The Caller Read online

  ‘I’ll go with Whisper,’ I made myself say, and saw Tali’s glance of recognition, the acknowledgement that goes from one warrior to another: We’re in this together. ‘And we’ll do it the way he suggests. Our first mission is to find the White Lady. Until that is done, there’s not much point troubling ourselves with the Master of Shadows. Besides, when I met him before, I hadn’t sought him out. He came to me.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Hawkbit in dour tones, ‘so ye told us. If that didna mak’ ye suspicious, mebbe nothing will.’ After a moment he added, ‘But good luck to ye, lassie. May the wind blow ye fair and true on your path.’

  Chapter Two

  Saying goodbye to Tali was hard. It was made harder by the knowledge that I’d likely not have time to return to Shadowfell before midsummer and the challenge to Keldec. Our army, such as it was, would not be marching openly to the Gathering. Instead we would travel there as ordinary folk of Alban, taking to the road along with the crowds of others headed in the same direction. The king had twisted the once-popular midsummer celebration into a foul travesty, but folk still flocked there in their hundreds. Attendance, complete with enthusiastic shouting, was viewed as a sign of loyalty; non-attendance by chieftains and their households was likely to result in hard questions at the very least. We would make our way to Summerfort not as an army but in ones and twos, dressed like any other traveller and approaching from various directions. Our uncanny allies were masters of concealment, and would manifest when we needed them.

  When everyone was present within the walls of Summerfort’s practice area we would reveal our true purpose. We’d do it on the first day of the Gathering, straight after the king had made his introductory speech. Tali would stand up in the crowd and denounce Keldec. When the king’s men rushed to apprehend her, as they surely would, the rebels would reveal themselves and do battle with the Enforcers. The chieftains who were supporting us would stand alongside us with their fighting forces; those whom we had not won over to our cause would no doubt fight on the king’s side. Once battle was drawn, I would call in our most potent weapon, the Good Folk, who could use magic to fight. None of us doubted that it would be a bloody encounter, in which many would die. The Enforcers would not go down easily, and we had the support of only three of Alban’s six remaining chieftains, though one was the powerful Lannan Long-Arm. Getting the timing right would be crucial.

  ‘Make sure you stick to the plan,’ Tali said as we stood at Shadowfell’s entry, waiting for Whisper. ‘Going off with only Whisper may be all right for the winter, when the Enforcers are less active. But you may still be in training when spring comes. Whisper can’t travel with you openly, especially when there are crowds on the roads. I don’t want you stranded somewhere, unable to get to us by midsummer.’

  ‘Whisper can transport me to anywhere in Alban overnight. Even to the Gathering, I imagine, though I haven’t asked him and I hope I don’t need to.’

  ‘I’ll ask Bearberry to find me the most reliable bird-friend they have,’ Tali said, demonstrating how far her trust in the Good Folk had advanced. ‘We must be able to get messages to you, Neryn, and to receive yours. Then, once the tracks are passable again, I’ll send Gort to meet you, and probably one of the others too. That way you’ll have proper protection when you make your way back toward Summerfort. After what happened to us on the road before, I want to be as sure as I can be that you’ll get there safely.’

  ‘Don’t send Gort too early, or he’ll be waiting around as you were, while I finish the training. I have no idea how long it will take.’

  ‘Once you are sure, you must send me word. So much hangs on this, Neryn. You realise, don’t you, that if you’re not present at the Gathering any attempt to use the Good Folk in battle is going to end in disaster.’ Her expression was grave. ‘I don’t want to have second thoughts about sending you with Whisper. But I’m having them.’

  ‘Too late,’ I said as Whisper emerged from the entry. ‘It’s time for us to go. Tali, I will take care, I promise. I know what I need to do. I know time’s short. We must trust in the Good Folk to carry our messages, and in ourselves to stay strong and brave no matter what happens.’

  ‘Ready?’ enquired Whisper.

  ‘I’ll miss you,’ I said, setting down my staff and giving Tali a hug. ‘I wish you could come with me. But your true work is here. I know you’ll lead the rebel forces well and bravely. I can hardly believe that the next time we see each other might be at the Gathering, at that moment . . .’

