The Ropemaker (39 page)

“We were dog tired, and we wanted to be off early, so we wolfed our supper and fell into bed. Selly got us up and we were all set to go as soon as it was light. Trouble was, Calico wouldn’t budge, no matter how much we yelled at her and kicked her ribs. She was home and she was staying home.

“Then I remembered this. The Ropemaker said I might need it, but I didn’t know what for, so I’d just put it away, but now I thought it might be a special sort of whip for telling a flying horse who’s master, so I took it out and gave a her a flick with it. That did the trick, and some!”

He twitched the tassel and each thread became a wriggling line of flame, brighter than the lamplight, flowing across the table without quite touching the surface. They withdrew the moment he twitched the tassel again.

“There’s a scorch on Calico’s right haunch,” said Tilja.

“Sorry about that,” said Tahl, his laugh belying the words. “I hadn’t got the hang of it, then. It does what I want, just because it’s me wanting it. Look.”

Another flick, and this time the fiery threads flowed out close together, like a loose-woven cord, which coiled around the pile of walnut husks Tilja had been constructing on her platter while she was listening to Da’s story. The husks burst into flame and burnt until they were ashes.

“Anyway it did the trick with Calico,” said Tahl, still laughing. “One squeal and she was up and away. I gave the thing another shake, trying not to touch her this time, just to tell her I’d still got it, but it did better than that. The fire threads shot out and round behind her, like a dog snapping at her heels, telling her she’d better behave. Could have done with that once or twice on our journey, right? She got it at once.

“She was really flying now, and Alnor wasn’t having any trouble making her go where he wanted, so I put the thing back under my jacket, but of course I was thinking about it, wondering what else it could do, when the fellow’s name clicked into my mind . . . Dorn. . . . You’d told us about him using his fire whip on the walls of Talagh, remember, Til, and again in the barn in Goloroth? That’s what it was. And that’s why the Ropemaker had given it to me—to use against the horse tribes in the fighting. So I told Alnor to steady Calico best he could and then hold on tight, and I leaned over and spotted a tree in a field and I took the whip and gave it a shake and said, ‘Burn that!’
Aaaah!
”

Tilja couldn’t see his face, but there was something in his voice, something in the wildness of his excitement, and in the long sigh of exhilaration at the end, that bothered her. And there’d been that curious pause as he had spoken Dorn’s name. Tilja remembered the Ropemaker’s words—
Bit
of stuff I got from
Dorn. Better keep an eye on him.

She rose, taking her plate, moved round the table and scraped the ashes into the trash bucket, then came quietly back and stood behind Tahl.

Anja had been falling asleep again, but the movement woke her.

“Go on,” she mumbled, still with her eyes half shut. “I’m listening. What’s happening?”

“This,” said Tahl, flicking ribbons of fire across the table toward her.

She screamed. Tahl flicked again, laughing wildly. Tilja leaned over his shoulder and closed her naked hand around the blazing source of the fire. There was the now-familiar quick shock of numbness, and when she opened her fist a twig and a handful of twisted grass stems tumbled onto the table.

“What did you want to do that for?” shouted Tahl, scrambling up and turning toward her. His face was taut with fury. She thought he was going to strike her. She grabbed his wrist and he went rigid. They stood like that for a moment while she channeled the quick sluice of magic through herself, realizing with relief that Dorn himself wasn’t in it. It was just leftover Dorn stuff, like a dead man’s clothing.

She let go of Tahl’s wrist and he slumped back into his chair and put his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and again, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop it.”

Only when he’d spoken did Tilja realize how intense the silence had been while the shadow of Dorn had come and gone through the kitchen. Now she could sense the others relaxing, and daring to breathe.

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “The Ropemaker told me it was a risk. But it was worth it, wasn’t it? If it hadn’t been for you, Da would be dead by now, and farms would be burning all across the Valley.”

“And that’s true,” said Da.

“You know what I’m thinking,” said Ma in a low voice. “Now that we’ve all seen a bit of real magic, we understand that we’re better off without it, here in the Valley. It belongs in the forest and the mountains. It has no place here, among us.”

“And that’s true too,” said Da.

“But what happened next?” said Anja. “What happened in the battle?”

Tahl raised his head and attempted a smile.

