The Skull of the World (26 page)

There was no way of tracking the swan-carriage over the water. Isabeau retreated into the comfort of her own shape and slept the sleep of utter exhaustion. When she awoke she was dizzy and nauseated, with a pounding headache. She had to dose herself with her own medicines before she felt well enough to even sit up and eat some food. She wanted desperately to go on but remembered all Meghan's warnings about sorcery sickness. She would only make matters worse if she fell into unconsciousness, or lost her wits, so Isabeau gave herself a full day in which to recover.

During the afternoon she felt well enough to walk a little way on the cliff face and look down at the sea, smashing white on the rocks. The strong salty wind blew away the last of her headache and she held up her hand to the seabirds swinging in the air. Isabeau had never learned their dialect, having always lived so far from the sea, but she spoke to them in the common language of birds and was able to make herself understood. They had seen the wedge of swans flying over the waves and were able to point that way, though they shrieked mockingly at her and tried to splash her with their sloppy guano.

Isabeau stared out at the wild sea, her heart sinking. The birds had pointed due south. Isabeau had been taught her geography well and she knew the Fair Isles lay that way. A group of small, lush islands, the Fair Isles had once been governed by Eileanan's righ, but in the time of Jaspar the Ensorcelled they had been overrun by pirates. No attempt had been made to wrest control of the islands back from the pirates, thanks firstly to Jaspar's fading strength and resolve, and then to Lachlan's absorption in winning peace elsewhere in the land. The pirates had been able to rule the waves ever since, raiding coastal towns and plundering merchants' boats with none but the Fairgean to contend with. Given how few merchant ships had set sail in the past ten years, the pirates had not had rich pickings and so they had grown bold and greedy indeed in their forays against the mainland. Isabeau had heard many stories of how they had devastated fishing villages and seaside towns from Clachan to Rurach, stealing young men and women as well as grain, coin and livestock, and burning everything behind them. The flood of refugees inland from the coast was due as much to the pirates as it was to the Fairgean, who at least did not steal and burn as well as kill.

But had Margrit NicFoghnan, the deposed Banpri-onnsa of Arran, thrown in her lot with the pirates? They had become much better organized in recent years, Isabeau knew from her attendance at the Righ's councils. She remembered also how Lachlan had complained it seemed as if the pirates knew every time one of his ships left harbor, no matter how clandestinely. Indeed, Sukey had earned her spy's wages well!

Dreading the journey ahead of her, Isabeau gave herself another night to recuperate. She knew there was nothing but a few bare rocks between her and the Fair Isles, and that the islands were several days' sailing away at least. She did not know how long it would take to fly but she feared it would be as long, and that she would have difficult}' finding anywhere to rest and change back into her own shape again. The swans must have rested somewhere, though, and Margrit too. She would just have to keep careful watch and stop whenever she found somewhere large enough.

In the bright dawn Isabeau undressed, stowed away all her belongings in the bottomless bag once more, and willed herself into the shape of a swan. She had only ever seen swans from a distance and so she chose this shape with some trepidation, it being that of a creature she was not fully familiar with. The native swan was one of the largest of all birds in Eileanan, however, and capable of flying great distances at high speeds. More important, a swan would surely be a suitable disguise for approaching and infiltrating Margrit's stronghold.

Isabeau visualized the long curving neck, the wide webbed feet, the strong crimson wings and deep feathered breast, making the image as perfect as she could, then willed herself into that shape. To her relief the transformation occurred without a hitch, and she looked herself over in a puddle with some pleasure at her graceful long neck and beautiful wings. However, when she turned to slide her head through the drawstring of the bag, she was rather taken aback by the awkwardness of her heavy body and out-turned feet. Swans always looked so graceful gliding on the palace loch or soaring through the air. She had no idea that they
waddled.

