Chapter 6: 6. Camistane

~Meriel~

Meriel slept uneasily that night. She hadn't slept in nearly two days, and half of that time had been spent in hard riding, so she drifted off without delay—but rest was harder to come by. Her dreams were haunted by her father. She saw him glassy-eyed, his jerkin stained with blood, but alive and accusatory. Time after time the nightmare awoke her; by the time the morning sun rose, she was all in a daze. Telis was already making ready to go, the saddlebags slung over the saddles again and the horses ready for mounting. They had a quick breakfast of the bread that remained, which Meriel was still chewing as Telis chivvied her onto her horse. She suspected that, were she alone, Telis would have gone without breakfast altogether. The prospects of a break for lunch seemed grim to none.

And grim they were. The sun rose throughout the morning as they rode without stopping, maintaining a steady trot which became a canter when the forest terrain allowed; at one point the canopy thickened considerably, blocking the sun completely, and by the time Meriel could see it again it was well past noon. They didn't stop, though. Not even when Meriel began to talk of the foods she liked to eat. Either Telis was oblivious to the hint or she was choosing to ignore it, and Meriel quickly gave up trying. All she was achieving, by talking about food, was to make herself hungrier. Instead, she busied herself looking about her at the woods. There were no more ruined structures on their path, the only clear evidence of other people an arrow haft embedded in the bark of a tree trunk, and if Helicent's sidhe were watching today they were doing so from a great distance. The feeling of eyes on her was gone. Without it, the forest was peaceful, the only sounds the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the chittering of birds. Where the sunlight was mottled by the foliage, it left a warm greenish glow. In happier times, less haunted by nightmares, Meriel would have taken a fancy to stopping for a nap somewhere in the woodland shade.

When I'm a Magus like Telis, I'll find myself a place just like this, and stay there forever. But that was so far away, still nearly impossible to believe. Telis had promised to teach her things, but all she'd said last night, before retiring, was that a Magus knows the virtues of patience. Meriel assumed that meant 'we'll get to the teaching later, and for now I want you to shut up', but could Telis blame her for being excited? And anyway, she reasoned, she wasn't a Magus, not yet. There was plenty of time for her to learn the virtues of patience later. She wanted  to learn the virtues of great magic first. Telis had mentioned the Octal Tower—where the Magi lived. Perhaps that was where she'd teach Meriel everything, and link her to the Chain of the Hummingbird. If so, she couldn't wait to get started. But she didn't know where the Octal Tower was—it could be months before they got there. The sore on her thighs from yesterday had barely subsided, and the moment she'd got on horseback it had begun to burn again. How long could her enthusiasm outweigh the pain? She'd heard once that it took a month's solid riding to get from the Village to Nagrest, in Falien, where Marrel Caudor went once a year to buy fish for pickling—and Falien was just the next kingdom over. What if the Octal Tower was up in Ardoress, or even across the sea? Cad said the sea was just water for miles on end, more water than you ever saw in your life. Meriel wasn't sure if she believed him. How did he know? Cad was less than a year older than she was, and he'd never been away from the Village for longer than a week. But the idea made her weak at the knees.

Midway through the afternoon, they at last broke out of the woods. The final sparse thickets of slim trees ended, abruptly, in a miniature valley surrounded on all sides by gentle-sloping hills. At the top of the hill ahead of them, the sun was blotted out by a shadow. A building, Meriel realised. Civilisation. Her heart lept. This must be Camistane! Telis brought her horse to a gentle trot, and Meriel followed suit. They'd joined a road, she realised—but the road here was little more than a path beaten into the grass by years of riders following the same route. The ground was stony and rutted by the tracks of carts, easy to stumble if you were careless. She had no intention of being careless. She clung to the reins and shuffled her booted feet uneasily in their stirrups.

