Kaelin nodded. 'My temper will be the death of me,' he said, with a rueful smile.
Rayster held out his hand. 'My thanks to you for aiding Call. How did you happen upon him?'
Kaelin shook the offered hand. 'I was travelling here and I heard shots from the woods. I thought it might be a Rigante hunting party, and, since I was coming here uninvited, I decided to join them, and explain that I needed to see Call Jace. When I climbed the trail I saw Call attack three men. He killed one with his pistol, stabbed another. Then his sword broke.'
'And you killed the other two.'
'Yes.'
'Those Emburleys are very fine. I have never fired one, but I have heard they are wondrously accurate.'
One of the women came down the stairs. Her hands were bloody. Kaelin and Rayster both stood. The woman was middle-aged, with iron grey hair and stern features. 'He is sleeping now,' she said. 'But I would feel more at ease if the Dweller could see him. The shots drove cloth from his shirt into the wounds. I have seen such injuries go bad before now.'
'I will send someone to Sorrow Bird,' said Rayster. 'Perhaps she is home now.'
The woman walked away towards the kitchen area. 'Where is Chara?' asked Kaelin.
'In the West Hills. She has been there for a month tending her grandmother. The old woman had a fall, and can no longer walk, or talk. Her body is paralysed down one side. She is dying, I think. Bael is there also. Sad for them, for they love her dearly.'
'She is Call's mother?' enquired Kaelin.
'No. She is the mother to Call's second wife, Layna, who died ten years ago in childbirth. She and the babe both. The Dweller was not here then either.'
'Who is this Dweller?'
Rayster shrugged. 'She is a Wicca woman and very mysterious. She has a hut near Sorrow Bird Lake, but some men think she dwells mostly in the shadow world where the Seidh still live. I don't know the truth of it. She is a great healer, though, and her spirit visions are strong.'
'We have someone in the south like that,' said Kaelin. 'She is called the Wyrd of the Wishing Tree woods.'
'Aye, Grymauch has spoken of her. Tomorrow I will travel to Sorrow Bird and see if she is there. Would you care to walk with me?'
'Yes, I would. Is it close to the West Hills?'
Rayster chuckled. 'She was very angry when she heard you had left. She may not have forgiven you.'
'I now have her father's blessing,' said Kaelin. 'You think it might sway her?'
Rayster shook his head. 'I have known Chara since she was a wee bairn. She has a temper like yours, Kaelin. But she is quick to forgive. You may, however, need to curb your tongue, for I don't doubt she will lay into you with mighty ferocity at first.'
Kaelin sighed. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.'
Although Chara Jace hoped that the Dweller would be at the lake it was not the only reason why she had travelled to Sorrow Bird. A month of tending her sick grandmother had exhausted her spirit, and the sense of freedom she felt as she walked the high country was beyond joy.
Rayga had been a vibrant woman, fiercely intelligent, swift to anger, and yet with a sense of humour which was often self-mocking. One moment she would rail at someone, the next collapse into a fit of laughter that was totally infectious. Chara had always enjoyed her company. The older woman had been a fount of wisdom, and someone Chara had always relied upon. Seeing her paralysed, incapable of speech, and mewling like a babe brought a pain into Chara's soul she could never have imagined. It led to feelings not only of sorrow, but also of anger that fate could deal so harshly with such a good woman. And there was guilt too, for sometimes Chara would find herself thinking that it would have been better if the stroke had killed the old woman. Then she would have been able to remember her as she had been.
Here, in the high hills overlooking Sorrow Bird Lake, the wind was fresh and cool, the air sweet as honey mead wine. Birds were singing, and the sunlight shone upon the blue waters of the lake. Chara sighed. From this high vantage point she could not see whether the Dweller's small boat was moored on the island, and she found herself reluctant to journey further. She was hoping that the Dweller could cast a spell and restore Rayga to health. Deep down she sensed that this hope would be dashed. Rayga was over eighty years old.
Chara sat on the hillside, remembering the day almost ten years ago when Rayga had first brought her to the lake. 'Why is it called Sorrow Bird?' the child Chara had asked.
