The Caller Read online

  ‘Thank you,’ I breathed. This was a great concession. All the same, my heart sank. If Whisper and I must sleep beyond the safe area of the cairns, and if making fire was likely to attract unwelcome attention, how could we get through the winter?

  ‘I dinna want ye here by night,’ the Lady said. ‘I canna abide folk squirmin’ and snorin’ and disturbin’ my sleep. And I canna feed ye; there’s nae provisions for human folk in this place.’

  The fact was, I would need human help to get through the winter. But I could not reveal my presence to anyone. ‘My friend brought me here by . . . unusual means. I did not have a chance to see how the land lies around these cairns. How far are we from Winterfort?’ Winterfort lay in the territory of Scourie; to the south, over the border in the territory of Glenfalloch, there was a rebel group. The chieftain of Glenfalloch was one of those who had secretly pledged his support for the rebellion. But I did not know how far away the rebels might be, or whether we were on Glenfalloch or Scourie land. Keldec’s entire court would be at Winterfort now. If Winterfort lay to our south, anyone carrying a message would have to pass it to reach the rebel group.

  ‘Ye’d best be awa’ tae your friend oot there and hae a wee chat. Mak’ a few plans tae see ye through. As for where, ’tis no’ sae near and no’ sae far. Why dinna ye send the witawoo flyin’ ower tae tak’ a look? Bid him catch his supper while he’s well awa’ frae my wee folk. Awa’ wi’ ye, then. In the mornin’, I’ll talk tae ye again.’

  Chapter Three

  Whisper was back, and he was not alone. Beside him, up on the hill by the rocks, a dark-haired girl stood shivering, her face blanched, her eyes haunted. She held her shawl hugged across her chest.

  As I came up the hill I saw that she was familiar: she’d been among those women performing their ritual at dusk. I judged her to be about twelve; the age I had been when the Enforcers swept down on my home settlement at Corbie’s Wood.

  Whisper spoke quietly as I drew near them. ‘Neryn, there’s ill news. Come, sit down and I’ll tell you.’

  The girl didn’t say a word. The look on her face spoke for her. I had felt like that myself once, as if my world had been wrenched apart before my eyes. I wanted to offer a hug of reassurance, but she was wound as tight as a harp string, and I did not try to touch her.

  It was a sorry tale indeed. While I had been talking to the White Lady, Whisper had flown east and come upon the aftermath of a night raid: the remains of a house still smouldering, and bodies strewn about, some burned, some hacked to death: a number of women and a dog. And this girl, whom Whisper had found drawing buckets of water one by one from a well to throw on the smoking ruins of the place, as if she might bring back the dead if only she tried hard enough.

  She sat there, a silent ghost, as Whisper told the tale. ‘The lassie here, she was startled tae see me and tae hear me,’ he said at the end. ‘I bid her seek refuge wi’ us; she has naebody else.’

  ‘What is your name?’ I asked her. ‘I’m Neryn, as Whisper said.’ I had come on this journey with a prepared story and a different name to use, as the rebels always did when venturing out from Shadowfell. But it was too late for that. Whisper had given her my real name; he had shown himself. This girl had seen that I was travelling with one of the Good Folk, in breach of the king’s laws. Burned. Hacked. Those women, so quiet and peaceful; the last place where the old rites were observed. I did not want to believe it.

  ‘Can I trust you?’ The girl’s voice was a croaky whisper, as if her throat was swollen from weeping.

  ‘There’s not much choice,’ I said.

  ‘The lassie willna talk tae me.’ Whisper sounded almost apologetic. ‘No’ sae surprising. I dinna ken if it was king’s men did this, or someone else. An ill night’s work, either way.’

  ‘Scourie men,’ whispered the girl. ‘One of them I’d seen before, riding with Erevan’s guard.’

  ‘Erevan – you mean the chieftain of Scourie? He sent them?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ A bout of shivering ran through her; she put a fold of her shawl up over her mouth.

  ‘Will you tell me your name?’ I tried to make my voice gentle, despite the anger that had flared in me at her words.

