Juliet Marillier - Heart's Blood

Magnus smiled. “Never had any trouble yet, and I’ve been doing it since Anluan was knee-high. Must be something about the way I look. And if you’re with me, you’ll be all right. Think about it. I expect you wouldn’t mind a chat with some womenfolk. Muirne’s hardly the most sociable of girls.”

“Magnus.”

“Mm?”

“Why won’t anyone tell me what they are, these things in the woods? Every time I ask for explanations, I get a vague reply about beings or creatures, and how they’re of various kinds, and then someone changes the subject. But in the documents they’re described as a fearsome army, a force nobody can control, something that was so powerful and destructive that everyone in the neighborhood must have known about it.”

He looked at me, gray eyes steady. “There’s two ways you might find out the answer to that, Caitrin. It might be somewhere in those documents you’re working on. Or he might decide he’s ready to tell you.”

“Oh.” I considered this as he ate his way steadily through his porridge. “Could you answer a question?”

“Depends what it is.”

“Is Anluan the only person here who knows what they are?”

“No, lass.We all do.”

“So he’s ordered you not to talk about it, not to tell me.”

“I need to explain something to you, Caitrin.You might be tempted to think Anluan is somewhat less than a grown man. He hasn’t had much to do with the world outside, and it makes him . . . odd, sharp, not quite in tune with folk like yourself, folk from beyond the hill. He’s got his reasons, strong ones, for being the way he is. I’ve tried to help him. I haven’t always done a good job of it. He can seem a bit like a child sometimes, quick to anger, all too ready to see a chance remark as a slight. But don’t make the mistake of thinking anyone else is in charge here.Anluan’s the leader of this household. He makes the rules and the rest of us abide by them.”

After a little I said,“I see.Very well, I’ll come with you tomorrow. Shall I tell him or will you?”

Magnus grinned. “I will. But I’ll wait until suppertime. Now I’d best be gone.” He rose to his feet, and I thought it was perhaps not so surprising that whatever lurked in the woods had left him alone, for even in his old working clothes he was every inch a warrior.

A familiar mist wreathed the trees and clung to the bushes as Magnus and I made our way down to the settlement. It was early; I had been astonished to see Anluan standing in the archway, a somber cloaked figure, watching us as we went.

“We’ll be back before midday,” Magnus had called, but Anluan had said nothing at all. I imagined he disapproved of my going; he had not come to last night’s evening meal, but I knew Magnus had told him the plan.

I walked close to my companion, fearing whispering voices and creeping hands, or worse. After a while Magnus said, “They don’t tend to come out when it’s me, as I told you. Scarcely a peep out of them. Besides, you’re one of Anluan’s folk now; that protects you.”

“That’s very . . . inscrutable,” I said, lengthening my stride to keep up.

“I wouldn’t be taking you if it wasn’t safe.”

The simple logic in this was reassuring. I relaxed somewhat.“You never married, Magnus?” I asked him.

“Never met the right woman. Not a lot of them to choose from in these parts.”This was spoken with good humor, but it seemed to me a terrible waste. He would have made some woman a fine husband, and not just because he was so handy around the house.

“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it.

“Not your fault, is it? I made my choice and I’ll live with it. He needed me. Still does, I believe.”

“You’re all very loyal to him.”

“He’s a fine lad. If you stayed long enough, you’d come to know that.”

“Magnus?”

“Mm?”

“Was Anluan born with his disability, the weak arm and leg and the crooked shoulders?”

Magnus walked on as if I had not spoken, and I wondered if this was another of those questions that would never be answered. Then he said, “He was born as straight as any other child. He fell ill.This was after both Emer and Irial were gone.A palsy.We nearly lost him.Tried to get help, but nobody would come.”

Nobody comes here. I tried to imagine how that would have been: the boy lying between life and death, and only the ill-assorted inhabitants of the fortress to tend to him.“But surely—” I began, then stopped myself. If I had learned anything by now, it was that this place ran by its own rules, and perhaps always had.

“He’s got kin,” Magnus said. “But things are complicated. Maybe one day he’ll trust you enough to tell you. He was very sick. We got him through it. It was a grim time. He regained the power of speech, though that was a slow process. He was left with his weakness. It’s a hard thing for a boy of thirteen to come to terms with, that he’ll never be an able-bodied man. Still weighs heavily on him, as no doubt you’ve seen. I did my best.”

“I know, Magnus.” After a moment I asked, “What kin?”

“At the time of Anluan’s illness, Emer’s brother was chieftain of Whiteshore—that’s our neighboring territory to the northeast. If you went up the north tower you’d have seen it. The fellow had never approved of Emer’s marriage to Irial. He’d cut off all contact between the two territories. We sent a lad from the settlement with a message, when Anluan was hanging between life and death.They wouldn’t let him through the gates.” He glanced at me, his strong features set. “Ask the folk down the hill why these things happen, and they’ll tell you Whistling Tor is cursed. It’s near enough to the truth. Fear kept folk away then, and it keeps them away now. Emer’s brother is gone; his son, Brión, is chieftain of Whiteshore now. A better man than his father, from what I’ve heard. But that gap’s never been bridged. Fear keeps Anluan a prisoner.”

“And you with him,” I said softly.

“Couldn’t leave the boy on his own, could I?”