As they climbed the hill, Camistane grew larger on the horizon; the shadow she'd seen was the city's wall, a low structure of small grey bricks surrounded by a palisade fence of dark logs sharpened to points. A few taller buildings stuck out over the top of the wall—Meriel could see a clocktower with an angular roof quite prominently, and a couple of jettied wattle-and-daub houses. The road here was lined periodically with small bothies, a number of them with stakes out front for horses to be hitched to.

"We're here," Telis murmured. "Camistane. Until we're out of the city, keep a low profile. Don't draw attention to yourself."

Meriel wasn't sure what they had to keep a low profile for. They'd seen nobody since they left the Village, and there was no sign of anybody on the road. But Telis took a tone that broached no argument, so she followed meekly.

They halted their horses at an empty bothy a short way down the hill from Camistane's gate. Telis tied the horses to thick wooden stakes and began to rummage around in her saddlebag, while Meriel—saddlesore and more tired than she had ever been before—stretched her legs. An old man with a pronounced limp appeared from somewhere. He met them with a piercing gaze, one which seemed to linger for a time on Meriel.

Telis cleared her throat loudly. "We shall be a short time in the city," she said, as the old man turned his attention to her. "I trust this will buy shelter and straw for our horses, and silence from your tongue."

Before he could speak, Telis thrust a handful of coins into his hand. He eyed them hungrily, then stuffed them in his pocket. "Madam is too kind," he said, hobbling back up the hill and muttering to himself. "Nak will see your horses are safe, yes, he will."

Meriel watched him go. Rather than making for the welcome light of the town gate, he veered off to one side, to where a smattering of tumbledown wooden cabins stood.

"Keep your hood up, child," Telis hissed, stuffing a bundle of rags into Meriel's hand, "and put this on."

Meriel opened her fist. The rags weren't rags at all, but a hempen blindfold. She gave Telis a quizzical look.

"Your eyes," Telis explained. "I told you before: most people won't trust a girl whose eyes don't match. Even if they don't put your eyes out on the spot, they'll be sure to remember you. You must have seen how that man looked at you. And we want to keep a low profile. Do you think your father was the only man who hoped to kill the Daughter of Prophecy? They're everywhere that people live, fools who think a bit of gold in their pocket is worth the total damnation of the world. Put it on, girl."

Meriel did, reluctantly, and was surprised at how thoroughly the cloth blotted out the light. No matter how she strained her eyes, she couldn't see a thing. "How will I walk, with this on?"

"I'll guide you," said Telis, softly, fixing the blindfold in place with a knot at the back of Meriel's head. "In Camistane, or in Aptalis later on, you're not Meriel from the Village, and I'm not Telis the Magus. You're my daughter, Ana. My husband kept a farm near Jaren Cothe, but he passed from a sweating fever, so we're going north to Tihedamel, where I have relatives."

"And the blindfold?"

"My daughter Ana is blind," said Telis. "It's the greatest taboo there is to look upon a blind girl's eyes. Nobody will question you, nor lift your blindfold. Allow me to lead the talking. Say only what you must, to avoid arousing suspicion."

They finished the walk up the hill slowly; Meriel could go nowhere without Telis holding her closely to guide her step, and on top of that her legs had decided to cramp in protest at the second straight day's riding. It seemed like an age before they slowed again.

"Say nothing unless you're spoken to," Telis whispered, placing a hand on Meriel's shoulder.

A few seconds later, a gruff voice barked to break the silence: "What business have you in Camistane?"

"If it please, milord, we've ridden hard," said Telis, in a voice that seemed somehow distinct from her natural voice, almost softer.

"Ridden hard from where?"

"From Jaren Cothe," said Telis. "We kept a farm there. My husband, starflame guide him, passed of the sweat. I cannot tend the farm alone, not and care for my daughter. Ana is blind, see." Meriel gave a little squeak to support Telis' story.

"The Forger bless you for your loss," said the gruff guard. "But you should not have come to Camistane. We have no alms to give here. Even our own infirm are left destitute. Take my advice, Fera, and send your daughter to Palenna. She'll live out her days in some comfort, and you would be free to work for your keep."

