Daughters Of The Storm (48 page)

‘I left in such a flurry of panic. I packed blankets and skins but forgot we needed water. When the rain started, the boy was cold and wouldn't stop shivering, but at least we managed to collect enough water to drink.'

Willow glanced at the boy. He sat quite still, as though he were listening to some special music only he could hear.

‘I had to manage the sails with a wounded hand. The rope got away from me once in a stiff wind, pulling the wound open again. I thought it would never stop bleeding.'

‘Hold still,' she said, unstopping the pot and slathering on the lotion.

‘I knew where you had gone. Eni's father told me. He told me everything before he died, from a wound Bluebell herself inflicted in a jealous rage. He told me ...' His voice dropped, as though he were afraid somebody may be nearby listening. ‘He told me Bluebell had confessed to having poisoned her father on purpose because he was going to convert to the trimartyr faith.'

Willow's heart went cold. ‘What?'

‘I'm sorry, Willow. I know you think highly of your sister.'

Did she think highly of Bluebell? She found her terrifying, unyielding, yet with an uncommon kindness towards Willow. There was nothing confusing or hidden about Bluebell, and Willow found it almost impossible to believe that she would try to kill her own father, especially as she appeared to be going to great lengths to heal him.

Or appear to be trying to heal him. Who was to predict what heathens might do?

Wylm continued his story. ‘I sailed that little boat for days down the west coast of Thyrsland, looking for landmarks. It is a desolate coast, Willow. Grey mud and the skeletons of trees. A
journey through a dead place. But I brought the boat in at the mouth of a muddy river, the Gemærea, two day's journey north of here on foot.'

‘You walked? In your condition?'

‘I walked.' He nodded. ‘I walked with the boy. And I grew more and more ill. But I found you. At last.' He looked at the bandage. ‘And you have helped me.'

‘You need to rest. In a proper bed.'

‘I am dry and I have warm clothes to sleep in.'

‘I will bring you blankets as soon as I can. And the boy? Is he known to Bluebell's retinue? Would he be safer in the house with me?'

‘Would you? I would be so grateful if you could take him and give him a good meal and a warm bath. I understand, though, if you can't. It would mean you have to lie to Heath and as Maava's soldier you might not —'

‘I will lie for the good of a hungry child,' she said, putting some steel in her voice. She wrapped the wound, then tied it firmly. ‘The good of my nephew, if you are right about his parentage.'

‘Bluebell's lover told me all,' Wylm said. ‘He had no reason to lie.'

‘People often lie when desperate.'

‘He was not desperate. He was dying and he wanted the truth to come out.'

Willow touched Eni lightly on the arm. ‘Eni,' she said, ‘my name is Willow. Would you like to come inside with me? I can make you some food.'

Eni swayed slightly. ‘Rabbit?' he said.

‘That's me,' Wylm told her. ‘That's what he calls me. Rabbit needs to sleep. Rabbit is sick,' he said to the boy.

‘After you've eaten and had a warm bath, we will come back and sit with Rabbit for a while,' Willow said. ‘All right?' She reached for his hand and he let her take it, and pull him to his feet.

Wylm was already turned on his side, eyes closed. ‘Sleep now,' he said. ‘I must sleep.'

‘I'll be back,' she said.

‘I know,' he answered.

Eni dragged his feet across the road, so Willow used her warmest voice. ‘I know you don't want to leave Rabbit, Eni, but I will make you some warm porridge and wash your clothes.' She leaned closer and wrinkled her nose. ‘Yes, they are quite smelly. You can help me hang them out on the lemon tree behind the house. It's a lovely sunny day.' She remembered he couldn't see, and couldn't think of what else to say. But she did notice he had settled.

She opened the door, gears in her head turning over. Maava wouldn't want her to lie if she didn't have to, but neither could she tell Heath the truth. Wylm's story about Bluebell didn't fall outside the realm of possibility. Bluebell loved blood; everyone knew that. Somebody so enamoured with death was out of tune with Maava's love. And certainly, Bluebell more than anyone was invested in keeping the trimartyr faith out of Ælmesse. What wouldn't she do to ensure that she became queen?
Come to me angels. Maava, send your emissaries. I need to know the right thing to do.

