Shadows and Light (33 page)

Not even a wolf was safe against a shadow hound, and now they’d seen that side of her while she was still in her human form.

Then, as the sky began to lighten with the dawn, Morag road into that thorny, barren place.

Have you nothing to say about what I’ve done here, Gatherer?

I’ve seen worse things done, and they were done by an Inquisitor’s hand
.

Morag gathered all the ghosts in that place and took them up the road that led to the Shadowed Veil and the Summerland beyond.

Death’s Mistress didn’t fear shadow hounds.

Ashk blinked her eyes several times. It was just looking at the sunlight that made them wet. Just the sunlight.

It would be some time before she could walk in the light again. The Black Coats had created the foul, souleating creatures called nighthunters, and those things were growing somewhere in the woods. No, she couldn’t walk in the light while her people were in danger.

She turned her back on the meadow and looked at the men standing in the shadows of the woods, the men who had followed her here, waiting for their orders.

“Send word through the minstrels and the storytellers,” Ashk said. “They’ll make sure everyone hears the
warnings. Send it swiftly. It must reach the witches and the barons as well as the Clans.”

“What should the minstrels and storytellers say?” one of the huntsmen asked.

“They should give warning about the nighthunters. One of the Black Coats, the one who led the other five, got away. He could create more of those soul-eating creatures in other places while he flees the west. People need to be careful.”

“Is there anything else?” the huntsman asked.

“No stranger is welcome in the west, and if any come, no one is to talk to them about witches or the House of Gaian.
No one
. If any strangers want answers, they can come to me.” It hurt, knowing what her next words might cost. “And if any strangers who come into the west are reluctant to explain to the Fae why they have come among us … kill them.”

G
lynis set her wet, soapy fists on her hips. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times, and I’ll say it again. It isn’t right. Lady Elinore would never stoop so low as to do a servant’s work, and you’re just as fine a lady as she is — and kin besides.”

I don’t think Elinore would refuse to help with chores if her help was needed, but her servants would probably faint from the embarrassment
, Breanna thought as she slipped the handle of the basket that held the wooden clothes-pegs over one arm. She and Glynis had been arguing this point on and off ever since the woman came to work for them. “I think my dignity can survive hanging up the wash. Besides, I do it every week, and I’m not about to stop doing it just because Elinore will see me.” She lifted the large basket full of wet sheets and pillowcases and left before Glynis could continue the argument.

As she walked toward the three wash lines strung between sturdy posts, she saw Clay look at the wash house, then look at her. He grinned.

Breanna stopped to give him a narrow-eyed stare. “I suppose you’re going to tell me a gentry lady would rather run naked down the main street of Willowsbrook than be seen hanging out her own wash.”

“Truth to tell, she probably would,” Clay replied. “And it would be more entertaining for the rest of us. But I’ve no objection to a healthy body doing healthy work, so if you ever have an urge to shovel out horse manure, I won’t be telling you it’s not a fit occupation for a gentry lady.”

She bit back a chuckle, shook her head, and continued her walk to the clotheslines. Setting down her baskets, she plucked a couple of clothes-pegs out of the small basket and started filling the lines with clean linens.

A light breeze from the west played with the pegged clothes as she filled one line and went on to the next. A few years ago, she and Keely had made a large flower bed of roses and lavender behind the clotheslines so that the wind would carry the scent over the clean clothes. A simple thing, but it pleased her every time she hung out the wash, and every time she slipped a tunic over her head and caught a hint of those mixed scents.

The message on the western wind a few days ago had been filled with warmth and humor. Aiden and Lyrra had reached the village in the Mother’s Hills where her kin lived. She wondered if Aiden had sung any new songs — and she wondered if Skelly had told Lyrra any stories about his sweet granny. At another time, she would have been tempted to escort them the whole way herself, but the things Aiden and Lyrra had said about the Black Coats had made her uneasy about leaving her mother and grandmother.

And she wondered, as she’d wondered since the morning they left, why Aiden and Lyrra had reacted to her parting words the way they did.

Merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again. A common saying among family and friends — at least among those who were of the House of Gaian. But they’d looked at her as if she’d given them a key piece to a difficult puzzle.

