Above the Snowline (39 page)
I ran to the staircase portal, but the guards standing outside it crossed their spears. ‘Let me through. I want to see Raven.’
They glanced at each other. So they were under orders not to admit me? I had no time for that. I barged between them and they snatched their spears out of the way. Then I was in gloom, running up the steps to Raven’s chamber.
His door at the top opened and Snipe popped out. He peered down in trepidation, slammed the door behind him and its bolt snicked closed. I came to a halt a few steps below him and looked up. His face was a mess. The black eye I had given him was swollen and puffy, but now for some reason he also sported chapped lips and a waxy, yellowish sheen of frostbite on ears and nose. He must have had exposure, because extreme cold had dappled his big forehead red raw. The multicoloured effect reminded me of the corpses I’d just seen. He carried a loaded crossbow.
‘Let me through. I want to see Raven.’
He rubbed a hand across his mouth and I saw his fingers were blackened at the tips. ‘Comet, Raven isn’t here. He’s gone hunting.’
‘I know he’s in there, hiding in the solar. I want to talk to him.’
His sunken eyes glared. ‘My lord rode out a few hours ago. To kill some fucking ’danne.’
‘In reprisal for last night?’
‘What do you know about it?’
I shook my head. ‘Raven’s in there. Is he afraid? Let me through, in the Emperor’s name, for the will of god and the protection of the Circle.’
He shook his head.
I leant on the clammy wall. Nobody had simply refused me before. Refused
me
! Raven’s door looked extremely solid and Snipe, in its archway, rested his necrosed fingers on the crossbow’s hair trigger.
me
! Raven’s door looked extremely solid and Snipe, in its archway, rested his necrosed fingers on the crossbow’s hair trigger.
Abruptly I turned and descended the spiral stairs, out to the bailey and passed the guards. As I did so, I remarked over my shoulder, ‘If those spikes on the parapet are to stop Rhydanne climbing in, you’ll simply be giving them new handholds.’
The guards said nothing but crossed their spears again. Their closed faces and hooded eyes revealed prejudice like granite. They think I’m a Rhydanne. They think I’m in with Dellin and they’re terrified.
I followed the track between the nearest cabins and the few shutters still ajar slammed as I passed through. Eyes watched me from behind fretwork holes and metal glinted. Fear hung over the settlement like greasy smoke. Their distrust was so palpable I could hardly breathe. News of the cliff-fall deaths must have reached them and they knew the Rhydanne were winning. They probably hadn’t yet discovered that Dellin’s hunters had devoured their fathers, brothers and sons, but the atmosphere of dread had taken on a life of its own. I doubted any Awian wanted to set foot outside the keep; their fear trapped them inside. They had always whispered rumours but now they believed every one. They jumped to conclusions. They had always alleged Rhydanne were man-eaters, now some scout would report the grisly remains and justify all their fears, all their belligerence. They were bent double under the weight of terror and they stayed in their houses. They knew what people like me did to Awians.
I considered as I walked to the end of the promontory. I am the most junior Eszai and I have very little clout with Raven. My very heritage, and the reason I’m Eszai, now made him mistrust me. I wished Tornado were here. No one would have dared lock a door against him - a pointless gesture to the Strongman in any case - and now I regretted not letting him join me.
As soon as Raven’s troops arrive he will invade Rachiswater and seize the throne. He knows that the Emperor does not intervene in any country’s affairs. How the Awians choose their king, or whom they choose, is up to them.
Even though I’m sure the Emperor wouldn’t like Raven as much as Tarmigan, the Emperor would let Raven’s uprising go ahead - and use me as spy to inform him of every detail. San would want to save lives and prevent Awia from losing strength against the Insects. So if Raven presents the Emperor with a fait accompli, once he is crowned the Castle would probably support him.
I wondered whether to inform Tarmigan. The Emperor wouldn’t approve, but I was confident I could fix things so I wouldn’t be the obvious source of the warning. But then what? Tarmigan would collect his Royal Select and set out to meet his brother. One way or the other I would push Awian troops into battle against each other, which as far as I know has never happened before. Of course, if Tarmigan won he would be grateful, and a king’s gratitude is not to be sneered at, but how could I hide it from San? And what would happen to the Rhydanne if a royal army besieged Carniss?
I thought about Lightning and Mist. They were Eszai too and they own manors of Awia. Maybe I could ask them . . . Of the two, Lightning was better; he was more steadfast. He’s one hundred per cent noble as well as being the Castle’s Archer, so everyone would be keen to know his opinion. He usually maintained a judicious neutrality in internal Awian affairs, but he’d have to get involved if soldiers crashed through his vineyards. Lightning has fifteen hundred years’ experience of being a governor and the best archer in the world. Raven certainly couldn’t ignore him as rudely as he’d just ignored me.
I stopped at the foot of the avalanche warning tower and heaved a sigh. I didn’t want to ask Lightning’s help because . . . because it’s admitting defeat. The world will know that my talks with Raven broke down so I called for the aid of an older Eszai. Well . . . I’m doing it for Dellin, really. And Lightning might offer me some advice there too . . . Oh god, now I sound as wet as he does.
He certainly mustn’t find out about Dellin’s taste for Awian flesh or he’d support Raven against her. A mere battalion of Micawater archers could wipe out every Rhydanne in Carnich. She isn’t stupid, though. She’ll hide the evidence of her feast and - I shuddered - she’ll store the frozen bodies where even the wolves won’t find them.
I spread my wings. Where would Lightning be at this end of the year? Feasting in Micawater? No, he said he wanted to spend a quiet New Year’s in Foin Hall. In that case he’s probably brooding again, and I should wake him up: a little excitement will do him good.
