Thorn Boy and Other Dreams of Dark Desire (14 page)

‘
No,’
her brother replied, looking up and turning to face the hills
behind which the sun was still sinking in a blaze of rich colours.
‘It comes from that way, I think.’ He pointed.

‘
Then it
is probably just our father coming home from Ashbrilim,’ Amberina
said. ‘Perhaps he will be drunk again and have lost all the money
he earned in the city.’ They both looked at the huge, solid walls
of the mill-house rising from the river upstream; as if fearful it
might crumble to dust in an instant.

Jadrin sighed
again. ‘No, I don’t think it is that either.’

‘
You are
growing old, my brother!’ Amberina sang and jumped up to dance in
the pale owl-light, looking almost like the ghost of her mother;
all floating white linen and midnight hair.

Jadrin smiled
at her wistfully, but he could not share her joy. He gazed deep
into the trees across the river, but could find no comfort in them
either. After a moment, he stood up. ‘I think I shall go back to
the house,’ he said.

His sister
looked surprised. She held out her hand. ‘Won’t you come to the
deepest, darkest glade with me?’ she asked. ‘The white deer gather
there tonight. Perhaps they shall speak our fortunes.’

Jadrin could
not tell his sister that he was no longer sure he wanted to hear
his fortune, although it had been their custom to go to this place
every year on his birthday. Once the deer had intimated where to
find an egg-shaped quartz of power under the bank of the river.
Sometimes, when the children gazed into it, they could see the
lights of the city glowing within, the tall towers of Ashbrilim and
the white road that led to it.

Now Jadrin
shook his head and put up his hand in negation. ‘I have to think,’
he said and walked away from Amberina, soon lost in the
half-light.

As he was
climbing the bank up to the house, it happened that his father’s
valet, Tufkin, came down the path towards him. ‘Be quick, master
Jadrin,’ he said, ‘your father has sent me to find you.’

‘
Is all
well at the house?’ Jadrin enquired, noting the servant’s worried
mien. Perhaps Amberina hadn’t been far from the truth in her
conjecture about their father’s financial affairs.

‘
The
house still stands, aye!’ Tufkin replied dryly, jerking his head
towards the thick, grey walls. ‘Come along.’

Jadrin
followed him.

If he supposed
to find his father still reeling, red-eyed from the effects of last
night’s drinking, Jadrin was wrong. Skimblaze the miller stood
sober and erect, leaning against the stout wooden table in the
kitchen of the mill-house. Jadrin noticed immediately the
suppression of a cunning glance steal across his father’s face. All
was not well. He waited for Skimblaze to speak. The miller made
several anguished noises, before turning his back on his son and
saying, ‘The time has come, Jadrin, for you to go to the city.’

Cool as mint,
the boy replied, ‘The time has come? I had no idea it would ever be
due!’

‘
Come,
come, you are nearly a man, Jadrin. What kind of education is it
for you paddling about in the river and having only a little girl
for a companion?’

‘
But why
haven’t you told me of this before?’ Jadrin sat down. In his heart,
he could feel a shred of guilt, a shred of deception, winging its
way about the room like a baleful spirit. He had no desire at all
to leave the riverside, the forest, or his sister, his only
friend.

Skimblaze
cleared his throat.’ You need to learn more about life, my lad. One
day all this will be passed onto you and I want to give it to a
whole person, not some half-fairy changeling! You need your feet
bringing down to earth.’

‘
You
can’t make me go!’ Jadrin cried. He had never spoken out against
his father before. ‘I will hate it!’

‘
You’re
going, my boy! You’re going! Tomorrow, and that’s an end to
it!’

‘
Tomorrow?’ Jadrin murmured in bewilderment. ‘Is Amberina to
accompany me?’ He asked this without much hope.

Skimblaze cast
a quick, furtive glance over his shoulder. ‘No. Amberina is too
young. Come now, don’t give me that face. You will learn to enjoy
it. All travel is good for the soul. Run along now, you’d better
start packing your things.’ Skimblaze faced the window once more,
looking out at the gently sloping bank. Perhaps he could see a
faint suggestion of his lovely daughter down there, dancing lightly
through the dusk, her mind far from cities and partings. Still
Skimblaze could not fully face his son.

