Bronze Magic (Book 1) Page 44

  Waterstone put up his hand. “No thanks. It will dry in time. I’ll just leave it.”

  The healer frowned. “You should not leave a wet bandage on. Your wound could fester beneath it.”

  “No thanks. I’ll take my chances. I’ll make sure I dry it out thoroughly by the fire.”

  As she turned to leave, her arm brushed against Waterstone’s and Tarkyn saw him wince. A dawning suspicion entered the prince’s mind. Twenty minutes later, Tarkyn said casually to Waterstone, “Could you come and have a quick look at something for me?”

  As soon as they were away from prying eyes and ears, Tarkyn turned to him and said, “Come on. Take the bandage off.”

  “I would prefer not to,” replied Waterstone steadily.

  “Come on,” urged Tarkyn, “Take it off.”

  Waterstone’s eyes narrowed. “Is that an order?”

  “Oh stop being silly. Of course it’s not an order. You can be a stubborn old goat if you want to, but I know what I will see when you take it off, so you might as well.”

  Reluctantly, Waterstone unwound the bandage from his arm. The last layers were stuck to the wound with seeping blood and puss.

  “Stars above, Waterstone, your arm is a mess.” Tarkyn peered closely at the wound to check that his suspicions were right. “Rubbing dirt into a wound can cause infection, you know.”

  The woodman turned a dull red.

  Tarkyn smiled broadly at him. “Lapping Water told me that, when she caught me doing the same thing yesterday morning.”

  Waterstone’s tight face relaxed into a grin. “Did you do it too?”

  Tarkyn nodded, his eyes crinkling with laughter. “Yes, but the oak has healed mine. Luckily, after all that effort, I still have a scar, and a green one, at that.” He studied Waterstone’s arm. “Come on, my friend. I think I need to give your arm some help with healing.”

  Seeing Waterstone frown, he added hastily, “Don’t worry. I won’t take the dirt out but I do think we need to get rid of some of that infection, don’t you? We might need your right arm in the days to come.” As Waterstone still hesitated, Tarkyn explained, “All I will do is send you some esse. It’s up to you to direct it as you will.”

  The woodman nodded reluctantly and complied. When the infection had been eased, Tarkyn said, “Wait here. I’ll ask Lapping Water to procure us another bandage. We must maintain your disguise, after all.”

  A few minutes later, Lapping Water returned with the prince.

  “Put out your arm,” she instructed the woodman. As she carefully wrapped the bandage around his arm, she said, smiling, “I think you should have a nice clean raised scar at the end of all this. Congratulations.”

  Waterstone looked anxiously at her. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  Lapping Water raised her eyebrows. “His Highness had to put up with having his arm unwrapped in full view of everyone. Why shouldn’t you?”

  Waterstone looked even more anxious. “But no one knew why his arm was like that. They all think it was just the oak tree.”

  “Ah yes, but he didn’t know it was going to look like that and he was prepared to endure the teasing.”

  Tarkyn directed a small frown at her. “But only because I couldn’t think of a way out of it fast enough. I didn’t even want Waterstone to know, let alone anyone else.” He grinned at his friend. “And I have only told him now because I couldn’t let him suffer the embarrassment alone.”

  Lapping Water let her gaze travel slowly from one to the other, as though considering the matter. Then she smiled. “Don’t be silly, Waterstone. Of course I wouldn’t tell anyone.” She added in a sugary voice, “I think it’s so sweet that you want to keep a memento. No wonder you’re such good friends: You’re each as sentimental as the other.” She laughed at the pained expressions on their faces.

  Waterstone grimaced and said acerbically, “I think just a third person knowing gives plenty of opportunity for teasing without opening it up to a wider audience.”

  Lapping Water shook her head, smiling. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll stop now. Shall we go and see if there’s some food ready yet?”

  When they returned to the gathering around the fire, discussions were in full swing about making sure they were in contact with all woodfolk and trying to work out who could be missing. A great deal of it was mind talking, but Tarkyn did not ask to be updated or included and was content to sit quietly among the animated woodfolk. Now and again, someone would try to draw him into the conversation but he kept his responses minimal.

  After a while, Autumn Leaves came over and sat down next to him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

  Tarkyn nodded. “A bit drained, but fine otherwise.”