But no angels spoke and when she looked at the dirty, skinny boy in front of her, she decided to choose the humane thing to do. She sat Eni at the hearth. Heath was nowhere to be seen, but he had started a fire before he headed out and oats were already cooking in a hanging pot. She stirred the pot, all the while studying Eni's face. He looked nothing like Bluebell. The ring on his finger, her father's insignia, was the only thing that suggested he might be related to her.

Willow bent next to him, and began to untie his shirt. ‘Come on,' she said, ‘I'll give you one of my father's shirts.'

When Heath returned, Eni was sitting in one of the king's shirts eating oats, skinny pale knees and shins emerging from the
bottom, in a sunbeam near the back door. Willow was rubbing lye soap on his grubby clothes over a tub.

Heath paused, looking at Eni curiously. Willow's pulse seemed thick in her throat.

‘Willow?' he said, not turning from Eni. ‘Who is this boy?'

‘I don't know,' she said. ‘I found him wandering in the woods this morning while I was out looking for mushrooms. He's blind and simple and lost.'

Heath kneeled in front of Eni. ‘What's your name, boy?'

‘Rabbit,' Eni said.

‘I don't think he knows his name,' Willow answered, ‘but with your permission I will walk to the village with him this afternoon and see if I can find his mother.'

Heath climbed to his feet once again. ‘Just be careful. Don't tell anyone who you are or where you are staying.'

‘Of course not.'

Heath was halfway over the threshold when she called him back.

‘Heath?'

‘Yes.'

‘Do you think ... who do you think did ... that ... to the king?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Do you think it might have been somebody close to him?'

His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Do you?'

‘I don't know. Just like you. I don't know.'

Then Heath was on his way, and Willow went back to scrubbing Eni's clothes and listening out for angel voices to tell her whom to trust.

Bluebell closed the door, shutting out the daylight. Yldra's hut had only one narrow window, tightly shuttered, and a dirt floor under the rushes. The hearthpit was literally a pit dug into the ground. Bluebell had to duck under a low beam to get into the room. Yldra stood to greet her and Bluebell saw straightaway the older woman was crippled. Her hips didn't align and one of her feet was twisted outwards. She would never be able to travel.

Yldra held out her hand to Thrymm. ‘Ah, lovely girl,' she said. Thrymm licked her hand gingerly. ‘You sit by the fire,' Yldra said, rubbing her head, ‘while I talk to your master.'

Thrymm sat back and watched carefully while Yldra turned her attention to Bluebell.

‘So you are my niece?' Yldra said.

‘I am Bluebell.'

‘You didn't know you had an aunt, did you?' She had very clear blue eyes, and pale skin that was remarkably unlined. Her hair was grey at the temples, but otherwise brown.

‘No, I didn't.'

‘But your sister knew.'

‘Rose said you had spoken to her. In a sending.'

‘I did.' Yldra spread her hands. ‘Not that she listened to me.' She moved towards Bluebell, her leg dragging behind her. Bluebell stood very still as Yldra stopped in front of her. The older woman stood only as high as Bluebell's breastbone. She looked up at Bluebell with her piercing gaze, and her nostrils flared slightly.

‘You're the image of your father.'

Bluebell felt the corner of her lip twitch into a smile. The comparison had been made so often, by so many, and still she found it pleasing. But she realised Yldra's mouth was turned down.

‘You and Father ...' she started.

‘No, there isn't much love there,' Yldra said. ‘You must have guessed that. Did he ever mention me?'

Bluebell shook her head.

Yldra's eyebrows lifted. ‘Not once, eh?'

‘No.'

‘And why do you think that is?'

‘Knowing my father to be noble in thought and action, I would guess it was to protect you in some way.'

‘Protect me?'

Bluebell nodded. ‘Blood is important to him.'

Yldra snorted. ‘Spilling it, perhaps.' She limped back to the hearthpit to poke the coals. ‘I suppose you'll be wanting to eat.'

Bluebell's stomach grumbled. ‘I have food in my pack.'

‘There's cold salted rabbit under the cloth on the bench. Bread there. Cheese there.' Yldra waved her hands vaguely and sat down.

