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  ‘Thank Felen you did get here so quickly,’ my mother said. ‘We have scraped by, but it has not been easy. Do come in, please. Rest yourselves, set your things down, wash, and eat.’ ‘Washing, resting, and eating can wait,’ Moth said. ‘I would like to see this patient of yours.’

  I took her bag, and we went through the house to Kemp’s room. While Moth and Dodge stayed with us, he and I would sleep in the family room, as my room was already occupied with the stranger. Kemp did not mind. He was delighted to be of service to the Derrys.

  ‘Mister Dodge!’ He flew out of his room and flung himself at the lanky storyteller. Dodge laughed and scooped Kemp into his arms.

  ‘Look how big you are!’ he exclaimed. The Derrys had no young ones of their own, and Moth was of an age that meant they never would. It seemed a shame; they both loved children.

  ‘Dodge, my love,’ Moth interrupted. ‘Keep your voice down. They have an invalid here, remember.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Dodge whispered, smiling like a guilty child.

  ‘Hm. Perhaps you should take Kemp outside and throw him around a bit,’ Moth said. ‘But please shave first, my love. Your beard is taking on a life of its own, and I fear it may colonise if left untended.’ She turned to me, brisk. ‘And you, Master Lowell, should show me where your patient is.’

  Brisk, yes, but there was something else in her tone I did not recognise.

  ‘This way.’ I led her through to my room, where the stranger lay. As usual, I knocked, and as usual, there was no reply. I pushed the door open quietly and stepped aside for Moth to walk in. ‘She was half-drowned when we found her. She sits up sometimes, but she…’ I trailed off.

  Moth was not listening to me. She had eyes only for the stranger. She reached for a chair and pulled it to her, sitting down heavily. Her cheeks flushed, and I became aware that she was holding back tears. I had never seen the healer cry, not even on the rare occasion when she lost a patient.

  ‘Madam Derry?’

  ‘Lycaea.’ It did not take long for Moth to regain her composure. She sat straight, her voice calm and level, though she could not tear her eyes from the woman lying on the bed. ‘Her name is Lycaea.’

  ‘You know her?’

  ‘I have known her since she was a child. Her mother was… like a sister to me, once.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Lycaea disappeared. We thought her dead, but with the missing you never quite stop hoping. When your mother told us you had recovered a young woman from the river…’

  ‘Who is she? Where did she come from?’ The questions tumbled from my lips. ‘What is “kee vah”? Why will she not speak to us? What happened to her?’

  ‘I wish I could answer all those questions,’ she said. ‘What I can say is this: she is dear to us. She lives in Luthan, or she used to. She disappeared in Caerwyn. It was three years ago, Lowell.’ She reached over and took Lycaea’s hand. ‘We thought she was dead.’

  There was no doubt in my mind, now, about the woman in our care and the message Lord Alwyn had received from Caerwyn. With difficulty, I reined in my questions. I could see Moth was in no mood to answer them. She sat without speaking, her fingers laced with Lycaea’s. When I felt Moth had recovered somewhat, I reached into my pocket and took out the message Alwyn had passed on to me. I had not burnt it. It seemed like an answer, though I did not know to which question.

  ‘This came a week and a half after we found her,’ I told Moth. She took the note and read it. Her eyes narrowed to slits, and her lips pressed into a tight line.

  ‘I see.’ She folded it and thrust it back to me. ‘Filth, Lowell Sencha. Lies and filth. You would do better to burn foulness like this.’ She saw my expression and softened her voice. ‘But I am glad you showed me, dear. It confirms what I suspected. Once Lycaea is well, we will take her south, back to Luthan. She will be safe there, and she will be able to fully recover.’

  ‘Do you think she can recover?’

  ‘She has no choice in the matter,’ Moth said, and went to work. Dodge joined us a short while later. His reaction was lightning-charged. He caught Moth in a tight hug, swung her around. He asked endless questions. Finally, when the elation wore down, he sat in the chair by Lycaea’s side and took her hand. Kissed her brow, fatherly and loving.

  Moth removed the bandages from Lycaea’s head. ‘Healing tolerably,’ she commented to me. ‘You have cared for her well.’

