The Tower of Ravens by Kate Forsyth Page A

was able to drag the girl off his father, she turned on him, biting the tender skin where his neck met his shoulder. Lewen yelped and shoved her away. She kicked him hard behind the knee and he almost went over. Niall had scrambled to his feet again and caught her from behind but she kicked back with her heel, catching him smartly in the groin. He reeled back for a moment, as much shocked as pained, and the girl then turned on Lewen, grasping a lock of his curly brown hair and pulling so hard she almost ripped it out by the roots. Lewen had to wrap his arm about her throat, trapping one arm to her side, while he held her still against him with the other. She squirmed and wriggled like an eel, and he almost had to throttle her to keep her still.
    Niall rubbed his abused private parts ruefully, then took the pitchfork and threw it out the stable door. Lilanthe was trembling and he put one arm around her shoulders to comfort her. “What a wildcat!” he said. “I never thought I’d be tempted to hit a woman before, let alone a wee slip o‘ a girl.”
    “She’s no‘ so wee,” Lewen panted, having to tighten his hold on the girl as she struggled again to break free. Indeed, she was near as tall as he was, though slim and softly curved. She kicked back savagely with one booted heel and he leapt back, inadvertently loosening his hold. She spun and tried to escape, but Lewen caught her again, holding both her hands in one hand and seizing her waist with the other. “There’s no need to fight and squirm so,” he said gently. “We mean ye no harm. We’re trying to help.”
    She made a disbelieving noise but, when he tightened his grasp, stopped her desperate struggling, straining away from him, panting and trying to hold back tears. He loosened his bruising grip a little, moving away so she was not held so tightly against him. “There’s no need to fear,” he said in the same deep, gentle voice he had used to soothe the horse. “Come, ye’re sorely hurt. We do no‘ wish to harm ye any more than ye’ve already been harmed. Will ye no’ sit and rest and let my mother tend ye?”
    She looked up at him suspiciously, and he eased his grip and gestured to her to sit back down in the straw. “Your wrists must be sore indeed,” he said kindly, “and happen ye’re thirsty? Can I get ye some water?”
    She moistened her parched lips with the tip of her tongue but did not answer. Carefully he let her go and moved across to the barrel of water, scooping out a cup of water for her. She snatched it from him and scrambled away, then drank thirstily, staring at him through the tangle of filthy black hair.
    Lilanthe regarded her with troubled eyes. “She’s like a snow-lion cub, all teeth and claws. I wonder where she came from.”
    “What is your name, lassie?” Niall asked. “And why do ye fight so? What do ye fear?”
    She cast him a sideways look, very wary and distrustful, then returned her gaze to Lewen’s face.
    “What is your name?” Lewen said very gently.
    She licked her lips again, her eyes darting from one face to another, then said haltingly, “Lassie.”
    “Aye, we ken you’re a lass, we’ve eyes in our head,” Niall said. “But what is your name? What are ye called?”
    “Lassie?” she said again.
    Niall and Lewen and Lilanthe exchanged rueful glances.
    “Happen she’s a wee touched in the head,” Niall said.
    The girl frowned and, with a puzzled air, lifted a hand to touch her head.
    “Nay,” Lilanthe said. “I dinna think so. There’s intelligence in those fierce blue eyes. I wonder… there’s something strange about her. I’d say she’s a faery child. Or at least, she’s has faery blood in her. And we are far from anywhere here. She must have come down out o‘ the mountains.”
    “Then what is she doing wearing the uniform o‘ a Yeoman?” Niall said gruffly.
    The girl stared at him uncomprehendingly. He bent and took a fold of her jacket between his fingers, saying, “Where did