The Bone Knife, Page 2

  ***

  I had not thought, as I drifted off to sleep, that my prayer was all that bad. And, at cock’s crow when I clump downstairs to the kitchen to start breakfast, there is every sign that Stonemane remains our guest regardless of my secret wishes. So I set about the business of breakfast without any dark premonitions, starting the dough to rise and then going out to the henhouse to collect eggs.

  As I make my way back, six lovely, warm eggs nestled in the pouch I make of my apron, I glance over the low kitchen wall to the road expecting to see our stable hands walking in from their homes. Instead, a mob of townspeople march down the road, hardly a stone’s throw from our house. They are all of them men, their faces grim and, if I am not mistaken, angry, and on their shoulders ride the tools of their respective trades: hoes and axes and smooth wooden staffs.

  I drop the eggs and run as fast as my turned foot will take me, barreling through the kitchen and down the short hall to the front door. I shove the bolt home just in time. On the other side of the door, a fist hammers against the wood and a chorus of voices rise up, shouting for my father. I turn back to see Stonemane at the top of the steps.

  “I must close the back door,” I tell him. “Please fetch my father.” Thankfully, he does not argue but turns back towards the rooms. I return to the kitchen, barring the back door and closing up the shutters as well. The rest of the windows on the ground level remain barred from the night; we will be safe now till Baba can calm the villagers.

  As I reach the hallway again, I hear Baba and Stonemane descending the stairs.

  “If it is me they want, I will be happy to show them what a Faerie is,” Stonemane says, his voice amused.

  “I’ll not have it,” Baba says, his deep baritone gruff with anger. “No guest of mine will be threatened—certainly not by my own neighbors!”

  As Baba takes the final steps he spots me. “Rae, my dear, you’re all right?” I nod. He looks back towards the door, which rattles beneath a hammering fist. “Would you accompany Lord Stonemane to the business room upstairs?”

  I glance at the faerie, astonished. A lord?

  His eyes flash with annoyance. “I see no need to hide. I am not afraid of these fellows with their sticks.”

  “Some of them carry iron,” Baba points out. The battering on the door has increased, and now I hear voices coming from further along the wall as a group of men begin to make their way around, pounding on the shutters. Suppose they break in? We cannot stand about arguing in the hallway until they do.

  “Please, my lord,” I say, taking a step forward. “If the townspeople see you, they will know we shelter magic here.” When we should not. I leave the last words unspoken, but he knows them as well as I, and knows that I speak of Niya. Only let me have judged his intentions last night correctly.

  Baba stares at me, and then Stonemane nods. “I understand,” he says quietly, and turns back up the stairs. I hurry after him. The moment we are out of sight, Baba throws the door open.

  “What is the meaning of this outrage?” he roars, his voice reverberating through the walls. A deafening silence follows. I try not to smile, knowing it’s too soon to judge whether Baba has actually cowed the men. Silently, I push open the door to Baba’s business room, ushering in the faerie.

  “You’ll be able to see from the window,” I tell him. He goes to peer down through the deep-set window, staying in the shadow of the wall. I watch from across the room, my back against the door. I can hear my father’s voice again, berating the men for their rudeness.

  “We heard there was one of the Fair Folk sheltering here,” a voice says; I recognize it as old Bemain’s, the swarthy, heavy-set blacksmith of Sheltershorn.

  “Ayah,” says another man. “My boy Goran says he saw the faerie walk right up here.”

  “Saw him?” Baba scoffs. “Walk? Is that Goran that I took into my stables because he couldn’t make a living anywhere else? That lackadaisical fool of a boy is telling tales about his master’s house affairs?”

  “Well, now, good sir,” comes the stumbling reply. “The boy just told what he saw. And you went and gave him the afternoon off, you did. Seemed right strange to me.”

  “If a faerie were to come to my home,” Baba says steadily, “do you think he would come walking or riding? A faerie? And if he were to come, do you think he might be coming from Tarinon—from our King’s city and with our King’s protection? Which would make your turning up on my doorstep with your axes a bit like high treason, wouldn’t it? Turning on the King’s own guest!”

  The men sputter in confusion, and then Jako the tanner’s voice rises up, “We didn’t mean no rudeness, nor certainly no treason, but I spent the whole of last night setting by my girls’ bed worried they’d be snatched up by the Fair Folk.”

  “You’d have been wiser to take your sleep,” Baba says, not unkindly. “I’ve three of my own girls to worry about. Do you think I’d endanger them?”

  I feel Stonemane flash me a glance. I turn and slip out, careful not to look at him. All of the upstairs rooms open onto a seating area at the top of the stairs. Now I find Mama standing at the head of the stairs, one hand on the smooth adobe wall, listening intently.

  “Mama,” I call softly.