  ‘Silva.’ It was a mere wisp of sound.

  I looked at Whisper; he looked at me. Her presence was a danger to us, and ours to her. But he’d said she had nobody else.

  ‘Silva,’ I said, ‘I understand how hard it is for you to talk right now. But you need to answer a few questions for me so I can help you. Have there been raids like this before?’

  She shook her head. ‘Mostly they leave us alone. Erevan sends a man sometimes to talk to Maeva. She’s our – she was our elder, our leader.’ Tears began to spill from her eyes; she scrubbed them away with a fierce hand. ‘They don’t – they haven’t –’

  ‘Take a deep breath.’ I got out my water skin, put it in her hands, waited until she had gulped down a mouthful. I tried to think as Tali might think, strategically. ‘Silva, I have to ask you this. I saw you and the other women yesterday, conducting your ritual down the hill there. Have all of them been killed? All your companions?’

  A jerky nod.

  ‘How was it you survived?’

  ‘I was sleeping on my own; preparing for initiation. In the stillroom, by the herb garden. The fire missed the outhouses. They didn’t find me.’ A sob racked her. ‘Lucky ran out, he was barking, trying to scare them away . . . They didn’t need to kill Lucky, he never hurt anyone . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, knowing no words were adequate. ‘Isn’t there someone you can go to, family, friends? We could help you reach them.’

  Silva shook her head. ‘There’s nobody.’

  Perhaps her family existed, and perhaps they were within reach. But she did not know me, and trust only went so far in Keldec’s Alban, where brother might turn against brother to protect his own hide.

  ‘The wise women were my family,’ she said.

  My heart twisted. ‘Silva, is there a settlement close by the place of the fire? Will people come to see what’s happened? To . . . set things to rights?’ We could not leave those women lying where they had fallen.

  ‘They’ll stay away, more likely.’

  ‘I could keep watch for you,’ Whisper said to me, understanding what was in my mind. ‘’Tis a big job for twa lassies.’

  I wondered if Silva had the strength left to do anything at all. I would struggle to complete the job without her help. Whisper was not built for digging; besides, we’d need him on watch. ‘I need you to be brave for a bit longer,’ I said to the girl. ‘We should go back there and bury them.’ I hoped there would be tools in those outhouses, something that had escaped the blaze. I could not bring myself to ask Silva. ‘Then we’ll find somewhere safe to shelter.’

  She said nothing, only got to her feet and wiped her face on her sleeve.

  ‘Whisper,’ I said, ‘she was there, at the cairns. I’ll tell you more later.’

  ‘Oh, aye.’

  It took us all day to dig the hole, carry the bodies, lay them down and cover them with earth and protective stones. Whisper maintained a presence above us, winging out on his patrols, circling back to report, heading off again. Nobody came.

  When it was done, we went up to the top of the garden, where a stone bench was set under a leafless willow. I was too tired to do anything but sink down on the seat. Every part of my body ached. My clothing and my hands were filthy with blood and soil and burned flesh; I could barely think. I sat and stared out over the rows of newly planted winter vegetables to the dark shape of the burial mound under its blanket of stones. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to do this. The memories of my home village, Corbie’s Wood, had pressed close all day.

  Silva got back up. ‘The chickens,’ she said. ‘I forgot to feed the chickens.’ After the long day’s labour she looked like a
wraith; a gust of wind might have blown her away. Her voice was a thread.

  ‘I’ll help you.’

  There were, it transpired, not only chickens to be fed but ducks as well, and a goat. I found the strength to follow her instructions. If she had the will to go on working, I must match her. The last in the row of decrepit outhouses proved a surprise. It looked empty save for a few garden tools and a pile of old sacks. But Silva shifted the sacks to reveal a trapdoor, which opened to a stone-lined cellar packed with stores, evidence of a busy, productive household: crocks of honey, preserved eggs, dried fruits, cloth-wrapped cheeses, plaits of garlic and onions, tubs of fish layered in oil. There were sacks of flour and beans and oats.

  ‘Maeva was worried about thieves,’ Silva said as she filled a pan with grain. ‘If folk came to the door we’d give them food, but we always kept our stores hidden.’

