strong.
All day we had made preparations. The feast had been cooked in clay pots, with the assistance of Sula’s canny gift for transferring heat into water. Wooden spoons, copper basins, tin cups, and earthenware platters had been put to use. In a chamber at the very back of Shadowfell, every piece of iron we possessed, to the last belt buckle, was wrapped up and set away behind a fast-closed door.
Eva and I had put the finishing touches on the gift we’d made, and had hung garlands of dried herbs about the dining chamber, which was the only place in Shadowfell big enough for a council—we hoped the community of Northies was not too numerous. The rebel community had practiced songs and had listened as I explained that Regan would do most of the talking until we discovered how amenable the Good Folk were to the proposal we would be putting to them. I warned them that there might be some odd-looking beings, and that they must be courteous even if the visitors spoke somewhat bluntly.
Just before dusk, Sage and Red Cap came to the door and were admitted. Red Cap had his infant in a sling on his back; it was hunkered down against the chill with only the tips of its ears showing. We stood at the top of the spiral stair with Regan and Tali. The rest of the community waswaiting in the dining area, where the benches and tables had been stacked at one end, and blankets spread out on the earthen floor in their place.
We heard them before we saw them, and I was filled with both relief and wonder. The sound that drifted up the stair was hard to describe. It was not a chant, nor yet a song; it was something like the sound of breaking waves, and something like crackling flames, and a little like the rustling of leaves in the wind. It made the hairs on my neck prickle.
“Black Crow’s curse,” breathed Tali.
“Hush,” murmured Regan. “Only listen.”
The murmuring, rippling sound increased, reaching our ears in a pattern of rise and fall. Light flickered on the stone walls of the spiral stair.
“A procession,” I whispered. “A midwinter ritual.”
“I’m glad to see the Northies have not forgotten the old ways.” Sage made no attempt to lower her voice. She glanced up at Regan. “You can leave this part to me.” Her tone was full of authority, and he gave a solemn nod.
The lights became brighter; shapes flickered and danced across the ancient stone as the Northies climbed toward us. Beside me, Regan sucked in his breath.
They were cloaked in uniform gray, but it could be seen that they were of many kinds. Their leader—not the being we had encountered before—carried a glowing lantern fashioned in the shape of a bee. Behind him came many others, some bearing lights, others carrying little baskets or bags. Among them were five tiny beings, each about ahandspan tall. They were holding a very small wreath of greenery between them; it was taking some maneuvering to get it, and themselves, from step to step, and the folk behind them in line were showing signs of impatience. I suppressed the urge to offer help, since quite plainly this was something the wee folk either wanted or needed to do by themselves.
There were beings here that seemed hewn from rock, their features, under the gray hoods, made up of cracks, crevices, and holes. They were like smaller versions of a stanie mon, and the sight of them sent me back to that day on the battlefield, the day so many men had perished because of me. One creature was all smoke and flame, and walked without a cloak. Tali muttered another oath and Sage gave her a repressive look. Red Cap had lifted the young one out of its sling and put it on his shoulders, the better to see; it squeaked in excitement, waving its paws.
The Northies’ leader was at the top of the stairs. He came toward us, with three others in a row behind him, and pushed back his hood to reveal a face not unlike Sage’s—pointed ears, beady eyes, shrewd expression—though in place of her green-gray
All day we had made preparations. The feast had been cooked in clay pots, with the assistance of Sula’s canny gift for transferring heat into water. Wooden spoons, copper basins, tin cups, and earthenware platters had been put to use. In a chamber at the very back of Shadowfell, every piece of iron we possessed, to the last belt buckle, was wrapped up and set away behind a fast-closed door.
Eva and I had put the finishing touches on the gift we’d made, and had hung garlands of dried herbs about the dining chamber, which was the only place in Shadowfell big enough for a council—we hoped the community of Northies was not too numerous. The rebel community had practiced songs and had listened as I explained that Regan would do most of the talking until we discovered how amenable the Good Folk were to the proposal we would be putting to them. I warned them that there might be some odd-looking beings, and that they must be courteous even if the visitors spoke somewhat bluntly.
Just before dusk, Sage and Red Cap came to the door and were admitted. Red Cap had his infant in a sling on his back; it was hunkered down against the chill with only the tips of its ears showing. We stood at the top of the spiral stair with Regan and Tali. The rest of the community waswaiting in the dining area, where the benches and tables had been stacked at one end, and blankets spread out on the earthen floor in their place.
We heard them before we saw them, and I was filled with both relief and wonder. The sound that drifted up the stair was hard to describe. It was not a chant, nor yet a song; it was something like the sound of breaking waves, and something like crackling flames, and a little like the rustling of leaves in the wind. It made the hairs on my neck prickle.
“Black Crow’s curse,” breathed Tali.
“Hush,” murmured Regan. “Only listen.”
The murmuring, rippling sound increased, reaching our ears in a pattern of rise and fall. Light flickered on the stone walls of the spiral stair.
“A procession,” I whispered. “A midwinter ritual.”
“I’m glad to see the Northies have not forgotten the old ways.” Sage made no attempt to lower her voice. She glanced up at Regan. “You can leave this part to me.” Her tone was full of authority, and he gave a solemn nod.
The lights became brighter; shapes flickered and danced across the ancient stone as the Northies climbed toward us. Beside me, Regan sucked in his breath.
They were cloaked in uniform gray, but it could be seen that they were of many kinds. Their leader—not the being we had encountered before—carried a glowing lantern fashioned in the shape of a bee. Behind him came many others, some bearing lights, others carrying little baskets or bags. Among them were five tiny beings, each about ahandspan tall. They were holding a very small wreath of greenery between them; it was taking some maneuvering to get it, and themselves, from step to step, and the folk behind them in line were showing signs of impatience. I suppressed the urge to offer help, since quite plainly this was something the wee folk either wanted or needed to do by themselves.
There were beings here that seemed hewn from rock, their features, under the gray hoods, made up of cracks, crevices, and holes. They were like smaller versions of a stanie mon, and the sight of them sent me back to that day on the battlefield, the day so many men had perished because of me. One creature was all smoke and flame, and walked without a cloak. Tali muttered another oath and Sage gave her a repressive look. Red Cap had lifted the young one out of its sling and put it on his shoulders, the better to see; it squeaked in excitement, waving its paws.
The Northies’ leader was at the top of the stairs. He came toward us, with three others in a row behind him, and pushed back his hood to reveal a face not unlike Sage’s—pointed ears, beady eyes, shrewd expression—though in place of her green-gray
Similar Books