'It is a long-ago tale,' said Rayga, 'of a time when the Seidh walked among humans. There was a tribe living in these mountains who turned against the ways of the gods. The tribe was led by a woman. She was tall and haughty, and filled with ambition. She sought to dominate the other tribes, by war, assassination, and duplicity. One day an old shaman called upon the Morrigu - a powerful goddess - for aid. The Morrigu brought a plague upon the woman's tribe. It killed everyone. Every man, woman, babe. All dead. Save for the queen herself. She walked among the dead, her ambitions in ashes. The Morrigu came to her there. "And now you must kill me," said the queen, "for my people are gone and my heart is broken." "No," said the Morrigu, "you will live on." And she changed the queen into an owl. For many years the queen-owl dwelt on the island. At nights her moaning could be heard for many miles. That is why it is called Sorrow Bird Lake.'
'That is very sad,' Chara had said.
'All actions have consequences, child,' Rayga told her.
'Is the owl-queen still there?'
'Perhaps. Or perhaps the Morrigu forgave her. I do not know.'
The two images of her grandmother merged in her mind, one bright and vibrant, with twinkling eyes and the sweetest of smiles, the other slack-jawed, spittle running down the twisted lips. Chara felt tears spill from her eyes, and she sat upon the hillside weeping.
It is so unfair, she thought, as the tears subsided. Why must life be so cruel? Had Rayga died when the stroke hit then all her loved ones would have remembered her as she was, bright and full of life and wisdom. Now all memories would be stained by the mewling, self-soiling creature she had become.
Chara wiped away the last of her tears, then stared down at her hands and arms, at the supple young skin. Rayga's hands were dry and covered with liver spots. Once they too had been young and flawless. Chara shivered as the thought came to her that one day her own granddaughter might be sitting at the bedside while Chara herself was drooling and near death. Pushing such images from her mind she gazed out over Sorrow Bird Lake, the bright, shining water and the distant sunlit mountains.
She saw movement down near the lakeside, two men emerging from the trees and walking down to the water line. In that instant her heart soared, for one of them was Kaelin Ring. Scrambling to her feet she began to run down the slope - then stopped. Anger flared. He had left the Rigante lands in a storm, not waiting to say goodbye, or to offer her comfort for the tragedy that had befallen her grandmother. Chara sat down again as the clash of emotions raged on. Every day for the last month she had thought of him, recalling their walk together and the kiss they shared as they stood on the high pass overlooking the valley. Every night before she slept his face appeared in her mind. She wanted to run down the slope and throw her arms around him. She wanted to run down the slope and slap his face.
I will go down, she thought. And I will be cool and distant. I will not let him know the hurt he did to me.
Having a plan helped to settle her mind and she rose again and strolled down towards the lake. As she came closer she saw that the Dweller's small boat was moored in the tiny bay on the island. Rayster and Kaelin were standing at the water's edge talking. Kaelin heard her approach and turned. She was pleased to see the joy on his face as he saw her.
Ignoring him she moved to Rayster, linking her arm through his. 'What brings you to the Dweller?' she asked.
He disengaged her arm, but held to her hand. 'Your father was wounded - not badly,' he added swiftly. 'He was attacked in the woods when he went to visit ... a friend.'
'I know about Magra,'
said Chara brightly, enjoying Rayster's embarrassment. 'What happened?' She cast a sideways glance at Kaelin, and saw that his initial joy had vanished and his face had darkened with anger. Good, she thought.
'Magra is dead. Murdered,' said Rayster. It took a moment for the words to register.
'They killed a woman?'
'Aye. Your father has a broken arm and a musket ball in his shoulder. He slew several of the killers. He would have been killed himself had Kaelin not rescued him.'
The words did not fully sink in. Chara was still horrified over the murder of Magra. 'Why would they kill her?' she asked. 'What harm has she ever caused?'
'Who can understand the hearts of evil men?' answered Rayster. 'How is your grandmother faring?'
