A Bright and Terrible Sword Page 9

  Anger blazed in Leo’s eyes. One of the older men frowned, clearly uneasy with Straik’s bullying, although he said nothing. I had the sense that the Brotherhood had a rigid order of succession of leadership but that not everyone was happy about it. Could I somehow use that to my advantage? I did not see how.

  Rawnie looked uncharacteristically frightened, although only for a moment. She had indeed been squirming in her place around the fire, but not for the reason Straik suggested. Rawnie had been trying to get something out of the pack on the ground beside her, or possibly put something back in, without being noticed. Now all eyes turned to her.

  Charlotte put out her hand, as if to give her daughter a gentle shove, and let it fall atop whatever the thing was. ‘Go with Leo, dearest. You will be more comfortable.’

  They left, Leo flushed with anger, Rawnie unembarrassed but looking thoughtful. No one watched Charlotte, except me. A pink twitching tail suddenly poked from between her fingers. I glimpsed the mouse as she swept it back into Rawnie’s pack and drew the drawstring tight.

  Charlotte had seen my gaze. She sat cross-legged on the ground, and now she bent her head forward as if to tighten the laces on her boot. With her face thus hidden she said so softly that Kelif could not hear, ‘Don’t tell. Her pet of two months now. The only way I can compel her obedience.’

  So that was what Charlotte had meant when she’d told Rawnie to obey ‘or you know what I will do!’ And Rawnie believed that her mother would deprive her of her pet. That suggested a steeliness in Charlotte that I had not yet seen, as well as a certain desperation about controlling her daughter. Two months – how long did mice live? If the rodent died, how would Charlotte discipline Rawnie?

  Rawnie and Leo returned to the fire. Straik was holding forth with some tale of casting dice at a country inn. Rawnie stepped in front of him and said loudly, ‘Leo is going to act for us!’

  ‘I think not,’ Straik said, his feigned amusement not quite masking his real annoyance.

  ‘Oh, yes, he is!’ Rawnie cried, all childish excitement. ‘And he’s going to give “The Hero of Carday” because both John and Tarf love it so! Don’t you?’

  Two men looked up. I hadn’t even known their names, although I had noticed their open-mouthed pleasure in Leo’s lute song. Both faces now brightened into uncertain eagerness. They glanced at Straik, at Leo, at Rawnie. I guessed that they harboured a hunger for stories, that polished entertainment had rarely come their way, and that were they not born hisafs, they would still be doing simple work somewhere, ill used by the sharper wits around them.

  ‘Don’t you love that tale?’ Rawnie insisted to the two men. ‘Isn’t it wonderful to hear about heroes?’

  ‘Heroes,’ John said, with a pleading look at Straik. ‘You said we be heroes.’

  Tarf begged, ‘Leo be an actor. He played at court!’

  Straik chose lordly indulgence. He waved his hand negligently. ‘If you must. Begin then, Leo.’

  So his hold upon his men was not as firm as he wished. If it had been, he would not have given way. This bit of information, too, I turned over and over in my mind like a bright stone.

  Leo strode into the firelight. The others shifted to face him, taking places on the ground behind Rawnie, Charlotte, Kelif and me, so that we all became an audience. Only Straik stayed on the other side of the fire, so that Leo’s back was to him and Straik would see nothing of the performance.

  I had seen Leo change from a timid and scarred waif to a confident swaggerer. That should have prepared me for how thoroughly he could transform himself. It did not. As he stood beside the fire, one side of his face illuminated by its flames and one side in shadow, he seemed to grow taller and broader. His stance took on gravity. Nothing moved but his eyes, and they burned with the fire of idealism and sacrifice.

  ‘The Hero of Carday’ is one of The Queendom’s most beloved epics. The poorest band of troubadours knows the play, and they give it often. But this was no alehouse recitation, chosen so that the richness of the words might disguise the poverty of the performance. Leo became Prince Channing, Lord of Fire. He stood not in a wooded mountain clearing but on the ramparts of a castle, as he prepared to trade his life for that of his people. Leo’s voice quivered with feeling, the controlled emotion of a man choosing death for a greater good.

  But let me be remembered.

