For a long moment Tinagen paused and simply sat there, pinning her down with that penetrating stare, until she had to use every scrap of willpower she possessed to keep herself from writhing and fidgeting beneath his gaze. Finally he spoke again. ‘And how do you feel about Healing now, after what happened yesterday?’
The tiny spark of hope that had been smouldering within her suddenly blazed up bright and strong. ‘I – I feel different. Oh, sir, I know I made a mess of things. I know I acted stupidly and rashly, but that feeling of being able to bring someone back from the brink – it felt so wonderful, so right. I don’t think I’m afraid any more. I do want to be a Healer, sir, more than anything. Please, please let me stay. I’ll work so hard, and I promise I’ll never be rude and insubordinate again . . .’
‘Don’t make promises unless you’re sure you can keep them.’ Tinagen frowned. ‘Because frankly, Brynne, your attitude has been regrettable from the outset. What came over you yesterday, to act so appallingly towards senior members of this Luen? And in front of a patient? I warn you, girl; such behaviour will not be tolerated here.’
‘Sir, I’m so ashamed of that outburst.’ Chiannala was beginning to be sickened by this humble, penitent role that she was playing, but she was determined to stick it out, to see it through in the hope that he would let her stay. Everything, her whole future, depended on it; furthermore she was desperate to explore that powerful, strange connection between herself and the mysterious Incondor.
‘That still doesn’t explain why,’ Tinagen said impatiently. ‘Is there any possible way you can justify such behaviour?’
Oh for goodness’ sake just tell me whether I’m to stay or go, and be done with it.
It was getting harder for Chiannala to curb her thoughts, but she was careful not to let even a flicker of her impatience show on her face. ‘You see, when you and the other Healers brought me back, I was just so shaken by what had happened.’ She’d had all night to work out this part of her story. ‘I had almost died, Incondor had almost died but he’d been saved. But you were all so angry, and I was angry with myself, and so embarrassed because I’d done such a foolish thing that it just – exploded out of me.’
She tried the lowered eyes again. ‘I’m so dreadfully ashamed. My parents brought me up better than to act that way. It’s not like me, sir, I swear.’
Again that strange expression, part irritation, part resignation, passed across Tinagen’s face. He sat back in his chair. ‘Very well, Brynne. It appears that you’re truly penitent, and you certainly show some potential as a Healer, so this is what we’re going to do. You can stay at the Academy and remain with the Luen of Healers, but you must consider yourself on probation. Any more irresponsible acts, any further outbursts of temper like the one we suffered yesterday, and you will be out – of both Luen and Academy – before you can blink. From now on you will be respectful to your seniors, and that means every single Healer in this place. You will be obedient, and you will work harder than you could ever have dreamed possible. Is this all quite clear to you?’
‘Yes, sir – oh, yes! Oh, thank you, sir.’
You old blowhard.
‘I’m so grateful for this chance. I’ll work hard and be respectful, truly I will. I promise I won’t give you any cause to regret letting me stay.’
‘See that you don’t.’ For an instant that stony look was back in his eyes, but Chiannala didn’t care. She was so glad to be free of that dreadful suspense, so relieved that her future was secure after all, that it left her weak and shaking. But Tinagen had not yet done with dispensing good news. ‘Now, Brynne,’ he went on, ‘one of the chief reasons I’m letting you stay is that yesterday you really did help our patient. So for the next few weeks I’m suspending your usual student schedule and placing you with Incondor’s team of Healers – in a very junior, minor capacity, of course. He is not yet out of danger, and will need a considerable amount of complex, difficult work to piece his damaged body back together, so you should learn a great deal in the days to come. If, after that, you still want to be a Healer, and if your superiors are pleased with you, then you may remain with us. It will be up to you.’
‘Oh, thank—’ Chiannala began, but he silenced her with a brusque wave of his hand. ‘Frankly, it’s more than you deserve. See that you prove yourself worthy.’ He got to his feet. ‘That will be all. Report to Tameron in Incondor’s chamber. You may as well begin at once.’
Chiannala fled, her heart singing. Once she was safely out of the room she found herself alone in the empty corridor, and just for an instant, she let the gloating triumph show in her face. Safe! Against all the odds she had had fooled that horrible old misery Tinagen, who thought he was so clever. She had another chance and she wasn’t going to waste it. Not she. She sped off down the corridor on flying feet, heading for Incondor’s chamber.
23
~
PARIAHS
Valior’s fishing boat Venturer bounded through the choppy waves with her white sails straining and her bows plunging into the blue-green water, sending up plumes of white spray on either side. Brynne stood in the bows, balancing on the slanting deck and holding tightly to the rail.
‘One hand for the ship and one for yourself; that’s what they say,’ Valior had told her, ‘but fishermen usually need both hands for the ship. In your case though, Brynne, you’d better stick to both hands for yourself just now.’
She would soon learn, Brynne assured herself. With a little practice she’d be able to balance on the shifting deck as well as Derwyn and Seema. Then she would be a sailor too. The notion filled her with delight. She would be able to work and help, making a real contribution to this family who had been so kind as to shelter a mysterious, destitute girl who had lost her memory.
