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Hearts Blood - Juliet Marillier
- Дата:11.10.2024
- Категория: Разная литература / Прочее
- Название: Hearts Blood
- Автор: Juliet Marillier
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I was crying so hard I couldn’t even frame a thank-you. It had been so close. What if Anluan hadn’t come out? I might even now be on my way back to Market Cross. How in the name of God had Cillian found me? Had the villagers betrayed me, when only yesterday they had been all sympathy? And how had Cillian managed to get up the hill? Now that it seemed to be over, I had begun to shake. As we headed for the front entry, Anluan moved closer, half lifting his arm as if to put it around my shoulders. I edged away, fighting for self-control, and he did not complete the gesture. “I never even saw Cillian coming,” I sobbed. “I was stupid to go out there on my own, stupid!”
“This was no fault of yours,” Anluan said quietly as we went into the house. “I am sorry I was slow to reach you. I heard you cry out and I ran. But I could not run fast enough.”
“You got there in time, that’s all that matters.” I paused to wipe my face on my sleeve. “Anluan, those beings . . . and Eichri . . . I don’t understand any of it.” One thing was glaringly apparent: Eichri was no ordinary monk, nor even an ordinary man. “How did you do that? That . . . summoning? They were there so quickly. Olcan appeared from nowhere.”
“It is a thing I can do.” He seemed reluctant to say more.
“Was that the . . . the host? Nechtan’s host?” I had hardly thought to be afraid of them. Mind and body had been possessed by the old fear, the fear that had driven me from Market Cross to seek safe haven here.That terror still trembled through me: the knowledge that if I were taken back home, I would lose myself forever.
“It is the same force you have seen mentioned in the documents,” Anluan said.“Nechtan’s army, such as it is. Sometimes biddable, sometimes unruly. Stone is no barrier to them. I thought it better that you did not know . . .” As we walked into the kitchen he swayed, and after seating me on a bench he sank down beside me and put his head in his hands.
“Anluan, what’s wrong?” His sudden collapse frightened me.
“He’ll be better soon,” Magnus said, spooning powders into a jug.“It’s a natural reaction: the exercise of power can be draining.”
“I can answer for myself, Magnus.” Anluan’s voice was not much more than a whisper. “Caitrin, it is past time for an explanation, I know.”
“You’re not well,” I said.
“It’s nothing. I cannot give you answers to everything, for there are some questions here that have none.Those entities you saw just now—we don’t quite know what they are, only that they’re wayward and difficult to govern. There is a passage in Conan’s records that you may have read, in which my grandfather attempted to ride forth with them to fight a battle.”
“He lost control,” I murmured. “And they ran riot.”
“There are many such descriptions in the documents. These beings have been on the hill since Nechtan’s time.The common belief is that he summoned them by an act of dark magic. They are not monsters, despite the impression they gave just now.That was simply trickery, an illusion that can be used to strike fear into an adversary.” He did not clarify who created this illusion, himself or the host, and I did not ask.Touch too closely on his own astonishing role in this, and the flow of words would likely dry up.
“The host is bound to the chieftain of Whistling Tor, whoever he may be,” Anluan said. “I can exercise a certain control over their actions. It is done by . . . by thoughts, by concentration . . . Not sorcery, a knack.When I do this, it weakens me. As you see.”
“Don’t try to talk,” I murmured. “There’s no need to tell me all this now.”
“I will tell it.” His tone had sharpened. I felt the considerable effort he exerted to make himself sit upright, straight-backed on the bench. “Caitrin, you have seen that I can command these forces. I can call them to my aid. But this . . . relationship . . . does not end with the occasional deployment of Nechtan’s host to rescue a friend in trouble or to keep out unwelcome visitors.You know that in the past the host has run amok and caused unspeakable harm. There is an evil amongst them, something that has the capacity to rule them if allowed to go unchecked. Its exact nature, we have never known—my theory is that Nechtan’s original experiment went wrong somehow, and that instead of the mighty and biddable army he desired, he got a force that was more burden than asset.There is a constant need for me to maintain order on the hill. I can never afford to relax my control completely.You have observed, no doubt, that I am often tired. I have been ashamed of this.When I look at myself through your eyes, I see a weak man, a lazy man, one who spends much of his day inactive.There is a reason for it, beyond my physical affliction. Every moment of every day, a part of my mind must be fixed on Nechtan’s host. If I ever lost control of them, their minds would be influenced by the evil that dwells somewhere amongst them.They might leave the Tor and run riot in the fields and villages beyond. Should I let that happen, the region would be doomed.”