"I would not abandon my Ana," Telis thundered. "Fer, we seek only to stay a night or two. We're bound for Tihedamel. I have family there, where we can stay."

A few seconds later, the gruff guard laughed a throaty laugh. "Aye, I've heard that one a few times. See, I know your kind. You talk of passage north, but it seems once you're in the city you don't plan on leaving. Go on, Fera, be on your way."

"Is this how the Margrave would have his city run? What would he say if he learnt that a blind girl had been left to freeze out in the cold wild, rather than simply being allowed to pass through the town. You ought to be ashamed, Fer. Why is it that a scrappy little sword and a timber gatehouse makes men feel they have the right to keep a poor woman and her ailing daughter from making their way?" Meriel wished she could have seen the guard's face. She knew her own would have flushed terribly, were she on the end of a lecture in that sort of tone.

"The Margrave charged me with guarding the gate," said the gruff voice. "That is what gives me the right. We want no rabble in Camistane."

"Rabble?" Telis spoke with such a venom that Meriel had to stifle a gasp. "Open the gate, Fer. Now."

Eventually, the guard relented, and—muttering all the while—opened the gate. Telis pulled Meriel through quickly, and guided her through the streets of Camistane. It could have been home. She knew it was far bigger than the Village, louder, but the sounds of a blacksmith's hammer on metal, horses braying, goodwives chattering, were just like the Village. There were just more of them, that was all. Oh, how she wanted to sneak a look. It struck Meriel as a cruel irony that, on her first ever visit to a proper town, she had to keep her eyes covered rather than enjoying the sights. What if she never came to a big town again? This might be her only chance.

As if able to read her mind, Telis squeezed her shoulder tight. "My daughter Ana is blind," she said, through gritted teeth, "and wouldn't ever risk the shame of lowering her blindfold. Ah. An inn, child. Come: it will do you well to have a bed for the night. And go slow. There's a step up." They moved to a side of the street, and up a high step onto a wooden walkway that echoed hollow underfoot. Telis had to lift Meriel's legs so she wouldn't trip on the step—and still she managed to stub her toe. It throbbed inside her boot. There was no opportunity for moaning, though; Telis opened a door that creaked, and through they went into the inn.

A cacophony of voices washed over Meriel as Telis led her inside. The scent of roasted meat wafted her direction, and the sweet tartness of cider by the mug. Music came from one corner of the tavern: a woman, singing a raucous song to the accompaniment of a dulcimer. Someone laughed loudly nearby, making Meriel jump. "Remember," Telis whispered, "leave the talking to me."

As if she had any intention of talking. She just wanted to find a quiet corner somewhere, preferably far away from prying eyes so she could be rid of the blasted blindfold. Unsighted, every sound seemed to be amplified. The clinking of mugs was as harsh to her as the beating of a drum.

"Good day, Fera," a man said. "Welcome to my humble hearth." He must be the innkeep, Meriel thought. His was a kindly voice, not unlike Fer Bentore's back in the Village.

"I thank you for your welcome," Telis replied. "We're in need of beds for the night, one each for my daughter and I."

"Happens I have a room going," the innkeep said, after a second. "You'll be wanting some food too, I don't doubt. My wife'll fix you some soup and bread, and maybe a lump or two of cheese if I can find some to spare. No chickens left today, I'm afraid, but if you're still here tomorrow I'll see there are two put by for you, if that pleases."

Meriel's stomach growled. The roast chicken she could smell was making her mouth water, but she'd gladly take soup and bread—even just the bread—over an empty belly. "That all sounds wonderful," said Telis. "This'll be enough to pay for it all, I trust?" Meriel heard the clinking of coins from Telis' purse, and a few seconds later the innkeep grunted.

"Aye, that'll be plenty—and more again, I'll say. I'll not rob you, though. I'm a good, honest man. There are others would have taken every penny you had and made you grovel just for the roof."

"We're not from these parts," Telis said, with a laugh. "I come from Falien. Tihedamel. That's where we're headed."