  Autumn Leaves frowned at him, “You’re not in a huff, are you?”

  The prince raised his eyebrows and looked at the woodman in some surprise. “No. Why do you ask?”

  Autumn Leaves shrugged, “You’re so quiet, that’s all.”

  “I am trying to be unobtrusive,” explained the prince, with a wry smile. “I think I’ve had more than my fair share of centre stage over the last few days. I’ve said all I needed to say. It’s up to everyone else now.”

  “And is everyone keeping you in the picture?”

  “Not as much as we all agreed, but it’s not just the home guard here. None of the others was part of the agreement we made.” Tarkyn shrugged. “I can’t be bothered going through all of that again. It was hard enough the first time.”

  “Do you want me to do something about it?” asked Autumn Leaves.

  Tarkyn smiled tiredly. “No, not tonight. Let’s just enjoy one evening without having to manoeuvre our way through people’s antipathy. They will have forgotten their gratitude tomorrow and be ready to find new reasons for disliking me. So let’s make the most of this hiatus while we can.”

  “You are in a huff,” accused Autumn Leaves.

  The prince shook his head. “No, I’m not. I just know crowd mentality…. especially a crowd laced with people who hate the oath and therefore me.” He looked at Autumn Leaves. “I almost wonder if Stormaway is right to keep the oath tied to the forest’s welfare.”

  The woodman’s eyes widened in shock.

  “I’m not casting aspersions on woodfolk honour, but how true to an oath can people be if their thoughts are constantly warped by resentment?” Tarkyn continued, disregarding the woodman’s reaction. “Surely they would begin to rationalise small transgressions and then become more and more convinced that what they are doing is good enough. Even with the forest’s welfare at stake, some people have lost sight of what is expected.”

  The prince became aware of woodman’s shuttered face. “Oh Autumn Leaves, please don’t take offence. I don’t mean any of this for the home guard. But you know, I think I, or we, made a big mistake letting all the other oathbound woodfolk keep away from me. They have built me up into a big ogre in their minds.” Tarkyn pulled at his dry but matted hair, trying to ease out the worst of the tangles. “And at the moment, if the oath were disarmed, I would be in more danger from them than I ever was from the oathless woodfolk.”

  Autumn Leaves was silent for a while as he mulled this over. Finally he said, obviously feeling uncomfortable, “I don’t know what to say, really. You might be right. If the oath has made some of these people hate you, it would only take one of them to break it and you could be in danger.” He heaved a sigh. “And even though, as a people, we are honourable, you can’t guarantee everyone’s behaviour.”

  Tarkyn smiled in understanding. “You may find this hard to believe but we sorcerers also consider ourselves to be honourable - and look at the treachery that abounds in the society I have come from.”

  Autumn Leaves could not prevent a sceptical expression from crossing his face.

  Tarkyn gave a short derisive laugh. “You see what I’m battling against. It’s not just me personally. Woodfolk have a pretty low opinion of sorcerers generally.” Tarkyn regar
ded the woodman thoughtfully. “I can see you share that opinion but you might like to consider where my own sense of honour came from.”

  Autumn Leaves nodded reluctantly. “I suppose you had to learn it from somewhere. And it wasn’t from us because you came into the forest with it.” The woodman shifted his position against the log. “Ah, but perhaps you are the exception from your society while the traitor would be the exception in ours.”

  Tarkyn could feel generations of royal heritage rearing up inside him in outrage at such a suggestion. His eyes glittered in the firelight. His voice was flat with suppressed anger when he said, “I think we have taken this discussion far enough. We must agree to disagree on how despicable my heritage is.”

  Autumn Leaves’ head shot up from his contemplation of the fire. “Oh dear, I’ve offended you now, haven’t I?”

  “Would you like it if I said you were the only trustworthy woodman? That all these people around us were untrustworthy and dishonourable? I think not.”

  The woodman returned the prince’s outraged stare steadily. “No, I would not. On the other hand, I can’t point to one of them that has turned on me or cast me out in the way that some of your closest friends and family have done to you.” Seeing Tarkyn’s stricken face, Autumn Leaves added hurriedly, “I’m sorry. I should not have thrown that up in your face.”