  ‘Sometimes she wakes, but she does not seem to see us.’

  ‘Head wounds are strange things,’ Moth said. ‘And I have no doubt the assault on her mind is playing a part in delaying her recovery. She is too thin for my liking, and it is clear she has been subject to much cruelty.’ She passed Dodge on her way to heat some water, and she kissed the top of his head. ‘Tell her a story, love.’

  Dodge rubbed his chin, then sat forwards. ‘Once,’ he said, and his voice changed; it deepened and softened, richer and clearer somehow. His words were simple, but he was a master of tone and pace. ‘Once, when stories had legs and walked the earth,’ he began, as he always did, ‘there were three children…’

  Moth grimaced. ‘You know I don’t like this one, love.’ She leaned over Lycaea and started to clean the wound. ‘Is it really necessary to tell Watcher stories every time? You have plenty of others.’

  ‘…there were three children,’ Dodge repeated, speaking over her last sentence, ‘who were destined to change the fate of the world.’

  Moth rolled her eyes, but lapsed into silence and let him continue as he told the old tale I had heard so often. The nobleman’s daughter, kind-hearted, but spoilt. The daughter of a poor farm-woman, uneducated but sweet-natured. The city-bred lad, tall, strong and quick with his fists.

  ‘As different as could be, but called together by a common duty,’ said Dodge.

  ‘Hold this,’ Moth said, passing him the bowl of hot water.

  ‘Stolen from their lives by the three Watchers,’ he continued as he put the bowl aside, ‘who knew their own time was drawing to a close, and chose these children as their heirs.’

  I knew how this went. The children rebelled at first, but in time they accepted their roles and became the new Watchers. The Healer, gifted with power over hurt and sickness but powerless to inflict harm. The Assassin, who wielded darkness like a sword. The Dealer, who brokered bargains with power.

  ‘Roles of servitude, not domination.’ Moth looked at me over her glasses, as though no one had ever stressed the lesson before. ‘To be a Watcher was to be a slave to the Balance.’

  ‘Who’s telling this story?’ Dodge’s voice broke from its resonant tone. ‘You do your job, bonny, and let me do mine.’

  Moth smiled and went to sit by the window for better light as she crushed some herbs.

  ‘To be a Watcher,’ Dodge went on, slipping back into his tale-spinner’s cadence, ‘was to be a slave to the Balance. Compelled by an unseen force to go where they were called. Punished with agony, even blindness, should they disobey.’

  Dodge went on then to tell of the battles, one great conflict after another, all across the world. A ceaseless struggle to maintain order over chaos, until the greatest conflict of all. The war with the golden-eyed Kudhienn who had taken over Oster and made all the people of Oster slaves.

  ‘All but the half-breeds,’ whispered Dodge. ‘Them, they hated and feared. Them, they killed out of hand.’ This was the part that made little waer children shiver and reach for their mothers, and most storytellers moved on quickly, like Dodge, to the climax of the story. Watchers and waer standing together against the Kudhienn. Fighting shoulder to shoulder until the rest of Oster fell in with them and a momentous victory was won.

  The room was quiet when he stopped speaking.

  Then I said, ‘But what happened afterwards?’ The story never went on any further, and I had never thought to ask.

  ‘After the Kudhienn surrendered?’ Dodge said in his normal voice. ‘Well, the Watchers retreated, and set about mending the land, and their own hurts.’ His voice g
rew sad. ‘While they were gone, the newly freed people of Oster rose up. They slaughtered the Kudhienn, every last man and woman of them. It was a senseless slaughter, born of the suffering the people had endured.’ He sat back, and I saw him look around for Moth. She met his gaze. Dodge cleared his throat. ‘Oster lost its innocence then.’

  ‘And what happened to the Watchers?’

  Dodge thought for a moment. ‘They drifted,’ he said at last. ‘Bound by terrible oaths and laws, burdened by power and still, at their core, human. Never to love, never to have a family.’

  Moth had paused in her work. I was aware of the small lines at the corners of her eyes and lips. Her mouth was folded into a flat line, and I remembered she had not wanted to hear this story in the first place.