  This is all I ask – to be remembered

  As I was. Remembered in the morning

  At the rising of another day,

  Remembered in the evening

  In the ache of weary bones

  Glad of weary duty. Remembered—

  The faces around the fire were rapt. Even I was swept up in the speech – I, who faced death soon, and not with Prince Channing’s noble courage. Even though I knew full well that there was nothing noble about sitting for centuries, mindless, in the Country of the Dead. The play was a lie, but in Leo’s rendition it was a lie of overwhelming power and beauty. Such words could never—

  Aaaiiieeee—

  A scream, deep and agonized, abruptly cut off. And a snarling and tearing of flesh such as I had heard too often before. Men leapt to their feet, shouting. A moment later the crack of a gun, and the terrible sounds ceased.

  ‘Jol got him!’

  ‘Who—’

  ‘How—’

  A string of curses. Confusion, shouting, men thrashing off into the dark woods. Kelif leaped to his feet and ran around the fire, dragging me with him.

  Straik lay in the firelight, his throat torn out, blood everywhere. Atop him lay a grey dog, shot through the head. Both were dead.

  John dropped to his knees and began to cry.

  This seemed to turn the rest of the Brotherhood either stony or angry. Tarf tried to pull John to his feet. ‘Stop that!’ John, his simple face contorted by grief, shoved Tarf away. Everyone began to talk.

  ‘They know where we are!’

  ‘Find the hisaf!’

  ‘You know we’ll never find him.’

  ‘Double our speed to—’

  ‘Safe in Galtryf—’

  ‘I said we needed dogs! I told Straik from the beginning!’

  ‘And we shall have them,’ Leo said.

  Another shift in everyone. They glanced at each other, down at Straik, and then gave their full attention to Leo. My guess had been right. The Brotherhood – or this little piece of it, anyway – had one absolute leader at a time. It had been Straik. Now it was Leo. I didn’t know why; he was younger than most of the others. But now his leadership was unmistakable. He donned it as easily as he had taken the part of Prince Channing and if this, too, was acting, it was of the same high order.

  Kelif, surprisingly, spoke first. ‘Who?’

  ‘Not you,’ Leo said. ‘You are needed to guard Roger.’

  Kelif’s great shoulders stiffened but he did not argue.

  Leo’s gaze travelled across each man’s face. Eventually he said, ‘Dick and Macon.’

  One by one, the others nodded. Charlotte, whom I had not realized stood beside me with Rawnie, drew in a sharp breath. I whispered to her, ‘What are they going to do?’

  She raised a shocked face to mine. Firelight played over her wide eyes. ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘The dogs … why, that was the only reason Rawley could marry me!’

  Marry her? What did that have to do with the grey dogs that had followed me since Shadow, all those months ago? I knew that the dogs came from the Country of the Dead, because each of them vanished after a fortnight, crumbled into nothingness and were gone for ever. Like Cecilia …

  I would not think now of Cecilia. Something important was happening here, and I needed to know what it was. Unexpectedly, Leo aided me. He had noticed that Charlotte and I were whispering, and he said, ‘Roger will see this.’

  The youngest hisaf scowled. ‘Why?’

  Leo said, ‘Because I suspect he does not already know. And he should witness what awaits him.’<
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  Someone else laughed, with such cruel relish that my spine froze. ‘He doesn’t know?’

  ‘I don’t think so. You don’t know about the dogs, do you, Roger?’

  I said nothing. Beside me, Charlotte trembled.

  The scowling hisaf said, ‘It’s dangerous, Leo. They know where we are. They could be waiting. Why risk losing him on the other side?’

  ‘We won’t risk it. Roger waits here until Macon and Dick are ready. It shouldn’t be long – there’s a kennel right over the border.’

  ‘They might have guns by now.’

  Macon said angrily, ‘Oh, stop whining, Gregory. Dick and I can take care of ourselves. Nobody’s asking you to risk anything.’

  The scowler flushed a mottled maroon. Macon and Dick glanced at each other, took their guns from their backs and drew their knives. I did not see what Macon did, but Dick drove the tip of his knife into his thigh, and both vanished. They had crossed over.

  Leo said, ‘John and Tarf, bury Straik. Gregory and Stuart, you have perimeter guard. Kelif, keep Roger and the women in the wagon. Ned, come with me.’

  Everyone obeyed, except Rawnie. She ran after Leo, calling, ‘Wait! Your acting was wonderful!’