  Tali stepped back from my embrace, her hands on my shoulders. ‘We can do it,’ she said. ‘Never doubt it, Neryn. Go on, then, better be on your way.’ After a moment she added, ‘Sooner you than me.’

  Whisper’s way of transporting folk quickly over long distances was challenging. Travelling on his own, he would fly like the owl he resembled. To bring Tali and me from the north back to Shadowfell, he had required us to stand in complete silence with our eyes shut for what had apparently been an entire night. It had not been an easy way to travel, but at least I’d had Tali with me. This time, there was no human companion whose hands I could hold for reassurance during the blind vigil.

  ‘Ready?’ Whisper said again.

  ‘I’m ready.’

  ‘Shut your eyes, then.’

  I shut them, and the long darkness began.

  My training in the west and the north served me well at such times, for I had been taught endurance and self-control. I had learned to stand still with my eyes closed for inordinately long periods of time without fainting or otherwise losing my discipline. The Hag of the Isles had taught me various modes of breathing that were useful during such trances; the Lord of the North had toughened my will.

  I shut my eyes at Shadowfell in morning light, and opened them again hours later, at Whisper’s command, to find that he and I were in a place of gently rolling grassy hills. We stood on a rise under a single, massive oak. Below us, in a flat-bottomed hollow, stood a group of rounded cairns, like inverted bowls, each the size of a tiny cottage. Elder trees, leafless in the cold, ringed the area like graceful, stooping women. Their shadows made a delicate tracery across the ancient stones of the cairns. The sun was low; it was late afternoon. I judged that we had travelled a long distance to the southeast.

  Nobody in sight; the place looked deserted. But there was a great magic here. I felt the familiar tingling sensation in my body and an awareness of presences unseen. Around us in the grass small birds darted about, foraging. Soon dusk would send them to roost in the great guardian oak. And we must find somewhere to shelter. Standing still all day had left my body full of aches and pains, and I longed for rest.

  ‘Is this where we’ll find her?’ I murmured to Whisper. ‘It seems more a place of earth and stone than of air, but I can feel something close.’

  ‘I canna gae further that way,’ Whisper said. ‘Doon there’s a women’s place. We’d best camp up here, between the rocks, and wait for morning. I canna tell you if she’s there, only that it’s a place folk come tae, your kind o’ folk, tae seek her wisdom.’

  ‘But –’ I began.

  ‘Shh!’ Whisper hissed, ducking down behind a convenient rock. I did the same, following his gaze. A woman had walked out from between the elder trees, heading into the place of the cairns. More followed, a procession of them, each cloaked and hooded. The leader was carrying a small basket; the second in line held a bowl of water. The third had a lighted candle and the fourth a branch of greenery. They were not Good Folk, but human women. The practice of the old rituals was forbidden in Keldec’s Alban. To be seen enacting a rite of this kind was to invite death at the hands of the king’s men.

  I glanced sideways at Whisper, but he had his gaze firmly fixed in the opposite direction. ‘I canna look,’ he murmured.

  The rite unfolded with the solemn casting of a circle, greetings and prayers. I could hear little of what the women were saying, b
ut I was drawn by the grace of their movements and the serenity of their expressions. The eldest was a crone, white-haired and stooped; the youngest was a girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen. At a certain point they took hands in their circle and chanted, all together, and the power of it rang from trees and stones. The light was fading now, and it seemed to me that around the heads of the women tiny bright insects danced, so each wore a firefly crown. As the ritual came to its end, the women set an offering beside the biggest cairn, which had a low doorway to the interior. This, it seemed, was less a heap of stones than a beehive-shaped hut.

  The dusk deepened. The cloaked women formed their procession once more and walked away on quiet feet. The shining insects flew upward, making a trail between the branches of the elders, then dispersing on the breeze. The place was empty again.

  ‘They’re gone,’ I said to Whisper, who was still resolutely not looking. ‘There must be a settlement close by or they wouldn’t be able to get home before dark. So we’d best not make a fire.’

