Read Online The Tenth Power by Kate Constable - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Constable
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Calwyn clutched the folds of her cloak tightly under her chin.What would they do, if she had misunderstood Marna after all?
‘Cal!’ Mica clutched her arm. ‘Over there!’
Lanterns were swinging down the snow-covered slope between the Dwellings and the orchard.
‘Quick! Follow me!’ Calwyn dodged past the squat dome of Timarel hive and pulled Mica after her.They darted from one tree’s shadow to the next, heading for the wooden shack of the Bee House. No one had entered it for a long time; snow was heaped waist-high all around, even in front of the door. Calwyn felt a twinge of protective fury. Hadn’t anyone bothered to tend the bees since she’d left Antaris, given them water, or checked them for parasites? There was more to keeping the bees than collecting wax and honey.
Mica was already singing a high, clear chantment of the winds to blow the snow from the doorway. Calwyn was struck by an idea. ‘Mica! Bees hate the wind. Could you sing a storm around the hives and stir them up a little?’
Mica nodded, her golden eyes alight, and as soon as the door was clear she launched into a second chantment. A moaning wind threaded between the hives, stirring up a flurry of loose snow that would also hide their footprints. Calwyn heard a distant grumble of anger from the bees. She pulled Mica into the Bee House and fastened the door behind them. They crouched below the windows, shivering with cold. They could hear the swelling murmur of the bees, roused a second time from their rest, and then shrieks and yells as the sisters stumbled into the maddened guard bees. Mica winced. ‘Poor things,’ she whispered, though Calwyn wasn’t sure if she meant the bees or the priestesses.
After a time the shouts and yells died away; the searchers turned back to the safety of the Dwellings. But angry words carried through the still air.
‘ – bees are cursed! Outlander sorcery – ’
‘ – since Calwyn ran off.’
Calwyn shivered at the hostility in their voices.
Mica whispered, ‘What now?’
Calwyn glanced through the window, laced with frost. ‘The Wheel must be in Timarel hive, it’s the last one. But the bees are too upset now.’ Mica’s teeth were chattering. ‘Go back to the barn, there’s no need for both of us to stay. Can you find your way without me?’
Mica nodded, then clutched at Calwyn’s sleeve. ‘I know, Cal! You go fishin in that hive at sunrise. Me and Trout and the Clarion’ll make sure no one’s lookin this way!’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mica. You and Trout stay hidden. I’ll manage by myself.’
Suddenly, Mica’s temper flashed. She stamped her foot. ‘I’m only tryin to help you! Ever since Merithuros, you been cross as a shark with no dinner. It ain’t our fault what happened. You reckon you can do everythin by yourself – it ain’t true! You ain’t such a great chanter no more, you can’t do nothin !’
There was a stricken silence as the two girls stared at each other.Then, with a stifled sob, Mica yanked open the door to the Bee House and stumbled away through the snow. Calwyn sank back numbly onto a pile of sacks. She didn’t care what Mica said; if she was as cross as a shark, she had every reason to be. And Mica hadn’t meant it. She would never have said anything so hurtful if she hadn’t been cold, and tired, and scared.
Calwyn pulled her cloak around her. The Bee House was sturdy, but it was never intended to shelter anyone overnight, especially not during a freezing winter. Calwyn forced herself to pace up and down the cramped hut to keep the blood moving in her limbs.Without the Clarion to warm her, this was the first night she had felt the true bite of winter. It would be easy to lie on the floor and drift into a deadly sleep, but she knew she mustn’t give in to tiredness.
In the cold and the silence, the shadow chantments squirmed like a nest of spiders in her mind. Dark, disturbing snatches of song repeated themselves, over and over.
‘Cal!’ Mica clutched her arm. ‘Over there!’
Lanterns were swinging down the snow-covered slope between the Dwellings and the orchard.
‘Quick! Follow me!’ Calwyn dodged past the squat dome of Timarel hive and pulled Mica after her.They darted from one tree’s shadow to the next, heading for the wooden shack of the Bee House. No one had entered it for a long time; snow was heaped waist-high all around, even in front of the door. Calwyn felt a twinge of protective fury. Hadn’t anyone bothered to tend the bees since she’d left Antaris, given them water, or checked them for parasites? There was more to keeping the bees than collecting wax and honey.
Mica was already singing a high, clear chantment of the winds to blow the snow from the doorway. Calwyn was struck by an idea. ‘Mica! Bees hate the wind. Could you sing a storm around the hives and stir them up a little?’
Mica nodded, her golden eyes alight, and as soon as the door was clear she launched into a second chantment. A moaning wind threaded between the hives, stirring up a flurry of loose snow that would also hide their footprints. Calwyn heard a distant grumble of anger from the bees. She pulled Mica into the Bee House and fastened the door behind them. They crouched below the windows, shivering with cold. They could hear the swelling murmur of the bees, roused a second time from their rest, and then shrieks and yells as the sisters stumbled into the maddened guard bees. Mica winced. ‘Poor things,’ she whispered, though Calwyn wasn’t sure if she meant the bees or the priestesses.
After a time the shouts and yells died away; the searchers turned back to the safety of the Dwellings. But angry words carried through the still air.
‘ – bees are cursed! Outlander sorcery – ’
‘ – since Calwyn ran off.’
Calwyn shivered at the hostility in their voices.
Mica whispered, ‘What now?’
Calwyn glanced through the window, laced with frost. ‘The Wheel must be in Timarel hive, it’s the last one. But the bees are too upset now.’ Mica’s teeth were chattering. ‘Go back to the barn, there’s no need for both of us to stay. Can you find your way without me?’
Mica nodded, then clutched at Calwyn’s sleeve. ‘I know, Cal! You go fishin in that hive at sunrise. Me and Trout and the Clarion’ll make sure no one’s lookin this way!’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mica. You and Trout stay hidden. I’ll manage by myself.’
Suddenly, Mica’s temper flashed. She stamped her foot. ‘I’m only tryin to help you! Ever since Merithuros, you been cross as a shark with no dinner. It ain’t our fault what happened. You reckon you can do everythin by yourself – it ain’t true! You ain’t such a great chanter no more, you can’t do nothin !’
There was a stricken silence as the two girls stared at each other.Then, with a stifled sob, Mica yanked open the door to the Bee House and stumbled away through the snow. Calwyn sank back numbly onto a pile of sacks. She didn’t care what Mica said; if she was as cross as a shark, she had every reason to be. And Mica hadn’t meant it. She would never have said anything so hurtful if she hadn’t been cold, and tired, and scared.
Calwyn pulled her cloak around her. The Bee House was sturdy, but it was never intended to shelter anyone overnight, especially not during a freezing winter. Calwyn forced herself to pace up and down the cramped hut to keep the blood moving in her limbs.Without the Clarion to warm her, this was the first night she had felt the true bite of winter. It would be easy to lie on the floor and drift into a deadly sleep, but she knew she mustn’t give in to tiredness.
In the cold and the silence, the shadow chantments squirmed like a nest of spiders in her mind. Dark, disturbing snatches of song repeated themselves, over and over.
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