I took off, beating hard, flew up and over the curtain wall. The cliff dropped away below me and I was airborne, already three hundred metres above the fir-clad slopes. The view was so clear I could see Eyrie village tiny as a model in the distance. I turned south towards Micawater.
LIGHTNING
I was taking morning coffee in my study when a crisp impact outside surprised me and I looked to the window. Comet was at the end of the lawn, crouching where he had landed in a patch of grazed snow. He folded his wings and, without wasting a moment, sprinted towards the house. I crossed to the bay window and watched him approach, so fast over the snow-blanketed grass he seemed scarcely to touch it. At first I couldn’t identify his clothes. Then I realised it was a Rhydanne outfit such as Dellin had used for a bedspread. He must have bought it in Carniss; perhaps the mountain climate had given him a change of heart.
A second later I could only see him through the sidelight, then he passed into the porch and the bell sounded. My reeve, who keeps few servants, answered the door himself. A hasty sotto voce conversation ensued then the reeve’s footsteps pattered along the corridor followed by Jant’s rapid tread. My door swung wide and the reeve’s head appeared in the gap. ‘My lord,’ he announced. ‘Comet—’
Jant pushed past him, muttering, ‘He knows, he knows.’ His shoulders hunched and hood up, he was unshaven and glistening head to foot with ice crystals. His coarse jacket and trousers glittered like sandpaper made of diamonds, an effect which lasted but a second; they melted to damp suede and I noticed the front of his coat was spattered with grease. He looked much stronger, built up by the arduous mountains and their denizens’ meat-rich diet. He scanned the breakfast table with a look of relief, picked up the cafetière and poured coffee into my glass, drank it as if it was vital and poured himself another. Then he dragged out a chair and sat down gratefully.
‘Have you gone native?’ I asked.
‘What?’
‘Those clothes. That ice axe on your belt instead of a sword.’
‘Oh . . . yeah. For the conditions . . . the conditions up there.’ He pointed at the ceiling.
‘Have you brought me any letters?’
‘No . . .’
I folded my arms. ‘Then what
have
you brought? The flu? You went to Carniss. Have you finished talking to Raven?’
have
you brought? The flu? You went to Carniss. Have you finished talking to Raven?’
‘I’ve just come from Carniss. Dellin’s still there. I don’t know what Raven could be doing to her - hunting her with dogs this very minute. She . . . It’s all . . . Everything’s gone wrong.’ He tucked one slush-wet boot under him on the chair cushion, unbuttoned his parka showing nothing but a T-shirt underneath and fanned out his wings to shake drops from them. He looked like a black peacock. He looked like an old crow. ‘Saker Micawater,’ he whined. ‘What the shining fuck do I
do
?’
do
?’
‘Why? Have you caused some kind of disaster?’
‘
I
haven’t caused anything!’
I
haven’t caused anything!’
‘Then to what do I owe this visit?’
He began counting on his fingers. ‘Raven built a fortress as defensible as Lowespass. Covering a sheer crag - it’s not a manor house at all! Fyrd are on their way to him from Francolin Wrought in Lowespass. As soon as they arrive in Carniss Raven is going to attack Rachiswater. The palace itself! He hates his brother.’
‘I know he does.’
‘He’s going to seize the throne! And Dellin—’ He counted her off too, but I interrupted him.
‘I should have known Raven would make another bid for the throne. Have you told Tarmigan?’
‘No. I thought I’d tell you first.’
‘And the Emperor?’
‘No! Not until everything’s fixed!’
‘Do Raven or Francolin know you’ve discovered their plot?’
‘They have no idea,’ he said and leant forward, head in hands.
‘Good. Good.’ I retrieved my newspaper from the table because ice was dripping from his hair and soaking into it. ‘Is Raven’s attack imminent?’
‘New Year’s Day, to catch Tarmigan unprepared.’
Yes, he needs the element of surprise and, knowing the king’s banquets, everyone in Rachis would be stuffed too full to move. ‘But aren’t the roads impassable? The snow is bad enough here; I thought Carniss would be cut off?’
‘He’s banking on Tarmigan thinking that. Yes, the Pelt Road looks blocked - from the air it’s a sheet of white - but it’s not impassable to anyone with knowledge of how to travel in snow. Raven can get through: he learnt about dog sleds and snowshoes last year . . . from the Rhydanne.’
‘I see.’
‘He’s halted all contact with the lowlands to give the impression he’s stranded. He isn’t cut off; he’s preparing. The keep is full of stockpiled weapons, so I think Francolin’s soldiers are travelling light and Raven intends to equip them in Carniss. They might lose some lives to the Rhydanne, though.’
‘Rhydanne? Why?’
Jant emerged from behind his clasped hands with a sombre expression. ‘Raven is persecuting the Rhydanne. He wants to cleanse Carniss of every last one.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Dellin . . . Dellin’s defending her forest and prey. The Rhydanne are starving, Lightning, they have to find food. She—’
‘How much damage have they caused?’
Jant placed a worried hand on his forehead and pushed his hair back. ‘They killed at least thirty settlers. Raven’s retaliating. I’m worried he’ll pen Dellin into a small area and trap her. She moves so stealthily I hope she can sneak out, but you know how single-minded Raven is.’
‘To the point of insanity. But his hands are full on two fronts.’ I pushed a platter of bacon towards Jant. ‘Would you like some breakfast?’
He shrank from it and stared at me with wild incomprehension. ‘We don’t have
time
! How can we, when Raven’s forcing her to hide in the forest, subsisting on . . . on whatever she can find?’
time
! How can we, when Raven’s forcing her to hide in the forest, subsisting on . . . on whatever she can find?’
‘I thought they always lived that way. Look, spend a minute on breakfast and hunger won’t hinder you in a couple of hours’ time.’
‘You sound like Ouzel,’ he grumbled, but he selected a couple of pieces of toast and began buttering them neatly.
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