As always, her mind shied away from the great blank obstacle in her mind, and the fear that snarled and scrabbled behind it. Increasingly, she was pushing away all thoughts of her past as she throve and blossomed in the present.
Oh, how she loved the sea! The vast open spaces and glorious skies: sunset, sunrise and the star-scattered velvet darkness. The shadowy green depths and the lively sparkles of sunlight on the surface. The white gulls flashing overhead, the shrill song of the wind in the rigging and the rhythmic surge of the waves, like the beating of a giant heart. The giddy, joyous swoop and lift of the deck beneath her feet, the air moving like cool silk against her skin, and the fresh, salt tang in the air. This was where she belonged now. After only a few short days, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
Brynne glanced back at Valior, standing in his usual place at the helm, so steady, solid and kind; at dark-haired Derwyn and tall, rangy Seema, who were already teasing her as if she were their little sister, as they trimmed the sails. The motherly, comforting Osella would be waiting when the vessel pulled alongside the little wooden dock at home; waving, smiling, looking forward to hearing what the catch had been like, and how Brynne’s first fishing trip had gone.
Sure enough, after the Venturer had dropped off her catch and they had made their way back to Freedom Cove and the fishing settlement called Independence, Osella was standing on the small wooden dock that was Valior’s home mooring, at the very edge of the village. She was waving, her dark green cloak flapping in the gusting wind that had tugged floating strands of her hair loose from its untidy knot, but she was not smiling. As the Venturer swung alongside the jetty and Derwyn and Seema leapt ashore with the bow and stern warps to moor the boat, Brynne looked at Osella’s grave expression and felt a clutch of alarm.
What had happened? Had Brynne’s real family been found? Had some mishap befallen them? The girl whose hostile face still haunted her nightmares, the one who, Brynne was sure, must have pushed her off the cliff – had she turned up to finish what she had started? But as Valior jumped across to meet his sister, and the wind blew snatches of Osella’s words across into the boat, Brynne blushed to realise that this problem, whatever it might be, had absolutely nothing to with he
r.
‘. . . a whole bunch of them . . .’
‘. . . filthy, dressed in rags . . .’
‘. . . out of the north . . .’
‘. . . stuff going missing all through the village . . .’
‘. . . Captains’ meeting . . .’
By this time, Valior was frowning too. ‘I’ll go up right away.’ With that he was off, striding up the winding lane edged by the cottages made of local stone, and heading for the inn. Osella, still with that worried expression, climbed aboard the Venturer and began to help the others get everything squared away; coiling ropes, stowing sails and swabbing fish scales and slime from the deck. As they worked, she finally satisfied their curiosity and told them what had been happening in their absence.
It seemed that a sizeable gang of feral humans, escaped Phaerie slaves from out of the forest, had come down from the north and descended upon the settlement. They had asked for shelter, food, a place to stay where they too could share the freedom that the fisherfolk enjoyed.
No one had been pleased to see them.
‘I’d like to get my hands on whichever idiot told them about this place; putting ideas into their heads,’ Osella said angrily. ‘Just how are we expected to absorb so many? And why should we?’
‘But you absorbed me,’ Brynne said.
Osella made a sound that was somewhere between a huff and a snort. ‘You were one young girl in trouble. This was a great stinking mob that descended on us. Though there were quite a few of them who needed help, people who were hurt or sick or had small children, a lot of the others were simply spoiling for trouble. And they’re a pack of thieves. Within ten minutes of their arrival, people were missing clothes from washing lines, vegetables out of the garden, not to mention rabbits and chickens – but worst of all, one or two folk lost gutting knives and other blades that could be used as weapons. I promise you that these aren’t the sort of neighbours that any of us would want, even if we could take them in.’
‘Which we can’t,’ Derwyn said. ‘If we start harbouring fugitive slaves, we’ll ruin our own arrangement with the Wizards. Our own freedom was too hard won to start risking it for a horde of armed thieves.’
Up the hill, in the village tavern, the Captains were saying much the same thing. Though the fisherfolk had no formal system of governance – they were a fiercely independent lot who, due to their race’s history of enslavement, objected in no uncertain terms to being told what to do – in practice it was the Captains of the five biggest vessels that fished the deep ocean who were the leaders of the community. Though there were many other fishermen and women in the settlement, these plied the coast in the little boats called cobles, catching mackerel and salmon in their season, and setting out their little home-crafted pots made of wood and tarred string to trap lobsters and crabs. There were also the foyboatmen, who made their living ferrying passengers to various points around the Tyrineld bays, and a number of artisans such as boat builders, the glassblower who made the glass floats for the fishing nets, and the makers of ropes and sails. Those who stayed at home, because they had young children to care for, or because they were elderly or infirm, or simply weren’t suited to the rigours of a life at sea, made and repaired nets, cultivated gardens packed with vegetables and laden bushes of soft fruits, or cared for rabbits, chickens, pigs or goats.
