Taste of Lightning (14 page)

‘Rubbish. You've been in Baltimar too long, my friend. Go on, take it!' He gave Skir a little push.

Skir shook his head. Then, shamefaced, he darted into the hut and seized the bread and tore it apart with his teeth.

Perrin's face twisted in a cynical smile. He turned from the doorway to see Tansy stock-still in the clearing, with Penthesi's bridle in her hand. Skir came out of the hut.

A girl in a shabby pink dress had just walked up from the riverbank with a bucket of water in her hand. She stopped in the sunlight. Her mouth stretched into a grimace of fear. ‘Who is it?' she called. ‘Who's there?'

Perrin touched Skir's arm. He said softly, ‘She's blind.'

Skir saw the girl's blank eyes, and knew it was true. A crooked band of scar tissue ran across her face, over her eyes; one eyebrow was missing, and the scarred skin was puckered and twisted like a skein of pink string. Skir held the bread guiltily, pointlessly, behind his back. ‘Don't be frightened. We won't hurt you.'

‘I'm not frightened. I want to know who you are.'

Tansy said, ‘We're travellers. I'm Tansy, and this is my horse, Penthesi.'

The girl turned toward the new voice. ‘A horse!'

She set down the brimming bucket and stepped forward as confidently as if she could see, with her hands held out. Tansy guided her fingertips to Penthesi's neck. The girl ran her hands over Penthesi's big, warm, muscled flanks, and smiled as he snorted in her ear.

‘He's splendid.'

Tansy laughed. ‘Isn't he? And this is Sedge.'

‘Two horses!' The girl stroked the chestnut mare. ‘Are they thirsty? It's hot again today, but there'll be rain tonight.'

‘How do you know?' Tansy squinted into the sky, but it was simmering blue and cloudless.

‘I can smell it,' said the blind girl. ‘Who else is here?'

‘My friend –' Tansy stumbled; she'd almost blurted out Skir's name. She shot Skir an agonised look; deceit did not come easily to her. ‘My friend Perrin. And this is . . .'

‘I'm Ren,' said Skir, from his full priestly name, Eskirenwey. He took the hand she held out; it was small but strong, as brown as a bowerberry, and roughened with calluses. The girl's hair and her skin and her mouth were all chestnuts and roses; if not for the ruined eyes and the scar slashed across her face, she might have been beautiful.

Perrin bounded up and clasped the girl's other hand, and she let go of Skir. ‘The horses aren't thirsty, but we are,' said Perrin.

Skir felt a pang of furious jealousy as the girl turned her face toward the warm laughter in Perrin's voice.

‘I'm sorry I can't shake your hand properly,' Perrin added ruefully, but the blind girl's fingers travelled swiftly over his bandaged right hand, and her face changed.

‘You're hurt!' she said sharply. ‘You'd better come in.'

It was crowded in the little hut when they were all crammed inside, but the girl moved about with brisk confidence. She poured water into earthenware cups and cleared spaces for them to sit. Skir tipped his stool against the wall and closed his eyes, resting his aching limbs and blistered feet. For the first time in days he felt safe, sheltered in the dim, fragrant hut.

The blind girl led Perrin to the single battered chair beside the fireplace. As she bent her head, unwinding the bandages so deftly it seemed impossible that she couldn't see them, Skir heard Perrin say in a low voice, ‘We didn't ask your name.'

The girl's eyes flickered randomly left and right in surprise. ‘I'm Elvie.' She touched Perrin's wound with her fingertips and he flinched. ‘I have a salve that will help this, but I must clean the wound out first. No, no, don't help me,' she said, as Tansy sprang up. ‘I know where everything is. Didn't they send you from Rarr?'

‘No. We haven't come from Rarr,' said Skir, furious that he hadn't thought of asking her name, and determined to say something. ‘We came through the woods from the south.'

Perrin pulled a face at him, a pantomime of outraged disbelief. Skir jutted out his chin to show he didn't care what Perrin thought. Then Perrin gasped in pain as Elvie probed his wound. Skir smirked. Tansy frowned at both of them. A strained silence fell as Elvie bent over Perrin's hand.

‘This bandage should be burned, it's disgusting,' she said. ‘You should have kept it dry. I'll give you a new one. How did you hurt yourself?'

‘A hunting accident,' said Perrin.

‘Why didn't you have it seen to?'

Tansy said, ‘We're away from home. We thought it'd heal quicker than this.'

Elvie turned her face up to Perrin. ‘Is the pain very bad?'

