“Do you know me?”
“I don’t believe it. That I know you, I mean.”
“Whether you believe it or not, you do know me. Tell
me my name.”
The boy stares at him, suddenly mute. Disbelief is
plain in his eyes, and why not? A creature of myth stands before him, a
creature that cannot exist, yet it does—he does—and the boy, on finally
looking him in the eye, is unable to conceal a spark of recognition. He
knows me, but I do not know him.
“Please,” he says. “My name.”
“Is Sian,” the boy replies, firmly.
It is not. He has no idea why Roanne chose to call him
by it. The boy—Kev—reads his face and smiles weakly.
“It means ‘prince’ in Lirosi.”
Sian looks to the girl. She is watching their
exchange, listening though the language is foreign to her. She sees the knowing,
though. She sees that Kev holds his secret. He almost pities the lad. If she is
anything like her mother—
How do I know that? How
do I know her mother? He nervously shuffles his feet, earning a second
reprimand from the woman stitching up his sore. Her hands are gentle, like her
son’s. He can only tell their touch apart because Joel’s hands are smaller.
“You know who I am,” he insists. “Please, tell me
who I am!”
Wincing, Kev shakes his head. “I don’t. I can’t.” He
spins and bolts toward the cave entrance. Joel shouts in alarm. Roanne heeds
her brother and drops Sian’s hand to race after the boy. The pair disappear
outside, but she has caught him before he gets too far. Sian realizes that his
heart is pounding. Had Kev been running to the manor?
The manor … He
shakes his head, curls frothing, and his surgeon scolds him a third time. He
makes himself be still, but his heart continues its urgent drumming. He hardly
feels the needle sewing up his hip, he is so intent on pursuing the mystery.
He knows me. Kev knows me—and I know
the manor. How do I know the manor? He closes his eyes and tries to
think. Straw-coloured hair, laughing brown eyes, the menacing threat of
possession hovering behind him, at his shoulder, above his head … Mine.
A stinging splash strikes his hip. He shies, and for
once is not upbraided for shifting his weight. His far hind won’t hold much,
but he is able to pivot on his near and bring himself face to face with Joel’s
mother. She regards him mistrustfully, with something akin to dislike though he
has certainly done her no harm. The set of her mouth is simultaneously sensuous
and severe; were it not for the harshness, to claim a kiss would be
irresistible.
Mine.
* * *
Roanne has caught Kev, but he wriggles in her grip as
if he means to wriggle from his shirt. “Let me go!” he cries, his voice
squeaking and creaking like a splintering board. “I want no part of this!”
“No part of what? All I want is your promise to be
silent!”
“You have it! I won’t say a word to anyone, I swear.”
He is so wild-eyed that she hesitates to release him
for fear he might hurt himself while hurtling through the wood. She wishes Joel
liked him better; her brother has a calming way that she envies in these
moments. “What did he say to you? It didn’t sound threatening.”
Kev snorts, refusing to be soothed. “I’m going home.”
“What if they ask where you were?”
“I’ll lie.” He glances behind her at the cave. “No one
would believe the truth anyway.”
Her grip tenses when he tries to pull free. “Did he
threaten you?” She asks because she has to ask, not because she believes it
possible.
“He asked me to tell him his name. I told him it’s
Sian, and if he has any wits at all, he’ll keep it that way.”
“Did you tell him that?” Roanne demands,
incredulous.
“I should have. Roanne, listen. If Lord Derrick learns
that you have a … a … you know, hidden in a cave, Sian is done for. It was him
who shot that arrow, and I bet he bespelled it, too. I haven’t told you, but
since you said about the dark magic, I guess it’s no harm to do it now. Lord
Derrick is a powerful magician and he doesn’t use his power for, you know,
good.”
“What does he use it for?”
“To hold his land,” Kev replies. He pauses to gather
courage before he adds, “And some say his lady. He stole her from her family,
you know. Her brother came to reclaim her and they never saw him again.”