‘
Where
am I to go?’ the boy asked, in a small, husky voice.

‘
To the
court. I’ve secured a place for you there. You’re from a good
family. Do you think I’d let you go if it was to anywhere
else?’

‘
Have
you been arranging this these last few days?’

There was a
moment’s silence. ‘Yes,’ Skimblaze said.

Jadrin climbed
the curling, creaking stairs to the room he called his own. At the
summit of the house, it had the smallest windows, all of ruby
glass. It also felt near to the heart of the mill. Lying in bed at
night, Jadrin could sense the great wooden machinery, turning,
turning. The wall nearest to it, where he kept his bed, was always
warm. Jadrin opened the window and gazed mournfully out over his
beloved countryside. Half-heartedly, he threw a few belongings into
a bag and then sat down on his bed, head in hands. He had no idea
why his father should suddenly force such a thing on him, but he
couldn’t help suspecting the reason behind it might be connected
with Skimblaze’s weaknesses for good liquor and gambling for high
stakes. He felt uncharitable thinking that, but the idea would not
leave him. Jadrin shuddered. He was inexperienced and young, but as
he watched the rising moon appear in the velvet sky beyond his
window, as the wood cooled and creaked in the late evening, you
could see, by looking at his eyes, that Jadrin would not be totally
helpless out there in the unknown world.

In the
morning, accompanied by Tufkin, Jadrin bid a mournful farewell to
Amberina. As he leaned down from his horse, she placed a garland of
woodland flowers about his neck, and offered him a velvet bag.
‘Here is half of the quartz we found,’ said she. ‘I have the other.
Guard it well, my brother, for it may help you in the world.’

Jadrin smiled
and kissed the top of her dark head, already feeling a hundred
years older than she. Then he lifted his horse’s head with a swift
command and glanced coldly at the mill-house door before cantering
quickly off towards the west, Tufkin behind him.

In the doorway
to the mill, Skimblaze drained the glass he held, grimaced, went
back into the house and slammed the door behind him.

Amberina
looked in at the kitchen window ‘Why are you doing this father?’
she asked.

Skimblaze sat
upright in his chair, reached across the table for another mug of
wine. ‘You have magic, both of you,’ he said, as if in explanation.
‘Skills beyond the mortal man. I’m right. I know I’m right...’

Amberina shut
the window without another word and went down to the river-pool. In
the still, morning water, she could see an image of Jadrin riding
towards Ashbrilim, his head held high like a prince.

The palace of
the king stood upon a high hill at the heart of Ashbrilim. Jadrin
and Tufkin rode right up to the palace gate, which were three times
the height of a man, where Tufkin presented the letter he carried
from Skimblaze. Eyeing Jadrin stonily, the guards let them pass
through. Rarely having left his country home, Jadrin was amazed by
the sights he beheld. Such opulence! The noise overwhelmed him, the
bustle, the smells. He caught sight of willowy figures in splendid
clothes leaning over balconies above the yard they crossed. One or
two fingers pointed; he heard a stifled laugh. It was late
afternoon and the walls of all the courtyards were afire with
blooming vines beginning to release their heady, evening scent into
the air. Tufkin paused to ask directions and dogs ran between the
horses’ legs as they found their way into the stableyard. Jadrin
looked around, wide-eyed, studying all the day’s-end tasks being
completed in noisy joviality by the well-fed servants of the
king.

A tall, gaunt
man in dark, voluminous clothes ducked away from a forkful of
yellow hay carelessly held aloft by a passing stable-boy, waving
away the almost disrespectfully cheerful apology. Jadrin realised
the gaunt man was heading in their direction.

‘
You are
the miller’s people?’ the man asked and with a nod, Tufkin handed
him Skimblaze’s letter. The man smiled. ‘Ah yes,’ he said, looking
up at Jadrin. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Galbion Floom,
King Ashalan’s secretary.’

Jadrin
responded politely. He and Tufkin dismounted and their horses were
led away to the stables. ‘Now, boy, if you would follow me please,’
Floom instructed, indicating the way with his hand. Jadrin looked
around. Tufkin was hanging back.

