Amber Magic

Chapter Fifteen

It was a long walk uphill, but soon they came to the main cobbled street of Riverton. They halted at the Spotted Hog where they had had lunch just the day before. It seemed like a week had passed since then to Brand.

“We must find Uncle Tylag and Constable Hirck and tell him about the stolen boat and Arlon's disappearance,” said Jak.

“Yes,” agreed Brand, “Uncle Tylag used to be the chief of the Riverton Constabulary, he'll know what to do.”

After a short discussion, they decided that Jak, Modi and Gudrin would report to the constable, while Brand and Corbin would find Tylag. As Brand had no doubt she would, Telyn wished to accompany the talespinner. They all agreed to meet up at the common, where most of the town would be in any case.

“Don't forget about our business, Brand,” Telyn hissed to him as the two groups parted. She looked Corbin up and down critically. “You can come along as well, since I can see that you've wheedled the story out of Brand.”

Brand and Corbin exchanged grins as they went into the Spotted Hog, deciding to check there first. Inside, one thing led to another, and Corbin was soon ordering a large quantity of food for lunch. Brand rolled his eyes, but didn't refuse the plate of smoked fish and fresh bread placed before him.

“She knew immediately,” Corbin said when he'd finished stuffing his lunch away.

“Of course,” replied Brand. “I never doubted that she would.”

“I think I know what you see in that girl.”

“And what would that be?”

“The fact that she can see right through you. It's enough to intrigue any thinking man.”

Brand kept his opinions about Telyn to himself and finished his plate quickly. He noted that a fire was going now in the stone hearth at the back wall of the common room. Winter was upon them early this year. He knew from years of experience that Innkeeper Blunner would keep the flames going all day, everyday, until spring.

“Well,” said Corbin after he'd finished a mug of warm mead. “I think it's clear that my father isn't here.”

Brand agreed, grinning, and the two of them settled their accounts and stepped out into the street again. The snow had melted off by now, and the sun was even shining weakly. It was good to walk on cobblestones instead of slush and mud.

All of Riverton was bustling in anticipation of tonight's feast. A Mari Lwyd parade came up behind them, bells jangling and criers bawling for all to beware. Remembering when it had been their year to carry the Mari Lwyd, they stepped out of the way into the entryway of Yudo the Tinsmith's shop and watched the procession.

First came the criers, girls all, wearing white dresses with wings made of sticks and gauze. Then came the smaller boys, hopping and leaping with agility, each wearing a top hat and a waistcoat of bright green, yellow or crimson and swinging their canes at the crowds with mock ferocity. Next came the huntsmen themselves, boys and girls nearly as old as Brand and Corbin. First came the biggest of the boys, bearing the Mari Lwyd itself, the ancient symbol of Herla, which consisted of a horse's skull draped with white cloth and decorated with rosettes and colored ribbons. The eyes were of bottle-glass and the antlers were those of a stag killed long ago in the Deepwood. Behind this boy came the other coursers, riding mock horses of white or black.

Brand watched the procession go by, and for the first time felt some of the old excitement of the Harvest Moon feast run through him. “The children think it's all a game, but there they are, imitating Herla at the head of the Wild Hunt. But perhaps I shouldn't mention that name aloud…”

“I remember our year,” said Corbin in a thoughtful voice. “You bore the Mari Lwyd because of your great height, and I was one of your coursers.”

“To think that tonight we may catch sight of what we were playing at just a few years ago,” said Brand. “The whole idea is mad. We must try to stop Telyn. I have no interest in being chased down by Herla and skinned to make new boots and cloaks for his coursers, if the tales are to be believed.”

Corbin looked doubtful. “I don't want to meet up with this Enemy either, but Telyn is not easily dissuaded from anything.”

Brand made a gesture of exasperation. “She wants to do something crazy, possibly risking all our lives or even more. We are well within our rights to stop her. She doesn't know what she is toying with. After listening to Gudrin today and seeing Arlon's boat and those bizarre footprints on the isle, I'm beginning to realize how important all of this is.”

“It's far more than a child's game,” agreed Corbin.

The two of them followed the procession to the gates of Drake manor. The high stone walls were scaled by green tongues of ivy. They passed between the rusted gates and crunched up the gravel walkway to the steps. As they approached the manor itself, both of them slowed somewhat. It was difficult to overcome their childhood fear and reverence of the place. It was here that the Drake Clan had built their homestead to house their many relations. Riverton had been built up around this one corner of the estate, which made up a goodly portion of Stone Island. The Drake lands stretched all the way to the western cliffs along the far shore of the island. To the north, the estate bordered the town common upon which the festival would be held and upon which the Offering would be made tonight. The manor house itself was an impressive thing, four stories high and rambling, with dozens of apartments big enough for whole families to live in. In fact, more than twenty families of the Drake clan still lived in the manor.

Brand hadn't faced the Riverton Council since he was a child. He hesitated at the foot of the steps, then plunged ahead, swinging the knocker and sending an echoing clatter through the halls on the other side. After a lengthy wait Brand made ready to lift the knocker again. The door swung open even as he reached out his hand. He snatched it back hastily.

