35

Winter Interlude

Candle and Locryn made haste through the dark undergrowth, walking purposefully by the light of the moon. The Twelve Lords of Hammett loomed black and still to their left while the waves beat on the shore to their right. The cool sea air had cleared Locryn's head, but fortunately for Candle, they were too preoccupied with their escape for him to ask too many questions about how exactly he had been healed. For now, they were both grateful to be away from the barbarians and in the relative safety of the night-time fell.

The moon rose steadily, across the arch of the sky and as they walked the shore in silence. After a few quiet hours, they crossed a broad mountain stream that tumbled out of the mountains and bounced itself down to the sea. They stopped to drink their fill and Candle suggested they waited there for the coming twilight.

"What? In the water?" demanded Locryn, aghast. Candle pointed to a flat rock in the middle of the shallow stream.

"There," she said, half smiling at his distress. "We won't find another bothy or village before dawn and if we rest now we'll make better progress in the daytime." Locryn begrudgingly agreed and they walked a little way upstream, looking for a suitable place to rest. Although the slope was on the sunside of the mountain, a few stubby trees grew thickly enough that under their branches the shadows were a deep, velvety black. They soon found a comfortable hollow in the roots of a low growing sea guarri and settled into it back to back. Now the adrenaline had left her body Candle was exhausted and glad of Locryn's warmth. She had lost her cloak somewhere in the mad dash.

"There should be a moongate at Balyow," said Locryn, naming the village further down the Roseland peninsula. Candle nodded in the dark and listened to the rustling as Locryn got his sandwich out of his pocket. He offered half to Candle, and she turned it down, with some difficulty, thinking, it was only fair, as she had already eaten hers. To her relief, Locryn didn't seem inclined to talk and she thought he must have dozed off when he spoke, his voice low and quiet so as not to disturb the night.

"Life at Hanternos must have been pretty miserable," he said, "for you to give it up for this!" He gestured in the dark with the sandwich, taking in the cold forest and the glittering moonlight, filtered through the branches. Dimly Candle could hear the swell of the ocean, pounding the rocks, and thought privately that it wasn't so bad. "I always thought aethelings lived wonderful lives! Nothing but art and parties!"

"I think for most it is," she said, shortly, leaning back to look at the stars so she didn't have to watch the sandwich disappear down Locryn's gullet. As usual, she couldn't see much through the blindfold. Oh, how she longed to tear it off. "But my parents found me very disappointing. I was an embarrassment." She squeezed her eyelids together. It still hurt to think about. "What about you?" she asked, to stop him from asking about her family. "How did you end up here? In the Own, I mean. You seem ... too nice to be a violent convict."

"Nice, am I?"

"You all are," she said, embarrassment heating her cheeks. She was uncomfortably aware of how close Locryn was sitting to her. She could feel his shoulder blades shift when he laughed. She stared at the stars and wished she had never spoken.

"I'll be sure to tell the others," he said, "but then this is one of the better groups. That's why the Mester lets us have so much autonomy. She trusts us. Well, she trusts Jory and Pasco. It's probably why she assigned you to us. Since you don't seem like a serial killer to me." He twisted his head and grinned round at her, his teeth white against the dark of his face. His smile dropped. "As for why I'm here...are you sure you want to hear my sad story?"

"I do."

He didn't say anything for a long while, and Candle watched the breeze tickle the leaves of the guarri above them. Somewhere inland a bat squeaked.

"It was stupid," he said, at last. "I was stupid, stupid and reckless...all it took was a moment to ruin everything." He sighed a deep, rattling sigh, before continuing. "It was during the summer solstice, two years ago. I - I drank too much and I got into a fight with my best friend. I punched him in the head. That was all. I knocked him out. I knocked him out and he never woke up. It was so stupid."

"I'm sorry," said Candle, into the silence, feeling helpless. He was right, it was a sad story. She felt him shrug.

"I deserve to be here," he said, in more even tones. "A life for a life, that's what the priests say. It won't bring him back, it won't bring my soul back, but at least I can atone."

Candle couldn't think of anything appropriate to say, so she said nothing and they sat in silence, listening to the quiet sounds of the night-time fell. The wind died down and it was growing colder.

"Do you think the others are alright?" asked Candle, after a while, her mind turning to the events of the recent past.

"Oh yes," said Locryn. "Pasco fought his way across half of the Teurek Territories by himself to reach Havi. It will take more than a couple of barbarians with fancy weapons to slow him down. And the Mester - well I pity the fool who gets in her way."

"Good."

"It was you the Mester was worried about," said Locryn, "and here you are safe enough for now."

"Thank you," said Candle. "For looking out for me, at Sterlester."

"Thanks for looking out for me at the bothy."

They didn't speak much after that but took it in turns to watch while the other dozed. The hours slipped away peacefully and without incident. Once or twice, Candle thought she heard the sound of giant, scaly wings beating overhead, but she was never sure. When the night was growing dangerously old and the stars beginning to wink out one by one they moved down the stream and sat on the rocks with their feet in the water. It was an uneventful twilight, quiet apart from Locryn's grumblings, but the water was chilly and they were both glad when the sun rose from behind the misty Lords of Hammett.

They spent the next day and another full night working their way along the peninsula towards the village of Balyow where they expected to find a moongate. The fine weather of the last few days broke and clouds rolled in from the sea, bringing with it a steady drizzle. By the time they reached Balyow they were both hungry, cold and uncomfortable.

Like most Havian villages, Balyow was built well back from the dangers of the sea. Built into the high slopes of the last Lord of Hammett it was rough stone, quaintly beautiful and absolutely deserted. There was not a soul to be seen.

Candle and Locryn stood in the centre square, looking at the moongate which stood alone and unguarded. Candle shivered in the cold wind, wrapping her arms around herself as they looked around. It was eerily still but there were no obvious signs of violence or fire. On closer inspection, the houses looked as if they had been packed up with some thought. The iron shutters and doorways had all been pulled too, and everything was neat and carefully placed.

"They must have evacuated," said Locryn, looking around. "I don't think the barbarians have come this far."

"Yet," said Candle, hunger making her sombre.

"Yet," he echoed in agreement. "We should destroy the gate pots," he said, and they set too it, working quickly to scatter the soils and the clay pots. Candle pocketed some soil from Balyow, just in case, adding it to her small collection of wax wrapped packets in her pocket. It didn't take long and both of them felt more enthusiastic now they could see the moongate and a hot meal was but a short trip away.

"Let's go home," said Locryn, dusting his hands off and straightening. "I can't wait to get back to normal."

"Me too," said Candle, thinking about breakfast. She wondered what the kitchen staff would have made. She hoped there was fresh bread.

They both cut their hands and scattered the blood-soaked soil on the threshold of the moongate. Together, they stepped through the gate and into the courtyard at Gwavas, and into a forest of spears aimed at their chests.