Breanna shrugged, pegged a pillowcase to the third line. Perhaps one day they’d ride back this way and she could ask them why a simple saying had seemed so important.

She was halfway down the line when she heard a flutter of wings and caught the movement of something large and
brown out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head slowly, she studied the hawk that was perched on one of the posts.

“Blessings of the day to you, brother hawk.”

She’d never seen a hawk quite that big before. No jesses, which meant it was a wild hawk. What could interest a wild hawk enough that it would perch on a post so close to where people lived and worked, not to mention the linens gently flapping in the breeze? Granted, sitting on that post would give a sharp-eyed bird a good view of the back lawn, gardens, and stables, but .

“Are you here because you spotted a few rats you thought might be tasty? If you
have
spotted any, you’re welcome to them.” She’d have to ask Clay if he’d seen any sign of rats. She didn’t mind field mice — unless they got into the house — but rats weren’t to her liking.

Since the hawk seemed content to perch on the post, she went back to pegging the sheet to the line. When her basket was empty and the line was full, she turned and saw the pillowcase nearest the post dangling by one peg — and the other peg firmly under one of the hawk’s taloned feet.

The hawk seemed to be studying the brown, hard object it had captured.

“Ah, come on now,” Breanna said, walking toward it slowly. “Come on. That’s of no use to you. You can’t eat it. You wouldn’t even bother chewing on it. Come on now. Give it up.”

How had it gotten the clothes-peg to begin with? Breanna wondered as she continued walking toward the hawk. Pulled it off the line with its beak? Whatever for?

“Here now,” Breanna said, raising one hand toward the hawk. “Give it back and I’ll —”She’d what? Offer him a bit of cold beef? He might like it, even if it was cooked, but she wasn’t sure feeding him would be a good idea.

She reached for the peg.

The hawk raised his wings, making him look much, much bigger than he already did. He bent so that his beak hovered above the clothes-peg — and he watched her.

Mother’s tits! This was worse than dealing with Idjit. And, she had to admit, she felt a lot more wary of the hawk’s talons and beak than she did of Idjit’s teeth. Maybe because she saw a lot more intelligence in the hawk’s eyes than she’d ever seen in the dog’s.

“Give it back,” Breanna said quietly, firmly.

The hawk grabbed the clothes-peg with its beak and flew off, the downsweep of its wings almost hitting her in the face, making her duck.

“You … thief.” Incensed, Breanna chased the bird until grass gave way to the woods and the hawk disappeared among the trees.

“Thief!”
Breanna shouted, shaking her fist. “You’re nothing but a featherheaded thief! If you steal from us again, I’ll pluck you and we’ll have hawk surprise one night for the evening meal.
Thief!”

“Breanna!” Nuala panted, having run from the house. “Whatever is the matter?”

Breanna whirled to face her grandmother. “That hawk just stole one of our clothes-pegs! We pay good coin for those pegs, and he stole one!”

“We pay a copper for a dozen of those pegs, and the only reason we pay that much is we can afford to and it gives old Jess a purpose to the whittling he likes to do. And now that he’s living with his granddaughter, having a few coppers of his own lets him keep his pride and buy a treat now and then for his great-grandchildren.”

“How much we paid for it isn’t the point,” Breanna said. “The point is it belonged to us
and he stole it.”

“What would a hawk want with a clothes-peg?”

“Exactly!” Breanna threw up her hands in exasperation.

“Exactly,” Nuala agreed. “So I ask you again, my darling Breanna, what would a
hawk
want with a clothes-peg?”

Breanna opened her mouth, closed it slowly. “What would a Fae Lord want with a clothes-peg?”

“That,” Nuala said dryly, “is a different question, and, like the other, it has no obvious answer.”

“It’s bad enough that the Fae have been skulking in the woods, pestering the Small Folk about us, but this one just flies in here as bold as you please to watch everything we do — and steals from us.”

“Breanna —”

Breanna whirled around to face the woods, took a deep breath, and roared,
“Thief!”

“Breanna,”
Nuala said sternly. “Come inside now. You’ve had enough sun this morning. It’s overheated your brain.”

“It — What?”

Nuala just gave her the look that had subdued Aiden into obedience.