The man who answered the door was an elderly fellow with bushy white eyebrows and a squint. He took one look at them and waved them away. “You’ve come for courting early, eh? Anyone you boys would be looking for has already left for the common,” he said. He made as if to shut the door, but then leaned out to have one more word. “And watch that you don't make free with the young ladies of the Drake clan tonight, gentlemen.”

“Sir, excuse me,” said Brand, stepping forward. “We are looking for Tylag of Clan Rabing, sir.”

“Eh, what's this?” asked the man. “Tylag?”

“Yes sir, he sent us to look for Myrrdin.”

“Myrrdin?” asked the man in surprise. His eyes slid back and forth between the two boys and then narrowed suddenly. “Is this a joke? We don't take well to jokes here. I'll have you whipped off the estate!”

“No sir,” said Brand, taking a step back in surprise. “We aren't joking.”

The man squinted at Brand closely. “You're Jan's boy. Jan Rabing's boy. Only Jan could have had a son so tall.”

“You knew my father?”

“Of course,” he snapped. Then he eyed Corbin. “And this great lout must be Corbin Rabing. Well, well.”

“Is Tylag here, sir?” asked Corbin.

The man made an impatient gesture. “Of course,” he said. He turned and walked away quickly. A crooked finger over his shoulder was the only hint they had that they were to follow. They stepped into the entry hall and shut the door behind them. The hall was everything that Brand had remembered, but perhaps with an extra layer of dust on it. The mosaic floor was a spiral pattern of black and white that gave one the impression of falling into a whirlpool if you stared at it too long. The grand staircase that swept down into the hall from the second story was of carven stone and heavy oak beams. It was up these steps that the old man currently disappeared.

Hustling after him, the boys took the steps two at a time. In the sudden presence of wealth, they were now hotly aware of their simple clothes and muddy boots. Brand began to self-consciously stuff his shirt into his pants.

They reached the top of the steps and for a moment thought they had lost their guide. “There!” said Corbin, pointing to a door that was just swinging shut at the end of the nearest hallway. Brand marched for the door down a hall of dark stained wood. Painted tapestries of various heroic acts performed by Drake clan leaders lined the walls of the dark hall. Brand grabbed hold of the door handle and twisted. They tumbled into the room beyond.

They blinked in unexpected brilliance. The entire back wall of this room and much of the ceiling was made up of stained glass. Brand stood in wonder, recalling the colored lights of the council chamber from when he was a boy. The floor was carpeted with several huge silver wolf pelts taken from the Deepwood. An oval table of great size sat in the middle of the room with twenty-one chairs arranged around it, one for each of the clan leaders.

There were only five people in the room now: Tylag, the man who had answered the door, Gram Rabing, old man Tad Silure and Irva Hoot. Brand could tell that they weren't getting along.

“Sorry about the delay, gentlemen,” said the man who had let them in. “These louts of yours, Tylag, seem to have returned early-and without Myrrdin.”

“Well, it was a long shot, Thilfox,” sighed Tylag.

“Thilfox?” asked Brand, stepping forward. “You're Thilfox Drake?”

The old man made an impatient gesture. “Of course, boy.”

“I apologize, sir. I didn't…” Brand began, but the others were all talking, ignoring them. They were trying to decide who should perform the ceremony of the Offering. Old man Tad Silure and Gram Rabing seemed particularly bitter, while Irva Hoot looked bored.

Brand stepped forward, but Corbin took his arm. “Perhaps we should just go.”

“No, we must tell them about the Kindred and about Arlon.”

“Eh? What was that?” demanded Thilfox suddenly. He rose up and approached them. “Did you say something about the Kindred, meaning the Battleaxe Folk? What would you boys know of such wanderers?”

Brand was a bit taken aback. Thilfox seemed at times deaf and at other times possessed of the keenest hearing. “I–I would like to tell you that we have brought with us Gudrin of the Talespinners and Modi of the Warriors. Gudrin has much craft and lore, I believe she may be well qualified to perform the Offering.”

“Oh you do, do you, boy?” asked old man Tad Silure, rising to his feet. He was a balding man of exceptional age and vitality. He had a habit of smiling and sneering at the same time, which revealed his long yellow teeth. “Who are you to make the council's decisions for them? Like everyone in your clan, you think you own the River itself.”

“Why don't we all control ourselves and hear what they have to say, Tad,” suggested Tylag, checking his own anger with an obvious effort.

“Yes boy, make your report,” said Irva Hoot. She adjusted her clay pipe so that it poked from the opposite side of her mouth and peered at them dubiously.

Brand explained at length what had happened to them for the last couple of days, including the encounters with the shade, the Battleaxe Folk and Arlon's boat. He left out any mention of Telyn's odd candle, or her plans for this evening. When he was finished, Thilfox eyed him oddly.

“That's all you wish to say, Brand?” asked Thilfox.

Brand looked down. “That's all, sir.”