  After a frugal meal, I found a flat area between the roots of the oak and settled down to sleep. Whisper perched in the branches above me, where, he said, he could keep one eye out for danger.

  My sleep was fitful. I was accustomed to living wild, fending for myself, staying out of sight as I crossed country. I’d had years of sleeping rough, running before the Enforcers, surviving on what I could gather or catch for myself. What kept me awake was the possibility that the White Lady might not be here, or that if she was, she might choose not to reveal herself to me. We might wander about all over the east and still not find her. We might run out of time.

  When at last I fell asleep more deeply, I dreamed of Flint. He was in a stable, alone, brushing down a long-legged black horse. The look in his eyes told me he was blind to the horse, the stall, the stable walls: he was seeing something far different, something that saddened and sickened him. The brush stilled; he laid his brow against the horse’s shoulder, closing his eyes. The animal turned its head toward him as if in comfort. I felt the despair in Flint’s heart, the bone weariness that engulfed him. It seemed to me that what was in his mind was, I can’t go on. I can’t do this anymore.

  Then a door opened and other men came into the stable. Flint straightened. The brush resumed its steady movement. If his face had revealed, briefly, the burdens that weighed him down, now it changed. He still looked tired. But he managed a smile for his comrades, a word or two, and when all had finished tending to their horses he joined the others as they went out in a companionable group. His horse lowered its muzzle to the feed trough.

  I woke with this in my mind, and a longing in my heart to be able to reach him, if only with a word or two of reassurance. I feared for him. At the Gathering, I had seen how the king punished those he believed had betrayed his trust. Keldec’s trust in Flint had been deep and long-lived. Let Flint not give up now, so close to the end of our great fight; let him not be destroyed before he could enjoy the time of peace.

  A flurry of wings, and Whisper came down to join me.

  ‘Awake?’ he queried. ‘There’s a wee stream no’ sae far awa’. I’ll gae wi’ you so you can wash safely. And then I hae a plan tae put tae you.’

  ‘What plan?’

  ‘Wash first, set yoursel’ tae rights, hae a bittie breakfast, then we’ll talk aboot it.’

  The stream ran between more elder trees. I retreated behind a clump of ferns to relieve myself, then splashed my face and hands while Whisper kept watch. Was I imagining things, or did he make himself smaller when he went up to roost?

  He made me eat breakfast before he would tell me the plan. It was bitterly cold; another reason for haste. If this search followed the pattern of the last two, once I found the White Lady and persuaded her to teach me, I could be reasonably sure of a warm, secure place for Whisper and me to stay until my training was complete. The Good Folk of the east would most likely supply what we needed for survival over the winter.

  ‘Very well, I’ve washed, I’ve plaited my hair, I’ve eaten. And I’m wondering why you waited to tell me your plan.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Whisper, and something in his voice told me bad news was coming. ‘You slept sound, aye?’

  ‘I’m used to lying on hard ground. Apart from a troubling dream or two, I slept well enough.’ When he made no comment, I said, ‘Did I miss something?’

  ‘There was a commotion,’ Whisper said. ‘No’ sae near, but no’ sae far awa’ neither. I didna care for what I heard. But I wouldna fly ower tae see what it was, no’ while you were sleeping like a babe.’

  My heart sank. ‘What kind of commotion?’

  ‘Shouting. Screaming. Horses.’

  Enforcers. Close by. What else could it be? ‘We can’t stay here, then.’

  ‘As to that,’ Whisper said, ‘I think you’ll be safe in that spot doon there.’ He managed to indicate the cairns without quite looking at them. ‘For a woman like yoursel’, and a Caller besides, there’d be nae harm in creeping in through that wee door in the beehive hut if you’re afeart. But I canna see king’s men marching intae such a place wi’ their big boots and wreaking havoc. There’s a powerful magic here; you feel it too, aye?’

  ‘Yes, I feel it. But the king’s men have no respect for the old ways. I doubt the presence of magic would keep them out if they were ordered to search a place.’