  I followed her to the chicken coop, whose occupants were noisily informing the world they had been penned in all day, they were hungry and it was time someone did something about it.

  ‘Too late to let them out now,’ Silva said, tossing the grain over the wattle fence into the small enclosure. ‘Could you fill up the water trough, please?’

  I did so from the bucket I’d carried from the well. I counted ten hens and one important-looking rooster, who eyed me suspiciously.

  We attended to the five ducks, who came up from a stream at the bottom of the garden for their supper. We went to the goat in its walled field. Silva was calmer now; the company of the familiar creatures, the everyday tasks seemed to reassure her. She greeted the goat with a rub on the forehead and kind words.

  ‘Her name’s Snow,’ she told me as she threw some hastily gathered greens into the goat’s enclosure. ‘We’ve had her since she was tiny.’

  ‘She’s lovely, Silva.’ Snow was hungry; I imagined her, on a different day, feasting on the leftovers from the women’s table.

  The animals were all fed; the job was done. ‘We’ll need to go back to the Beehives before it gets dark,’ I said. ‘It’ll be safer to camp close to the cairns.’

  Silva was silent a while, watching as Snow crunched on the greens. ‘I need to be here,’ she said. It was a simple statement of fact. ‘Someone has to give them their breakfast. Someone has to keep things going.’

  A child still, on her own, with the bodies of those she’d called her family lying ten strides away. They come tae the Beehives, the invisible presence had said of the wise women. If no’ for that, I’d be a’ gone awa’.

  ‘Silva,’ I said, ‘I have a lot to explain to you. A story I don’t tell many people, but because you’re on your own here now, you need to hear it so you can make some choices. But right now, what we need is a wash and a meal and some sleep. Considering what’s happened, it would be safer if we didn’t spend the night here.’

  ‘They won’t come back.’ There was a core of strength in the uneven voice. ‘They came to kill, nothing else.’

  ‘How can you know that?’

  ‘I heard their leader calling them off. When it was done. When they thought they had everyone. He gave an order to stop, and they rode away. If he hadn’t done that, they’d probably have torched the outhouses too, and there would be nobody left to keep vigil tonight. But I’m here and that’s what Maeva would expect me to do.’

  There was no arguing with this.

  ‘Tomorrow I’ll go down to the cairns and tell the Lady what happened, so she can help Maeva and the others walk through the last gateway.’

  Her composure startled me almost as much as the implication that she knew the Lady was at the Beehives.

  ‘There’s a place to sleep in shelter here,’ Silva added. ‘Food and fresh water. You can stay if you want. And . . .’ She glanced toward the ruins of the main house, where Whisper could be seen waiting on a stretch of dry-stone wall, wise eyes, white feathers, red felt boots. ‘And your companion, of course. He is . . . mysterious,’ she added with an attempt at a smile.

  ‘Whisper comes from the north. He’s part of the story. Let’s go up and ask him what he thinks. Either way, you shouldn’t do this on your own.’

  We washed in cold water from the well. We made a small fire and put together a meal from the wise women’s supplies, though we had little appetite for it. Then we lit three candles Silva found in store. Down by the burial mound Whisper and I stood silent while Silva spoke prayers, naming each of those who had died. Her young voice speaking that litany of loss made me want to weep. It brought back my own losses: mother, father, brother, grandmother, comrades. It made me think of Flint, and the empty place that existed in me when we were apart.

  ‘And Maeva, our leader, our mother, our sister. The Lady’s light shone brightest in her.’ Silva’s list was finished. But no: not quite. ‘And our faithful dog, Lucky, who died trying to protect us. Lucky, you were a good boy, right to the end.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I’ll miss you.’ For a moment, I saw the child she was as well as the composed, strong woman she would soon be. A tear rolled down her cheek, catching the light; she wiped it away.

