Amber Magic

Chapter Nine

Traveling up the river Brand had a nostalgic, almost melancholy feeling come over him. Everything seemed to be changing, becoming more exciting and more ominous by the day. The seasons were shifting, getting colder rapidly. Even while the sun was still high in the sky, he could feel the chill of the cold night ahead in the wind. He eyed the scudding gray clouds and wondered if it might not snow tonight. It almost never snowed before the Harvest Moon, but anything seemed possible this autumn.

“Everything seems odd to me, Telyn,” he said wistfully. They sat in bow of the skiff, while Jak gripped the tiller and Corbin tended the sails. By silent agreement, his clansmen had arranged for him to be alone with her.

She didn't answer him right away. The skiff's mast creaked and the river bubbled and splashed as the wind pushed the boat against the current. Telyn dangled her fingers in the white foam that curled up the skiff's dark hull.

“Something is definitely wrong,” she agreed finally. She stretched out and Brand was taken by the way her hair fluttered freely in the wind.

They spent much of the trip in quiet conversation, and by the time Rabing Isle hove into view, Brand found that he had sidled close to her and could feel her warmth. He was almost sorry to see the journey end.

“Well,” said Jak, clapping him on the shoulder as they moored the skiff at their home dock in a tiny green-water cove. “At least we've seen nothing more of the shadow man.”

Brand felt a surge of well-being to be home again. The light was failing and the wind was downright cold now, but all of them were smiling. Rabing Isle was a beautiful place, full of good memories for all of them.

They marched up through the apple tree grove to the foot of the only hill on the island. They followed the winding gravel path through the vegetable garden, its leafy green growth fading to brown now with the onset of winter. Corbin carried two weighty rucksacks with him, Brand noticed with a smile. One probably full of games and storybooks and the other doubtless packed with extra food.

“I hope you didn't give up all the year's crop of berrywine to the Offering,” he said in a leading fashion as the heavy log walls came into view between the towering berry bush hedges that surrounded the house.

“No more than the customary one part in seven,” Jak assured him. He gestured toward the winery, where the family press and fermentation tanks were sheltered. “If you wish to inspect our stocks personally…”

Corbin grinned. “Ah, I'm sure that your cellars are more than adequate for my needs.”

Telyn poked him in the side. “I for one have my doubts!”

They all laughed and headed into the house. The house was made of rough-hewn logs with mortar filling the cracks. The windows were all shuttered and the second story wore a steep roof of shingles like a farmer's wide-brimmed hat. The house was impressively large, having been built to hold several families. Four generations ago, it had housed many people, but now most of the rooms were empty and layered in cold dust.

Telyn raced forward to the stairs with a delighted cry. “It has been years since I rode this banister!” she said, gripping the big rounded post at the bottom with a grin. “Remember when I pushed you out of the big yew tree out front Brand?”

Brand tried to look sour. “How could I forget?”

“Perhaps you should chop some fresh wood for the fire, Brand,” suggested Jak in a tone that Brand knew made it an order. This didn’t bother him, however. Jak was the master of the house, and in any case, he was simply glad to be home.

“As I recall, we have two axes,” Brand said, eyeing Corbin.

Corbin grinned and followed him out into the yard. They retrieved the axes from the woodshed and set to work. Soon, the chill air was forgotten as they worked up a good sweat. Chopping wood was something of a competition for them. Corbin had the weight and strength to split a log with a single stroke, but Brand had the finesse to be able to do it more often.

“You'll never chop faster than I, you know that,” said Brand, speaking in gasps between swings.

“You're as competitive as your brother, in your own way,” observed Corbin. Chips flew and caught in their hair. The thunking sound of axes falling filled the yard.

“Ha! If that's not the river calling the shore brown!” snorted Brand. “I'm not the one who would rook Gram Rabing herself in a game of Swap-cards!”

After this brief exchange, they saved their breath for lifting their axes. The wood piled up high and fast at their feet. For speed, it was nearly a draw, although Brand's pile was marginally larger. When both of them had several armloads, they headed back into the house.

Inside they all fell to talking about old times, and even Jak seemed to have shed his dark mood. Corbin talked while working in the kitchen. He donned an apron that probably hadn't been worn since their parents had been lost and set to work on a meal of astounding variety and proportions. As Brand had suspected, many foodstuffs were packed away in his rucksacks, bought at the Spotted Hog with the remains of Tylag's money. They had no objections as hosts, however, recalling the morning's “chores” and the vast amounts that Corbin could put away in a single evening.

They feasted on smoked duck, fresh onion-bread, goat cheese and boiled merling eggs. For dessert, big, crescent slices of broadleaf melon were handed around. After dinner and washing up, they gathered at the fireplace and sipped berrywine. Jak built up a big fire with twice as much wood as usual. Outside, the wind had come up and even began to howl.