“Alnor’s turn,” he said.

“If you wish,” said Alnor, formal among near strangers. “There is not a great deal to tell. We landed twice at farms to ask where our people were gathered, and arrived around midmorning. We could see the fighting, and I spotted Dusty in the middle of it, so I didn’t wait. I had no trouble with Calico—she must have warhorse blood in her somewhere, I think. I just shook the reins and gave her a kick with my heels and she came swooping down and gave a great ringing neigh as we were going in. ‘Neigh’ is the wrong word. It was more like a cock crowing, a cock the size of an elephant.”

“That’s the roc,” said Tilja. “It did that when we were leaving Talagh.”

“I expect so,” said Alnor. “Anyway, there is more magic in old Calico now than just flying. Right through the din of the battle every horse must have heard her—one moment they were charging up the slope and the next they were all over the place, out of control.”

“That’s right,” said Da. “Dusty too. And till then the horsemen could’ve done almost anything they wanted with their ponies.”

“Then we were over them,” said Alnor. “And Tahl started to use his whip. Leaning over, I could see the fire ropes just licking the riders out of the saddles without even touching the animals. We went round a couple of times and then flew over and did the same on the far side, and harried them around for a bit, but there didn’t seem any point in going on with that once they were all crowding into the pass, so we came back to look for Solon and see how the battle had gone. He had hurt his arm—he didn’t tell you . . .”

“Kick from a horse,” muttered Da.

“So we talked with some of the war council and decided to fly up the pass and make sure the horsemen kept going. In fact we went right over onto the far side and burnt their tents, so they knew we could get at them there too, if we wanted. We’d have liked to come straight back to Woodbourne, but Calico had done a lot and we were tired too, so we spent the night at our camp, and then flew over the pass again this morning to check. We didn’t find a soul in sight in a day’s journey from the pass, so we turned round and came home. Anything else, Tahl?”

“The whip,” said Tahl in a low voice. “It wanted to burn the horses. I wouldn’t let it.”

“Sounds like you’re well shot of it,” said Meena. “Well now, I suppose you stay-at-homes are wanting to know what we’ve been up to since you saw us off on the raft. It’s mostly going to be Tahl and Tilja, for the first half, anyway, because it’s confusing for Alnor and me after what’s happened to us. And then there was a bit when the other three of us were asleep, and only Tilja knew what was going on. It’s going to take a while—there’s a lot of it to tell. You sure you’re up to it, Til?”

“We can wait till tomorrow,” said Ma.

“I can’t,” said Anja.

“Thing is, there’s something we’ve got to do, Alnor and me,” said Meena, “and it’s only going to be worse for us if we hang around. So we’d like to get this over, if Til’s not too tired.”

“I’m all right,” said Tilja.

In fact the story seemed to tell itself, just as it had when she’d told it to the Ropemaker. Perhaps it was easier for them to understand because they had all just seen a piece of true, dangerous magic doing its work in Ma’s kitchen, until Tilja’s touch had unmade it. Even Anja, when she next woke, asked almost no questions, but stared at Tilja with wide, amazed eyes, as if her sister had been as strange a creature as the great roc that had carried her to Talagh. It must have been midnight before she reached the point where Meena and Alnor had eaten their grapes on the southernmost tip of the Empire, and from then on they joined in the telling. Tahl too by now had recovered his spirits, so they could pass the tale round among the four of them. Clearing the table while one of the others was talking, Tilja noticed a glint of gold among the litter of grass stalks into which Dorn’s whip had disintegrated.
Yes, of course
, she thought.
For a piece of magic that
powerful.
She picked up the single strand of the Ropemaker’s hair and wound it carefully round the little finger of her left hand.

When it was over Da rose and stretched.

“Bed now,” he said. “Who’s sleeping in the attic?”

“Just Tahl,” said Meena. “Alnor and me are going out to the barn. And there’s no need to look like that, Selly—tales I could tell about when you were my age, and you always thought I didn’t know. Anyway, like I said, it isn’t that. There’s something we’ve laid on us to do, and we might as well get it over. Right, love?”

“It is decided,” said Alnor quietly. “It is for the Valley. Do you think we would not do otherwise if we had the choice?”