'She is dying - slowly,' Chara told him, aware that Kaelin had walked away. For one dreadful moment Chara thought he would continue walking all the way back to the great house. But he paused close to a cluster of boulders and sat down. Rayster saw the concern in her eyes.
'He has come to apologize to you,' he said softly. 'If you care for him you had better consider some conciliatory move. He has great pride and if he walks away now I doubt he will come back.'
'I have pride too,' she snapped. 'I won't crawl to any man.'
'Then have the courtesy to thank him for saving your father's life,' he responded. Only then did she recall his earlier words. Kaelin Ring had rescued Call Jace.
Glancing to her left she saw that Kaelin had stood and was once more moving away. 'Kaelin,' she called out. He stopped and half turned. Chara approached him. 'I want to thank you for what you have done.'
'And now you have,' he said, his voice angry. 'So goodbye to you.'
'Is it goodbye that you want?' she countered. 'For if it is you can have it.'
'What right have you to be angry with me?' he asked her. 'I told you how I felt, and you walked away from me. You left me in your father's house without a word.'
'My grandmother was taken ill.'
'And that prevented you from leaving a message for me? I asked you to marry me. You left the room. That was it. You treated me with such disrespect and now you are angry?'
'She is coming!' Rayster called out. Chara and Kaelin glanced towards the water. A white-haired woman in a tattered robe was slowly paddling the boat towards the shoreline.
Kaelin moved past Chara and ran down to the water's edge, wading out to haul the small craft up onto the bank. Reaching out he lifted the Dweller clear of the boat. 'It is good to see you again, Wyrd,' he said. 'You gladden my heart.'
'In this land I am the Dweller on the Lake,' she said, 'but it is good to see you too, my dear. And you, Chara,' she added, as the red-haired girl approached them.
'What of me?' asked Rayster. 'Will no-one ever be pleased to see me?'
The Dweller smiled. 'Always, clansman. Come, let us sit in Shrine Hollow. It is a peaceful place, and it radiates harmony. I do not need angry thoughts around me.'
The white-haired woman led them up the short slope and into the trees. Chara followed her, Rayster and Kaelin bringing up the rear. The Dweller seated herself on a flat rock. 'Call Jace does not need me,' she said. 'His wounds will heal, though his left arm will ever be weak and his shoulder will pain him when the cold weather comes.' She glanced at Chara. 'Rayga died this morning, as you were walking the mountains. She slipped away peacefully, and she was not in pain. I was with her as she began her journey, and she sent you her love.'
Tears spilled to Chara's cheeks. 'Her life was good,' said the Dweller. 'She added to the magic of the land. By all means grieve at her passing, but know that only her body is dead. Her spirit has moved on, and will find great joy.'
She looked up at Kaelin. 'What would you ask of me, clansman?'
'How is Grymauch? Has he declared his love for Aunt Maev?'
'No. He will. I have seen it.'
'And will she wed him?'
'He will take her in his arms, and she will love him,' said the Wyrd. 'Now let us talk of you, Ravenheart, and of you, Flame on the Water. What is it you desire? Is it to rail at each other, scratch and claw?'
'No,' said Kaelin. Chara shook her head, but said nothing.
'Take each other by the hand,' ordered the Dweller. Chara and Kaelin glanced at one another, then Kaelin reached out. Chara put her hand in his. 'Life carries many perils, and much sadness,' said the Dweller. 'Against this we have only love to feed us on the journey. Do you love each other?'
For a moment there was silence, then Chara saw Kaelin relax, and felt his hand squeeze hers. He was about to speak when the Dweller interrupted. 'Do not tell me, Ravenheart. Tell her.'
Kaelin turned towards Chara. 'I love you,' he said.
'And I you,' she replied.
'Then you should Walk the Tree,' said the Dweller. 'But will you accept the advice I am ready to offer you, hard though it be?'
'I will accept,' said Chara. 'You are the wisest of us all.'
'And you, Ravenheart?'
'I will.'
'Then Walk the Tree, but not now. Wait for two years.'
'Two years?' said Kaelin. 'That is an eternity!'