Throughout Anluan’s extraordinary speech, Magnus had calmly mixed his powders, added hot water from the kettle on the fire, poured the result into a pair of cups and set them on the table. Now he was getting out a jug of ale.
I tried not to show how horrified I was. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? And what about Eichri? He was . . . he is . . .”
“He’s one of them,” Magnus said. “Rioghan as well. Those in the house, the inner circle, are different from the rest.They’re friends and allies. They were in the forest with the others at first, but over time they attached themselves to the chieftain’s household.Their resistance to the evil I spoke of is strong. In will and intent, in loyalty, they are not so different from human retainers.There’s no need to be afraid of them.”
“Olcan, too? Muirne?” I had lived among them without realizing they were . . . what, exactly? Ghosts? Demons? I thought about Rioghan’s unusual pallor, Eichri’s gaunt appearance and Muirne’s gift for moving about without a sound, and realized I’d been blind. No wonder the villagers had started throwing stones at me—it was not the young female traveler who had scared them, but her uncanny companions.
“Not Olcan,” Magnus said. “He’s something different. Old as the hill itself. And this was a strange place even before Nechtan did whatever it was he did.”
“It’s . . . it’s hard to believe,” I said, shivering. I thought of the meals Magnus served, hardly more than a mouthful for Rioghan, Eichri or Muirne, and that never actually eaten. Had that pretense been all for my benefit, to stop me from learning the truth about Anluan’s strange household? Or had it been played out nightly for years and years? “Hard to accept.” I glanced at Anluan. “I don’t know what to say.”
There was a silence as Magnus pushed the cups towards us and fixed Anluan with a particular look. “Drink it,” he said. “You too, Caitrin. First the draft, then the ale.You need food as well.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I asked.
Anluan picked up his cup and drained it, then jerked his head towards the door. To my surprise, Magnus went out and closed the door behind him, leaving the two of us alone at the table.
“If I’d told you, you would have gone away,” Anluan said simply. “I forbade the others to tell you for the same reason.”
I sat there for a little, saying nothing.
“Finish your drink, Caitrin,” he said. “And answer me a question.Was that the man who put those bruises on you, before you first came here?”
“Yes. He is a kinsman, that part of what he said is true. But his assurances that he would look after me were lies. They never did that, him and his mother, they only . . .” My tears were closer than I had realized; I floundered to a halt, blinded.
We sat in silence for a little, and I made myself sip the herbal draft. It was strong and tasted of peppermint.
“You have surprised me,” Anluan said quietly. “I thought you might turn tail and run, the moment we freed you. Of course, with your abusive kinsman heading down the hill, you would not wish to follow. The thought of this Cillian makes your face turn pale, your tears spill, your hands shake.”
I set down the cup and clutched my hands together.
“And yet, when you ask me about the host,” he went on in tones of wonder, “you are your capable self. How can this fellow and his supporters be more frightening to you than that force you saw manifest from nothing?”
“I knew you would keep me safe,” I said simply.
A tide of red flooded his pale cheeks. He fixed his gaze on the tabletop.
“I know it must seem odd that I am so afraid of him, of Cillian, I mean.” My hands were twisting into the fabric of my skirt. I made myself fold them in my lap and drew a deep, unsteady breath. I had never told anyone this; I had not thought I ever would. “It’s not only him, it’s the whole thing. Just thinking about that time, before I came here, turns me into . . . into a different person. A person I hate to be, a person I’m ashamed to be. That other Caitrin is powerless. She’s always afraid. She has no words.” The moment I’d heard Cillian’s voice, I’d been back there, crouched in a corner, folded up on myself, eyes screwed tight, pressing Róise to my heart, willing the world away. Praying with every fiber of my being to be taken back to the past, before Father died, before they came. “When you and I first met in the garden and you were so angry, for a little I felt like that again. And then today, as soon as I heard Cillian speak, I . . .”
“I hardly know what to say.” Anluan spoke with some awkwardness, as if he thought his words might offend me. “Your kinsman was right when he called me a cripple. I cannot ride, I cannot run, I cannot lead an army into battle. Not an army made up of earthly warriors of Magnus’s kind, anyway. But this force I can command. On Whistling Tor, the host is obedient to my will. While you stay here, I can keep you safe. I hope you will stay, Caitrin, now that you know the truth. We want you here. We need you.”
