Part 17 (1/2)

Mother said that he was going to be her new father. This was just so silly, and Elanin had laughed. Why would she need a new father? She loved the one she had. Mother had said that Father didn't want her any more, and had instructed she was now to live with her mother. At this Elanin became angry. She knew in her heart this was yet another lie and she had told her mother so. It was then that Ironmask had struck her on the face with the flat of his hand. No-one had ever hit her before, and Elanin had been more shocked than hurt. The force of the blow knocked her to the floor. Ironmask loomed over her. 'In my home you will treat your mother with respect,' he said. 'Or you will suffer for it.' Then he had left.

Mother had knelt by her, helping her to her feet, and stroking her blond hair. 'There, you see,' she said. 'You mustn't make him angry. You must never make him angry.' It was then that Elanin saw her mother was frightened.

'He is a horrible man,' she said. 'I don't want to stay here.'

Mother looked suddenly terrified, and swung to see if the comment was overheard. 'Don't speak like that!' she said, her voice breaking. 'Promise me you never will again.'

'I won't promise you. I want my father.'

Things will get better. Trust me, they will. Oh, please, Elanin. Just try to be nice to him. He can be charming and wonderful and generous. You'll see. It is just that he has a ... terrible temper. There is a war, you see, and he is under a great deal of strain.'

'I hate him,' said Elanin. 'He hit me.'

'Listen to me,' said her mother, drawing her in close. 'This is not Drenai land. The customs here are different. You must be polite to Shakusan. If not he will hurt you. Or me.' The fear in her mother's voice reached through Elanin's anger.

In the days that followed she was careful around Ironmask, avoiding contact where possible, and remaining quiet and softly spoken where not. Before long she began to notice how timid the servants were. They did not joke and laugh as her own servants did back in Purdol. They moved silently, bowing whenever they saw her or her mother. One of the serving girls brought her some breakfast on the fifth day. Elanin saw that the girl - who could have been no more than fifteen - had lost two fingers from her right hand. The stump of one was covered by a badly st.i.tched flap of skin and there was dried blood around it. The girl was quiet and avoided eye contact, so Elanin did not ask her about her injury. The same day she noticed that several of the servants had lost fingers.

That night she was awoken by the sound of screaming coming from far below. Elanin scrambled from her bed and ran into the room Mother shared with Ironmask. He was not there, and Mother was sitting up in bed, hugging her knees and weeping.

'Someone is screaming, Mother!' cried Elanin. Mother had hugged her, and said nothing.

Later, when they heard Ironmask approaching, Mother sent Elanin running back to her own room.

She had lain in her bed, dreaming of being rescued. Much as she loved Father she knew that Orastes was not strong enough to take her and Mother from Ironmask. He was a wonderful man, but so much of his life was spent in fear. The officers at Dros Purdol bullied him, and treated him with contempt. Even Mother, when she visited, would talk disparagingly of him when others were present. This always hurt him, but he did nothing to stop her. None of this mattered to Elanin, who loved him more than she could express.

No, when she dreamed of rescue in those early days, she thought of Uncle Druss. He was the strongest man in the world. Last year, when she and Father visited him on his farm in the mountains, he had straightened a horseshoe for her with his hands. It was like a magic trick, and when she returned to Purdol no-one believed her. No-one was that strong, she was a.s.sured.

She hoped that Father would send Uncle Druss to Mellicane.

When Rabalyn awoke the sky was bright and clear, a glorious blue that lifted the heart. He yawned and stretched. The axeman looked at him and grinned. 'I tell you, laddie, if sleeping ever catches on as a sport I'll wager everything I have on you becoming champion.'

Rabalyn rubbed sleep from his eyes. 'Did you sleep?' he asked.

'I dozed a mite.' Druss looked away, towards the trees, his eyes narrowing.

'Is there something out there?' asked Rabalyn, fear rising.

'Not something. Someone. Been there a while now,' answered Druss, his voice low.

'I can't see anyone.'

'She's there.'

'She?'

Druss swung back to the youth. 'When she comes in don't question her. Sometimes she's a strange la.s.s.' The axeman added fuel to the fire, then rose and stretched his huge arms over his head. 'd.a.m.n, but my shoulder aches,' he said. 'Must be rain coming.' As he spoke a young woman emerged from the trees. Over one shoulder she carried a small pack, and in her hand, held by the ears, were two dead hares. Rabalyn watched her. She was tall and slim, her movements graceful. Her long honey-gold hair was pulled back from the brow and bound into a single braid that hung between her shoulders. Her clothes were dark, an ankle-length cloak over a jacket of sleek black leather, the shoulders adorned with beautifully fas.h.i.+oned mail rings, blackened to prevent them gleaming in the light. Her trews were also of leather, though dark brown. She wore knee-length, fringed moccasins, and a short sword in a black scabbard. Rabalyn looked at her face. She was strikingly attractive, though her expression was grim and purposeful. Striding to the fire she dropped her pack, and tossed the hares to the ground. Without saying a word she drew a small curved knife and began to skin them. Druss wandered away into the trees, leaving Rabalyn alone with the woman. She ignored him, and continued to prepare the meat.

