The Shining City (28 page)

Lewen bowed to the Keybearer, and she came past him quickly, not even noticing him. It was clear she was very distressed. She reached out her hands to Iseult, who stepped forward quickly to meet her. Standing together, face to face, their likeness was startling, even though one was so contained, and the other disheveled and upset.

“What‟s wrong?” Iseult demanded. “Olwynne?”

“Ye ken she walked the dream-road last night with Ghislaine?”

Iseult jerked her head in acknowledgment.

“They traveled too far, perhaps . . . or what they saw was too . . . I dinna ken. It‟s hit them hard, though, both o‟ them.”

“She‟s all right, though?” Lachlan demanded. “She‟s no‟—”

“Nay, nay. She‟ll be fine . . . in a week or so. It‟s just sorcery sickness. I‟ve had it myself, from doing too much too soon.”

You-hooh fool-hooh too-hooh
, Buba hooted.

“Ye said she was ready! Ye said she was strong enough!” Iseult cried.

“I‟m sorry. I thought . . . Ghislaine was walking the dream-road with her, and ye ken how strong she is . . . but Ghislaine is sick too. I‟ve never kent Ghislaine to succumb to sorcery sickness.”

Iseult moved towards the door. “I must go to her.”

Isabeau stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait! There‟s naught ye can do for her now. . . .

She‟s sleeping. She needs to be kept very quiet. Any noise or sudden movement . . . and I need to tell ye about the dream.”

At the tone in her voice both Iseult and Lachlan stared at her in sudden alarm. Then Iseult turned to Owein, who was containing himself only with great difficulty.

“Would ye be so good as to order us some fresh tea?” she asked with immense composure.

Owein was distressed. “But Mama! Olwynne! Canna I—”

“Ye heard your aunt. Olwynne needs to be kept quiet. And your father and I need to hear Isabeau‟s news. We may as well be comfortable. Will ye ask Roy to send for more tea?”

“O‟ course. But, Mam, please, canna I go . . .?”

She shook her head, though her face softened. “Nay, dearling. No‟ without Isabeau‟s clearance. I ken how anxious ye must be about your sister but we canna risk hurting her by rushing in on her.” She turned back to Isabeau. “Can the lads stay and hear the news, Beau, or would it be better if they left?”

Isabeau hesitated. “I‟m no‟ sure. . . .”

Owein fired up quickly. “We‟re no‟ lads anymore! Olwynne‟s my twin. I want to ken aught that concerns her. Please! Dinna send us away like bairns. I want to ken what‟s going on.”

Still Isabeau hesitated; then she nodded her head, saying, “Very well. It concerns ye both, I suppose. Ye canna talk about it to anyone else, though. Ye do understand that?”

“O‟ course,” Owein said, insulted.

Lewen nodded. The muscles under his chest had tightened into such a tight band of fear it was all he could do to take a breath. He had barely spoken to Olwynne since she had betrayed his trust; he never would have thought she could be so disloyal. Lewen knew, though, how very dangerous sorcery sickness could be. At worst, a young witch could die, or be reduced to a gibbering idiot, or have her powers burned out and cauterized. The idea of Olwynne in such danger made his hurt and anger evaporate, leaving only sudden sharp concern.

“Ye ken Olwynne has been having nightmares? Every night, since the spring equinox?” Isabeau sank down on one of the gilt couches. “I have been worried indeed about her, for dreams so vivid, so overpowering . . . well, often they mean naught but ill for the dreamer.”

Iseult sat down beside her and put her hands over Isabeau‟s. The touch helped calm her. She took a deep breath and went on more steadily.

“I have been sleeping badly too. Faces and voices and deeds from the past have come back to haunt me, long after I thought I had laid those ghosts to rest. I‟ve woken weeping more than once, or woken unable to breathe, as if a dark thing crouched upon my chest, its hands about my throat. . . . I feared a psychic attack and cast circles o‟ protection about my bed, and the dreams lessened. But still I have slept badly.”

Gloom-hooh
, Buba said miserably, her ear tufts sinking.