“And we’ll need the makings of a fire,” said Meena.

They had all heard the story. Only Anja didn’t understand what was happening. Somberly they helped pack rugs and firewood into two loads, but Meena and Alnor refused any help with carrying them out to the barn. Tilja was fighting with tears by the time they opened the door.

“Oh, cheer up, everyone,” said Meena, waving the lantern she was carrying to and fro like a dancer at the midwinter fire feast, and laughing as if she meant it. “Look at it this way. Suppose someone had come to us four months back and told us just you can be young again till you get home, d’you think we wouldn’t’ve jumped at the chance? This time we’ve been having, we wouldn’t’ve missed it for anything in the world! Right, love?”

She turned and staggered through the door under her load. Alnor paused in the doorway, smiled an odd, teasing smile, so that for a moment he looked just like Tahl, and followed her out into the darkness.

Tired though she was, Tilja woke from ancient habit when Da got up shortly before dawn to go and see to the animals. The little finger of her left hand was throbbing uncomfortably, and she realized that the Ropemaker’s hair must still be wound round it. Perhaps it was that that had told her so clearly in her sleep that there was something unfinished. As she slid out of bed her movement woke Anja, who, instead of snuggling complainingly back under the covers, sat straight up.

“Where are you going?”

“Shhh. Go back to sleep. There’s something I’ve got to do.”

“Magic?”

“Sort of.”

“I’m coming too. Please. I’ve got to be there.”

Tilja was on the point of telling her to lie down again when she realized that what Anja was saying might possibly be true.

“All right. Put some clothes on. We’re going outside.”

When she opened the door it was still dark, but the first gray light in the east outlined the roofs across the yard. Through the gap beside the barn she could see, close beneath the dark edge of the forest, a single orange spark, the glow of a fire. It was too bright to have been burning all night—the firewood Meena and Alnor had carried wouldn’t have lasted. Sighing, she took Anja’s hand and led her to the stables, where she left her by the door. Groping in the pitch black, she found a pannikin on the shelf, scooped it into the bin that contained the yellownut, carried it out and gave it to Anja, then led her up to the barn.

“Wait here,” she said, and again by touch went in and found and untied Calico’s tethers and led her out. She waited while Calico stretched and eased her wings with a tremendous rattle of plumes and then folded them along her flanks.

“Aren’t they beautiful!” said Anja.

“Yes, but I’m afraid I’ve got to take them away.”

“Oh, you mustn’t! I want to fly, too!”

“So do I, but it’s like Ma said. Magic doesn’t belong in the Valley, only in the forest and the mountains. If we let Calico keep her wings it will spoil everything. I don’t know how, but somehow or other it will, in the end. No more talking to the cedars, no more unicorns, no more Urlasdaughters at Woodbourne . . .”

“I suppose so.”

“All right. Now you give Calico the yellownut, a little at a time, just to keep her mind off what I’m doing. That’s right . . .”

As Calico nosed forward for the yellownut Tilja ran her bare hand along the spine of the great wing. For an instant she could feel the hardness of a bone as broad as her wrist beneath the silky plumage, then the flicker of numbness, and then just air. One golden feather wavered toward the ground. She picked it up, went round to the far side and picked up the other feather. That wing had already vanished with the first. She unwound the Ropemaker’s hair from her finger and rewound it round the quills of the feathers.

Calico was nuzzling into the pannikin for the last crumbs of yellownut. Realizing she’d had it all, she raised her head and gave her shoulders an irritable shake, then looked round, so obviously puzzled that Tilja laughed aloud.

“What’s that about?” said Anja.

“She’s wondering what happened to her wings. She knows something’s changed, but she can’t think what. These are for you.”

“Oh . . . what are they?”

“Let’s put her in her own stall and I’ll tell you there.”

They settled onto a pile of hay, close together, not just for warmth, but because they were long-parted sisters, with feelings for each other no one else could have, ever.

“Those are roc feathers,” said Tilja. “The roc gave them to me, so that the Ropemaker could use them to help me. He couldn’t have if I’d just found them, or stolen them somehow. That’s because a roc is a magical creature in its own right, like a unicorn, or the merman who towed us away from Faheel’s island. They aren’t made magic like the ring, or Dorn’s whip.