'Only to the young,' answered the Dweller. 'I know that you burn for each other. The burning is a fine feeling, full of life and lust. But you will need more to carry you through the decades. You will need to be friends as well as lovers. You will need to trust one another, to understand one another. If, after two years, you still burn then that flame will last to the end of your lives. This is my advice. And now I must return to the island. I have much to do.'
Kaelin and Rayster eased the boat back into the water, and the three of them watched as the Dweller returned to the tiny bay, mooring her boat and walking into the trees without a backward glance.
Rayster watched Kaelin take Chara's hand and kiss it. The rangy highlander chuckled. ‘I’ll see you both back at the house,' he said. T'm beginning to feel like the third pigeon on the branch.'
With that he strolled away. Kaelin looked into Chara's eyes. 'Can you wait two whole years?' he asked.
'I don't want to,' she said. ‘I want to throw off my clothes and make love here on the earth.'
'As do I,' he said, reaching for her. Chara stepped back swiftly.
'The Dweller is never wrong, Kaelin. I want our flame to last all our lives. I want to live with you, and grow old with you. I want to love you till the stars die. If waiting two years will bring us this joy, then we should wait.'
'It is going to be a long, long two years,' he said.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ALTERITH SHADDLER SAT ON THE RICKETY BED IN HIS SMALL ROOM, watching the snow forming ridges on the leaded window. It was cold, his meagre store of fuel exhausted. A thick blanket was wrapped around his skinny shoulders. There had been low moments in Alterith's life, but none so bleak as this. He gazed around the room. Four bookshelves groaning under the weight of historical tomes, a chipped and ancient chest containing his spare clothes and the certificates and prizes he had won as a student. On top of the chest lay his white horsehair wig, threadbare now, the canvas lining showing through at the temples. The west wall was bare. The dripping water upon it gleamed in the pale light, as did the black mould staining the plaster above the floorboards. His was the highest room in the old boarding house, and directly below the cracked roof. His best frock coat had been ruined a year ago, when he had inadvertently left it on a chair against this wall. The summer rain had seeped in, carrying tars and muck from the roof felt, and when autumn came, and he needed the coat, he found it stained with a grey fungus that had eaten away at the fibres.
Alterith had always hated this room, yet now that he was about to lose it he found himself filled with despair.
The last year had been one of his best as a teacher. The conversation with Mulgrave regarding the great king Connavar had caused him to re-examine the histories. He had found many records that contradicted the official view. In the spring he had saved enough daens to subscribe to the Journal of Varlish Studi
es, published in Varingas, and had sent away for the back issues regarding the wars between Vars and Keltoi. Some of these had proved fascinating, especially a section on the battles of King Bane, which detailed the nature of Rigante society in the years after the death of Connavar. Alterith had discovered a new respect for the ancient people and their way of life. He had tried to impart this new respect in his teaching of the clan children. It had been most successful and rewarding, for truancy fell, and his classroom was always packed. His students endeavoured to complete their homework assignments, and there was little dissension during lessons.
The summer had been golden. At the end of the term his clan pupils had even given him a present - a small box of vanilla-flavoured boiled sweets purchased from Apothecary Ramus. Alterith had been touched by the gesture, though the first of the sweets had made his teeth ache and he had shared the rest with the class.
With his pupils more attentive he decided to teach more than history, reading and writing, and had included lessons on arithmetic and mathematics. To his surprise he found that some of his students were quick to grasp the concepts, and one in particular was exceptionally gifted. Arleban Achbain soon learned to work out complicated sums in his head.
It was still hard to believe that such a gift could prove to have such heartbreaking consequences.
Banny had worked hard, often staying behind after class to talk to Alterith about figures and their magic. Alterith's bleak mood lifted as he recalled Banny's fascination with the figure nine. 'It is a pure figure, and never diluted,' said Banny one day.
'In what way, Banny?'
'No matter how many other figures are used to multiply it the base figure always returns to nine,' the boy told him.
'Explain.'
'Well, sir, five times nine is forty-five. Four plus five equals nine. Sixteen nines equals a hundred and forty-four. One plus four plus four equals nine. All multiplication of nine returns to nine. Isn't it wonderful?'