  ‘The Assassin knew nowt but fear and death, and the Healer couldna lift a hand against anyone, even to defend herself. Each broke the oaths in some way. Some fallible, unforgivably human way.’ He sounded almost bitter. Not like the Dodge I knew. ‘The Balance cracked, and so did their powers.’

  ‘Enough, love.’ Moth came back to Lycaea’s bedside, putting a gentle hand on Dodge’s shoulder. ‘This tale has no happy ending.’

  He took her hand and kissed it.

  She smiled. ‘Go on with you,’ she said. ‘Both of you, please. I need to see the rest of the damage and I would prefer some privacy for it.’

  I did not ask Dodge to finish the story as we left the room. Moth was right. It was a good tale, and he told it well, but it left an uncomfortable weight in my heart, which I could not dislodge. That night I dreamed of soldiers with golden eyes. Of the Watchers, with their endless and unhappy duties.

  Lycaea

  I awoke.

  The room smelt like Leldh’s chambers, thick with burning plants and incense. I felt sick. Forced myself not to think about Caerwyn, to remember the river instead. Running, trees, Kaebha, and the river. The water. The river-bank. Mud. Slime. Grasping at reeds and pulling myself onto land. Lungs burning. Limbs water-logged. Strangers and their hands. A swamp of pain and fear.

  It meant I was not in Caerwyn. I was out. Free.

  My head was heavy. Bandages, I realised. I could smell the poultice. The thickness of the herbs choked me. I tried to take stock of my injuries. I did not remember hitting my head, but it could have happened on the rocks in the river. My ankle was bound, but it did not feel broken. Dislocated shoulder? Healing. There was little discomfort. Ribs were sore. Cracked, but also healing. I almost laughed. I had dived into a river and almost drowned, but the worst of the damage was a sore head and some angry bones. For a brief moment, I felt the wild elation of escape; elation I had not allowed myself to feel when first I fled Caerwyn.

  It flickered and faded. I had no idea where I was, or how long I had been there. Leldh would be scouring the mountains for me, dredging the river, sending out messages. He could be close. He could be anywhere.

  The floors were wooden, but there was a rug and a mat to the side of the pallet that had been set aside for me. There were rough blankets. There was a window, but the curtains were drawn, and the room was warm. I could smell something cooking on the other side of the door, and the faintest traces of people. I could smell burning wood. A fire smoked and crackled in the wall opposite.

  ‘Hold her. The metal still warms.’ Gold eyes. Cold cuffs. Hot brand.

  I rolled over and retched. Vomit burned my throat.

  ‘Easy. Breathe, Lycaea.’

  Confusion. Horror. Anger. I raised my eyes.

  Moth Derry. She did not speak again, but she handed me a wooden cup of water. I wanted to throw it at her. Instead, I drank. How long since the river? Was I home? I sat up. It hurt. The room rocked.

  I hated her. That, at least, I remembered.

  ‘You are safe,’ she said. Safe. I wanted to scream at her, call her a liar. I just stared. She tried to ignore it. ‘You are in the Gwydhan Valley.’ Not Luthan. Relief warred with sour disappointment. ‘One of the families here took you in. The Sencha family. They sent for me when you did not recover.’

  ‘Go away.’

  ‘Lycaea, look at me. Please.’

  Look at me, dog.

  ‘Lycaea.’ Her voice quivered. ‘I know… I know what we did. I know we let you down. But you are safe now.’

  Too tired to find a reply for her words. She was a liar. She and the other two. They had sent me into the spider’s web. Abandoned me. Left me in the dark, with golden eyes and torturers.

  ‘I sent a message to Hemanlok.’

  Hemanlok.

  ‘Why would you do that?’ I made no attempt to keep accusation from my voice. I grabbed her arm. Held it tight enough to bruise. My body rejected the sudden movements. The room rocked. ‘Why would you do that, Derry?’

  ‘Why does it anger you?’ she whispered back. She freed her arm, with difficulty. ‘Lycaea. I sent a message to Hemanlok. If the bird is true, he should receive it soon. And we have another carrier yet if you wish to contact the rest of your family.’

  ‘I have no family.’ No one had come for me. Three years.