  She whirls around, hurrying towards me. “Rae! Where is everyone?”

  “Lord Stonemane’s inside. Will you stay with him? I’ll just see if the noise has woken Bean and Niya.”

  Mama breathes a sigh of relief. “Aye, go check on them.”

  As I push open our door, I nearly knock Bean over.

  “Hey!” she cries, stumbling back and dropping her boot. Niya, dressed as well, stands by the shuttered window, her face pale as she strains to hear the exchange below.

  I close the door. “Sorry, Bean.” She grunts as she shoves her foot into her boot. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Baba might need help.”

  I close my eyes. Dear hotheaded Bean. “Perhaps Niya needs our help more than Baba.”

  “Niya? She’s fine up here.” Bean straightens, her skirts swishing around her boots and her eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “You aren’t going down, Bean. Baba is sending the men away, and he doesn’t need to worry about us showing up along the way.”

  “They aren’t leaving,” Niya says from the window.

  “See?” Bean crows. “I need to go down.”

  “No,” Niya says, shaking her head. “You don’t understand. They’re too ashamed to demand anything further of Baba, but they still think the faerie’s here. They’re going to watch the roads for him.”

  I cross the room to her, peering down through a crack in the shutters. The men are already halfway down the drive. “Can you hear them?”

  “The breeze carries their words.”

  I can’t hear a sound, but I nod anyway. Bean makes a little moue of frustration, “They’re gone?”

  “Far gone,” I confirm.

  “But he’s still in danger,” Niya says matter-of-factly.

  I turn back to consider her in the half-light. She is tall and slim, her black hair caught back in her typical braid, locks falling loose from all sides, her unusual gray eyes, a gift from our grandfather, bright in the darkness. From the steady light in her eyes, and the set of her face, I know we are thinking the same thing. I suppose Bean must get it from us. I let my breath out with a sigh as she says, “Perhaps we can help him slip out.”

  “He was here to buy horses,” Bean says. “I doubt he’ll leave without them.”

  “You’re as good with horses as any faerie,” I tell her. “You can ride out and picket them on the plains for him. The men won’t stop you. Then he can slip out on his own and fetch them without attracting any attention.”

  “They’ll stop him,” Niya observes. “They’ll be watching for him, not just horses.”

  “Let’s see what Baba says,” I suggest. At least he will know better how to keep Bean out of trouble. And Niya. I pause, holding t
he door shut, and glance critically at Bean. “You didn’t tell us he was a lord.”

  “I did!”

  “She told me,” Niya says. “You came up so late, though—Bean was asleep and,” she colors, “I forgot.”

  “Never mind.” I open the door, intending to catch Baba as he comes up the stairs. Just as Niya steps out after me, Stonemane comes out of the business room.

  He smiles his faerie smile and bows to us, “My ladies.”

  Mama, exiting the business room behind Stonemane, jerks to a halt, her eyes finding Niya’s.

  “Lord Stonemane,” I say, my voice dry. “You will remember my sister, Miss Samayna.” Bean bobs her head beside me. “And this is our middle sister, Miss Niyagara.” Niya gives a small curtsy. I can almost feel her trembling behind me—as much as she wishes Stonemane safe, she hadn’t intended to let him see her. I would like very much to march over and give Stonemane a good hard shake and a shove out the door.

  “I am honored,” he says, his voice sweet as honey.

  I glare at him. “We were just seeking our father.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. “As was I.”

  Baba reaches the top of the steps just then, his face flushed and his eyes still glittering. “I’ll have that lout Goran whipped for this,” he mutters under his breath, though I know better than to believe him.

  “With your permission,” Stonemane says, “I do believe he spoke truth.”

  Baba throws up his hands. “Forget the boy. He’s caused enough trouble. At least the men are gone.”

  “They’re watching the road,” Niya says, her voice barely carrying the distance.

  “So they are,” Stonemane agrees.

  Baba looks ready to burst. “They’re what?”

  “It’s no trouble,” Bean says quickly, stepping forward. “If Lord Stonemane has chosen his horses, I can take them out and picket them down by Empty River. No one will stop me. Then—”

  “Pah,” Stonemane laughs. “There’s no need for that, young miss.” He turns to my father, “I’ll take my leave of you and your family. The horses we discussed yesterday will do just fine.”

  Mama purses her lips. “And what of the men on the road?”

  Stonemane spreads his hands. “They’ve lost a night’s sleep over me. I will be happy to grant them a week’s sleep in return.”

  Baba runs his hand over his hair. “Well, now,” he says uncertainly, and I realize in that moment that he doesn’t know how to cope with Stonemane, that the villagers might very well have the Faerie Sleep put on them—a Sleep they won’t forget or forgive.