“There's no doubt of it, we're having our first winter storm tonight,” said Jak. He put his feet up over the side of his overstuffed leather chair, in just the fashion that their father had long ago complained about, but now that he was the master of the house, none spoke. “Still, it's good to have friends in the house again.”

Brand felt a wash of well being. It was good to be home with friends when winter's first breath was blowing outside. The house had been empty for too long. He looked at Telyn and his thoughts drifted pleasantly. She was brushing her hair out and staring at the fire. Her lips curved up in a delicate smile, and he knew she was aware of his attention. A blush, heated even more deeply by the wine in his belly, crept up his neck and cheeks.

“Swap-cards, anyone?” asked Corbin, nonchalantly. Jak rolled his eyes to the ceiling then finished his wine with a gulp. His boots came down with a thud. “Okay, but this time you lose,” said Jak. Brand seconded the motion.

Telyn played for three hands, winning two of them. Corbin's eyebrows were comically high as he watched her fingers flutter over the cards and nimbly snatch up the polished sticks and set them in the appropriate patterns with a flourish. Next to his deliberate movements, hers were like lightning. Still, she somehow seemed distracted. After the three hands, she decided to retire early.

Brand watched her go up the creaking steps with concern. The allure of the game was too much to allow for worries, however, and the night wore on quickly. The majority of the betting beads ended up on Jak's side this time. Corbin took the loss with easy confidence. “Every dog has his day.”

Jak slapped his legs and began pulling his waders back on. “Well,” he said, “It's high time we set out lamps for Myrrdin. If he's out there on the river tonight, he'll need them just to avoid capsizing on the shoals.”

Brand made ready to go with him, but Corbin volunteered for the duty, claiming he needed the exercise. Corbin donned his waders and they all helped Jak with readying six heavy hurricane lamps of tarnished brass. Each tall lamp had to have its wicks adjusted and its oil vessels filled. Carrying three lamps each, Jak and Corbin threw open the door and stamped outside. Brand was surprised by the wind's strength, it tousled everything in the room, spraying the swap-cards like fallen leaves and making the fire gust up and sputter. He pushed the door shut after them and tended the fire and packed away the cards.

Crouched before the crackling flames with a poker in his hand, he felt eyes on his back. He turned and Telyn was there, standing just a few feet behind him. He blinked in surprise. “How do you do that? I know this house so well, no one can move through it without me hearing their steps on the boards.”

“The wind drowns out sound,” she said with a slight shrug and a tiny smile. She pushed back her hair from her face. “Besides, I'm no great thumping river-boy with wading boots on.”

“But I know every creak and groan those stairs make…” he protested. It just didn't seem possible, but then, she had always moved differently.

She silenced him with a finger to her lips. “It doesn't matter,” she extended her delicate white hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Brand hesitated for a moment, then set aside the poker and took her hand. The look in her eyes told him she was serious about something. She led him up the steps to the old nursery.

“You're sleeping in here?” he asked.

She nodded. “It's the room I have the best memories of.”

Then he noticed the candle in the window. It was a single taper of waxy white tallow, not like the ones they had kept in the house.

“But the shutters are closed,” he pointed out. “You can't hope to signal Myrrdin with that.”

“Not Myrrdin, necessarily-”

“But it doesn't matter who you're trying to signal,” he said, still staring at the tiny flame. It bothered him, somehow. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something odd about it. “No one can see it through the shutters, much less the hedge outside. Only the hurricane lamps can be seen from the river, and then only if they are on lampposts at the shoreline. The River knows that a candle would just blow out if you opened the shutters, anyway.”

Telyn silenced him with a single finger touched to his lips this time. She gave him one of her knowing smiles. “How did you see the one in my window last night, then?” she asked.

His mouth sagged open. “Are you saying that-that your shutters were closed?”

She made no attempt to answer. Instead, she guided him out of the room with light touches of her hands. Hardly aware of it, he moved at her slightest touch, and soon found himself standing in the hall. “You should know better than to be caught in a lady's room this late at night,” she scolded, closing the door.

“Wait!”

“Good night,” she said sweetly.

He was left standing in the dark hall, at a loss. Later, when Jak and Corbin had returned from their work, stamping their boots and rubbing their hands, he went to bed. It was then, staring at the ceiling, that he recalled what was odd about that candle.

It had not flickered, even when in the window, where drafts and gusts always came through the shutters. The flame had been perfectly steady and still. Even in a light wind, much less a storm, it should have flickered and danced and perhaps even been blown out by the drafts. He fell asleep trying to remember if Telyn's hair had been tousled by drafts that should have affected the candle, but that just got his mind onto the subject of her face, and then it was hard to think at all. Wondering what it all meant, he slipped into troubled dreams.