“I have no‟ been sleeping well either,” the Banrìgh said, glancing at her husband, who was still standing, his hands bunched into fists. “Though I dinna ken why. I canna remember much about the dreams. I dreamed Lachlan was cursed again, lying in that unnatural sleep, and I was unable to wake him. That was distressing. And I dreamed Donncan was lost to me too. I was no‟

remembering the time when he was kidnapped by Margrit o‟ Arran . . . at least, I do no‟ think so.

It was Donncan as he is now, Donncan as a young man. I thought they were just dreams—” She stopped and said no more, never comfortable about revealing her innermost feelings.

Isabeau ran her hands through her hair, causing her curls to spring out even more wildly. “Aye, I ken. I should‟ve thought to ask if ye were dreaming too. It did no‟ occur to me that . . .” She paused and took a deep breath, looking around with eyes that were bluer than ever against their reddened rims. “I didna realize the dreams were more than just dreams. I‟ve been so busy . . . so preoccupied . . .”

“Me too,” Iseult said.

“So what does all this mean?” Lachlan demanded impatiently. His black wings were raised high and lifted back, as if ready for flight. Lewen knew that this was a sign of anxiety or anger in Lachlan, as if those six years trapped in the body of a blackbird had somehow entered the Rìgh‟s blood and given him the instincts of a bird. Owein stood in the same poised stance, balancing on the balls of his feet, his firebird wings slightly spread. Despite the difference in stature and coloring, he looked very like his father. He had forgotten his mother‟s command, all his attention focused on the conversation between his mother and aunt.

So Lewen moved softly across to the door and opened it, asking the guard outside to send someone for more tea and some fresh dancey and to ask Roy to cancel the Rìgh‟s and Banrìgh‟s first meeting of the day. He knew the two guards but they barely acknowledged him, Ferrand the Grey jerking his head and setting off to find Roy, and Mathias Bright-Eyed, so named because of his vivid blue eyes, staring straight ahead as if Lewen did not exist. This was not the first time Lewen had been snubbed by the Rìgh‟s bodyguards since he had returned to Ravenshaw, but it hurt all the more because Mat was generally good-natured and friendly.

When he stepped back into the sitting room, Isabeau was speaking again.

“I have tried to walk the dream-road. Ye ken it is no‟ my Talent, though I have walked it afore.

But now all the doors stayed closed for me. Ghislaine said this may mean it is no‟ my dream, that I am . . .
hearing
Olwynne‟s dream. Or else someone has closed the doors against me. I didna think this was possible. Who is there strong enough?” She spoke with neither false modesty nor arrogance, and both Iseult and Lachlan nodded, frowning, accepting the truth of her words.

“So I thought it best if Ghislaine and Olwynne walked the dream-road together. I‟m sorry if I was wrong. . . . I swear it‟ll do no harm in the long run. Sorcery sickness is dangerous—there‟s no doubt about that. But I‟ve seen witches struck much harder and recover their wits in the end—

”

“What did she dream?” Iseult‟s voice cut through Isabeau‟s like a knife. Isabeau stopped,

flushing suddenly and biting her lip.

“Sorry,” she said. “I just feel terrible about it. What did she dream? I canna tell ye all o‟ it. She was no‟ very coherent, and Ghislaine no‟ much better. She dreamed o‟ a raven again, though—”

“A raven?” Lewen said sharply, startled out of his role as squire.

Isabeau glanced at him. “Aye, a raven. A messenger in dreams, no‟ always o‟ bad news.

Olwynne saw it as a bad omen, though, a portent o‟ death.”

Gloom-hooh
, the owl said again, solemnly.

“Something to do with the laird o‟ Fettercairn?” Lewen said, quite forgetting he was addressing his Rìgh and Banrìgh and the Keybearer of the Coven.

They did not seem to mind his lack of courtesy.

“Perhaps,” Isabeau said. “Though Olwynne kens naught about the laird o‟ Fettercairn. Certainly no‟ that he carries a tame raven on his shoulder.”

“A raven,” Lachlan said pensively. “That jogs a memory, a very faint memory.”

“Ye think o‟ Jorge and his familiar,” Isabeau said, her expressive mouth twisting in sorrow.

Lachlan shook his head. “Nay. Something to do with a raven and Fettercairn Castle . . . Nay, I canna remember.”

“The laird told us a story about ravens while we were there,” Lewen said. As everyone turned to look at him, he gulped and rubbed his damp hands down his breeches.

“Go on, lad,” Lachlan said impatiently. “What story?”

