The Caller by Juliet Marillier Page B

willna gae anywhere tonight; it’s near dark.’ He paused for thought, then said, ‘He’d be doing us a favour if he took the lass awa’ tae a place o’ safety, as he’s offering.’
    A shiver ran through me, as deep and cold as a river in winter. ‘If Silva goes, the Lady is no more.’ Could even the downfall of Keldec justify such a loss?
    ‘A knotty puzzle,’ observed Whisper. ‘Could be there’s mair than a single way tae untangle it.’

    The rain had ceased for now, and Silva had built her cooking fire in a sheltered area between the stillroom and the outhouse that we’d made into winter quarters for Snow and the chickens. She and her visitor were standing in the fire’s glow, arguing. The young man was dressed for travelling and had his back to me; Silva saw me coming before he did. Whisper had flown up to the tree close by. Perching there, he looked exactly like an ordinary owl.
    ‘Neryn, you’re back!’ Silva said as I approached – a warning that she had given the fellow my real name.
    The man turned. He was younger than I expected; only a few years Silva’s senior, and so like her that he had to be a kinsman. The dark wavy hair, the big eyes, the slender build, the heart-shaped face – he was surely her brother. He gave me a very direct look, sizing me up.
    ‘This is my brother,’ Silva said. ‘Ean. I’ve offered him shelter for the night. Your prayers kept you at the cairns late.’
    I came up to the fire, trying to look natural. ‘Greetings, Ean,’ I said. ‘My name is Neryn.’ I can get you safely away , he’d said. And I was almost sure I’d heard him say Glenfalloch. That didn’t make him a rebel, or even a friend. It could be sheer coincidence. ‘Need help with the supper?’ I asked Silva.
    ‘It’s all ready.’ Silva’s cook pot stood beside the fire, and now she filled three bowls with barley broth – Whisper would have to wait. A savoury, comforting smell wafted through the chill air. There were hunks of flat bread to dip. The hot food was bliss after my cold, cramped day at the cairns, and although Ean’s presence meant I could not relax my guard, eating did take away the need to talk. As we shared the meal, I wondered what had brought him here now, nearly three turnings of the moon after the fire. If he lived close by, surely he must have known where Silva was. Why hadn’t he come looking for her as soon as he heard what had happened?
    ‘Ean wants me to go south with him to a safer place,’ Silva said at last, setting down her empty bowl. ‘I’ve said no.’
    Ean’s dark gaze moved to me, then back to her. He said nothing.
    ‘I explained to you, Ean,’ Silva added. ‘I can’t leave Neryn on her own. There were twelve of us before this happened. It’s not a job for one.’
    Ean wanted to say something, I could see that, but he didn’t trust me. It was written all over his face. Fine; the feeling was mutual.
    ‘You can talk in front of Neryn,’ Silva said.
    But he couldn’t, any more than I could tell him the truth about what I was. He might go straight out and denounce me to the authorities. If he was somehow associated with the rebellion, or even if he was prepared to risk helping Silva when he knew she was flouting the king’s law, he took the same risk in being open with me. I looked directly at him. ‘How can you be sure Silva would be safer in the south?’
    ‘This place is a ruin.’ Ean’s flat tone served to emphasise that this was the simple truth. ‘You’ll run out of food for yourselves and the stock.’
    Neither of us said a thing.
    ‘You know the risks of what you’re doing, unless you’re stupid.’ Ean’s voice dropped to a murmur. ‘The folk of the settlement know there’s someone here, that’s how I found out where Silva was. They know someone survived. So far, they’ve kept clear because that’s safer for you and safer for them. But you’ll be found. Sooner or later, someone will come looking. You need to get away