The Truth of Things Unseen

Consolation Prize

Jessamy twirled Taliette's bow as the group walked back down out of the woods to the barracks.

"Give it back to her," said Hal. His voice was calm, but Taliette sensed the unspoken danger under the surface.

Jessamy didn't even turn around. "I won fair and square, Hal," she said. "I get to keep the bow."

"That wasn't the game, Jess; I need her armed."

"You want it? You go fetch it." Jessamy spun around and hurled the bow as far as she could up into the canopy. With a crash of leaves, the string looped around a twig, and it stuck there.

"Good dog," she said, sneering at Taliette. "Go fetch. Meet us at the barracks, Hal, if you're in the mood for some grown-up company." Then she turned on her heel and strode back down the hill with the others. In a few moments, Taliette and Hal were alone.

Taliette watched her go. Her chest was a mass of churning emotions, fighting to get out, but she kept her face cold and impassive. Never let them see.

Her neck itched, and she rubbed at it. Her hand came away with a streak of red.

Hal looked concerned. "Did she hurt you?"

Taliette shrugged. "It's a scratch, Hal, nothing to make a big deal out of."

Then she noticed the reddish bruise forming on his cheek. Something inside her rose up as though part of her was trying to push its way out of her throat. A little thrill of danger. She forced the feeling back down.

"You beat that guy up?" she said, casually.

"Hewitt? Yeah, I beat him. Knocked him out. He's back down at the barracks."

"But he was a lot bigger than you."

Hal grinned his lopsided grin and struck a ridiculous pose. "I have done this before, you know," he said. "I'm not sure if you realise, but I'm pretty tough." They walked together to where the bow hung from a branch. It was halfway up an oak with leaves tangled in the string. The tree spread out wide and low, and the bottommost branches brushed the grass.

"Looks like an easy climb," he said, but then he stumbled. Taliette caught his arm, noticing the flash of pain that crossed his broad face.

"I'll get it down," she said.

Hal looked grateful. "Take care."

She sneered at him. Who was he to tell her to take care? She grabbed a low branch then hooked her leg over it. Her trousers gave her just the right amount of protection from the rough bark. Climbing was so much easier without a corset and skirts. He watched from the forest floor.

"I told them no blades," he said. "Gintas was very clear. He needs you in one piece for the mission.

"I lost the game, Hal," she called down, stepping onto the next branch. "I don't know what mission Gintas had in mind, but I lost. There's not going to be any mission now."

"You just miscounted."

"I should have shot you in the back when I had the chance."

He laughed at that. "How would that have helped?"

"Would have made me feel better. Maybe I'll shoot you when I get my bow back."

She almost smiled at him, but she climbed up to the next branch instead, then sat on it and shimmied along. The bow was nearly in her reach now. She leaned out, brushing it with her fingertips. The string was snarled in a clump of leaves and acorns. She could get her hand to it if she shifted forward.

"You climb well," he said, grinning up at her.

"Thanks. I used to climb in the woods at the back of the old house, but it's hard without the right clothes. This is much easier." She smiled at the memory. "It used to make father so angry. He used to go purple."

"What's a rich girl like you doing climbing and shooting in the woods."

"I just do what my heart says."

He nodded. "You mean it felt right to be outside."

She gave him a long stare. "No, I mean, my heart told me to do it."

He stared right back at her. "What, you mean with words?"

"Yes, of course, with words," she said. "How else would I know how to follow it? You follow your heart, too, right? You men are always talking about it. Follow your heart, follow your dreams. All of that."

"Yeah, but that's different. That's like..."

He cut off as the branch she was resting on cracked. Her foot slipped out. She grabbed at the branch above and hung for a second, trying to get her leg over it. Her fingers loosened. "Catch me, Hal," she said, as though in a dream, then she fell.

The world turned around her. The ground flew up to hit her like a fist. Then Hal snatched her out of the air and cradled her safely in his arms. He stumbled and went down on one knee, Taliette held close to him like treasure.

She nodded approvingly, brushing herself off, clutching her bow. She inspected it, pulled a few twigs out of the place where the string met the wood. Hal was breathing hard. "You can put me down now," she said.

He didn't move.

"Are you well?" she said. "You ran pretty fast there."

He didn't reply. His face was flushed. Then she felt something, a strange tingling thrill, as though someone were brushing up inside her chest.

"Put me down, Hal."

"Yes, yes, of course."

"Put me down now."

But still, he didn't put her down, and there was that annoying warm feeling in her chest again, and she had to squish it down away and put on a scowl so he wouldn't see.

"Now, please."

