Heart of Hythea

Chapter two-1

Chapter two

Hithluel, the rocky shore

(The Tollyn, Six)They have entered this turn of the Gyre. We must stop them, once and for all. Do you agree, my sisters? The beautiful, dark-haired woman in the mirror nods. Then she becomes three.

You are the Moon.

One face in the mirror changes, becomes even more striking; white wings gleam from behind her shoulders. Moonlight smiles. I am the pretty one — this time.

And you... Raven. Raven looks distastefully in the mirror — sees her black, matted hair and sharp rat’s teeth.

Now we must search for the Innocent. She is the key to this turn of the Gyre. Find her, Moonlight.

Moonlight touches the tokens, still scattered on the table before them, and shakes her head. You can see the future without these old luckcast[2] tokens, Geya. Why do you bother?

Geya smiles. I know it. But such things remind me of what we once were. Now I would draw one more, so I may see what this turn of the Gyre holds for us, my sisters.

She draws another token from the luckcast. It is the fifteenth card of the estate of Naer, in the Reversed position — Death.

So, it begins...

* * * *

Frost still rimed the grass in the late afternoon as Katkin made her way through the forest called St. Valery’s Acre. She rode with care, alert to every sound from the undergrowth on each side of the path following the riverbank. Her pony, Brinna, snorted anxiously. Katkin firmly held the reins, afraid the pony would shy at a birdcall or some other small noise. Patting her mane, she said, “Come on, Brin. Settle down now. There is nothing here to be frightened of. I hope...”

The catch in Katkin’s voice gave her own fears away. Since the War between the Soldiers of the Rising and the King’s Guard began, the forest surrounding the huge inland sea known as the Mistmere had become a haven for brigands and deserters from both sides. She knew the dangers well, yet traveling the forest path remained the quickest way back to the City of Isle St. Valery from the village of Belladore, after spending the day with her sister Willow.

Her sister’s husband, Yannick Abelard, had sent a message to the Infirmarie last night, begging for help with the delivery of their first child. Katkin was not a proper healer, not yet, but she was all the poor family could afford. Fortunately, the birth went well, except for a long labor. Her sister had borne a beautiful baby girl, and named her Roseberry after Yannick’s mother.

But now Katkin might be late back to the Infirmarie. There would be the devil to pay if the Maitress found out she left the City without an escort.

Katkin stopped before she reached the steepest part of the path, leading up to a bluff by the side of the river. There, the forest fell away to reveal a grassy meadow, studded with daisies and buttercups. The track here was narrow and stony, with high banks on either side. It would be the perfect place for an ambush. “We will take it slow, Brinna. There will be no surprises ahead for us, girl, I can promise you that.” Katkin spoke aloud and then smiled, wondering if she was reassuring the pony or herself. She urged Brinna forward and climbed the rocky rise with care. Katkin held herself in readiness, one hand on the reins and one on her bow, an arrow in her bowstring, but nothing disturbed their passage.

When she had reached the meadow safely, she breathed a sigh of relief and stopped to admire the view. From this vantage point, she could see the entire City on its peninsula and the walls and battlements gleamed in the low winter sun. She remembered the first time she had passed this way, as an unhappy eleven-year-old, traveling to boarding school in the City. That had been before the beginning of the War. Before Nicholas Reynard murdered her parents and utterly destroyed her home.

Katkin looked further down the path and saw a man gazing out over the cliff edge. Immediately, she jumped down from Brinna, bow at the ready. The stranger’s back was towards her and she did not think he was aware of her presence. He wore the elaborate uniform of a cuirassier, a horseman, with red epaulets on a jacket of midnight blue. The crested dragoon’s helmet on his head bore a long plume of black horsehair that mingled with his own long, straw-colored queue. He carried a broadsword and a flintlock pistol stuck into his belt. Despite these weapons, Katkin found nothing particularly threatening about him, perhaps because she could see he stood with the aid of crutches. It appeared he had no companions, other than a black horse standing nearby, patiently waiting for its master. Perhaps he was merely a traveler, like herself, pausing to admire the view of the City from the top of the sandstone bluff. She decided to approach him, after convincing herself she faced no real danger.

Grasping Brinna’s bridle, she walked boldly forward, intending to greet the stranger and continue on her way down to the shores of the Mistmere and into the City. Suddenly she stopped again, and watched in agitation as the soldier removed his crutches and threw them angrily over the edge of the bluff. They clattered down the rocks before finally coming to rest somewhere out of sight.

Katkin began to think she should get back up on Brinna and ride quickly past the distraught soldier. She hoped he would not try to follow her, though it did not seem likely now his crutches lay at the bottom of the cliff. But might this man need her help? After all, as a Juvenie[3] at the Infirmarie she ought to be ready to use her training at any time. She had to approach him cautiously, that much was certain. Frantically she tried to remember what she had learned. Something about remaining calm, and not making any sudden movements, or was that the treatment for shock? Perhaps, if she didn’t do something soon, it wasn’t going to matter at all.

