Juliet Marillier - Heart's Blood

“Don’t wear yourself out,” Magnus said, scrutinizing my face. “Olcan or I could maybe help with that part of things. Pity we can’t get serving folk to stay up here anymore. You shouldn’t be troubling yourself with mopping and dusting.” He glanced at Anluan, but the chieftain was studying his platter and did not appear to have heard.

“I couldn’t ask you to help, Magnus,” I told him. “You’ve got more to do than anyone. I’m not averse to physical work; I’m a craftswoman, not a pampered young lady. But it is unfortunate people won’t come here to work. I could get the scribing job done much more quickly with an assistant, someone who could read a little.” Since Anluan was not cutting me off as he often seemed wont to do, I asked a question that had been on my mind earlier, as I realized how slow the job was going to be on my own. “Have we reached the end of my trial period yet? I will be happier once I know my services will be retained for the summer.” I addressed this to a point halfway between Magnus and Anluan.

“It scarcely matters,”Anluan said, lifting his head to look at me.“There’s a familiar pattern here at Whistling Tor; it never changes.You have lasted a little longer than some of us expected, but you won’t stay.We’re all trapped in a net of consequences, condemned to paths outside our control. It’s the way of things.”

“Are you saying that we can’t escape our lot, whatever it is? Do you really believe that?” Not so long ago I might have agreed with him. But I had escaped the trap that was closing around me in Market Cross. If one could summon the will, it could be done.

“I cannot speak for you,” Anluan said. He had given up all pretense of eating; his knife and spoon lay on the table. “It is true for all of us sitting here tonight, and for all who live on Whistling Tor.”

I remembered something. “Including the village, if what Tomas and his wife told me is true,” I said. “The way they spoke about Whistling Tor, it seemed they both love and hate the place. They were shocked when I asked them why they didn’t pack up and go somewhere else.”

“It’s all they know,” said Magnus. “The demon at home, the familiar one, is always preferable to the one out in the unknown world.”

“That’s what I thought once,” I said, a shiver running through me. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

Anluan’s gaze was fixed on me; I could feel it even when my head was turned away. “You say you’ll stay,” he said. “You won’t. It runs against the grain of things.”

This remark was greeted with silence.Why did none of them contradict him? Patterns could be broken; paths could be changed.All it took was courage. I had to stand up to him. I could not accept this.“Rioghan,” I said, “I wish to make a wager. If I lose, I will repay you at the end of summer. Will you lend me a silver piece?”

The king’s councillor smiled. “Of course, lovely lady.” A shining coin flew across the table to me and I caught it, weighing it on my palm. “Your wager is not with me, I presume?”

“It’s with your chieftain here. He says I won’t stay. I wager I will stay until the scribing job is done. His lordship can put up whatever stake he pleases.”

There was a delicate silence. I hardly cared whether I had offended Anluan. It was time someone challenged him.

“I have nothing to offer,” he said flatly.

“Want to borrow—” began Eichri, but I cut him off.

“I’m not in the least interested in acquiring any finger bones or other items of that sort,” I said. “I’d settle for an apple from the garden; they should be ripening up by the time the job is done. Or perhaps Anluan could write something for me.”

Silence again; this time it felt as if all of them were holding their breath. Anluan’s face darkened. His lips tightened. His left hand, resting on the tabletop, became a fist.

“You mock me?” he asked, and in an instant my sudden surge of bravery was over. In his tone were all the times Cillian had hurt me, and the times Ita had hurled insults at me. I became the girl who had once crouched in a corner of her bedchamber weeping, unable to move. I had a good answer for him, but it refused to come out.

“Explain yourself!” demanded Anluan.

Trembling, craven, despising myself, I got to my feet and made for the door, a mumbled apology on my lips.

“Stop!” It was a command, and I obeyed. I was right by his chair. I kept my gaze on the stone floor. I counted the beats of my heart. “If you run from a simple question, why should anyone believe you will not run from Whistling Tor at the first difficulty?” Anluan’s tone was like a flail.

“I didn’t run,” I whispered, finding a last shred of courage hidden deep. “You know that.The day I looked in Nechtan’s mirror, you were there.”

Another silence, this time of a different quality. Magnus cleared his throat. I stood where I was, ready for another blast of angry words.

“If you require me to wager, my stake is heart’s blood,” Anluan said, his voice quieter. “Last out the summer and you’ll be here to see it bloom. You’ll be here to pluck the flowers and make ink. When the work is finished you can take it home with you.”

Olcan whistled. “That’s some wager,” he said.

My head was reeling. If I could work out how to make even one good pot of ink, I would not have to worry about money for years to come.Anluan must have no idea of how valuable the stuff was. “I can’t accept that,” I said shakily. “It would be worth a fabulous amount. It wouldn’t be right for me to take it.”

“It is what I offer,” said Anluan. “The argument about value is irrelevant. You won’t stay.”

“All right, I accept,” I retorted. “I will prove you wrong.”

He shrugged. It was an awkward gesture, emphasising the uneven set of his shoulders.

“Heart’s blood ink, eh?” Eichri chuckled.“Fine color; comes up beautifully on vellum.You know how to make the stuff, Caitrin?”

“I’ll know by the time the flowers are out,” I said. “With a whole library full of documents, there must be instructions somewhere.”

That night I had the bad dream again, the one in which Ita threw me down a well of tormenting demons. I woke drenched in sweat and shivering at the same time. Beyond my bedchamber door the moon shone down into the garden. Knowing I would not sleep again, I took off my clammy nightrobe, put on a shift and wrapped my shawl around me. I went out to stand on the gallery overlooking the courtyard, wondering how long it would be before I could hear an angry voice without turning from courageous, resourceful woman to powerless, hopeless child. Perhaps brave Caitrin was only a fantasy. Perhaps the cringing, whimpering girl who had failed to stand up to her abusers was the real me. If so, my parents must be looking down on me in shame.

In the courtyard Rioghan was pacing, the red of his cloak muted under the moon. In the stillness I heard snatches of his speech. “Go in from the west instead, splitting the force into three parties . . . No, devise a decoy, take the enemy by surprise with a flanking action, then strike with catapults . . . He would still have fallen. My lord would still have fallen . . .” He walked further down the garden and his voice was lost for a little.Then he turned on his heel, restless as a caged animal, and paced back. “ We should have checked the signs . . . Why did I tell him it would work?”

My own troubles paled by comparison with such distress. It seemed he was revisiting, over and over, the circumstances of some terrible error of judgment that haunted him. Perhaps every single night was spent in this painful search for answers. I wondered if going down to talk to him would be any help at all. It would be a distraction, at least. I was about to do so when I had the sensation that someone was watching me. I glanced about, hugging the shawl around me more closely, aware that under it I was scantily clad. There was nobody on the gallery; nobody on the steps. While moonlight bathed the garden in an eerie glow, under the trees it was shadow dark. I imagined folk standing there, clad all in black; I could almost see them. Don’t be foolish, Caitrin. The rampaging host of Conan’s records would hardly be up here, inside the courtyard walls. Maybe there were creatures of some kind out in the forest beyond the fortress, but they couldn’t be the ones he had spoken of. It had been years and years ago—Anluan’s father had been a child. Besides, a host of hacking, stabbing warriors could hardly be living just out there without my having seen or heard something of it.