  “It is very hard,” After a fraught silence, Tarkyn said carefully, “to keep believing in myself when I have been constantly surrounded, both as a sorcerer and as a woodman, by people who would kill me as quickly as look at me, if they had the chance.” He turned his eyes away to look into the fire. “It is particularly difficult to come to terms with, when I know, whether you believe it or not, that both societies are full of good, honourable people.”

  Moments later, Waterstone came wandering over. “Could you come and have a quick look at something for me?” he asked, echoing Tarkyn’s earlier words to him.

  Tarkyn frowned a little suspiciously but stood up and followed the woodman into the darkness beyond the firelight and away from the other woodfolk. Autumn Leaves walked beside him. Waterstone took them to a small clearing where the strong rays of the moon bathed the ferns and treetops in a silvery light. They could see their shadows stretching across the grass and mosses under their feet.

  “Come on,” said Waterstone firmly, “Find somewhere to sit. We need to talk.”

  The sorcerer looked from one to the other mutinously. “You relayed our conversation without telling me.” Tarkyn said to Autumn Leaves.

  “Come on,” repeated Waterstone unequivocally, “Sit. I did what you wanted earlier, even though I didn’t want to. Now you have to do something for me.”

  With ill grace, Tarkyn dropped himself down into a damp bed of moss. His eyes flashed in the moonlight. “I do not like having my conversations monitored by others without my knowledge, even if it is you.”

  Waterstone came and squatted down in front of him. “Don’t get angry with us just yet. Autumn Leaves did not relay your conversation to me. He sent out an urgent request for help just a few minutes ago. So, here I am.” The woodman twisted around and sat down beside Tarkyn. Autumn Leaves sat on the other side of him.

  Tarkyn folded his arms and waited. He watched the woodmen’s eyes to check whether they were mind talking but neither of them went out of focus. After a minute or two of silence, he said flatly, “Well?”

  Waterstone gave a slight smile. “Well, nothing. I don’t know why you need my help but I’m here waiting to give it when you tell me what you want.”

  Tarkyn frowned. “I don’t need any help that I am aware of.” His voice still sounded resentful.

  Autumn Leaves glanced at him then addressed Waterstone. “I’m afraid my conversation with Tarkyn went badly pear-shaped. First I offended him. Then I really hurt him by which time I realised I was way out of my depth. So I asked for your help to pull us back out of deep water before we drowned.”

  Waterstone looked totally confused by the end of this explanation. He looked at Tarkyn. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about? Because I don’t.”

  Tarkyn sent a smouldering glare at Autumn Leaves. “He is possibly referring to the aspersions he cast on the honour of my heritage. Alternatively he could be referring to the contrast he drew between the way people treated him and me – not to my advantage, I can assure you.”

  “And still I am in the dark.” said Waterstone patiently. He turned once more to Autumn Leaves. “Exactly what did Tarkyn say that made you call for me?”

  Autumn Leaves looked uncomfortable at having to repeat the prince’s conversation. “He said he found it hard to keep believing in himself when both sorcerers and woodfolk kept wanting to kill him. Something like that. Especially when he knew that both lots of people were basically good.”

  “The light begins to dawn. But Tarkyn, why would you be feeling like that tonight, when everyone around you is celebrating what you and Stormaway achieved today?”

  The prince gave a bitter laugh. “Because it is irrelevant. It won’t last. Tomorrow, the knives will be out once more. It has only lasted as long as it has, because I have carefully avoided saying anything at all tonight.”

  Waterstone’s face tightened with concern. “Tarkyn, would you mind if Autumn Leaves replayed me your conversation with him? It might save us all a lot of questions.”

  Tarkyn nodded shortly. “Go ahead.” While the woodmen were out of focus, the sorcerer stared stonily into the middle distance, arms still folded, as closed off as he could possibly be.

  When Waterstone regained focus, he looked at Tarkyn speculatively, wondering how to breach the citadel. Eventually he said, “I think we should consider giving Autumn Leaves honorary membership of the harvesters and gatherers. I have rarely seen a more devious or more thorough demolition of a person’s honour, culture and worth.”

