The Caller (28 page)

‘Rohan! You’re here earlier than we expected. Doman, welcome. I trust you –’ Flint saw me and came to a sudden, complete halt.
Say something
, I willed him.

It was Rohan who filled the dangerous silence. ‘Owen, this is Morven from the household of Gormal of Glenfalloch. He wants to train with our recruits. Morven arrived just as I was leaving, and in view of his skills and experience, I made an exception to the rules for him. This is Ellida, Morven’s wife. An accomplished healer. I’m sure a place can be found for her here.’

Flint managed a nod to Brenn. Now he was making sure he did not meet my eye. ‘A long ride,’ he commented.

‘For Ellida in particular, since she’s not a horsewoman,’ Rohan said. ‘Doman, you and Morven take the horses to the stables and settle them in, then you can show him the living quarters. I’ll take Ellida into the keep and find someone to look after her.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Now Flint had control of his voice again. ‘I imagine Toleg will appreciate another assistant. This is a period of intensive training for us, and that tends to mean a steady flow of minor injuries. This way,’ he said to me, offering an arm in the manner of a courtier.

‘Your bag,’ Brenn said. ‘And your staff – here.’ He unstrapped my belongings from the horse’s back and handed them over; Flint shouldered the bag. ‘Might be a while before I see you, from the sound of things,’ Brenn added, and bent to kiss me on the brow. ‘Be safe, sweetheart.’

With my arm in Flint’s and my whole body alive to his, I rose to my tiptoes and kissed Brenn on the cheek. Our story must be maintained at every moment; we must make no errors, even in the company of men who knew the truth or half-guessed it. ‘And you be safe,’ I said. ‘I’ll miss you.’

Flint and I walked across the practice area, the place where so much blood had been shed last midsummer.
When we reach that doorway
, I thought,
I’ll have to let go of him.
And I wished the walk were a hundred, a thousand times longer.

‘Tell me you’re not actually married to that man,’ Flint said under his breath.

‘Of course not. He’s one of us. Flint, tell me quickly, is the other Caller here?’ It felt perilous to speak of this, even with a wide empty space all around us. In a place like this, I wondered if anywhere was truly safe.

‘You know, then. My message got through.’

‘I know because I saw them marching north. That’s why I’ve come.’ We were halfway to the inner gates already. Torches burned in sockets to either side, and guards would be on duty in the tower. Even out of earshot, we had to be careful.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ Flint murmured. ‘But your being here terrifies me. The Caller, Esten – watch out for him, he’s more powerful than he looks. And beware of the man who controls him, Brydian. In the queen’s pocket, and quick to suspect anyone. Brydian is canny. His gift allows him to protect Esten while he’s close; that reduces the possibilities.’

He was speaking of assassination; telling me it couldn’t be done while this Brydian was about. I said nothing, only nodded.

‘Don’t draw attention to yourself,’ Flint said. ‘You’ll have seen what’s beyond the walls. I’m . . . working on that. No more now.’

We were still twenty feet from the gates, but someone had seen us coming. The gates were opened and two Enforcers came from within to stand one to each side, waiting for us to enter. I had the distinct sense that I was walking into a prison.

‘Not far now, Ellida,’ Flint said, nodding at the guards as we passed between them. ‘I’ll find someone to look after you.’

‘Thank you. May I ask your name?’

He smiled. ‘Owen. Owen Swift-Sword. I’m the leader of Stag Troop, and we have responsibility for the training of warriors, both the new and the seasoned. Your husband, I gather, is in the latter group. Still, there are aspects of an Enforcer’s training that a man cannot learn anywhere but here. I’m sure you understand that.’

‘I do.’

‘This way,’ he said. ‘I hope you’re ready for this.’

Weapons sharp; backs straight; hearts high.
‘I’m ready,’ I said.

Flint introduced me to Summerfort’s steward, Brand, a man of about five-and-thirty who walked with a limp – I wondered if he had once been a fighter, for he had a no-nonsense briskness of manner – and his wife, Scia, a tall woman with freckled skin and nut-brown hair in a tidily plaited crown. Then he left me.

