Two
They left Londlow early the next day. It was warm with a tiny wind that whipped up strands of the carthorse’s mane and blew dust into their eyes, making Quennel curse loudly. Morley blinked and said nothing.
The Raven sat in the back of the cart, her lead tied to a large heavy crate that held most of Quennel and Morley’s clothes and possessions. A leather trunk and a smaller crate containing two scrawny and dispirited chickens made up the rest of the luggage. Morley, wedged between the trunk and large crate, held a small canvas bag. Quennel sat on the seat up front, next to the carter whom he had hired to drive them to Selseaton.
The cart rattled from side to side, first over the cobblestones of Londlow’s streets, then onto the road that led out of the city and into the countryside. The house grew smaller and simpler, and the road was surrounded by open fields of yellow rapeseed and ripe corn. They turned onto a smaller road, leaving the traffic of carts and horses and coaches behind. The way ran ahead, divided into three parts: dusty grey earth rubbed bare by cart wheels and a strip of untouched grass in the middle.
Lying on her back, the Raven could see the sky burning bright blue above, like a wide, smooth bowl turned upside down. It was as though she were inside the bowl, looking up at the carefully glazed base. Smears of thick white paint – clouds – hung motionless in the blue, making pictures of people and animals within themselves.
She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling the hot floor of the cart press against her cheek. The sky was so beautiful. No matter what happened, the sky was always beautiful. Something Elven deep inside the Raven made her crack open one eyelid and stare upwards, momentarily dazzled by the everlasting blue of the sky.
The cart jolted; Quennel swore again. Lazily but carefully, the Raven reached out with her mind and felt for his thoughts. They were not interesting or even very coherent – a stream of grumbles and feelings: the seat was too hard, the sun too hot, the dust too annoying, and the carter too stupid. Then one solid thought formed: All right for the hybrid, cursed creature. The Raven Sensed him turn and scowl at her. Asleep, lazy beast.
She smiled smugly to herself and closed her eyes again. Quennel turned back. Wriggling a little on the rough, jolting floor of the cart, the Raven went to sleep.
---
A sharp poke in her side awakened her a few hours later. The cart had stopped by an inn and the carter was getting down and unhitching the horse. Morley poked her again. ‘Get up.’
‘What’re we stopping for, Morley-sir?’ she asked, jumping down.
‘Drink and a rest.’
‘Do I get either of those?’
‘Rest, yes. Drink, if you’re good.’ Quennel wrapped her lead around his wrist and nodded to Morley. ‘Go and ask the landlord if we can borrow an extra stall.’
‘Stable stall?’
‘Yes, Morley, a stable stall. Say it’s for an exhibit. We can’t take it in with us, after all, can we?’
Morley shrugged and went into the inn. A few minutes later he was back. ‘He says it’s all right, so long as it ain’t anything what’ll scare ’is horses.’
‘Well, we’re fine there.’ Quennel handed the Raven's lead to Morley. ‘Go stable it. I’ll be inside. Make sure that it’s secure. No, wait – stay with it yourself.’
Morley opened his mouth to protest, shut it, bit his lip, and then asked, ‘Can I have a drink first?’
‘If you’re good.’ Quennel laughed and entered the inn.
Morley made a rude gesture at the inn door and led the Raven to the stable, which was a long, thin building attached onto the inn at the back. Inside it was light and airy, smelling of hay and leather and manure. A row of stalls ran against the right-hand side, and a ladder leading to a hayloft stood at the end.
Morley opened one of the far stalls and led the Raven in. He tied her lead to a ring set low in the wall and bolted the low door. Then he hesitated. She blinked owlishly at him. He sighed and said, ‘Behave. If you’re good, then I’ll bring you a drink. If you’re naughty, then you won’t get a drink and Quennel will beat you. Understand?’
The Raven nodded and sat down meekly. ‘Yes’m.’
Morley left. The Raven heard him close the stable door. After waiting a minute or two, she reached up and untied the lead. The horse in the stall next to her – a chestnut with a long, thin nose – gave her a cursory glance and then turned back to staring at the wall.
The Raven swung her lead around in the air, enjoying the whitt-whitt-whitt-whitt sound of whirling leather. There was a spider struggling to reach the top of the door. It slipped and swung on its thread, legs waving frantically. She caught it on her finger and stuck its thread on the wall. The spider caught and began to climb. It found a knothole and rested there a moment before continuing its journey. When it reached the sloping ceiling, it scuttled around aimlessly for a bit before settling down. It twitched a front leg triumphantly and began to spin.
The Raven wrapped the end of the lead around her wrist and put her hands on the wall that connected her stall to the empty one next to it. She hoisted herself up and swung a leg over the edge of the stall. It wasn’t thick enough to sit comfortably astride, so very carefully, holding onto the beam that ran above her head to the spine of the roof, she stood up. Her bare toes gripped the stall edge; she could just feel the rough wood under the hard soles of her feet.
Her next door neighbour turned his head as far as his halter would allow and stared at her, his ears flicking back and forth. Strange thing. New. Odd. Danger. Danger? New thing up. Big. Big? Man. Small. Cat? Bird? Strange thing. Danger. New.
New thing good, the Raven told him, a grin spreading over her face. She let go of the beam and spread her arms out.
She took a step forward and another, humming under her breath, then out loud: ‘My bonny lass she smileth, when she my heart beguileth. Fa la la la la la…’
A longer step and she stuck her leg out to one side. ‘Smile less, dear love, therefore, and you shall love me more.’