The innkeep snorted. "You've got a long ride ahead of you, then," he said. "And with winter on its way. Still, I suppose if needs must... What with your lassie's eyes."

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"Better a cold ride than a season's destitution," said Telis.

"I wish you well for your journey," said the innkeep, "but as long as you're beneath my roof, you must let me feed you well. And come the morning, my Retta will be stuffing your pockets with anything she can find in our larder. She's a soft spot for the unfortunate."

Telis steered Meriel through the inn's common room, bringing her to a stop after a number of twists and turns, no doubt to avoid people and tables. She helped Meriel onto a hard wooden bench. It was all she could do not to lower the blindfold so she could see better; it seemed wrong to pretend at blindness when her eyes worked as well as anybody. No sooner had she sat down then someone set two bowls on the table in front of them.

"Eat, child," said Telis, thrusting a spoon into Meriel's hand. And she did, making an awful mess with the first few spoonfuls and covering her mouth with soup. The food was good. It was hot, and wore away the chill that had gathered around her bones from the night out in the cold; the innkeep's wife had seasoned the soup well, and the cheese was tangy and mature.

The singing woman had switched to a slower song, which she sang plaintively, and Meriel listened as she ate.

My Sally was a winsome lass
We danced beneath the willows
One evening I stole a kiss
We spent the night in lover's bliss
And shared each other's pillows

At first, the words seemed at odds with the way the woman sang them. In the Village, when someone sang it was to a standard tune, and as upbeat or downbeat as the words suggested—but as she listened to the mournful dirge of a blooming love affair, Meriel felt a peculiar stirring in her heart.

Slowly, the song changed. By the time the woman reached the final verse, Meriel was weeping. She was glad of the blindfold, for the first time. Nobody could see her tears.

I kissed farewell that winsome lass
And laid her on her pillows
But she and I are ne'er apart
We're sisters of a single heart
I gave beneath the willows

"That was a sad song," Meriel murmured, as the woman moved on to something more cheerful to the ear.

"Was it? I thought it rather touching," said Telis. "Not even death can part two people who have shared their hearts. Love endures."

Once their bowls were empty, Telis helped Meriel to her feet, and led her slowly across the common room floor. The process was enough to shatter her nerves. Hers was a world of total darkness and a wall of vague sounds; she pretty well shuffled along, scared that if she took a step she might stumble and fall. Telis held her tightly all the while. The older woman's hands around her arms were a comfort. It was a relief when Meriel finally heard a door shutting behind them, and Telis told her it was safe to remove the blindfold. "Nobody will see you in here," the Magus said, "but you must remember to put it on again before we leave on the morrow."

Meriel tore it off gratefully, and basked in the welcome inrush of colour and light to her world. The room Telis had rented wasn't huge, but it was plenty big enough for their purposes. Two beds with soft mattresses rested against opposite walls. A broad wooden beam, one of those supporting the inn's roof, was between them, and a small sidetable with a candleholder and a pewter jug. As she adjusted once more to sight, she felt suddenly exhausted. It had been another long day of riding, and she'd not been well rested beforehand. She crawled onto the nearest of the two beds—it was so soft she thought she might sink into the mattress—but kept her eyes open despite the tiredness.

If she slept, she'd see him again. Better to be insensible with exhaustion than to have him come to her in dream. She yawned, and stretched her legs.

"You ought to take off your cloak and dress," Telis told her. "It's a pity there was no time to pack things. I have a good amount of coin; in the morning, I'll find a clothier and buy a few things we need. A nightgown, for a start, and something more appropriate for riding. It stands out, the way you let your skirts be hiked up to your knees. In these parts it's considered indecent. And we don't want to be remembered, if we can help it. But sleep in just your shift." She spoke firmly, and Meriel obeyed reluctantly. She'd kept her dress and cloak on specifically so she'd be less comfortable, otherwise she knew she'd doze off eventually.