Scia was a sometime assistant to Toleg, Summerfort’s healer and herbalist. During the busy summer months, she told me, she helped him all day; in the quieter time, when the court was at Winterfort, she managed the household with her husband and only worked in the infirmary when Toleg needed her. I felt awkward at first, wondering if she would consider my arrival a threat. But she seemed delighted, saying the extra pair of hands would free her for myriad other tasks.

Scia quizzed me on my experience. I’d had limited practice in some areas of healing, but my herb knowledge was good enough to have her nodding and smiling.

I would not meet Toleg until the morning, for he was engaged in a complex decoction and had ordered that nobody disturb him. ‘He’s not the most even-tempered of men,’ Scia said. ‘But expert; he’s taught me a great deal. If you keep quiet and get on with your work, he’ll come around to accepting you.’

She took me to a great hall for supper – a cavernous chamber barely warmed by the fire burning on its broad hearth. Of the five long tables, only one was occupied, and it was not full. The serving people were few. Among those seated there was a group of Enforcers; I counted ten.

‘Men of Wolf Troop,’ Scia said, seeing me watching them. ‘They keep a complement here over the winter to guard prisoners, maintain the watch, attend to local problems. The rest of them are helping Stag Troop with the training. You won’t see many of them in the keep, not now they’ve got the . . .’ She hesitated. ‘You’ll have spotted them, I imagine, as you rode in. Folk from the south, a different kind of folk, here to learn how to fight. Camped outside the wall; they come into the practice yard during the day. The less we say about that the better. That man over there, the one in the dark robe, is Master Brydian, the queen’s councillor. He’s told us all to keep our mouths shut about it. If I could give you only one piece of advice, it would be this: never disobey an order from Master Brydian.’

The councillor was sitting with three other men, quite a distance down the table from us. He was the man who had sat beside Queen Varda at the Gathering; I had seen him again escorting the captives on that terrible journey from the south. Two of his companions wore Enforcer black. The other was a young fellow; I guessed his age as no more than twenty. I was fairly sure he, too, had been riding behind the enslaved Good Folk, and from what little Flint had been able to tell me, I deduced this was Esten. He looked unwell. His skin was sickly pale and grooves bracketed his mouth, as if he was in constant pain. Brydian leaned toward him, murmuring something, and he answered. I made myself look away.

‘You won’t see those strange folk in the infirmary,’ Scia said, keeping her voice down. ‘When they get hurt, Toleg goes out to tend to them in the yard. He’s not happy with the situation, but don’t tell him I said that. It’s not as if we don’t have a steady stream of our own fighters coming in with sprains and bruises and cuts.’

‘I understand.’

‘I’m not sure anyone could understand, really, until they’d seen it. But I’m pleased you’re here. Toleg will be, too, especially if you can work without supervision. I can’t always come and help him. My children are still small, and there’s other work to do.’

I asked her their names and ages; while she spoke of them, her face softening, I considered how appalling it would be to raise a family here, within the walls of Summerfort. Perhaps she and Brand sent them away during the Gathering. A child who witnessed such acts would surely be scarred forever. ‘Maybe, now I’m here, you can have more time with them,’ I said.

Her smile was rueful. ‘I doubt it, Ellida. This new venture – it’s testing us all hard. And once the court moves here, nobody gets a spare moment. But enough of that. Tell me about this new husband of yours. How did you meet?’

I did my best to be the blushing new bride, telling her the romantic and completely untrue story of how Morven and I had met, and how thrilled I was that Rohan Death-Blade had offered my husband the opportunity he’d longed for since he was a lad. Scia seemed happy to listen. It was a rarity, perhaps, for her to have another woman to talk to when the court was at Winterfort; here in the dining hall I could only see one other, and she was busy collecting platters. I talked about the clothes I had brought, and how I doubted they would be fine enough to wear once the king and queen arrived at Summerfort. Not that I would be seeing much of them, I supposed.