  Tarkyn brought his glowering face around to stare at Waterstone. “I didn’t need Autumn Leaves to tell me all that. I know what woodfolk think about sorcerers, thanks to you. Other than that, he just crystallised what I had been thinking myself.”

  “Which was…?”

  “That there must be something fundamentally wrong with me, for all these people to turn against me. If enough people keep telling you the same thing, you have to start realising that what you believe is probably incorrect.”

  “Hence the quips about being the friendly neighbourhood tyrant and an arrogant, autocratic bastard.”

  Tarkyn frowned. “Who told you the last one?”

  Waterstone gave a slight smile. “Sparrow asked me what it meant.”

  Tarkyn felt his cheeks go hot. “Whoops. I’d better be a bit more careful with my language around her.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. She’s around language like that all the time. As long as she knows that she is not allowed to use it until she’s older, that’s the best we can hope for.”

  After a short pause, Waterstone returned doggedly to the topic. “I don’t know whether you realise this but there haven’t actually been very many unkind things said to you. Admittedly, Tree Wind has been a determined opponent. Other than that, Sun Shower made a caustic remark, which she subsequently retracted. Even after your forceful speech last night, many people came up and were friendly afterwards. Most of the oathless woodfolk have been singing your praises. And you managed to befriend Running Feet, the most alienated person of all, in the space of a morning.”

  For a moment, Tarkyn looked convinced. Then his brow darkened and he said, “Yes but what about Andoran and Sargon, my erstwhile friends... And Kosar and Jarand? They were all willing to sacrifice me. Andoran and Sargon were absolutely ruthless about it.”

  “So were your brothers. They just got someone else to do it for them.” said Waterstone matter-of-factly.

  “So, people have set themselves against me in two completely separate societies and yet,” continued Tarkyn on a note of desperate triumph following the woodman’s ratification of his story, “Autumn Lea
ves has never experienced anything like it in his life.”

  “Neither have I,” stated Waterstone baldly. “At least,” he amended, “not until I became allied with you.”

  A flicker of panic flared in Tarkyn’s eyes. “So there must be something about me that sets people against me.”

  “Of course there is,” said Waterstone calmly. Autumn Leaves’ eyes bugged out of his head with shock, while Tarkyn waited tensely.

  Waterstone laughed and patted Tarkyn on the back. “You’re a bloody prince, you fool. Neither of us has any claim to fame or to a throne or to the unwilling allegiance of a whole host of woodfolk. Of course you’re going to strike problems we never have to encounter.”

  Tarkyn looked at him, half frowning and half smiling.

  “Don’t be confused between who you are and what you are,” continued the woodman. “I know they are inextricable, but it is your role that has caused you the problems and drawn self interested people like Andoran and Sargon to your side and alienated Tree Wind and co, not you the person… perhaps with the notable exception of Running Feet, but even that you’ve sorted out now.”

  Finally Tarkyn broke into a full smile and shook his head. “I’m a complete embarrassment to myself, sometimes. I have just let things grow out of all proportion, haven’t I?”

  “Yes and no,” replied Waterstone. “To be fair, you have an enormous amount to deal with – having to work out terms of engagement with every new person you meet in a much more fraught, significant way than I’ve ever had to…” he grinned, “except when I met you, of course.”

  Tarkyn’s smile faded just a little. “I do get tired sometimes, you know, dealing with it all. I think that was half the trouble this evening. Not to mention that I’ve just done the biggest, most complex piece of magic in my entire life.” He ran his hand tiredly through his hair.“All those people think I want to be the centre of attention but actually it’s more that they just assume that I will be. And it’s tiring having everyone’s eyes on you all the time, even when they’re friendly eyes.”

  There was a companionable silence for a few minutes. Then Waterstone roused himself. “One more thing before we re-enter the hurly burly of your famous life. I don’t want you making any more extravagant selfsacrificial gestures. I know you were upset and felt we had all doublecrossed you, but you didn’t come and talk to us about it. If you had, we would have told you about the woodfolk oath and you might have saved yourself all that angst. Instead, you dealt with it all on your own and nearly got yourself killed.” The woodman smiled faintly. “I have to hand it to you. You did achieve great things that day but I think part of your success was that you felt you had nothing left to lose and so took inordinate risks.”