The Truth of Things Unseen

Her Mother's Bow

Gintas’ study was full of maps. The monster recognised the Summer Countries and the Barrowlands pinned up either side of the window. Mercia was spread out on a table, corners held down with a miscellaneous selection of gold coins, dirty teacups, common rocks and gilded mechanisms.

There was Belonosia, a half-moon surrounded by fractured islands. Pirate ships sketched in the bay.

There were places she did not recognise too. One map showed a grassy plain surrounded by mountains with a city in the middle of it like the hub of a cartwheel, the legend read "Erin-thrain, here be dragons". The artist had helpfully drawn several dragons clambering around on the peaks, stupid-looking worm-like creatures with curly bodies and bird claws and big buggy eyes staring in different directions.

Gintas was somehow changed. He no longer seemed short; now, he was compact. Where once he had been bald, now he was grizzled. His clothes, though plain, were expensively tailored. The knife he wore at his hip was not old, it was well-used.

Still, she was careful not to smile while he was looking in her direction. Never let them see.

"Do you like my maps?" he said.

She shrugged, keeping her face neutral. "Dragons don't look like that."

"Heh, how would you know what dragons look like?"

"I don't know what they look like, but not like that. Those look ridiculous."

"One day, you will see dragons," he said, "and maybe kill them too. What do you think of that?"

She shrugged, keeping her face cold. "How am I supposed to kill a dragon?" she said, cool as ice, but inside, her heart was pounding, and it was all she could do to keep the flush from her cheeks and the grin from her teeth.

He waved her away. "There will be time for that later. Now to business," Gintas placed her coins and her heart on the desk in front of him. "you accept my bargain then?"

"Sure. Why not."

"Well then," he said. "I did mention that I am, what you might call a wizard. So, one thing we must bind, one thing we must loose, and one we must give as a gift. First the binding."

"The binding?"

"For my protection only. I hold your heart and your heart's price. I release you from all previous bindings. You are now free to do as you wish with the following limitations. First I charge you now never to hurt me or those I call mine. Second I charge you not to do or say anything to oppose the mission I give you, and not to work against my purpose. You may not break this binding."

"Is that it?"

Gintas' eyes glittered. "Oh, I can see you and I are going to get along just famously."

He took the coins from his pocket. She felt once again the small voices calling to her—her heart's price whispering—the chattering behind the wall.

"Now for the thing we must loose."

He made a quick movement with his hand, tossing the coins in the air. They span upwards, tumbling over and over, flashing copper bright, dazzling her. She looked for them, but they did not fall.

"What did you do?" She asked, suddenly wary.

"I have sent them away."

"Where did they go?"

"Away, a very long way from here. Does that bother you?"

"I thought you would keep them."

"Consider it a challenge. Your freedom is out there in the world now if you decide to hunt for it. I told you, I don't want slaves in my house."

"It doesn't matter. I don’t need them," she said, although there was something uncomfortable about seeing them disappear into the air like that. The wrongness hung in the room like a bad smell.

"And now for the gift," he said.

The small man went to a high shelf, stood on a box, and lifted down a long rosewood chest.

"This will be yours to keep."

The chest was as long as a man’s arm, flawlessly polished. The clasps and hinges were silver filigree, formed into the shapes of wolves with human heads and hands. She recognised the design. it was the same as the fireplace in Mother's room. The room that was always locked.

"Open it, please," he said.

Taliette snapped back the clasps, struggling to control her emotions. Don't let him see, never let them see. The lid opened without a sound.

Inside the chest, lying on a bed of purple velvet, was a smooth recurve bow. It was laminar—faced with blonde sapwood, backed with dark yew heartwood. It was unadorned, purposeful. Taliette had never seen anything so beautiful.

She reached for it. She half expected him to snap the chest shut and laugh at her, but Gintas was true to his word. Her fingers closed around the smooth handle. It was perfect. She straddled the bow, gripping it between her thighs and bending it so she could fit the string. She tested the draw, not too heavy to throw her aim, but heavy enough to hurl an arrow true for a hundred paces easily. It could have been made for her.

"You like the bow?" he asked.

She couldn’t answer, she had no words. Father had never given her anything like this.

"It was your mother’s second bow. The one I gave her. It was left with me when she died, and I kept it back for you. You’ll use this in my service. Not on birds and paper targets, you understand? Real targets. Human targets. Are you comfortable with that?"

She knew she had no choice in the matter, she was bound to his purpose, but right now she didn’t want a choice, she just wanted to shoot something.

He was talking to her again, she barely registered the words.

"Your attire is no good. You’re not a nobleman’s daughter anymore in muddy silk and pearls. Wear these."

Gintas tossed her a parcel of clothes: a leather jerkin with lots of pockets, a linen shirt, leather trousers and plain undergarments.

"Get changed."

"You want me to get changed? Here?"

"No! Behind the screen, you idiot. You don’t need to worry about that. I’m promised to another."

Taliette changed quickly. Her grey gown was a rag, and she stripped it off, sending a cascade of pearls bouncing across the floor. She supposed she should have cared enough to gather them up, but really, she didn't care at all. They were nothing but bones. The bow was life. The bow was a promise.

She wasn’t sure what to do with the corset and petticoats, but she couldn’t see how they would fit under the shirt, so she unlaced and took them off, too. She had never worn trousers before, and she was surprised to find that they fit her well. They had been cut with extra material at the joints. It felt strange to be able to bend and touch the floor with no restriction. Hard leather panels had been sewn in at the front over her shins and thighs. The shirt was loose and cut short on the arms, so it wouldn’t interfere with a bowstring. She had so much freedom without her gown and corset, she felt like she had been born to dress like this.

"You like them?" he said.

She peeked out from behind the screen. She wanted to do a pirouette and a twirl, to leap and curve her body in the way she always wanted, but instead, she stood, icy cool, one foot slightly in front of the other, one hand resting comfortably on her hip, staring at him through half-closed eyes.

The bow lay on the table on top of the map. She wanted to run and snatch it up, to cradle it and press the length of it to her, but she didn’t. Never let them see.

"You’re my little ranger now.”

She was nobody’s little anything, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“We’ll start your training tomorrow. I’ve made up rooms for you in the house, you’ll find spare clothes and all the necessities you need. Ring the bell if you find anything amiss. My man will see to it."

He turned in the doorway and caught her grinning.

"We are not friends, you understand? I own you now. I will kill you if you make it necessary. My man will show you to your room. Get a good night’s sleep. You’ll meet me tomorrow on the back lawn at dawn. Don’t be late, we have a lot of work to do."

The red-coated servant stood in the hall.

Her rooms were plain but comfortable, high in the back of the house. Leaded windows looked out over the practice grounds.

The bow smelt of Mother’s hair. She lay on the bed stroking the yellow wood, inhaling the scent of it, loving it, and it was almost as though her mother was there loving her back. She was a small boat on a warm ocean. The darkness softened and became velvet. She was small, and she was lovely, and her mother was smoothing the fine hair on her temples, and she didn’t have to do anything at all.

She heard the quiet calling of her heart’s price somewhere very far away, but she ignored it.