There were six leading Captains in all who dealt with the major decisions for the community, for one of the five deep-sea vessels, the Radiant Dawn, was co-captained by a brother and sister, Abran and Loellin, who took turns, season and season about, at being the one in authority. There was another woman Captain, Shaena, whose ship was the Intrepid; a tall, leathery woman with short-cropped, greying hair; her brawny arms knotted with muscle from years of keeping up with the men at trimming sails, hauling nets and holding the tiller steady in the teeth of the blasting winter storms.
The other three Captains were men: Valior of the Venturer, Mordal, the youngest of the Captains, master of the Intrepid, a man of medium height with a long, smooth fall of blond hair braided back into a pigtail, a jutting jaw that bespoke his obdurate character, and a badly crooked nose that had been broken in a fight some years before when weatherbeaten Galgan, the oldest and most respected of the Captains, had put the young upstart firmly in his place. Galgan, with his steely eyes, his white hair and short, silver beard, was still forging determinedly on when most other skippers would have been content to pass their vessel, the Northstar, to their sons and spend their last years on land, taking a well-earned rest from the rigours of a life at sea. His crew were out of the same mould: a quartet of grizzled veterans who, though their physical prowess was not what it once had been, could still outfish, outcurse, outyarn, outdrink and outfight any sailor in Independence.
Today, no one was yarning or fighting, though at the Captains’ table in the back room of the tavern the six leaders sat with drinks in front of them and grave expressions on their faces. ‘So there you have it,’ Abran was saying to Valior and Galgan, who’d been the last to dock. ‘They just turned up out of nowhere, the whole damned crowd of them, and demanded that we take them in.’
‘What do you mean by a crowd? How many, exactly, are we talking about here?’ Galgan, the undisputed leader of the group, demanded.
‘About forty to fifty, I should say, but some are women with young children, and some are injured or sick.’
‘Anything contagious?’ Galgan’s expression darkened.
‘We couldn’t be sure, so I sent Douala the Herbwife to examine them,’ Shaena said. ‘She’ll be able to tell us. We didn’t like the look of them, Galgan, to tell you the truth; the leader, a woman called Danel, spoke politely and begged for our help, but a lot of her followers looked mean and desperate enough to take what they needed. Then the stealing started, so we put some food in Shennon the boatbuilder’s big shed to trick them in there, and locked them up with guards on the doors until you came back.’ She grinned. ‘I think you could safely say that they’re not very pleased.’
Valior shrugged. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers. Once they started stealing, they forfeited any rights they might have thought they had to our help. When I’m at sea Osella is in the house on her own, and I don’t want to spend every minute worrying about her safety.’
‘Well, with the best will in the world, they’ll certainly be no use to us here,’ Abran said. ‘This was the first time that any of them had even seen the sea, let alone had any experience with boats. To be honest, they seem a pretty clueless bunch – I’m amazed that they managed to survive in the forest for so long.’
‘To be fair, Abran, they’ve really suffered,’ Loellin said. ‘Some of the things they told us would make your blood run cold – about the Phaerie with their flying horses hunting them down like animals, just for sport. That’s why they came down here, once they’d heard of us. They decided that, no matter what happened to them, anything had to be better than Hellorin’s Wild Hunt.’
Galgan sighed. ‘And I’m sorry for them, Loellin, truly I am, but we can’t sustain the burden of them for long. When I passed Shennon on the way up here his face was like a thundercloud, and he let me know in no uncertain terms that he needs his shed back. Then there’s the matter of food and water, and arranging for them to get their slops out of there . . .’
‘And if you keep them cooped up together in those conditions for much longer, you’ll have an epidemic on your hands that could spread through our whole community. And then where will we be?’ Douala, a stick-thin woman with grey-streaked hair and dark eyes couched in a fan of wrinkles, stood in the doorway with a frown on her face.
‘Come in, Douala, and join us,’ Galgan said. Mordal brought her a chair from another table, and the Captains moved closer together to make a space.
Douala sat down, and refused the offer of ale or spirits in favour of a glass of water. ‘Those folk have certainly been through some hard times,’ she said. ‘I don’t think we can save a couple of the smallest babies, they’re too
starved and weak, but we might, with luck, do something for the other small children. One man has a leg that’s so badly infected that I’ll have to take off the entire limb, but I doubt we’ll save him, even then.’ She spread out her hands in defeat. ‘Every single one of them has been weakened by cold, hunger, and long travel. The fact that they’re as filthy as pigs in a wallow – and that’s being insulting to the pigs – doesn’t help, and several of their injuries are beyond my skill to treat. We really need the Wizard Healers, but why should they bestir themselves for a bunch of runaway Phaerie slaves? Besides, we’d have to use our annual trading concessions to pay for their treatment—’
‘And we certainly can’t sanction that,’ Galgan said decisively. He looked around at the other Captains. ‘These people are in desperate straits, and I pity them, but we have a responsibility to our own community. We have to take care of them first.’
Valior sighed. ‘You’re right, I know. It cuts deep to abandon those fellow humans, who’ve already suffered so much, but we just don’t have the resources to take care of them.’