When Nuala walked back to the house, Breanna went with her — and saw three reasons why she should have been a little less vocal. Clay had run halfway to meet her, a pitchfork in his hands, before seeing that this was, somehow, a discussion between grandmother and granddaughter that he should stay out of. Edgar was standing near the wall of the kitchen garden, a hoe in his hands. And Glynis had come running with the big paddle she used to stir the laundry in the washtubs.

Giving Clay an embarrassed smile, Breanna hung her head and followed Nuala to the house, much as she had done when she was eight and couldn’t manage to stay out of trouble for more than two days in a row.

But as she reached the threshold of the kitchen door, she looked over her shoulder at the woods, and mouthed, “Thief.”

“Breanna,” Nuala called through the partially open parlor door. “Would you come outside with me for a minute?”

Sighing, Breanna set aside the book she’d been trying to read. She enjoyed reading when she wanted to read, but it had always seemed a shame to spoil the pleasure of a story by remembering she’d used it to fill the hours when she’d had to stay in her room after some kind of rumpus. Of course, Nuala hadn’t sent her to her room this time, since she
was
an adult, but suggesting that she stay in the parlor and find something quiet to do amounted to the same thing.

“What is it?” Breanna asked. Maybe she’d have to polish the silver. She hated polishing the silver. It was one of those tasks for which she was more than happy to side with Glynis about what was and wasn’t a proper task for a gentry lady.

Not that she thought her opinion was going to matter this afternoon.

Nuala led her out the kitchen door to where Clay stood with an odd smile curving his lips. He held up a dead rabbit.

“You caught a rabbit?” Breanna asked.

Clay shook his head. “The hawk caught a rabbit. He flew over to the wood block, waited until I spotted him there, then flew off, leaving the rabbit behind.”

Breanna frowned at the rabbit. “Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he didn’t want to be called a thief anymore,” Clay said.

Breanna felt her cheeks heat. Of course Nuala had told Clay — and probably Edgar and Glynis — what she’d been shouting about. She’d be surprised if there was anyone in the whole county who hadn’t heard her.

Which didn’t make it any easier when Nuala leaned toward her, and said softly, “I’d say a rabbit is adequate payment for a clothes-peg. Wouldn’t you?”

The next morning, the hawk brought another rabbit. This time, he guarded it until Clay fetched Breanna. As soon as the hawk saw her, he left the rabbit and flew off.

Ignoring Clay’s grin, Breanna took the rabbit to Glynis, who was quite pleased to have more fresh meat without having to make the trip to the butcher’s shop in Willowsbrook.

Two rabbits for a clothes-peg didn’t seem quite fair. Considering the way she’d yelled at him, he probably thought he’d taken something that had far more value than a whittled piece of wood. While she weeded the flower beds, she chewed on a kernel of worry that the bird was giving his kills to her and was going without food because of it. Which was foolish, of course. He was a Fae Lord. He’d just go back up to Tir Alainn and stuff himself with food. And perhaps amuse the other Fae by recounting how he’d caught a rabbit for the witches in the Old Place?

That thought didn’t sit any better than worrying about him, so she tried to keep her mind on the weeds instead of on the Fae. Unfortunately, the Fae provided more interesting thoughts than weeds did — or any of the other chores she did during that day to keep her hands busy.

The following morning, Breanna was in the kitchen garden, hoeing her share of the rows, when the hawk flew over to perch on the garden wall, empty-handed — or empty-footed in his case.

Leaning on the hoe, Breanna studied the bird. “Blessings of the day to you, brother hawk,” she said pleasantly.

The hawk just watched her.

“I thank you for the rabbits. They were very tasty, and the meat was much appreciated.”

The hawk lifted his folded wings. The movement was so much like a shrug, if a man had done it, she would have translated the gesture as, “It was nothing.”

“Since there aren’t many of us here,” Breanna continued, “there’s still plenty of meat left, so we don’t need another rabbit. You should do some hunting for
yourself now.” Of course, that wasn’t true. Oh, there was a bowl of rabbit stew left, and a couple of pieces of the rabbit pies Glynis had made for yesterday’s evening meal, but six adults, especially when two of them were hungry, hardworking men, didn’t tend to leave much on the table after a meal.