Roanne frowns. She has seen the lord and his lady on
progress, riding matched black horses and looking very grand, but if she had to
choose one over the other, she would choose the lord for company. Lady Alarice
is renowned for her beauty and her kindness. Roanne cannot deny her beauty, but
the lady always seems aloof and icy to her.
“That’s because she’s unhappy with Lord Derrick,” Kev
declares. His voice is heated and hushed, as if he fears Lord Derrick himself
may be listening. “Everyone at the manor knows it. We just don’t speak of it.
It’s a sad thing, really. She’s like a prisoner in a fancy gaol.”
“Are you in love with her?” Roanne demands.
He scowls. “I hardly ever see her.”
Maybe if he saw her more often, his opinion would be
more accurate, though Roanne admits that her own notion is based on less. After
all, she doesn’t live at the manor, and worse, she’s Lirosi, undeserving of any
noble’s notice. Except, of course, the sort of notice her sister Norra
attracted.
While she is thinking, Kev squirms free. “I’ve got to
get back.”
“Fine,” she huffs. She softens a bit, remembering to
be grateful. “Thank you for cutting out the arrowhead and coming with me to
fetch Mam.”
“What do you think she’ll do?” Kev inquires,
nervously.
Roanne is equally anxious. “I don’t know. First I have
to convince her not to tell Da.”
Kev nods with vigor. They both know that if Roanne’s
father is informed, it won’t be good for Sian.
He wishes her luck and heads for home. Roanne sits
mulling her predicament as she watches the wood gradually swallow her friend.
He can be a pain, but it turns out that she can also count on him. If not for
Kev, the manhorse would still be dying, maybe even dead—
She suddenly jumps to her feet. “Hey!” she cries,
tearing down the trail behind him. “Kev; Kev!”
He pretends not to hear. Instead, he quickens his
pace. Before long, he’s running with Roanne hot on his heels, crashing through
ferns and stumbling over stones. He’s clumsier than she is, and less familiar
with the terrain. His foot strikes a tree root and he splats full length on the
trail, narrowly missing the tree trunk with his head. Roanne launches herself
as he scrambles upright; she hits him in the back and his head has a second
narrow miss. He bucks and rolls to throw her, but she clamps her knees to his
ribs and bunches her fists in his shirt. They’re yelling in each other’s face,
until Kev realizes that he’s played it so badly there’s no choice but to tell
her the truth. If only he’d been smarter … but the shock of what he’s seen has
made him squirrelly and all he wants to do is get home so he can forget
everything that’s happened today …
Roanne doesn’t immediately notice that he’s gone
quiet. She’s so intent on bullying him that she keeps at him until she sees his
face slacken and his eyes become resigned. When that happens, she turns a
pretty shade of pink and stops shouting. Kev stares up at her. His chest heaves
beneath her and leaves are caught in his long hair. She relaxes her grip on his
shirt, still sheepish but not enough to let him off easy. Or at all. Her voice
sounds tiny in the wake of yelling.
“Why does Sian think you know his name?”
“I told you what I told him. Sian is his name.
Now get off me.”
Roanne sits harder on his chest. “He speaks the same
manor tongue that you do. Has he been there? Have you seen him at the manor?
Kev, you have to tell me. You have to.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he
retorts—but he’s trying to avoid the inevitable and they both know it. He
pushes at her to make her get up. She does, slowly, keeping her grip on his
shirt. “I don’t believe it,” he insists once he’s sitting up with Roanne
crouched in front of him. “I mean, I don’t believe he’s who I think he is. He
can’t be. He wasn’t … like that … when I saw him. He was … you know … a man.
Not a horse, I mean. Not part and part, like he is now. Like Sian is, I mean.”
Kev shakes his head, scowling. “It’s madness. He only thinks I know him because
he saw that I might have recognized him, but I didn’t. I mean, he looks
like, but he can’t be … who I thought … who he reminds me of …” Kev feebly
shakes his head, unable to empty it despite wishing he could.
Roanne gently presses him. “Who is it, Kev? Who does
Sian look like?”
Kev’s eyes are miserably matched by the dullness in
his voice. “Lord Derrick’s younger brother.”