  But for once he had no time for adoration. Kelif dragged me to Rawnie, caught her in the powerful hand not chained to me, and dragged her into the wagon. Charlotte climbed in after her daughter.

  All at once an eerie silence fell on the camp. Leo and his lieutenant conferred out of earshot. The guards had disappeared into the woods. The only sounds were cracklings from the fire, the hoot of an owl, and then the scrape of shovels on earth as John and Tarf dug Straik’s grave.

  I said, very low, to Charlotte, ‘Tell me. What are those dogs?’

  She glanced at Rawnie, who said irritably, ‘Oh, Mama, I already know all about it!’ She rose on her knees to peer over the wagon side, watching the men dig the grave.

  Charlotte sighed, but did not dispute this. Probably it was true. If it were not, Rawnie was about to learn, because I was determined to acquire all the knowledge Charlotte had. I should have done so earlier. Straik might have wanted me ignorant but Leo was in charge now, and Leo could not resist drama. ‘Let him see what awaits him …’ Kelif, accepting the change in leadership, did not interfere as Charlotte and I talked.

  I repeated, ‘What are those dogs?’

  Charlotte seemed to search for a place to begin. ‘They come from the Country of the Dead.’

  ‘I knew that much.’

  ‘Rawley … your father made them.’

  ‘“Made them”? How can—’

  ‘Not made them. Those are the wrong words.’ Then all at once her speech flowed freely. ‘They are born, of course, there on the other side. It first happened when a hisaf had a pregnant hound. The hisaf crossed over with his dog and so the puppies were born in the Country of the Dead. Like … like your sister.’

  So that was how living dogs had appeared in that place where there was no living thing, save hisafs and Katharine. Now I understood the baying I had heard on the other side.

  Charlotte continued, ‘This was long ago, before I met Rawley. The breeder thought the dogs might be useful to track the Brotherhood, and Katharine, too. Which, of course, they were. Rawley has a talent for handling animals and he spent a lot of time training the puppies. After your mother died, and he thought that you died too, it was a distraction for him. Although, of course, the Brotherhood were quick to learn about the dogs and did the same thing.’ She glanced at Kelif. He listened, his eyelids half closed, his face expressionless in the starlight.

  I said, ‘Go on.’

  Charlotte twisted her hands together. Rawnie still watched the grave-digging. ‘Then Rawley had another idea. Do you … Roger, have you ever seen … Rawley wasn’t sure how much you know about the … the women who practise the soul arts.’

  More than I wanted to know. Mother Chilton, endlessly scolding me, prematurely aged to avoid capture when she was with me. Alysse, dead because she tried to warn me against Leo. Even little Princess Stephanie, whose dream, undoubtedly directed by Mother Chilton, had tried to warn me. I told Charlotte none of this, but merely nodded.

  ‘They can change into animals, you know, into their soul sharer. Each one of them has one. Into other animals, too, although the cost of doing so is very high. It saps their life force, even unto threatening death, until they recover.’

  Yes. I know.

  ‘Rawley thought the soul arts must be related to what Soulvine Moor is doing on the other side. The Soulviners can’t cross over, of course. But they can … have you seen what looks like a cloud of fog, over … over there? Rawley says it spins. It is—’

  ‘I know what it is,’ I said, more harshly than I intended. ‘A vortex.’ I had seen it suck in an entire circle of the Dead. I had seen it devour my sister when I threw her into it. ‘The Soulviners remain in the land of the living, but something of them is present in the Country of the Dead.’

  ‘Yes. It is the essential part, the … the life force itself. They learned to do it with the aid of potions from soul-art women and acts of will from rogue hisafs. Rawley took this knowledge and he made trial after trial, until he …’

  She stopped. My heart began a long slow thump. ‘Until he what? What did my father learn to do, Charlotte?’

  ‘Did you know that Rawley’s mother was a woman of the soul arts?’

  ‘No. How does that matter?’

  ‘Many hisafs marry such women. They understand each other. Or at least they did, until they conceived such different ideas about … about this war.’ She glanced fearfully at Kelif, who appeared to be asleep but probably was not. ‘It’s unusual for a hisaf to marry a woman from the The Queendom, one without talent in the soul arts, as Rawley did.’

  Twice, I thought, but did not say aloud. My father evidently preferred women who could not rival him. I said, ‘Charlotte, tell me what my father learned to do!’