  “We’d rather not make such a scene,” I say coldly. Stonemane turns back to me, catching my gaze before I can look away. His eyes are as deep and endless as the mountain wells, a faint ripple of light all that keeps me from falling into them. “Bean will take the horses out,” I stumble on, fighting the pull of his damnable faerie eyes. “And Niya can hide you in her stitches.”

  “Can she?” he asks softly. “And how will I reach the horses if I am stitched into hiding?”

  “I can carry you,” I say, barely hearing myself, caught in the velvet darkness of his gaze. “No one ever looks at me.”

  “I see,” he says, and turns his gaze to Niya. I take a gasping breath of air, my sight rushing back to me. “Can you do such a trick, miss? With your stitches?”

  “I have done it once or twice before,” Niya admits, her voice feather-soft.

  “With a live creature?”

  I feel Bean give a little jerk and glance at her. She is fighting a smile, staring steadfastly at the floor. Of course—she is thinking of Baba’s prize nanny goat. I have to bite back my own smile at the memory. Niya, perhaps thinking the same thoughts, answers much more confidently, “Yes, my lord. And it was fine.”

  Stonemane turns to our father. “I’ll do as you wish. I would not endanger your family; the choice is yours.”

  Baba wets his lips, glancing towards us, his gaze lingering on Niya. Never has a stranger known her secret before; but there is nothing to be done about that now.

  “I would suggest,” Mama says gently, “that we have our breakfast and consider the matter at greater length. Since we are quite safe here, there is no reason for anyone to go rushing off.”

  “True enough, mistress,” Stonemane says with a slight bow. “And I would be grateful to start my journey with a meal.”

  The men return to Baba’s business room to finish their accounting for the horses. The rest of us troop down to the kitchen.

  “I broke the eggs,” I confess, as I unbar the kitchen door for the second time this morning. “I dropped them when I saw the villagers coming.”

  “No matter,” Mama says. “We’ve five left from yesterday. Niya, would you punch down the dough Rae started? And think a warm thought while you’re at it.”

  Niya obliges, singing under her breath as she dumps the bread out of its bowl. Mama starts a pot of spiced porridge on the stove and Bean begins peeling potatoes, poor girl. It seems potatoes are the only things she’s comfortable with.

  “Now Rae,” Mama says, stirring the pot, “what exactly do you think you’re about with this plan of yours?”

  I set a skillet over the cooking fire to warm, before getting to work on the eggs. “I think it’s best no one else sees the faerie,” I say slowly. “If word gets out that he was here, and Baba sent the villagers off assuring them there was no danger, that would mean a bit of grumbling but nothing too bad. But if Stonemane has his way, he’ll play a trick on them, lay the Faerie Sleep on them, and then there’ll be real trouble.”

  “What do they think they can do?” Bean asks. “I mean, they know he’s a faerie. What makes them think they can catch him?”

  “People are stupid,” Niya says, as if this explains it all.

  “Or just afraid,” Mama says, her voice calm. “And they know they can use iron as a weapon against him. So.”

  Bean snorts with disgust, and for once I have to agree with her.

  Mama just turns to me and asks, “What of your plan?”

  I purse my lips, mulling over my answer as the eggs cook. Mama grants me the quiet, as do my sisters. Even Bean. Finally, I say, “We need to get him and his horses out safely. It’s no easy task for Niya to hide a creature in her stitchery. She could hide Stonemane but not all his horses as well. Bean is always taking horses out, riding them over to the far pastures and the like. She can take them out for us.”

  “I could take him out as well,” Bean points out. “There’s no need for you to carry him out—I’ll be with the horses.”

  “No,” Mama and I say together. Mama winces, glancing at me, but I keep my gaze on Bean.

  “If anyone follows you, we don’t want them to see you let Stonemane out. Better that I carry him and you simply leave the horses. No one will stay to watch horses graze.” I turn to Mama. “The men watching the road would never expect it of me. You or Baba could try, but Baba they would watch, and since you don’t wander about half as much as I do, even you they would take note of. If I’m walking, they won’t expect me to go as far as the horses.”

  “I don’t like it,” Mama says, and I know that whatever her reservations she will agree to the plan.

  I dump the eggs out onto a platter. “Neither do I,” I tell her. “I trust him as much as I would a dog with a bone. But it’s the best way out that I can see.”

  Niya returns the dough to its bowl to rise again. “I could stitch something into your sash for you,” she suggests. “As a protection.”

  “Like what?”

  “The skillet,” Bean suggests with a wicked smile. “You could do some damage with that.”

  Niya grins. “All you’d have to do is break the knot to get it out.”

  “Girls,” Mama says warningly. “If we’re trying to help Lord Stonemane escape unscathed, knocking him over the head with an iron skillet is not likely to help.”

  We look at each other and burst ou
t laughing.