  ‘Even they wouldna dare interfere wi’ a deep spot such as this, Neryn. There’s a protection on it, same as the Lord o’ the North has on his hall. It willna admit those who come in anger. Gae doon, stay in the circle o’ cairns and you’ll be safe.’

  ‘But what about you?’

  ‘I’ll be flying ower the place where the screaming came frae, and seeing what’s what. If we canna find the Lady here, or some o’ her folk, we’ll need tae move on. I willna lead you ane way or the other until I make sure it’s safe. Or as safe as it can be.’

  He was brave, no doubt of that. What if a whole troop of Enforcers lay in wait just over the next rise?

  ‘It seems a sound plan,’ I said, imagining crawling into the beehive hut and perhaps offending the White Lady so deeply she would not even want to speak to me, should I happen to find her in such an unlikely abode. ‘How long will you be gone?’

  ‘I canna tell. I dinna ken what I may find. Dinna come back up here until you see me waiting.’

  ‘All right. Be safe, Whisper.’

  ‘Aye, and you, lassie.’

  He waited on the rise until I had walked down and stepped within the rough circle formed by the cairns. Then he flew away over the treetops and out of sight to the east.

  I drew a deep breath and squared my shoulders. There was a job to do. I must be mindful of the right way to approach the Good Folk. The Folk Below had provided covert support to the rebel community ever since Regan first came to Shadowfell, for no other reason than that they had seen him observing the old ritual days with appropriate prayers. And when the Hag of the Isles had tested me almost to breaking point out on a wave-swept skerry last spring, a ritual had won me release. A desperate sort of ritual it had been, scratched together from memories of my grandmother’s seasonal observances and my own knowledge of the power of water, but it had been what the Hag wanted from me.

  Here in the Watch of the East, the element of air was foremost. I had imagined the White Lady standing on a windswept hilltop or drifting on a summer breeze, but I had learned to expect nothing obvious from the Guardians. The Master of Shadows had been three people in one: blind old man, mercurial youth and noble mage. The Hag of the Isles had been no toothless crone but a strong island woman possessed of wry humour and, beneath her formidable exterior, a tough sort of kindness. The Lord of the North, at first locked away in his enchanted sleep, had proven on waking to be readiest of all to help, since he’d viewed me as a kind of saviour. The White Lady would probably be as full of surprises as the rest of them
.

  In the old forbidden song, her line was: White Lady, shield me with your fire. I’d wondered about that, since fire was the element of the south, domain of the Master of Shadows. Perhaps the song referred to a different kind of fire – the fire of inspiration, or of courage. I thought of the ritual those women had enacted here not so long ago, how beautifully it had flowed, the sense of peace and power it had conveyed to me. I could not emulate that; I must offer what I could, and hope it was enough to satisfy the ancient inhabitants of this place, whether or not the Lady was among them. There were Good Folk somewhere close, I could feel them, but it seemed my presence alone was not enough to bring them out.

  In the centre of the circle, with the cairns all around me like watchful old crones under their stone shawls, I spread my cloak on the ground and sat on it cross-legged. Even in my layers of woollen clothing I was cold. I closed my eyes, breathed in a slow pattern and considered the many forms of air. A gentle breeze, a biting wind, a gale, a wild storm. A voice, whispering, speaking, chanting the words of a ritual as those women had. A voice shouting. Screaming. I hoped Whisper had not found anything bad.

  Air supported the wings of birds and insects, helping them fly. Air made bubbles on the surface of a pond and whipped the sea to whitecaps. Air made candles flicker and fanned the flames of bonfires. In the isles of the west, I had seen trees beaten to prostrate surrender by the force of the wind. I had watched in terror as a violent storm drove the waves against the skerry where Tali and I were marooned. Air could whip like a scourge; it could destroy. But air was life, from the first gulping breath of a newborn babe to my grandmother’s last rattling exhalation as the merciful kiss of death ended her suffering.

  I opened my eyes, drew my own deep breath, and lifted my voice in the Song of Truth, the anthem Keldec had long forbidden. I could think of no better way to let the White Lady know why I was here.

  I am a child of Alban’s earth,