From the pack she took a small pan, laying it by the fire. Rabalyn sat quietly as she sliced meat into it. Druss strode in, carrying his helm upturned. Walking to the fire he offered it to the woman. Rabalyn saw it was full of water. Taking it, the woman emptied the contents into the pan, and placed it over the fire.

Then she settled back and glanced at the bodies of the beasts. 'The fourth one is dead,' she said. Rabalyn jerked as she broke the odd silence. 'We killed it last night.' Her voice was hard and cold. 'We were lucky. It was already wounded and weak.'

'The boy struck it with my axe,' said Druss.

The woman turned her gaze on Rabalyn for the first time. Her eyes were a smoky grey. She tilted her head as she looked at him, her expression unchanging. Rabalyn felt himself reddening. Then she looked back at Druss. Finally she stood and wandered over to the dead beasts, examining them, and then the ground around the campsite. At last she returned to the fire. 'Now you know,' said Druss.

'Yes.'

'Thought you would.'

The woman undipped her cloak and let it fall to the ground. Then she lifted clear a narrow leather baldric from which hung a small black double-winged crossbow. Rabalyn had never seen a weapon like it before. He leaned forward. 'May I look at it?' he asked.

The woman ignored him. 'Your axe became lodged in one of the beasts. The boy pulled it clear as you wrestled with the last,' she said to Druss. 'The boy hid in that tree until then.'

'Exactly. Now show him your bow, Garianne,' said the axeman softly. 'He's a good lad and means no harm.'

Lifting the weapon, she pa.s.sed it to Rabalyn without glancing at him. The bow was around a foot in length, with two bronze triggers, and a sharply curved grip. He turned it in his hands, trying to see how the lower bolt could be inserted. It was a clever mechanism. The top bolt was merely placed in a groove in the main shaft; the second was loaded below it, through an opening in the side. Rabalyn curled his hand around the grip and extended his arm. The weapon was lighter than it looked. An image appeared in his mind, of a tall man, dark-eyed and lean. Then it was gone. Rabalyn placed the crossbow on the ground.

Garianne moved to the cookpot, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon. From the pack she took a small sack of salt, and added several pinches. Then, from another muslin package, she sprinkled dried herbs into the broth. A savoury scent filled the air.

Time pa.s.sed, and Rabalyn became uneasy at the lack of conversation. The woman said nothing. The axeman seemed unconcerned. Finally Garianne lifted clear the pot, and set it on the ground to cool. Occasionally she would stir it. 'I'll buy you a meal in Mellicane,' said Druss.

'We are not going to the city. We're heading north. We want to see the high country.'

'There's some sights to see,' agreed the axeman. 'If you change your mind I'll be staying at the Crimson Stag on the west quay.' She seemed not to be listening, then Rabalyn saw her c.o.c.k her head to one side, and nod.

'I don't like cities,' she said, staring upwards. Then there was a pause. 'Easy for you to say,'

she continued. Then another pause. 'But I can hunt what we need.' Finally she shrugged and said: 'As you wish.'

Now Rabalyn was totally confused. The axeman seemed to take the entire one-sided conversation in his stride. Moving to the pan he lifted the spoon, and stirred the contents.

'Smells good,' he said.

'Eat,' said Garianne. Druss ate several spoonfuls, then pa.s.sed the pot and spoon to Rabalyn. The broth was thick and tasty, and he too ate. At last he pushed the pot towards Garianne. She sighed. 'I am not hungry now,' she said, replacing her baldric and clipping her cloak back into place. 'We will see you in Mellicane, Uncle.'

'I'll bring your pot with me,' he said.

She walked off into the trees without another word.

Druss finished the last of the broth. 'Who was she talking to?' asked Rabalyn.

The axeman shrugged. 'I don't know. I've learned there is more in this world than I can see. I like her, though.'

'Are you her uncle?'

'I can imagine worse nieces. But no, I'm not her uncle. She started calling me that after I nursed her through a fever last year.'

'I think she's mad,' said Rabalyn.

'Aye, I can see why you would.'