  ‘I think it would be more interesting to show you,’ a voice said outside the wagon. Rawnie, still hanging over the opposite side, immediately leaped across the blanket-strewn wagon bed. ‘Leo!’

  ‘Kelif, bring him,’ Leo said. ‘They’re back already. It seems the handlers were training dogs nearby. This is such a lucky expedition. We are blessed.’

  Rawnie gaped at his mockery. John and Tarf continued to dig Straik’s grave. Kelif rose, bringing me with him, and pulled me from the wagon. When Rawnie tried to follow, Charlotte grabbed her. ‘Stay here!’

  ‘No!’ Rawnie shouted. She slipped from her mother’s grasp.

  ‘Yes! Or you know what I will do!’

  I glimpsed Rawnie’s glance at her pack, where the pet mouse lay hidden, just before Kelif took me into the woods.

  We stumbled a short way under the trees to a small clearing. Moonlight streamed through the break in the trees. Here Stuart and Gregory waited, along with Macon and Dick. The latter two seemed pale. As I watched, Macon and Dick vanished.

  A second later, so did Kelif and I. He had crossed over, taking me with him.

  Darkness—

  Cold—

  Dirt choking my mouth—

  Worms in my eyes—

  Earth imprisoning my fleshless arms and legs—

  We stood in a featureless meadow in the Country of the Dead. This, then, was one of those places where the landscape differed from that in the land of the living. And differed in another way, as well. Two dogs barked at our arrival, straining at the leashes held by men armed with guns.

  The dogs looked like every other dog that had come from here: big, grey, with short tails and green eyes. At least a dozen years since the first pregnant bitch had been brought over. Something about breeding live animals in a dead place must make the strain run true. My flesh crawled. These dog were not, had never been, truly alive or dead. They were unnatural things, and what had my father been doing with them that was more unnatural still?

  One of the unnatural things wagged its tail
and licked my hand.

  Charlotte had spoken of the web women, of ‘trial after trial’, of Soulvine vortexes. I couldn’t see how the pieces fit together. None of this made sense.

  Leo appeared beside us; apparently his reluctance to cross over had been as pretend as everything else he’d once told me. The older of the two men said, ‘Where’s Straik?’

  ‘Dead,’ Leo said briefly. ‘Killed by a dog from the others.’

  Kelif said to the men holding the leashes, ‘Ye won’t leave them?’

  ‘One of us will stay guard,’ the older man said.

  Leo frowned. ‘Both of you stay.’

  ‘We can’t. Leo, you know that. There is too much to do, and not enough of us to do it. You should know that.’

  Kelif said, ‘Then why this open place? They maun see ye for miles!’

  ‘Then we maun see them,’ the second man said, less deferentially than the first. ‘This be easier to defend. Tell him, Leo – even though ye be an actor and not a soldier.’

  Leo’s eyes blazed. The challenge to his authority set him to issuing orders. ‘Nonetheless, I want Macon and Dick under cover of trees.’

  ‘As ye wish,’ the second man said, with contempt. Tension among the five hisafs prickled like heat. Silently we hiked across the silent meadow and into a stand of silent trees.

  ‘I’m ready,’ Macon said. Was that a slight tremor in his voice?

  ‘Aye,’ Dick said.

  Leo turned to Macon and Dick and clasped each of their hands, his face theatrically solemn. ‘Good luck, my brothers.’

  They yanked their hands from his and knelt beside the two dogs, who quivered with pleasure. Macon and Dick placed their hands on the dogs’ heads. The men’s faces contorted with intense concentration. All at once both dogs yelped, and the two men toppled to the ground.

  At last I understood.

  Images whirled in my mind. The web women who became a rabbit, a white deer, a black swan, two diving raptors … the hisaf I had found beside a vortex just before it sucked in a circle of the Dead, whom I had not been able to bring myself to murder. He had taken the babes from the village beside the mill and then lay moaning on the even grass of the Country of the Dead, so weak he could barely open his eyes. At the time I had assumed that his weakness was due to something connected with the vortex. But I had never seen such a half-dead hisaf beside any other vortex. So I’d thought his depletion must be connected with the theft of the babes – except that Straik and the others had shown no such weakness after stealing the babes at the farm in the Unclaimed Lands.