‘
Am I to
go alone?’ Jadrin asked.

‘
It is
not my place to follow,’ Tufkin replied edgily, stepping backwards.
‘I’ll just take a tankard of ale in the servants’
quarters.’

Shrugging,
Jadrin curled his hand more tightly around the velvet bag that hung
from his neck on a cord, and followed the gaunt man through a dark
doorway. In silence they began to climb a winding staircase. They
climbed and climbed. Soon, it seemed, the bustle of the courtyard
was left far behind and they had entered a sleeping, ensorcelled
place, deep in the core of the palace. Jadrin’s guide did not
speak. They walked down long, dusty corridors, silent, but lit by
bars of golden evening sunlight, fighting its way through dusty
glass. More stairs.

‘
Is it
much farther, sir?’ Jadrin asked, wondering what desolate spot a
miller’s son (no matter how affluent) would be given in the palace
of a king.

‘
No, my
boy. We are here.’

Before them
was an ancient, iron-studded door. Galbion Floom struggled with the
heavy metal latch.

No one has
come here for a while, Jadrin thought with a not altogether
unpleasant thrill of dread.

Floom had
managed to open the door and was now fastidiously wiping his hands
on a large handkerchief. Without a word, Jadrin walked past him and
into the room beyond. He dropped his bag onto the floor and dust
lazily raised itself and eddied round his feet. He was in a
high-ceilinged chamber, a gloomy place. The sole window was narrow
and far above Jadrin’s head. Only a little of the evening sunlight
came down onto the wooden floor, having to fight through shrouds of
cobwebs and dust. ‘Well!’ Jadrin said, half amused, half aghast. In
the shadows, he could see a mean, narrow bed, a washstand and, of
all things, a spinning-wheel. Whatever else the room might contain
was hidden in the darkest corners, except for several neatly twined
bales of straw, which had been placed just inside the door. Jadrin
looked at these askance and said, ‘Well!’ again. Was this some kind
of joke? Was he expected to bed down in straw like an animal?

‘
Am I to
live here?’ Jadrin asked, unable to hide the dismay from his
voice.

‘
For the
time being.’

Jadrin shook
his head. Dismay gave way to anger. Surely he could not be treated
like this. His father’s animals lived in stables more comfortable
and cleaner than this.

‘
And are
all your guests accommodated in rooms of this type?’ he couldn’t
help asking.

There was a
moment’s pause before Floom said, ‘You do know why you are here, of
course?’

Jadrin looked
at him blankly. ‘I don’t believe I do.’

‘
You are
Jadrin, the miller Skimblaze’s son?’

‘
Yes.’

Floom stroked
his chin. ‘And you are, as he claimed, something of a... wonder
worker?’

‘
What do
you mean?’

‘
A
magician,’ the man said irritably. ‘That was the terms, I
think.’

‘
Terms?
Magician? I think you’d better explain.’ Jadrin, on the whole, was
a stranger to anger. Now his indignation was tinged with
fear.

The
gaunt man bowed, stiffly, smiling widely. ‘Oh, forgive me!’ he
exclaimed. ‘It was understood your father would have explained all
this to you; the
circumstances
of your being here.’

Jadrin
remained silent, numb with the horror of betrayal.

‘
Obviously not,’ Floom continued with a sigh. He stepped over
the threshold and pushed the door to a little. ‘Several nights ago,
your father was involved in a... little wager. He played the king
in a game of dice, making outrageous claims concerning his luck,
which sadly for him, proved to be unfounded. The stakes were high.
King Ashalan does not play for trinkets.Debts were incurred and
subsequently, agreements reached. Your father lost everything, even
the mill itself. But Ashalan is not a harsh man. They came to an
arrangement between them. The agreement was that you should come to
Ashbrilim to meet your father’s debts.’

‘
He was
drunk,’ Jadrin said bitterly.

Floom
shrugged. ‘Wine had flowed, I believe. Don’t look so forlorn, boy.I
must say, the first thing your father said about you is true; you
are one of the loveliest creatures on God’s earth. The other, well,
that remains to be seen doesn’t it!’

‘
What do
you mean?’ Jadrin cried. ‘What else did he say?’

‘
No idea
at all, my lad?’