Lonan turned around and walked straight into Mother Ogma.

"Gods, but you are loud," the old woman chided him, grabbing the paperwork. "And what do you think you are doing with this?"

"He's lying, Mother. I know you believe in my dreams now. The Eyrie has fallen. This man could not have come from there."

Mother Ogma nodded grudgingly at Lonan. "Still, he definitely has the air of the Eyrie about him, and he has all of our information too."

"Well, now I have it, don't I? If it was easy enough for me to lift, why not him?"

"This?" Mother Ogma looked at the parchment she had taken from Lonan. "No, this isn't a list of village Knacks. This..." Her brow wrinkled as she studied the parchment further.

"Mother Ogma?"

"This is a suspect list. All of the villagers are named on it. Many old names too, long since passed. See, your father is right here." She pointed at a scrawl with a line through it.

`"That’s because he's dead, right? The line? No, wait..." At first Lonan thought all of the names had been scored through, but he spotted two that remained unmarked. "Who are they?"

"This one is Branwen. Branwen Dripper, as she is named here. And this? This is you, Lonan." It was not his own name's inclusion on the list that caused his heart to fill with dread, but hearing Branwen named first set Lonan's teeth on edge.

"What’s it for? What else does it say?" Lonan’s aggressive tone caused the visitor to stir in his sleep.

"There is nothing of detail here," Mother Ogma spoke as she scanned the page, moving her head from left to right in an exaggerated motion in her hurry to be done with the task. "A note here to the man's master? Employer? Just stating that you are both equally viable choices, and perhaps both should be looked into for thoroughness. Nothing of detail. Lonan, this document is important - it will be missed."

As if on cue, Inteus yawned, stretched his arms and turned to face the talking pair. As the stranger performed this movement, Lonan grabbed the paper from Mother Ogma and dived over his own bed, straight into the pile of parchments belonging to Inteus.

"You complete fool," Inteus spluttered, jumping from his bed with a start. "One sheet of that parchment is worth more than your miserable life." He pushed Lonan roughly to the side and busied himself checking the paperwork, looking to ascertain the damage.

"Wha- what happened?" Lonan stammered.

"Another nightmare dear, nothing unusual. You just gave Mister Inteus a fright, that's all."

Inteus turned to look at Lonan with narrow eyes. "Nightmares? This is a common problem?"

"Among villagers, yes," Mother Ogma interjected before Lonan had a chance to respond. "Up in the Eyrie, you have to deal with attacks regularly, I'm sure, but down here, things can be a bit more immediate. It can have a lasting effect on impressionable minds."

"You might have warned me before walling me up in this hole with such problems."

"I'm sorry, dearie, I wasn't aware you had other options. Oh look, daylight. I think it’s time we opened the doors, don't you?"

With Inteus watching on, Lonan and Mother Ogma worked together to push open the cellar doors. Upon exiting the cottage, Inteus found himself assailed by a small group of villagers who had had a sleepless night mulling over the debts he had presented them with.

"So," Lonan began as he sweetened his porridge with honey, "What do you think then?"

"What's that, dearie?"

"What I’m suspected of?"

Mother Ogma looked at him, trying to read how he was taking the information. "Not just you, dearie. Branwen too."

Lonan pulled a face. This was where his real concern lay. He could not help himself. All of the recent encounters with Branwen, especially the look on her face after he had saved her life, had rekindled emotions he had spent the last eight years trying to hide from. He cared about this woman. He was more concerned about her safety than his own.

Mother Ogma waved her ladle at him, distracting Lonan from his thoughts. "And that is where your clue lies. If he came here to find someone, what is it the two of you share?"

Lonan could not stop himself from bursting out laughing. "You’re joking, aren't you? Branwen has hardly spoken to me for years, and when she has I'd rather she hadn't. We haven't been in a position to share anything for the best part of a decade."

"I like that brave front that you are putting up, dearie, but you can't fool me. Find out what he sees in you and her. If you are interested in looking out for her. And yourself, of course."

Lonan looked up, chewing on a mouthful of porridge, thinking about what she had said. "And just how do you think I could get her to speak to me?"

"Catch," she responded. Lonan caught the carefully wrapped vial she threw to him. "She had a baby a few weeks ago. It takes a woman some time to recover from that."

Lonan looked at the vial for a moment. "Well, I can't keep the lady waiting then, can I?"

Outside of the cottage, avoiding the throng gathering around Inteus, Lonan finally felt his nerves falter. It had seemed so easy to approach Branwen again while he sat at Mother Ogma's table, but the reality of actually doing it was a different matter altogether. Lonan had managed to put up a shell around himself to deal with the dirty looks and jibes from the rest of the village, often responding by giving as good as he got, but Branwen could break through his defences with a single steely glare. He had dealt with this mostly by avoiding her as much as possible, so the thought that he would have to go against these instincts terrified him.

He walked past the Quarry house without stopping, quickly glancing through the window and door, but could see nothing. Eventually he gathered up the courage to knock on the door but received no answer. Jarleth was busy fawning over Inteus, so thankfully took no heed of Lonan's enquiries. If Branwen was not at home, Lonan was sure he knew where she was.

Branwen's Knack was for cleaning. Specifically, it was for washing clothes. Not a terribly exciting Knack, but this tended to be the norm for village women - Knacks to do with the upkeep of the household. A comely girl with a Knack for cooking was a fine catch. Seamstress and healing Knacks were also favourable, but tended to require someone experienced to help them to develop. When Branwen and Lonan were young they would often discuss what life would be like when their Knacks developed. Lonan had been fully convinced he would inherit his father's, but Branwen's desires were many and exciting. She wanted Knacks that traditionally belonged to men - woodwork, smithing, even fighting - and many that Lonan was sure did not exist - exploring, playing, climbing. When these conversations first began, Lonan had teased Branwen by suggesting that she would develop a housework Knack like the rest of the women. He quickly learnt that continuing that line of thinking would lose him a friendship, and possibly some teeth. Also, as a child he had thought Branwen would be different. She had been so unlike the other women of the village. Where they were dutiful, she was playful and ambitious. The attack took all of that fire away from her.