  We went back to our fire. After a while I asked Silva to tell us about the other women and the community – little stories about the good times – and she did. How Elen had been frightened of goats, and how Snow, most placid of creatures, had sensed this and gone out of her way to be gentle. How Maeva had told stories every night, tales from the old lore about the White Lady and the other Guardians, about battles and plagues, floods and fires, and how the people of Alban had stayed strong in times of challenge and hardship. About the Good Folk, who had once been easier to see than they were now. Brollachans, trows, selkies; wee folk of the woods and glens. Fox-friends, fish-friends, bird-friends.

  ‘How long have you been living here with the wise women, Silva?’ I asked.

  ‘Two years.’ She did not offer any information about her life before that.

  ‘Guid place, this,’ Whisper put in. ‘But you canna keep it up on your ain, lassie.’

  ‘I must. There’s nobody else.’

  We fell silent for a while. Today had been a nightmare; what I had seen, smelled, touched would be forever imprinted on my mind. For Silva there had been last night as well – the screams, the smoke, the terror. She’d been as close to those women as a sister. How could I expect her, so soon afterward, to make wise decisions about the future? Besides, in a way she was right. Someone had to feed these animals. As for the ritual . . .

  ‘Silva, I need to explain to you why Whisper and I are here. Perhaps we can help you; perhaps you can help us.’

  A nod. She sat hunched in her cloak, staring into the fire.

  Information was dangerous; that was a lesson we rebels learned early. Anything we passed on could be repeated. The Enforcers would think nothing of torturing a child to extract what they wanted. So I did not talk about the rebellion, only told Silva there were other people in Alban who wanted to see change, so that folk like her could observe the old rituals without fear. I told her I had the ability to see and speak with the Good Folk. That Whisper and I had come to the east to find the White Lady so that I could spend the winter months with her, learning. And, though it felt risky, I told her about my conversation with the invisible presence in the beehive hut.

  Silva listened wide-eyed. When I was done, she said, ‘Maeva said she was there. Maeva can – could – hear her voice sometimes.’

  ‘Did Maeva ever talk of seeing anything?’

  ‘Only the wee insects that fly around in that place. Like moths or grasshoppers, only brighter. Maeva said not to swat them away, because they were the Lady’s messengers.’ She fell silent for a little. ‘I thought it was only a fancy.’

  ‘No fancy, but simple truth,’ I said. ‘Silva, I need to be plain with you. If anyone discovers that I’m here, not only will I be in great danger, but so will a lot of other people. While Whisper and I are in this area, I’ll n
eed to be down in the beehive hut every day. Even with Whisper keeping watch, it will be risky for you and me to keep going openly between the Beehives and this place. If I hadn’t seen you with the other women performing the ritual, I’d be suggesting Whisper takes you away to a place of safety we know.’ He could transport Silva to Shadowfell quickly, using his magic. I could not see the girl as a rebel fighter, but she could set her hand to helping Milla and Eva with the myriad tasks that went into running the base. She would be safe there. ‘I’d be saying set the animals loose to find their own food and shelter.’

  ‘No!’ Silva exclaimed. ‘I can’t go away! There’s the ritual –’

  ‘Yes. And that’s important; perhaps more important than even you realise. What she said – the Lady – was that the Beehives are the last place in the east, and perhaps in all Alban, where folk still perform the seasonal rites. If the practice comes to an end, nobody will be able to find the White Lady any longer.’

  Silva made a little sound of shock and grief.

  Whisper’s eyes grew still rounder. ‘You mean . . . you mean if the lassie stops doing this, the Lady will be deid?’

  The wee fire sparked in the chill evening breeze. The smell of burning flesh hung close even now; I wondered if I would ever be clean of it. ‘She implied that the last of her is in those tiny glowing beings. And she needs the ritual to keep her there. I don’t know if she would die. But I believe the parts of her would be scattered so they could never be put together again. That is almost worse than death.’

  The silence stretched out. After a while, Silva buried her head in her hands, her shoulders quivering. I put my arm around her.

  ‘We canna let that happen,’ Whisper said. ‘You canna let it happen, Neryn.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I said with more confidence than I felt. ‘Among the three of us, we need to make a plan. But not now. Silva, why don’t you try to sleep for a while? We’ll keep vigil for you.’