Bluebell realised if she wanted to eat she had to fix it for herself, so she went to the bench and uncovered the food, assembling it on a plate. ‘Is there anywhere for my horse to stay?'

‘There's a shelter, down the hill towards the stream. You can take him down there later. Sit with me now. Tell me why you are here.'

Bluebell glanced over her shoulder. Yldra's back was turned to her. ‘Don't you already know?'

‘Your other sister, the poisoned one, had an idea in her head about your father. I couldn't grasp it with both my hands. Besides, reading minds isn't my skill. Thankfully. I can't imagine anything worse than being privy to the nonsense that plays out in most people's heads.'

Bluebell brought her plate with her and sat opposite Yldra, with the fire between them. The firelight made her aunt's pale skin warm.

Her aunt. Bluebell tilted her head slightly and considered Yldra. She could see a lot of Willow in her aunt's face: the distinct widow's peak, the wide flat cheekbones.

‘What are you looking at?' Yldra grunted.

Bluebell set to her food. ‘Family resemblance to my sister, Willow,' she said through a mouthful. ‘Rose and Ash look like my mother. Ivy is fair like me, but ... pretty.'

‘You might have been pretty if you'd chosen a different path.'

‘How do you know what path I've chosen, if you can't read minds?'

‘I may live alone, but I still travel and trade. I could hardly escape your fame. Besides,' she added grudgingly, ‘you are family and I have found out what I can about you all.'

The rabbit meat was salty and sweet. Bluebell relished it, licking the bones clean. Then she wiped her fingers on her tunic and put the plate aside. ‘Father is sick, elf-shot. You will heal him.'

Yldra's face was passive. ‘Will I?'

‘Yes. Because you are an undermagician and he is your brother.'

‘What if I can't heal him?'

‘You can try.'

‘What if I don't
want
to heal him?'

The question made no sense to Bluebell. ‘He is family. He is the king of Ælmesse. For the love of your own blood, and for the sake of peace in Thyrsland, surely you would try.'

Yldra took a deep breath, then let out a huff. ‘Well, then.'

‘You are lame. Can you travel? I can try to get a cart from —'

‘I can travel. Don't you mind about that. I can travel fast and well. Faster than you.'

Bluebell frowned, not sure what she meant. ‘If that's so, then we can leave tomorrow.'

‘You are not my commander, young woman.' As Yldra said this, a shadow crossed her brow and a swirl of embers lifted from the hearthpit, then settled again.

Bluebell realised her heart was beating a little faster.

‘You are wrong about Æthlric. He hasn't hidden me to protect me.' Yldra shook her head, working her lips against each other as though she had tasted something bad.

Bluebell kept quiet, not wanting to ask. Not wanting to know.

‘How old do you think I am?' Yldra asked.

‘I know not.'

‘Sixty winters.'

Bluebell shrugged. ‘Happy birthday.'

‘Your father is fifty-eight winters, is he not?'

‘I don't see what ...' But then she did. She
did
see what Yldra was trying to say.

Yldra was firstborn.

‘Ah yes,' Yldra said, wagging a crooked finger. ‘Now you understand. I am a woman, Æthlric is a man. I had first claim on the throne of Ælmesse, but he took it from me.' She closed her fist, made a snatching gesture. ‘He doesn't believe women can rule.'

Bluebell scrambled for a way to make sense of this. ‘The king of Thyrsland must be a warrior. Your father was a great swordsman, Æthlric has no peer. Perhaps they believed it was not safe to have a king who couldn't lead an army into battle.'

‘A
queen
, Bluebell. Try as you might, you'll never have a prick.' Yldra's lips curled into a smile. ‘A battle-ready warrior queen,
who trained as hard as any man, who understood the strategies of war, who could charge herself with supernatural energy ...' Yldra trailed off, her eyes turning to the fire.

‘You?' Bluebell asked.

Yldra indicated her hip. ‘It was in a skirmish with those dogs of Netelchester. Your friend Wengest's uncle. He knocked me off my horse, speared me through the pelvis and kicked me down a ravine. I lay there six days, my body shattered, then finally dragged myself to help when I realised nobody was coming for me. When I got home, they had already decided. Æthlric would be king.'

‘Because he was the better warrior? Because he was whole?'

‘Believe what you like. You know in your heart what is fair.'