We walked on. I pondered the fear that made the Tor an island cut off from the outside world. It was, no doubt, based on the supposed presence of an eldritch host in these woods, a host that had once been real, unless the written records of both Nechtan and Conan had been the ravings of madmen. And yet here we were, halfway down the hill, with not a single monster to be seen. The forest was peaceful under the morning sun; birds exchanged eloquent calls up in the canopy. Certainly, this was a melancholy place. But there were no-

“Magnus?” My voice had gone small and shaky.

“Mm?”

“There’s a man under the trees, over there—in a dark cloak—” Even as I pointed, the figure I had seen became no more than a shadow.

“Just keep your eyes on the path,” Magnus said. “Nothing to worry about.”

Something rustled, and I whipped around the other way.A woman this time, half glimpsed amid ferns, white face, staring eyes, enveloping hood. Even as I looked, she was gone. A phantasm, perhaps conjured by my fearful imagination out of the glancing of light on stones or the dance of leaves in the wind.

“Take my arm, Caitrin.” Magnus’s voice was steady as a rock. “Look ahead. Remember what I told you.You’re one of Anluan’s folk now, and you’re safe with me.”

And by the time we were twenty paces further down the hill, there was nothing to be seen. I knew better than to ask questions. We covered the rest of the distance to the settlement in silence, and the bristling barricade was opened to let us in.

My arrival in the settlement was greeted with expressions of astonishment. Clearly, nobody had expected that I would survive my trip up the hill in one piece, let alone return apparently none the worse for wear. Tomas, it emerged, had taken the risk of accepting Duald’s wager that I would reach the top alive, and now stood to collect his winnings.

“I had my doubts,” he told me as Magnus and I waited outside the inn while folk went off to pack up the supplies we needed.“I won’t deny that. But you seemed so set on getting there, I thought, if anyone can do it, she can.”

“Thank you for your faith in me,” I said. “Might I go inside and talk to Orna awhile? We’re in no rush to get back.” Judging by what I’d seen of Magnus’s last visit here, we were likely to be handed our provisions and seen swiftly back out through the barrier. Now that we were here, I found that I did, in fact, want some female conversation, even if it was full of dire warnings about uncanny warriors and giant dogs.

“Why not?” said Tomas, glancing sideways at Magnus. I sensed it was not usual for my companion to be invited in; I had not forgotten how fearful Orna had appeared in his presence last time, as if Magnus had brought the taint of the Tor into the settlement with him.

“Take your time, Caitrin,” Magnus said. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

Inside the inn, Orna was scrubbing the floor, while a red-haired woman worked energetically with a long-handled brush, cleaning away cobwebs. Both stopped work to stare at me as I came in.

“By all the saints and crawly creatures,” Orna said, sitting back on her heels. “You’re back.”

“I am, and hoping you may have time to sit down and talk awhile. Maybe some ale? Magnus has funds.”

“Of course.” Perhaps aware that I must have an interesting tale to tell, at the very least, Orna got up and fetched the ale jug, introducing her friend, Sionnach, as she set three cups on the freshly scoured table. “Now tell us,” she said. “What did you think of Lord Anluan? What’s it really like up there?”

It transpired, as I told them what little I believed Anluan would think it reasonable for me to tell, that very few people in the village had ever seen him in the flesh.There were some young folk who had done a day or two of work up on the Tor before they fled in fright, Orna said, and some old folk who recalled seeing Anluan as a child, but Orna,Tomas and Sionnach had never clapped eyes on him, and neither had any of their friends.

“So he never comes down here,” I said. “Not at all.”

“Not at all. We see Magnus. Sometimes we run into the fellow with the dog, a curse on the two of them. But not him . Not the chieftain who’s supposed to be leader and protector of us all. A pox on the wretched, twisted freak. But you’ll have seen for yourself what he is.” There was a question in Orna’s voice; she and Sionnach were both waiting eagerly to hear my tale.

“Anluan’s an ordinary man,” I said, realizing as I did so that this was an inadequate description. “He has a slight physical deformity, but it does not make him a monster. He is a little—well, he has a tendency to lose his temper rather easily. But he’s no freak. I think he has the makings of a good chieftain, but . . . there are some difficulties. I don’t see much of him. I work on my own most of the time.” I felt a sudden sense of disloyalty; it would be wrong to talk too much, to expose more of the wounds that lay on Anluan and his loyal retainers. Somewhere in my mind was the big question, the question of why . I did not think it would be answered here, where talk of curses and monsters loomed so large. “I’ve been doing some mending for the household up there,” I said brightly. “I don’t suppose you have a supply of linen thread, or some fine needles?”

They were only too happy to oblige. Orna got out her sewing box and Sionnach ran next door to fetch hers. A lively discussion of hemming methods ensued, during which I managed to insert some careful questions about recent visitors to the settlement, and whether anyone might have been asking about a young woman traveling on her own. The reply was not unexpected: that nobody came to Whistling Tor. It must be somewhat of an exaggeration. Certain supplies would have to be brought in, and certain goods must go out, accompanied by people to convey them. But there was no reason for Orna to lie about this. She and Tomas knew I did not want to be found, and as innkeepers they would be more aware than most of any comings and goings in the district. “Though there have been some rumors,” she added darkly. “They say the Normans are getting closer. A troop of them was seen riding on Silverlake lands.There’s talk they might press on right into this region. Sets a chill in the bones, doesn’t it? Who’d stand up for us if they came?”