Lewen, trying not to fidget, went on. “About how his ancestor saved Brann‟s raven from being killed by gravenings, Your Majesty. He drove them away with stones, and Brann had the stones gathered together into a cairn and ordered a castle to be built there, to guard the pass up to the Tower o‟ Ravens. He said as long as ravens lived at Fettercairn, the tower would never fall. But it did, o‟ course, on the Day o‟ Betrayal.”

“The tower did no‟ fall, just the witches who lived there,” Isabeau said. “O‟ all the Thirteen Towers, it is the one least damaged. If it was no‟ so cruelly haunted by the ghosts o‟ all who died there, we would have tried to reestablish it. Nobody wants to go there, though. The stories are too frightening. So we‟ve concentrated on rebuilding other towers. One day, happen, witches will live there again.”

Lachlan had listened to Lewen‟s tale with close attention, but now he said decisively, “I had no‟

heard that tale afore. It‟s interesting, but it‟s no‟ what‟s teasing my memory. Go on, Isabeau.

Olwynne must‟ve dreamed more than a raven for ye to look so grave.”

Isabeau nodded. “O‟ course.” She took a deep breath. “Olwynne dreamed o‟ your death,

Lachlan. She dreamed ye were murdered.”

Who-Hooh?

I
seult jerked upright, the blood draining from her face. Owein gave an inarticulate cry, and the owl hooted miserably. Lewen felt as if he had been punched just below his breastbone.

Lachlan stared at Isabeau. “I see,” he said. “So am I to believe I‟m soon to die?” Isabeau shrugged, her mouth twisting. Lachlan sat down heavily.

“Isabeau, is it no‟ true that one canna see the future for sure, that it‟s only ever future possibilities that one sees?” Iseult demanded.

Isabeau nodded. “Aye, Iseult, the future is no‟ fixed. The smallest thing can change it.”

As Iseult nodded and relaxed a little in relief, Isabeau continued, “However, I do no‟ think we can just dismiss this dream out o‟ hand. I think Olwynne has a strong Talent, and dreams o‟

foretelling often presage an event that is very hard to avert.”

There was a moment‟s silence.

“So what exactly did she dream?” Lachlan asked.

Isabeau hesitated. “I dinna ken. Olwynne fainted soon after her awakening. Ghislaine has collapsed too. All they managed to tell me was that ye were in danger, that ye must beware. They said someone wants to kill ye.”

“Who?” Iseult asked sharply.

Who-hooh?
Buba echoed, swiveling her head around so she could look at each of them in turn.
Who-hooh?

“She dinna ken. A woman. Ghislaine felt she should ken them; she got quite distressed about it.

She said something odd. . . .” Isabeau paused.

“What?” Lachlan asked impatiently.

“She said it was two women in one.”

There was a long pause.

“Twins?” Iseult said.

“But surely then it would be two people
as like as
one? Or even one person in two,” Isabeau answered. “Besides, Ghislaine kens many twins. She can hardly help it, the way our family keeps popping them out. I dinna think she would describe them that way.”

“Two people in one,” Lachlan said thoughtfully. “Maybe . . . a pregnant woman?”

“Maybe,” Isabeau said. “I canna tell. We must wait for Ghislaine to wake and tell us what she means. My fear is that she will have forgotten most o‟ the dream by then. Ye all ken how hard it is to remember a dream once ye are awake. Dream-walkers normally try to record their dreams as soon as they can, to capture as many details as possible.”

“When do ye think she will wake?” Lachlan asked.

Isabeau sighed and shrugged. The owl blinked its eyes sleepily and rotated its head around to stare at him. Lachlan looked away uneasily, rubbing at his beard.

“But surely, now that we ken . . . I mean, there must be something we can do!” Iseult‟s voice shook, and she crushed the pristine linen of her skirt between her hands.

Lewen had never seen the Banrìgh so distressed. He had thought her incapable of strong emotion, yet here she was with unshed tears glittering in her eyes and her skin blanched of all color.

“O‟ course there is,” Lachlan said, touching her gently on the arm. “Forewarned is forearmed, is that no‟ so, Isabeau?”

Isabeau clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Happen so,” she answered. “I must admit I‟m worried, though. I think we must double your guard and do what we can to root out any