She pivoted around and made a circle in the air with her arms. Then another step and she reached up to touch the ceiling beam. ‘Fa la la la la la la…’
Her feet groped to find her balance, slipping a little. She swayed and recovered again. The stable was quiet; her high, quiet singing hardly disturbed the dust motes that danced in the rays of sunlight falling through the skylight onto the floor. ‘La la la la…’
She gripped the ceiling beam and carefully lifted her right leg straight up, feeling the muscles stretch as she touched her toes to her right ear. ‘When she her sweet eye turneth, O, how my heart it burneth! Fa la la la la la la… Dear love call in their light, or else you–’
‘What the hell!’
The Raven froze. Two stable boys stood in the doorway, their eyes and mouths wide open.
There was a long, long silence. Then the Raven slowly lowered her arms to her sides. As if that had been a signal, they rushed forward. She leapt down back into the stall, and pressed herself into the back right corner. They stared at her over the door.
‘And what’re you supposed to be?’ one demanded.
‘Who, I, sir?’ she squeaked.
‘Yeah… You.’ The other boy leaned his arm over the stable door and made a grab at her.
The Raven blinked at him. ‘Me? I? Owr? Who?’
The first one peered more closely. ‘Coo, look at its eyes.’
The Raven looked nervously from face to face. ‘Chin-chin… chintz.’
‘What?’
She slid down against the wall into a sitting position and hugged her knees. ‘Master’ll be coming soon,’ she said, her voice slightly muffled.
‘Your master? Is he that man what just arrived? In the cart?’
‘Mmhm.’ She peered up at them, her eyes wide. ‘It’s a long road to the granaries. Granny granary. Granny. Grainy.’
There was a little pause. The boys looked at each other as the Raven began to rock from side to side, murmuring to herself.
‘Maybe she’s mad,’ said the first boy. ‘And they’re takin’ ’er to an asylum up north.’
‘She don’t look that mad.’
‘She’s rockin’ on the floor and moaning. That sound sensible to you?’
‘Well, no…’
The Raven looked up at them and smiled glassily. ‘Oh boy of boy to a boy for a boy. Hear the boy.’
‘I think maybe you ought to get her master,’ the first boy said, staring at the Raven as though she were a snake about to bite.
‘Na!’ The Raven abruptly uncurled herself and stood up. ‘Na, no Master, no Master. It’s not of the essence.’
The boys stared at her.
‘Na,’ the Raven whispered, her eyes going wide. ‘Not in essence, convalescence, effervescence, phosphorescence, fine of essence.’
‘If you don’t want us to get your master,’ the second boy said, ‘then stop… all this.’
‘All what?’
‘The strange stuff.’
‘Strange?’ The Raven’s voice rose to a high thin squeal. ‘Nothing strange, it’s an escape, it’s freedom, it’s cowardice, run the gauntlet, skip the gutter, not me, Master, wasn’t me, Master, who, Master? I, Master? Oh no, Master, not I!’
‘Stop it!’
‘Not me, Master, I’m good, Master, so good, learn to skip, learn to beg, to dance, to sing, to squawk, hybrid hybrid hybrid, me Master, yes Master, I know Master, all my fault, Master, but there’s fire, Master, it’s supposed to burn me, Master, meant to burn, supposed to burn, why doesn’t it burn, Master? Stop it Master, I’m–’
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Quennel shouted from doorway. He ran forward and yanked the boys away from the stall.
They stumbled backwards, gabbling in relief. ‘We didn’t do nothing, sir…’
‘We was just lookin’…’
‘We heard her…’
‘Then she just started screamin’…’
‘We were going to find you, sir…’
Quennel pulled the stall door open and, dragging the still-shrieking Raven up by her collar, slapped her hard on the face. Her wails stopped immediately and she blinked. Her eyes wandered before fixing on Quennel’s face. Quennel pushed her down into the far corner of the stall, where she huddled with her arms over her head.
‘What, exactly,’ Quennel said, turning to the stable boys, ‘happened?’
‘She – she just started talking and then she was screaming…’
‘An’ we didn’t do nothing, sir, honest we didn’t, we didn’t even touch her an’ we never went in the stall or nothin’, sir.’
Quennel’s face was set into a ferocious scowl. ‘Do you know what that is in there?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Good.’ He leaned forward. ‘If I catch you anywhere near her again, I’ll thrash you, and then I’ll speak to the landlord.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the boys said, inching their way towards the door. Quennel flapped a hand at them, and they ran out of the stable.
Quennel went back into the stall and squatted down on his heels in front of the Raven. ‘Raven,’ he said firmly.
The Raven hunched her shoulders higher and said nothing.
‘Raven.’
‘Yes, Master.’
‘Raven, look at me.’
She did so reluctantly. Quennel put a finger under her chin and tipped it upwards. ‘Hysterics, Raven?’
‘They were talking,’ the Raven muttered. ‘They were talking and looking and I didn’t like them, and – and one of them smelled and he smelled like – like beer and smoke and it wasn’t nice, and – and –’
‘Stop it!’
The Raven jerked her chin away and whispered, ‘Sorry, Master. Sorry. My fault. Sorry, Master.’
Quennel frowned. ‘Why wasn’t Morley with you?’
‘He was thirsty,’ she whispered. ‘So thirsty.’
Quennel got to his feet. ‘Stay, Raven. They won’t come back.’ He went out and locked the stall door behind him. He saw the Raven huddle down even deeper into her corner, and he strode out of the stable, yelling, ‘Morley!’
The Raven began to rock from side to side again, not knowing why she did so. She concentrated on the feel of the hard earthen floor beneath her, the smell of the straw and manure lingering in the air, the Sense of the horses’ heartbeats in the stalls next to her.
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Comments on the characters appreciated, please. And if there’s any places where it’s in first when it should be third.
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