As she took a few tentative steps towards him, his horse caught wind of her and whinnied. The blond man turned sharply and almost fell. Katkin forgot to be cautious. With a cry of alarm, she broke into a run, with arms outstretched, determined to save him from joining his crutches at the bottom of the cliff. But after a few seconds he regained his balance and regarded her silently as she drew up with him, out of breath and red-cheeked.

His look was dismissive.

She was nothing like the sort of women he usually associated with — neither the spoiled and wealthy daughters of the fellow gentry he called his friends nor the languid courtesans who now and again received his business. On the street he wouldn’t have given her a second glance, even though her dark-lashed green eyes were large and luminous, and her chestnut hair curled fetchingly round her face. Her mouth was far too generous, for one thing, and that ridiculous sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her unremarkable nose made her look like a farmer’s daughter. He wondered what on Yrth she was doing in the Acre alone, especially since she was wearing the simple vesture of a cloistered Unity Juvenie — a white long-sleeved shift, ending just below the knee, covered by a blue-striped apron, embroidered with the winged symbol of Lalluna on the bib. A worn fichu, meant to be tucked round the neck and shoulders, had come loose in her hurried advance across the meadow, giving her a disheveled look the stranger found both strangely appealing and somehow oddly familiar.

She blushed and re-tucked it quickly as soon as she saw his appraising glance.

Katkin, normally irrepressible and confident, could think of nothing at all to say. She drew herself up to her full height, but she still felt miserably childlike next to this tall soldier. He seemed to possess the battle-weary air she often saw in the injured Guardsmen at the Infirmarie. She took in his ice-blue eyes, and fine, straight nose. His elaborate uniform marked him as a wealthy and probably high-ranking officer of the King’s Guard. The man appeared to find her confusion amusing, for his eyes held a spark of merriment and his lips twitched slightly. He did not speak either, but seemed to be waiting to see what mad thing she might do next.

Katkin cleared her throat and said nervously, “Good day, Sir. As I was making my way through the Acre just now, I noticed you...” a pause here while she struggled to find the least threatening phrase, “accidentally dropped your crutches over the edge of the cliff back there. I can fetch them for you, if it would please you.”

“Do not trouble yourself, Miss.” He had a deep voice, obviously accustomed to giving orders. “Miss?”

As she scrambled down the steep path to the river’s edge, Katkin called back up to him, “It is no trouble, I know a way down.” She made her way to the bottom and retrieved the crutches from the bank. Fortunately they looked to be undamaged by their fall. The same could not be said for Katkin’s composure by the time she fought her way back up the cliff face, through many clumps of gorse and blackberry. Once back at the top, she handed over the crutches, and smiled awkwardly at him.

“Thank you for your help,” the man said softly. “You must think it very careless of me to let them... fall like that.” Again, his lips twitched and she knew he mocked her obvious discomfort. Then he removed his helmet, cradling it under his arm as he bowed stiffly.

“Captain Tomas Jean de Vigny at your service, Miss.”

Katkin smoothed down her apron as best she could and wished her knees had not gotten quite so muddy. She finally found her voice. “Katrione du Chesne at yours.” A disturbing sensation of déjà vu made her ask, “Have we met somewhere before, Captain?”

He ignored this question and posed one of his own. “May I ask what brings you into the St. Valery Acre’s in the evening? You should return to the City. There are many dangers here, Miss.”

Despite her now bedraggled appearance, she tried to answer him with adult dignity. “I am on my way to St. Valery now, Captain de Vigny. I have been in Belladore attending a birth, and I must return to the Infirmarie immediately.”

“You are a healer?” he asked her, looking skeptically at her torn frock and ripped stockings.

“I am a Juvenie, of the Unity of Lalluna.”

“Then you are cloistered. Are you not meant to have a chaperone? Why are you out alone?” he asked, raising his eyebrow at her.

Katkin swallowed uncomfortably, surprised at his knowledge of her order’s precepts. “A pressing emergency called me away. I had no choice but to go alone.” She glared at him defiantly. “Anyway, I can take care of myself. I am armed.” She pointed to her bow and quiver lying on the ground next to Brinna.

The Captain shook his head. “So, you stayed longer than you should and had to take this risky path to get back to the city before curfew and the closing of the gates? I think you made a mistake. Your pathetic little bow would be no help against a man such as me. It is fortunate for you I am a gentleman.”

Katkin spoke calmly, though his conceit annoyed her. “I will be punished severely for this mistake, as you call it.” Despite her efforts to sound untroubled, her voice faltered as she looked worriedly about her, the stranger’s plight almost forgotten. With nightfall imminent, she had little chance of getting back to the Infirmarie undetected. The Maitress would be furious with her. “I will never make it back in time now. I could lose my place with the Unity.”

Tomas looked at her sympathetically. “You shall not be punished for stopping to help an injured man in distress. I will accompany you and speak to the Maitress myself.”

“You would do that? Why? You don’t even know me,” she said, a bit surprised by his generosity.

“It is nothing. As a matter of fact, I was on my way to the Infirmarie for treatment when I paused here and, as you observed, dropped my blasted crutches. It is the least I could do after you have put yourself out for me. Now, if you will fetch your faithful steed, we can be on our way.” He stood quite still, waiting for her to turn away.