Perrin nodded, his face screwed up, then remembered she couldn't see him. He whispered, ‘Yes.'

‘I have something that will help.' Elvie slid a long, low box from under the bed where Tansy was sitting, and unlocked it with a key she wore around her neck. She lifted out a linen packet about the size of her thumb, then locked the box again and pushed it back under the bed. Tansy and Skir watched in puzzlement, but Perrin gave a low whistle.

‘Is that rust?'

‘
Rust?
' squeaked Tansy. ‘That's forbidden!'

‘Only to the poor,' said Elvie. She unwrapped the packet with careful fingers and held it out to Perrin, who took a pinch of red powder between his thumb and forefinger and inhaled it quickly through one nostril. A second pinch followed swiftly through the other nostril, and he sat back in the chair, breathing hard. A drowsy look came over his face.

Tansy said accusingly, ‘You've done that before!'

‘Only once or twice,' he said with a sleepy smile. His words were slightly slurred. ‘All the soldiers do. 'M not an addict or anything. Don't even like it. But 's good for pain . . .' He breathed out a deep sigh, and his head lolled on his shoulder. ‘Mmmm. Sleepy now.'

‘He needs to rest.' Elvie straightened up. ‘Are you hungry? I only have bread and cheese and jam, but you're welcome to share it.'

‘We'll pay you,' said Tansy.

‘You can pay me for the ointment. And the rust. That's fair.' Her voice was hard. ‘But I'm offering you the food as my guests.'

‘Thank you,' said Skir quickly. ‘You're very kind. Tansy didn't mean to offend you. And I – I've already had some bread. I'm sorry.'

Elvie smiled. ‘That's all right. There's another loaf in the crock.' She held out a hand to stop Tansy from helping her. ‘Please don't. I have to keep everything in place; if things get muddled I'll never find them.'

Tansy and Skir tore into the bread and cheese, munching until their jaws ached. Elvie explained that she'd already eaten her midday meal; she sat beside Perrin until they'd finished. Then she said, ‘There's not much room, but you can stay here tonight. Your friend needs to sleep, and you'll be safer here than in Rarr.'

Tansy and Skir exchanged a look of alarm.

‘You're the runaways from Arvestel, the horse-thieves. Aren't you? Soldiers searched here two days ago. Don't worry, they won't be back. They're frightened of me.' Her face twisted. ‘They think I'm a witch.'

‘Because you're a healer?' said Skir.

‘Because I work for Lady Wanion,' said Elvie.

Tansy jumped up; her plate smashed into a dozen pieces on the floor. ‘You work for the Witch-Woman?' She drew her sword with a rasp and pointed it at Elvie.

‘Tansy!' shouted Skir. ‘Put that away!'

For a moment Tansy stared from one to the other; then slowly she sheathed the sword.

‘Please, sit down.' Elvie knelt and groped for the shards of broken pottery. ‘Everyone in Rarr works for the Witch-Woman in one way or another.'

‘Let me do that.' Skir touched her shoulder.

Elvie returned to her stool. ‘Lady Wanion owns this town. I grow herbs and I make rust for her. She sends me the chaka-weed from Cragonlands; she knows I won't cheat her, and she trusts me not to take any for myself.' A shadow crossed her face, and she gestured to her eyes. ‘I got berry-juice in my eyes when I was young.'

‘Ain't there no one to look after you?' Tansy's voice was tight with suspicion.

‘My mother died last year. She was Wanion's rust-woman before me. Now I'm alone. I manage well enough. The villagers come to me for potions and salves and dyes, and they bring me what I need.'

Skir had spotted one last piece of broken plate beneath the table; in the darkness down there, he touched something hard, wrapped in fabric: a greasy cloth, so old it was almost rotted away. Gingerly he pulled the wrapping aside. The parcel was full of bones; they clattered softly inside the cloth. He drew in a sharp breath.

‘Are you all right, Ren?' asked Elvie.

Skir scrambled hastily out from under the table. ‘Did you say you had dyes? Hair dyes?'

Elvie took down a knobbly clump of root from a shelf above the fireplace. ‘Sully-root will make your hair darker, if that's what you want.'

Tansy and Skir heaved Perrin's sleeping body onto the bed, then they boiled up the sully-root and took the cooled water outside to wash their hair. When they'd finished, Tansy's hair had become a strange red-brown, while Skir's chopped hair was a rusty black. Tansy surveyed him doubtfully. ‘You look like you ain't seen the sun in a hundred years. And your eyebrows . . .'