There was a lump in my throat. “I did say I’d stay for the summer,” I told him.“Nothing’s happened to change my mind. I’m planning on winning our wager.”
“Wager? Oh, heart’s blood ink. Then I must allow you to be in Irial’s garden, so you can observe the plant’s progress. You spoke of trust. That is my proof of trust.You may wander there freely. I do not think we will disturb each other.”
At that moment the door opened and there was Muirne. She halted abruptly when she saw the two of us sitting side by side at the table; then she moved forward, eyes on Anluan, brow creased in concern.
“You’re unwell.” She was by his side, leaning over, assessing him without touching. “You need rest.” The limpid eyes turned towards me. “Perhaps it’s best that you go, Caitrin.”
I rose to my feet, despite myself. He did look exhausted, his skin a waxy white, his eyes shadowed.
“No,” Anluan said. “Stay, Caitrin,” and he put out his hand to touch my arm, holding me back. In the moment before he withdrew his fingers, it felt as if he had put his hand around my heart.“I don’t need you at present, Muirne.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue the point, then shut it. “Very well,” she said, and headed towards the inner doorway.
“Close the door behind you,” said Anluan without looking at her.
From the doorway she gazed back at him, her expression one of sorrowful reproach. It was completely wasted. Anluan’s gaze was on me, and I saw in his eyes that whatever it was that had just happened, it had changed things between us forever. Muirne gathered her skirts and left the chamber without a word.
“Maybe she’s right,” I said shakily. “You do look very tired.”
“I’m fine.” His voice was no steadier than mine. “You’d better drink the rest of that draft. Magnus won’t be best pleased to find it only half finished.” As I obeyed, he added, “You could practice being brave a little at a time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Choose a small fear, show yourself you can face it.Then a bigger one.”
“It’s not so easy.” I could not fight Cillian; he was twice my size. I could not fight Ita. I could not fight death.
“No. I don’t suppose it is easy. Not for anyone.”
“Will you do it too?” It felt odd to be talking to him thus, as if we were friends; odd but somehow right.
He hesitated. “I don’t know.” A wayward lock of hair had fallen over his brow; he used his good hand to push it back in an impatient gesture. The blue eyes seemed turned inwards, as if he could see a long list of impossible challenges: Stop covering up your right hand. Learn to control your temper. Go down to the settlement and meet your people. Be a leader.
“We should eat something,” I said, trying for a lighter tone. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t have any breakfast.” Magnus had left freshly baked bread to cool. I fetched a platter, a jar of honey, a sharp knife.Anluan poured the ale, sat down, looked at me.
“The bread smells good,” I said.
I saw on Anluan’s face that he recognized a challenge when one was offered. Narrowing his eyes, he took up the knife in his left hand.
I had not thought how infuriating, how humiliating it must be to attempt such a task when one has little strength in the fingers of one hand. He struggled to hold the loaf steady as he cut. A flush of mortification rose to his cheeks. I had to clutch my hands together on my lap, so badly did I want to reach out and help him. When he was done, he picked up my share on the blade of the knife and passed it to me like a trophy of battle. I accepted it without fuss and busied myself spooning on honey.The kitchen was full of a deep quiet.
I slid the pot of honey across the table to my companion. I took a bite of my bread. “Thank you,” I said, and smiled.
Anluan dropped his gaze. “I would fail at the first real challenge, Caitrin. You heard how they ridiculed me out in the courtyard.Without help, I could not have rescued you.What the villagers said about me was accurate. As a man, I am useless.”
“You walked out to face those men on your own, with no weapons. I didn’t see the least fear in your eyes.”
“I was not afraid for my own safety. I did fear for you. Caitrin, what the outside world believes of me is true.Without the host, I have no power at all. I am a cripple, a weakling and a freak.” He did not speak in self-pity but as a flat statement of fact.
“You should take your own advice,” I said, struggling to sound calm and practical. “Practice courage in small steps. You’ve just achieved one. The next might be to do something about your writing.”
“Oh, no,” said Anluan. “Your turn next. But not now. Let’s enjoy our meal in peace.”
Suddenly I was not quite so hungry. If I could think of a list of challenges for Anluan, I could surely imagine a list for myself: Make friends with Muirne.Talk about your father. Use the obsidian mirror again. I looked across the table into Anluan’s eyes, and he gazed back.The odd little smile broke forth on his lips, and the blue of his eyes was like the sky on a warm summer’s day.
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