With her long neck outstretched, she launched herself into the air and glided majestically over the waves, her wings beating slowly and powerfully. Higher and higher she climbed, until the sea was a spread of wrinkled blue silk and the shore of Eilea-nan a hazy gray smudge behind her. Isabeau was amazed at how swiftly she flew, faster by far than the blizzard-owl, whose wings were better suited for gliding. She rested that night on a bare, windswept rock, wrapped in her plaid against the lash of the spray, and in the morning flew on again.

Midafternoon she saw a blue hump of land rising out of the ocean ahead. By early evening she was flying down toward a crescent of six islands that floated enchantingly upon a sea of translucent aquamarine. On the seaward sides most of the islands rose straight up out of the water, with white-crested waves crashing down upon sharp black rocks. On the leeward side the islands faced each other across a lagoon of a breathtaking blue, with the cliffs gentling down to little crescents of white sand scattered with pebbles. Moored in the bays were ships of every shape and size, all flying a distinctive red flag with a black hammerhead shark upon it.

Most of the boats were in a wide bay on the inner shore of the largest island, moored in front of a rough-looking town. Frowning down upon the town was a very old fort built upon a high cliff. Isabeau swooped around it, noting the many purple flags with flowering thistles emblazoned in gold upon them. She flew lower and saw a beautifully carved sleigh with long, curved runners was parked on the highest tower. Nearby was a row of rough wooden cages. Crammed within were bundles of white feathers. Then Isabeau saw with a little shock that the feathers were indeed swans, packed in so closely they could barely move.

She alighted on the top of the tower and waddled over toward the cage, wondering for the first time if she would be able to speak to the swans. Vaguely she remembered an old minstrel's song about how swans only sang as they were dying. She was met with a loud hissing and flapping of wings, however, and knew at once she would have no trouble communicating.

Seeeee the saucy cygnet, strutting about as if sheeee were queeen. Just beeeecause sheee beee freeeeee . . .

Isabeau folded her wings back and bent her long neck submissively.
Pleeease forgive meee, I mean no impertinence.

The hissing died away and then the largest of the swans called imperiously,
What then do you do heeere, young pen? Your accent is coarse indeed but your curt-seeeey is courtly and your words courteoussss. Do you not know that thissss place is an ensnarement for swanssss? If you do not beeeware, you too may beeee trapped into slavery.

Have you been so trapped?
Isabeau asked.
Why are such reeeegal creaturesss kept in such squalid surround-ingssss ?

There was a hissing of displeasure.
We are slavesss to a cruel, evil-hearted queeeen who has forgotten the respect due a swan and keeps us penned as if weee were mere chickenssss or duckssss.

But do you not pull along a carriage for her? Why do you not throw her out when you have a chance? Then you would beeee frreeee again.

We are under an eeeenchantment. She has chained usss with her magic and we cannot defy her. Many genera-tionssss have been enslaved by her and many have tried to throw off the enchantment, all to no avail.

What issss the manner of the enchantment? Perhapssss I can releease you from it.

The swans laughed mockingly, lifting their wings.

Indeed you are callow and naive, young pen. Forty years I have been in ssservice to the evil queeeen and fifty yearssss my forebearssss. If we have been unable to unlock the chain of enchantment, what makessss you think you could?

I am out here and you are in there, loath assss I am to remind you,
Isabeau replied.
I
alsssso have an advantage that you cannot share. I have magic of my own. I can change myself into the shape of a woman.
After looking about her carefully, Isabeau demonstrated for them, changing back into her natural shape. The drawstring of the pouch almost choked her and she had to loosen it quickly.

There was much soft hissing and sighing, and then the largest of the swans said,
Ah, a swan maiden. We have heard talesss of such thingssss. What a cruel enchantment to put upon you. We pity you, swan maiden, that you are forced to take on such an uncouth, ugly, grace-lessss shape. We hope that you can be freeed of your curse one day.

Thank you,
Isabeau said, unable to help a little quiver of laughter in her voice.
Until that day, I hope I can freeee you from yourssss.

