K. Taylor - The Shadow's heir

“Oh,” said Laela. “I never knew that. Can’t ride, anyway.”

“Well, I’ll tell ye what,” said the farmer. “Tomorrow I’m headin’ off on a jaunt northward meself. I might be willin’ to give ye a ride on the cart if ye can pay.”

“I can,” Laela said promptly. “An’ I’ll pay yeh extra t’let me sleep in yer barn.”

“How much?” said the farmer.

“Ten oblong for the ride, an’ ten more for the barn,” she said.

“Done,” said the farmer. “My name’s Mawrth, by the way.”

“Laela,” she said.

She handed over the money-keeping ten oblong back in case he decided to change his mind the next day.

“Thankye kindly,” said Mawrth. “I’ll give ye some food, too.”

Laela smiled. “Thanks.”

“Well, it ain’t every day I meet a lady as attractive as yerself,” said Mawrth. “No need t’look so surprised-I mean it! Ye don’t need t’be so shy, girl.”

Laela, keeping her eyes on the ground, blushed. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “Can yeh show me where the barn is?”

Her new friend obliged, and she settled down into the straw very gratefully. It was good to have something close to a proper bed again.

She slept, and dreamt of her father. He was trying to tell her something, but there was a scream in the air that made his voice impossible to hear.

Mawrth was as good as his word. The next day, his cart rattled out of the village, and Laela found herself riding on the driver’s seat rather than on the back, which was piled high with cabbages, while her host, apparently oblivious to her nervousness, made cheerful conversation.

“. . an’ they say that in Malvern, the King himself comes t’celebrate the Wolf Moon every month. I heard once the priests tried t’conduct a funeral for a friend of his without tellin’ him, an’ he showed up halfway through, punched the High Priestess in the face, an’ then finished the rites himself.”

Laela wanted to look him in the face, but forced herself not to. “Have yeh ever seen the King?”

“Once,” said Mawrth. “Not up close, mind. I was there when he announced that he was lettin’ traders come in from Amoran.”

“What was it like?” said Laela. “What was he like?”

Mawrth paused to wipe his nose on the back of his sleeve. “He looked ordinary, mostly. Young, but old. Wore a black robe, like a slave would. It’s said he never wears anythin’ else. An’ he had the Mighty Skandar with him, of course.”

“The Mighty. . you mean the griffin?”

“Aye. The dark griffin. ‘Darkheart,’ some call him. By the moon, but that was a sight t’scare any man. I’ve seen griffins. Not up close, but I’ve seen ’em. But the Mighty Skandar is the biggest I ever saw in my life. They say he’s killed more people than any griffin in the world, an’ that his magic is so powerful, it could kill a whole army in one go. They say,” he added darkly, “they say he eats people. Enemies of the King.”

Laela shivered. “People’re scared of him. The King, too.”

“’Course they are,” said Mawrth. “Ye’d have t’be an idiot not t’be. But they protect us, Laela. See? They might be scary t’some, but without them, we’d be lost. It’s thanks t’them we’re free, an’ it’s thanks t’them we stay free, too. The Southerners outnumber us, but they’d never dare invade again. They’re too scared to, after what Skandar an’ the King did to their friends here all them years ago. An’ it’s a damn good thing, too.”

Laela frowned to herself. It was odd to hear the King, who in the South was always spoken of with fear and hatred, referred to as a heroic protector. But, she supposed, it only made sense, after all. .

She travelled with Mawrth for nearly a week, and by the end of it she had come to like him. It was almost sad to say goodbye.

“Good luck, Laela,” he said as he pocketed her money. “I hope ye find the new home ye’re lookin’ for.”

She couldn’t stop herself from looking him in the face at last. “Thanks for everythin’, Mawrth. Yeh were a good friend.”

Mawrth nodded and smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

Laela walked away from his cart. He hadn’t shown any sign of noticing her blue eyes. Maybe he just hadn’t seen them. But then, who noticed the colour of someone’s eyes?

That part of her journey didn’t just bring her much closer to Malvern-it also gave her even more confidence.

And it showed her that her belief had been correct: Here in the North, she could blend in. Here, people treated her like an ordinary person-some of them were even friendly. Here she could make a new life-she knew it.

Her belief was confirmed over the next few weeks as a combination of money and the kindness of strangers made her journey quicker and easier. In one of the larger towns she passed through, she bought a new set of clothes-made in the thicker, warmer Northern manner. She even went so far as to enjoy a drink or two in a tavern, and aside from the usual drunken leering, no-one molested her.

By the time Malvern’s walls came in sight, she had all but lost her fear. In fact, she had come to love the North. She had barely been there any time at all, but it already felt like home. Even her misery over her father had begun to leave her. He would be happy to know that she was safe, and that thought cheered her up.

And then, at last. . Malvern.

She chose to go on foot for the last leg of the journey, wanting to see the famed city for the first time on her own. This was an experience she wanted all to herself.

It was bigger, far bigger, than she had expected. At first it looked like a black blob, squatting on the horizon, but as she drew nearer and nearer, she began to get an idea of how enormous it really was.

The city had walls around it, as she’d expected. They were enormous, built from stone, and she could see guards patrolling along its top-tiny from that height. But beyond the wall were the five towers of the royal Eyrie, rearing into the sky.

They looked like ordinary griffiner towers, but. . huge. Laela could see the openings in their sides and the banners flying from the tops. The towers varied in size-the one in the centre was the thickest and tallest. She could see what looked like bridges connecting them to each other.

The city gates were open, and travellers were passing in and out of them apparently unimpeded. Laela strode through, unnoticed.

So this was the big city.

She wandered through the streets with no particular destination in mind, staring in wonder at everything she saw. In most ways it was no different from the smaller towns she had already seen. . but so full, and so busy! The streets were simply packed-people were everywhere , walking in all directions. She had never seen so many people in one place. All of them, of course, were Northerners, and for the first time in her life, Laela felt like she was just a face in the crowd. Everywhere she looked were people with black hair. Wonderful, ordinary black hair. Long fingers, angular features, a tall and long-limbed build. . the features that had once singled her out, made her an outsider wherever she went. . here they were normal.

Exultation filled her.

Like one in a dream, she wandered the streets, going wherever she pleased. She found the marketplace and spent a few oblong on trinkets before her empty stomach brought her back to the present. She bought an apple and a few pastries from a stall and ate them as she walked along. But the gathering darkness quickly reminded her of her original plan. Find a job, and somewhere to stay, and quickly.

The former could wait.

She left the market district and wandered further into the city, hoping to find an inn or a tavern where there could be a room to let. But she had no idea where to find one, and the city was enormous. Eventually, tired and foot-sore, she stopped a passing woman.