‘Well, no,’ Scia said. ‘You’ll be even busier when they get here, what with all the men filling the place up. By midsummer every troop of Enforcers will be in residence, and we’ll be run off our feet stitching up wounds and dispensing draughts. That’s not even to mention those folk out beyond the walls –’ She came to a sudden halt, looking up over my shoulder. Her face had turned white.

‘Idle talk, Scia.’ The voice was deep and soft. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. ‘And who is this? A new face? I did not know anyone was expected.’

I rose to my feet; turned to look up into the dark eyes of Brydian, the queen’s councillor, who had moved as silently as a wild cat stalking its prey. I could not read his expression, but his tone had alerted me. ‘I am Ellida from Glenfalloch, Master Brydian.’ I dropped my practised curtsy, hating myself. ‘I rode here with my husband, who has been accepted to train as an Enforcer. Rohan Death-Blade came with us from Winterfort.’ I paused to draw breath, and when he said nothing, simply went on examining me as if he did not believe a word, I added, ‘I am an experienced healer, my lord. Rohan believed there would be work for me here, as well as for my husband. Scia was just explaining the duties to me.’

‘I see.’ A long pause. ‘Then Scia must make sure she keeps to that. She and her husband have been in this household a long time. How many little ones is it now, Scia, three, four?’

‘Three, Master Brydian.’ Scia’s tone was uneven.

‘Ah, yes. I believe I’ve seen your son in the courtyard playing with a ball. So tender at that age, aren’t they? Fragile as spring flowers.’

Scia said nothing. I swallowed sudden rage. It had been a threat, clear as clear.

‘We have rules here,’ Brydian said, his cool gaze back on me. ‘Rules designed for the good of every member of the household. Start with this: no idle questions and no gossip. Of course, that may be a little difficult for women to adhere to.’ He gave a wintry smile which I did not return. ‘But we expect obedience. Complete obedience. I hope that is understood.’

I made myself speak courteously. ‘It’s understood, Master Brydian. Morven – my husband – and I are here to work. We know it’s a rare opportunity. We won’t give you any cause for concern, I promise.’

He smiled again. ‘Good, good. Make sure you don’t forget.’ He turned on his heel and was gone, back to his place beside the Caller. I would not ask Scia about him. I hardly dared ask her about anything, lest I put her and her family at risk.

We sat in silence, finishing our meal. Only after Brydian arose to leave did Scia murmur, ‘The winters are easier.’

‘Mm. Fewer people here?’ No Brydian. No king and queen. Only a half-troop of Enforcers, who, under the circumstances, would perhaps be somewhat more relaxed.

‘That’s right. Now, if you’re finished, I’ll show you the women’s quarters. Almost empty at present; you’ll have a choice of beds.’ Her manner was briskly cheerful, but her face was still pale.

As we went out, I looked across the hall and saw Brydian and the Caller leaving through another door. Brydian had a hand on Esten’s shoulder as if to steer him along. Flint had said Brydian was in the queen’s pocket. I had observed Queen Varda at the Gathering. I had seen how often the king turned to her for advice before making a choice; I had seen how often she chose the cruellest, the most repellent option. No wonder Esten looked like a man plagued by nightmares. A shiver of utter terror ran through me. Here, within the walls of Summerfort, I was only one step away from discovery. If Brydian guessed what I was, if anyone did, I could find myself in Esten’s position, a pawn in the queen’s perverse games. A tool for the king’s ambition. Before that could happen, I would use the hemlock I carried with me. Better no Caller than a Caller forced to the king’s will.

‘Feeling cold?’ Scia glanced at me as we walked along one of Summerfort’s many hallways. ‘I’ll see about getting you another shawl, maybe something more suitable to wear in the queen’s presence, later in the season. She likes a certain standard at supper. Your things are perfectly suitable, but she can be . . . fussy.’ And, when I made to protest, ‘It’s all right, we do have a few garments set by. Her ladies leave behind whatever they’re tired of; nobody seems to mind if we make use of those items. I may even find you a gown or two, though you’re very slight. Perhaps we can make some alterations.’