Perrin stumbled out into the daylight, and laughed at them. ‘It's always the eyebrows that give it away. Come here, Skir – I mean,
Ren
.' His voice was slurred.

Skir said in a low voice, ‘Elvie guessed who we are.'

‘Well, she didn't have to be a genius to work it out, after all the clues you two gave her.' Perrin dipped his thumb into the kettle and smeared it unsteadily across Skir's brows. ‘ 'S better.'

‘What about
my
eyebrows?' said Tansy anxiously.

‘Yours aren't so bad, they're dark enough anyway. It's Skir looks like a festival trickster.' Perrin grinned at her crazily; his eyes were still slightly unfocused.

‘This hasn't helped at all.' Skir tugged a lock of hair forward to squint at it. ‘One of us still has red hair, it just isn't me.'

‘Could be useful. In a tight spot.'

Both the boys looked at Tansy. She said, ‘You mean Fingers might kill me instead of Skir, by mistake?'

‘Not kill,' said Perrin patiently. ‘Don't forget, no one – no one's trying to kill Skir. It might even
save
your life.'

‘So Fingers might kill
me
by mistake?' said Skir. ‘I'm not sure this was such a good idea.'

‘Any dye-water left?' asked Tansy. ‘You can still see the King's mark on Penthesi, clear as day.'

Skir said to Perrin in a low voice, ‘If you're feeling better, do you think we should move on?'

‘What's the rush? Elvie said we could stay tonight, and the next, if we like.'

‘But – is it safe?'

Perrin shrugged. ‘No worse than the woods, and a damn sight more comfortable. What's the matter? I would have thought you'd enjoy a night indoors, Your Highness.'

Skir lowered his voice still further. ‘Can we trust her?'

‘Oh yes,' said Perrin at once. ‘Definitely. Never wrong about that kind of thing.'

Tansy came up with the kettle in her hand and lowered her head close to theirs. ‘You're only saying that because she gave you a pinch of rust. How do we know she won't run to the Witch-Woman when we're gone?'

Skir whispered, ‘I found a packet of bones under the table.'

Tansy's eyes widened in horror. Perrin waved his hand dismissively. ‘Plenty of healers grind up bones for ointments. Doesn't mean anything. They weren't human bones, were they?'

‘I don't know,' said Skir. ‘I don't know much about bones.'

‘Maybe she's going to make broth out of them – how should I know!'

‘
Human
broth?' moaned Tansy. Then she hissed, ‘She ain't burned your bandage either, Perrin. I saw her put it in a box. She's keeping it for Madam.'

Perrin squeezed her shoulder. ‘You may not have noticed, my turtledove, but it's high summer. She doesn't have a fire today. She's put the bandage away somewhere safe until she can burn it.'

Elvie's voice came from close behind them, and they all sprang guiltily backward. ‘I work for the Witch-Woman,' she said harshly. ‘But I've no love for her. I haven't told you how my mother died. Or how I got berry-juice in my eyes.' She turned and groped her way back inside the hut.

‘Now you've upset her,' said Perrin. ‘I told you we could trust her.'

Tansy was unrepentant. ‘She can
say
anything. I reckon we should go. Get your bandage back and go.'

‘And I say we should stay. Come on, Tansy! She's fixed my hand, given me a good sleep, dyed your hair and fed you. What more do you want? I give you my word. She's all right.'

Tansy turned to Skir. ‘Looks like it's up to you.'

‘Er –' said Skir, cornered. He wanted to believe Perrin; he wanted to sleep under a roof. And despite the bones, he liked Elvie. ‘What do the horses think?'

‘Penthesi kissed her ear!' said Perrin triumphantly, and the argument was over.

They spent that night in Elvie's hut. Tansy shared Elvie's bed, rolled as far away as she could get without falling off the mattress, and the two young men stretched out on the floor.

Despite Tansy's misgivings, Skir felt comfortable and safe for the first time since they'd left Arvestel. Elvie had given him a salve for his feet and a potion for his bowels. He had a pillow under his head, a belly full of food, and he'd washed properly, with soap, all over, before dinner. But now deeper worries stirred within him.

Suddenly Skir missed Beeman so much his chest ached. Where was he now? Had he been punished for Skir's escape? Beeman was his tutor, but he was also supposed to act as his jailer. Skir was uncomfortable with that fact, but it was true. In some ways Beeman was as much a prisoner as Skir himself, but as the Priest-King's companion, it was his duty to see that Skir didn't wander off, didn't put himself in danger, and didn't communicate with anyone outside the Court.