  ‘The Own, the people you love. They can help you heal.’ She took advantage of my breathlessness and went on. ‘I’m doing what I can for your wounds. I have to be careful, though, or the family will suspect. You should be able to get onto your ankle in a few days. Your head wound will take longer to settle.’

  I folded silence around me, made it a fortress. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes. My body unknotted with relief as I stilled. Moth did not try to speak to me again. I could smell her in the room for many minutes longer before the floorboards creaked, and the edge of the door rasped along the floor, and the door clicked shut.

  I opened my eyes and watched shadows chase one another over the wall.

  Kaebha.

  I knew I was living with waerwolves. Their smell was like my own. Before Caerwyn, I was not like them. I was human. Leldh ended that. Ten months ago he opened a wound in my arm and splashed waer blood into it. The blood took over my body until I became one with it. At the time, Leldh was fascinated by the waer as much as he hated them. The change was a punishment and a means of control, but more than anything it satisfied the deep need he had to keep his old wounds close, to pick at them like scabs. The waer had fought against his people, all those years ago, and they had won.

  Now, with heightened senses and an increasing urge to change forms, I had never felt less like the person I was before. I could still feel enemy blood in my veins. The scar in my arm was little more than a pale, raised streak now, but it was a constant reminder. I hated it. I hated them. Animals.

  From what I could tell, there were two siblings in the house with the parents. One was a child; I could hear him playing with Dodge and shouting through the house when he grew overexcited. The other was perhaps my age. He was quiet and tall. The man who had found me, I reminded myself. Whenever he was in the room, he watched me with steady eyes.

  In the evenings, I heard the family praying in the next room. I heard the young man praying to Freybug in the morning when the rest of the family left the house. He offered that I join, once, but I ignored him. The family prayed together at dusk, to a goddess named Felen. They mentioned Hollow, a third god, but they did not pray to him. They prayed for protection from him. I didn’t know these deities; I knew the Bonny Gods from down south, in Tadhg, and something of Pelladan’s goddess, but not these homely rustic daemons.

  Moth’s presence, as much as I resented it, spurred the healing process. I was able to leave the bed, then to walk around the room, albeit shakily, my ankle stiff and painful. My bruises turned yellow and faint, and the head wound stopped oozing although it still left me disoriented and sick if I moved too suddenly. Moth assured me that would fade. I had to hope she was right; I was no good to anyone in such a state.

  The nights left me weak and frightened. It was hard to tell reality from the nightmares. Sometimes I thought Leldh came for me. Sometimes it was Kaebha who stalked through my drea
ms. Fear and disgust bled into my days. I knew it would be impossible for me to stay in the waerwolf household but I could not bring myself to leave the house. Not until I knew for sure where I was going, what my plans were. Fight or hide. The first seemed impossible; the second contemptible.

  I stood by the fireplace and weighed my options. I could go south-east, to the whaling town of Coserbest. Further south to Luthan. All the way to Tadhg, at the very south of Oster, if I survived the trek through the desert. Or I could cross the eastern ocean, to Pelladan. It was a miserable little island, and I had not been there since childhood, but it was my birth-place. I could surely find somewhere to hide. If I made it that far.

  A knock startled me from my thoughts. I looked towards the door and said nothing. My muscles were tensed. There was a poker I could use if anyone attacked. I reached across slowly and curled my hand about the metal rod. Somewhere inside me, the beast growled and stirred, hackles rising, ready to split my skin and make me savage.

  The young man entered the room. He saw me with the poker and stepped back, both hands raised to show he was unarmed.

  ‘My name is Lowell.’ He was tall, but he did not carry it well. He was awkward, lanky, with it. He tried for a smile but just looked uncomfortable.

  ‘What do you want?’

  He did not reply. The beast within me quietened. The man’s stillness was calming. I lowered the poker. He was a stark relief after Moth’s ceaseless fussing and Dodge’s wild energy.

  ‘What is…’ He paused, framing the syllables with some clumsiness. ‘Kee vah?’

  The calm evaporated. My chest hurt. My muscles wrenched, almost dragged me into a Shift. I held back. My breath turned harsh and painful.