The swans sighed.
We have tried many times to break the chainssss but all we do is strangle ourselvessss.

Isabeau looked closer and saw each swan wore about its neck a chain of diamonds and rubies. She reached out a hand to touch one and withdrew it with a little hiss as the jewels stung her finger.
Those necklacessss, they are what bind you to her will?

They raised their wings and bent their long necks, a few grunting mournfully.

If I break them for you, will you help meeee in return ?

You will not beeee able to break them.

If I find a way, will you help meeee in return ?

One good ssservice deservessss another, of courssse. What is it that you would wish usss to do?

I come in search of two young cobs, human cobs. They too have been enslaved by your evil queeeen and I must releeease them and take them home to their mother. Have you seen two such creaturesss?

Two young human cobs. Indeed, yessss, swan maiden, two such creatures were carried here only a day or two ago. That was the last great journey weeee were forced to make and wearying it was.

Do you know where they are now?

The swans shrugged their slim white shoulders.

If I can break the chainssss that ensslave you, will you carry us to safety in the sleigh? Will you pull it one more time?

They muttered among themselves, wings rustling uneasily.
Sheee will not be able to follow us, weeee will be freeee,
they hissed. At last they agreed. Isabeau thanked the swans and promised to return when she had freed the two boys.

Isabeau dressed hurriedly in her brown knee-breeches and linen shirt, leaving her feet bare, then pushed open the door and ventured into the fort in search of the boys.

Room after room was empty of anything but filth, broken furniture and cobwebs. Isabeau's step grew more confident as she saw no living thing but beetles and spiders. Then a little mouse scurried across the hall, racing for a hole in the skirting board. Isabeau knelt in the dust, put out her hand and squeaked to it. It stopped, looked up at her with black dilated eyes, and squeaked back.

After only a few moments of conversation, Isabeau once again took off all her clothes and stowed them in the black pouch. The world swelled and distended alarmingly until the walls were like cliffs and the hole in the skirting board yawned blackly. The mouse led her into the cavern and through a bewildering maze of dark, cramped passageways. Here a row of rusty nails was a rank of cruel javelins to be squeezed past, a spider was a many-eyed monster with slavering jaws, a fall of old plaster a landslide that had to be dug through. Isabeau's whiskers quivered and her ears twitched backward and forward as she sought to make sense of this world full of terrors. More than once she ran blindly, startled by some sound or smell, the black pouch dragging and bouncing behind her.

At last they slid down a long drainpipe full of leaves and dirty spiderwebs, landing helplessly in a filthy gutter, then scrambled through a broken win-dowpane, paws scrabbling. Isabeau and the mouse fell together onto bare floorboards in a dark room full of noise and the terrible stench of humans. Terrified, they scurried under the shelter of a large sideboard and crouched there in the darkness, while voices boomed all about them. At last there was the crash of a door closing and then silence, broken only by a loud moaning like a winter storm in pine trees. It took a long moment for Isabeau to recognize the sound as a little boy sobbing.

She crept out from under the sideboard, her paws trembling, her whiskers twitching. She could see nothing but the great brown cliffs of furniture so, after a long moment trying to overcome her terror, Isabeau changed shape once more.

Sick and dizzy she lay in the dust for a long time, hoping she had not been mistaken that there was no one in the room apart from the two boys. At last her nausea passed and she was able to sit up and hug her bare legs and look about her.

Only one candle lit the room, its flame wavering in a draft. Isabeau brought light to life in her palm, cupping her hand about it so it did not shine too brightly. There was a tray on the table loaded with apple tarts, crumpets and jam, dried bellfruits, little sugared cakes and a jug of frothy goat's milk. It all smelled very delicious.

Chained to the bed were the two little boys. Donn-can was lying on his stomach, asleep, one chain secured to his wrist, the other to his ankle. Neil was crying miserably, his face buried in the pillow, his bottom sticking up in the air. He too was securely chained. Both boys were still dressed in their nightshirts, their feet bare.