Catherine Fisher - The Margrave-crow 4

“It’s got no nose either,” Raffi whispered.

Galen turned the head. It fell back, and Raffi jumped. The beast’s eye stared up. He could see himself reflected, shadowy, upside down.

“But it must breathe.” Puzzled, Galen explored the fur. “There are small flaps here. Like gills.”

“Gills?” The Sekoi looked disgusted.

“Similar. And here, look, these spines behind the neck.” Galen snatched his hand back quickly, then crouched, bringing his face close. “They are sharp. Venomous, I should think.”

“Then be careful.” The Sekoi shivered. “Such Kest-poisons can harm even after death.”

But Galen had turned the beast’s face and opened its mouth. Its teeth were long and sharp.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the cracking fire. Then the Sekoi said, “Certainly an eater of meat.”

Galen sat back on his heels. “This is the seventh new species since the winter. Remember that antelope, the one with the striped horns? A ferocious thing.”

“The jellyfish that crawled out of the stream.” Raffi massaged his sore ribs.

The Sekoi made a mew of distaste. “The worst was that bloated toad.”

“Crab.”

“It could have been either.”

Galen went back to the fire and stirred the flames. A shower of sparks lit his face. “Kest made many horrors. The Order once had a great catalog of over twenty thousand different species of creature, but even that number was nothing like the total. There may be millions. There were always things we had never seen before; the beasts interbreed or mutate.” He gazed down somberly at the dead creature. “But lately there seems to have been more. And each more dangerous.”

In the silence the stream sounded loud, trickling over invisible stones. Raffi’s hunger came back like a sudden wave and overwhelmed him. “Can’t we have something to eat?”

Galen looked at him, intensely irritated. “Is that all you can ever think about! Do what you want, for Flain’s sake.”

The Sekoi laughed and tipped the food bag out. There were some mushrooms, a small turnip, and the last few strips of uncooked fish, looking cold and unappetizing. Raffi didn’t care. He speared one on a stick and held it hastily over the fire.

“Haven’t you got any cooking things?” It was the old woman who had spoken.

Surprised, Raffi said, “Yes, but . . .”

“Then let me do it, keeper. It’s the least way I can thank you.” The herbal drink had done her good. Her face was tearstained and haggard, but she pushed the wisps of hair back fussily and took the pan Raffi held out.

“Not very clean.” She tipped it critically.

“No.”

“And you have some fat?”

He glanced at Galen, then took out the precious jar of oil. The jar was a relic—it had a strange lid that sprang open with a gentle pressure on a thumb-pad; he showed her how it worked.

She made the sign of honor furtively, then poured the oil. “At home, we have five relics.”

Galen came and sat down nearby. “In your house?”

She nodded. “They are kept in secret. You may see them, if we reach that far. If you wish, keeper, and they are important, you may take them. We are always in danger of the Watch finding them.”

Galen nodded. “You feel well enough to go on tomorrow?”

“My daughter and the little one will be worried sick.” She looked around at them all. “Bless you again, keepers. Flain sent you to me. It was a great miracle.”

The oil was hissing. Deftly she took the fish and mushrooms and set them to fry. From a bag around her waist she measured salt and a dark powder and added it; it smelled like spices, and Raffi’s mouth started watering. The fish hissed and crackled.

“Will you tell us what happened?” Galen asked.

She was quiet a moment, stirring the mixture. Then she said, “My name is Alys Varro, masters. My village lies at the foot of these mountains, in the valley of the small river called Radicas, about a day’s walk now from here. A quiet place, with few people. Four days ago, a Watch-patrol rode in.”

Galen looked at the Sekoi. “For work slaves.”

“They took twenty of us. All the men, some of the young women. And me.” She managed a proud smile. “Either I was to make up the quota or I look young for my age.”

“You look very young,” the Sekoi said politely. It had unwrapped a parcel of small green berries and dried apple and was sitting with its back against a tree stump, long legs stretched out.

Alys nodded. “As if you would know, master. But yes, I was in the smaller group. We walked for two days, up the road.”

“Where does the road lead?” Galen’s voice was quiet.

She shrugged. “Some say to a castle. A great castle.”

Raffi sat up. “The Castle of Halen?”

“I don’t know.” She flipped the sizzling, delicious-smelling fish over easily. “I was in a group of ten. No, eleven. We picked a girl up on the way.”

Raffi felt the sense-lines shiver.

The Sekoi paused with a slice of apple halfway to its mouth. “A girl?”

“Yes. Quist brought her out of the wood. They let the razorhounds go, as if there had been someone else with her.”

The creature scratched its stitches. It looked smug and then, barely seen, a flicker of terror went through it. Raffi dared not guess what such a chase had been like.

Galen edged forward, urgent. “This girl, Mother, is a friend of ours. Can you tell us what happened to her?”

“First, you eat. Both of you.”

The Sekoi grinned. Galen almost hissed with impatience, but he had to wait while Alys divided the food, sorting the bones out, pushing the largest pieces to Raffi’s corner of the pan. Ravenous, he ate quickly, tearing the dried bread from the pack to mop up every morsel.

Galen waited while the woman ate; she obviously needed it. But before she had finished, his patience had run out. “We need to know.”

“You need to look after yourselves more.” She licked her fingers and nodded at him. “All right. Quist was the patrol captain. He seemed to think the girl was important. When they searched her they found some discs on a chain around her neck; he sent them on ahead.”

Raffi swallowed hard bread. “The insignia!”

“Was there anything else?” Galen snapped. “Did they find anything else?”

Raffi looked at him curiously, but the woman said, “No. She was a clever lass. I spoke to her once, but she never told us her name. Kept herself apart from the rest, kept her eyes open. And she wasn’t scared of them, not at all. Spoke up for me when I fell.”

“That’s Carys.” Raffi scraped up the last scraps. “But the Castle of Halen? For a start it’s a ruin.”

“Maybe not.” Galen tossed sticks on the fire. “Not if it’s being rebuilt. It would take a lot of men. And why?”

“A supply base.” The Sekoi spat out a pip.

“Supplying what?”

“Is Carys all right?” Raffi turned to the old woman. “Is she hurt? And how did she get away?”

“She didn’t. No. But I did.” Alys smiled coyly. “Kept stumbling and coughing, making out I couldn’t keep up. It was Quist, you see. I’ve lived a fair time; I can tell how a man is. He acted hard, but there was something about him. Last time I fell, I just didn’t get up. So he cut me loose and marched them on.”

“They left you for dead?” Galen laughed his harsh laugh. “So much for the mercy of the Watch!”

“Don’t judge too quickly, keeper. For now I’ll tell you a very strange thing. Quist yelled at them to go on, but he waited beside me. When the patrol was out of sight I felt him lift me. For a moment, yes, I thought I’d go over the cliff, but then, masters, he laid me down soft in the wood and said, ‘Keep off the road,’ just as if he knew I could hear him. Then he went. When it was safe, a while after, I lifted my head. There was this bag beside me. With water. And a knife.”