He lowered her to the ground. Her leather armour was slippy on his linen sleeves. He was staring at her. He didn't seem to have any words in his head.

"We should go back down the hill?" she suggested. Honestly, he was acting like a halfwit.

"Yes, right," he said after a minute. He took a step towards her and stumbled. "Oh. Ow. Ow!"

"You alright there, Haldane?"

"Yes, I forgot. I turned my ankle. When I ran to catch you, I forgot for a moment that it hurt."

The boy was an idiot, running around on a sprained ankle. She supposed she could leave him up here, but then someone would have to bring him food. Jessamy would probably make her do it and she didn't want to be up and down the hill all day.

"You can lean on my shoulder if you want," she said.

"Thanks."

He was pretty heavy, limping along next to her. He made pathetic little grunting sounds with each step. It was irritating.

Hours later, back at the barracks, Taliette stood alone. Hal's foot had been inspected by Jessamy and pronounced "fine", and now he sat propped up on cushions at the end of the long bench.

She noted with approval that Frantz was sitting in the back, nursing a black eye. It was getting late, she started to edge away.

"Hey, where are you going?" yelled Hal.

She shrugged at him. "Back to the house?"

"No, you don’t, not tonight. You’re with us tonight."

"But why?"

"Don’t give me why," roared Brock, fresh from the alehouse. "You beat all of us today. You're one of us now. Barrowscale Crew."

They made a space for her in the middle of the bench, sat her down, and crowded around her, slapping her on the back. Someone handed her a flagon of mead. It sloshed and got her sleeve wet. There was a tray of meat brought from the kitchens, and they all grabbed pieces of it with their hands.

"You did well today," said Flavien in his rolling Berenician accent.

"Did you see her using those mouse holes?" said Twig.

"Did you see her trying to shoot Hal first?" replied Leaf. "Stone cold killer, that one."

"Drink! To Taliette!" yelled Pig.

They all leaned in and clinked their glasses against hers. The spilt ale was drying and making her arm sticky. The table was sticky. The meat was sticky. The men were sticky. Everything was sticky.

"Alright, Everybody," yelled Hal. "Give her some space, she's had a busy day. Taliette, can I get you a plate?"

Everyone took their seats. Hal found some silverware from somewhere. He set it in front of her, halfway civilised.

"That was a really good job today," he said, leaning in. "You're part of the team now. I'm counting on you, and you can count on me. That's what it means to be Barrowscale Crew."

The night grew dark. The talk became quiet. Hal sat near her, sipping ale. Flavien was playing some kind of instrument with strings.

There was a sound, like whispering behind a wall, and she felt the pull of it, right in the centre of her, and the warmth of it, like warm, strong fingers right inside her, as though she had been plucked from some dark place and lifted into the light.

"Go now," whispered her heart. "Take a horse."

"What?"

"Go now."

"I have to go, Hal," she said.

"What, go where?"

"Go North," whispered her heart. "Take a horse."

"North," she said, and she knew it more certainly than she knew her own name.

"What are you talking about?" said Hal. "It's dark."

"I have to go North right now."

"But..."

"Right now, Hal."

He sighed. "Are you following your heart again?"

"Shut up, Hal."

"I don't understand you sometimes," he said, "but I'm coming."

"I'm not sure you can, Hal."

"Just try and stop me."

She didn't try to stop him, and Hal limped with her, over the dark lawn, back towards the house.

Down in the yard, by the stables, Gintas was waiting. Two horses were already saddled and loaded with panniers, the white mare and a bay stallion for Hal. Their ears twitched, and their breath steamed in the cool air.

"You packed for me," she said, noting the saddle bags. "Two horses? How did you know?"

"Everything should be there," said Gintas.

She checked the panniers. One was full of food and clothing. A pouch contained bowstrings. She opened another and noted approvingly that there was soap, a hairbrush, and various other necessary products from the town.

Fire rose in her chest as she opened the other pannier. It was completely full of arrows. As she lifted one out, her eyes grew wide.

The darts she used on the practice grounds had red fletching to make them easier to find in the grass. Their points were dull and chipped with much use. This arrow she now held was not something to practice with. The tines were dagger-sharp. The whole thing, end to end, was smooth, sleek and black. This was a killing arrow, an arrow that could fly silent and unseen through the night, an arrow that had been engineered for a single purpose - to end a man's life.

She felt the thrill rising inside her, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she replaced the arrow with the others and retightened the pannier straps.

"Shall we?" she said, icy cool, though she wanted to sing, to jump, to do cartwheels in the grass, and still the small voice of her soul's price sang to her.

"My lady," said Hal, taking her hand.

For once, she didn't object as he lifted her into the saddle and together, they rode.