Raven Flight by Juliet Marillier Page B

If the gods exist, they must be greater still. And more distant. I think of them when I see a lovely sunrise, or a flock of birds passing over, or the first flowers of spring. When I hear a fine tune played well, or see someone act with generosity or courage.” An image of Flint came sharply to my mind, Flint after the battle, kneeling to close the eyes of a dead Enforcer. I would never forget his expression.
    My foot slipped on an uneven step and I struggled for balance. Below me, Regan halted; I steadied myself againsthis shoulder. “Sorry,” I gasped. “Tali’s told me often enough not to lose concentration.”
    “You’re doing well,” Regan said as we continued the downward climb. “When you first got here, you were skin and bone. You wouldn’t have managed ten of these steps. Now you’re up and down with the best of them.”
    “Tali’s work.”
    “A person doesn’t achieve such a result without determination and hard effort, no matter how well drilled she is.”
    We reached the bottom of the steps.
    “It troubles you, doesn’t it?” Regan asked, out of the blue. “The risks. The losses.”
    I nodded.
    “What you have to offer us is priceless,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said your gift was the difference between our winning and losing this struggle. Even with Lannan’s support, we can’t move a fighting force into Summerfort that will equal the king’s. This won’t be a conventional battle; much will depend on the element of surprise. And Keldec won’t surrender his power easily, even when he sees we’re backed by some of his chieftains. We can expect more losses; it will be a bloody confrontation. More than that; I believe the king will make full use of whatever magic he has at his disposal, whether it’s the talents of the canny men and women of his court, or something more powerful.”
    His words turned me cold. “Something more powerful? You mean uncanny folk? How could the king use them? They despise him. They hate the way he’s changed Alban. They’d never agree to help him.”
    Regan hesitated. “If he could find a way to coerce them, he would not hesitate to do so. I know the king’s men were interested in you, Neryn; tracking you, hunting you ever since word got out that you might have an unusual talent. That was what Flint told me. Now that you are beyond Keldec’s reach, I imagine his agents are looking elsewhere for a Caller. What if there were another to be found?”
    Now I felt sick. “Perhaps it’s a good thing that we only have a year and a half to do this,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
    “It is just a thought,” Regan said, and laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Put it aside for now, and let us think of a new day, and the light of the rising sun. Of hope and faith. We meet the Good Folk at dusk, and perhaps set foot on the last and most remarkable part of our journey.”
    I looked up into his eyes, and saw there the faith he spoke of, bright and true, and behind it the shadow of the deaths, the injuries, the opportunities set aside in the name of the cause. To till the fields or sail the fishing boat in peace; to lie down at night by a loving wife, to father children, to grow older surrounded by a strong community. I wondered, yet again, what dark thing lay in Regan’s past, what had driven him to this.
    He smiled, and I thought, Even so, he is a father to his comrades; he is a friend; he is the center of a community. Here at Shadowfell he is all those things. He is a leader .
    By dusk we were ready, or as ready as we could make ourselves. Of all the human inhabitants of Shadowfell, I was the only one who had much experience of the Good Folk,and that had been quite limited, for they were a cautious and reclusive people, not given to mixing even among their own clans. The council would be a challenge—both Northies and human folk would be wary. The Northies might choose not to come up at all. The lure of sleep might be too