"I've never been so far from home," she muttered.

"Drink this, child," Telis told her, offering a mug of something yellow. "It will soothe your dreams."

Meriel stifled a yawn. "I'm fine."

"Nonsense," Telis scoffed. "You're pale as milk. Drink. You can't go on without proper sleep forever." Reluctantly, she accepted, swallowing the whole mug partly out of fear that Telis might force it down her if she refused. It was thick and sticky, and the taste made her blanche. Telis started to say something, but Meriel couldn't hear a word. Her vision swam for a second, and then blackness came. A dreamless sleep.

A noise woke her. It was hard to say just how long she'd been out for. There were no windows in the room Telis had rented, and the candles burned slowly. Meriel could hear voices outside. Strain as she might, she couldn't decipher the words. Her head ached dully—but she wasn't nearly as tired as she had been. Another night like this, and she'd be as rested as ever. Maybe. It all depended on how hard Telis had her ride. Where was Telis? Her bed was empty, the sheets undisturbed.

The door crashed open suddenly, and three silhouettes came in. They resolved into people as Meriel sat upright. Telis, and... Cad? Helicent? She was dreaming. That was it: Telis' concoction hadn't chased the dreams away, just made them more pleasant. Why else would her friends from the Village be in her room in Camistane?

"Meriel!" Helicent exclaimed, dashing towards her. Telis' outstretched arm held her back.

"Ah," said Telis, catching sight of Meriel. "You're awake, then."

Meriel propped herself up on her elbows. "What's happening?"

Telis put her hands on her hips. "What's happening is these two young fools have decided to follow us. What their families must be thinking..."

Cad stared at his feet, blushing. Helicent fixed her hardest scowl on Telis. "Who are you calling a fool? I saw you riding off with Meriel. Of course I followed. She's my friend; why would I let a witch take her?"

"Witch?" Telis laughed. "I'm a Magus, girl. Not that it matters. You'll not leave this room, any of you—not until I say you can."

Helicent folded her arms. "You can't hold me prisoner forever, witch," she said. "Just because you're embarrassed I managed to track you. You didn't even see me until just now."

Telis frowned. "Didn't I? And I suppose neither did any of the hundreds of people who drank in the common room tonight? Any one of whom could be a spy planning on harming me."

Helicent paused. "I—"

"You didn't think about that? Of course you didn't. All you thought of was riding up to rescue Meriel from the 'evil witch'." Telis shook her head. "A man is dead in the Village. I expect you heard about that before you left."

"Meriel's father," said Cad. He didn't lift his head as he spoke.

"That's the part he played, yes," said Telis. "When his friends in Camistane learn that he's dead, they'll realise Meriel has left the Village, and they'll mean to see her dead. They'll know her by her eyes—which, you doubtless have noticed, are quite different to anybody else's."

"She's a fire-eyes," muttered Cad, in a hoarse whisper. "Somehow I never made the connection..."

Telis had her hands on her hips. "The poor thing ate her dinner with a bandage over her eyes, just so nobody would realise there was a chimera in their midst. How long do you think it'll take those people to twig that the blindfolded girl seen with the two youngsters from the Village might be blindfolded not to hide her shame but to hide the colours of her eyes? If I hadn't grabbed you now... But no matter. You're here now, and Meriel is still alive."

Something Telis had said was bothering Meriel. "When you spoke about my father just now, you said that was 'the part he played'. What does that mean?"

Telis turned to her, a sympathetic smile on her mouth. "That man wasn't your father, girl. Your father died a long time ago. The man who tried to kill you was merely the only man in that forsaken little village who would agree to take you on and raise you as his own. For sinister reasons, as it turns out."

"What do you mean he wasn't Meriel's father?" asked Helicent. "Who is she?"

Telis chuckled. "Why, she's the Daughter of Prophecy. The firstborn daughter of Queen Jelestal of Dael, and heir to the Beryl Throne. What else should she be?"

Anything else, Meriel thought. Anything else at all.

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