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  “Can you take me after?” asked Lark, bouncing on her toes. “And then Only?”

  Toly’s smile began to falter. “I can come back for you, love, but . . .” He swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t feel proper about taking Master Fallow’s girl out on the river. It can be tricky sometimes and I won’t risk it. You understand, don’t you, poppet?” He tried to look sympathetic, but the darkness of his lie had begun to shadow his face.

  “Oh,” said Lark, disappointed. “Well, if you can’t take Only, I won’t go neither.” She linked her arm through mine. “I’ll go another time. You can go, though, Ro. We’ll watch from here.”

  “Be a shame for you girls to miss the dancing.” Toly’s pitch crept a little higher. “Why don’t you go on, and we’ll meet you after?” He put his hand firmly on Rowan’s shoulder and made to steer him into the runner. “Tell Ise to save a turn for me, eh?”

  Rowan reached across the stern to step in. I didn’t have no more time for canny.

  “Wait!” The shout surprised all of us, but me most of all. I didn’t even recognize my voice.

  Toly turned, no longer looking open or honest, but angry. The dark round him was drifting in tendrils now, some taller than the young willow on the bank. “I’m sorry I can’t take you, but there’s no sense spoiling a boy’s fun, now is there?”

  “It’s all right,” Lark said, grasping my hand. “They’ll just go upstream a bit and then make a run back, fast as they can.”

  “No! It’s not that,” I stammered. “He just . . . shouldn’t go.”

  “Why not?” Rowan sulked.

  “No good will come to you,” I blurted. Anger at this man, who meant harm to my new friend, made me brave despite the danger the three of us were in. “I just got a feeling that . . .”

  I got no further before the familiar wave of pain caught me between the eyes and I yelped like a dog with a trod-on tail and buried my face in my hands.

  Lark grasped me by the shoulders. “Only? Only, what is it?”

  “Oh, Mother’s breath, I’ve not got time for this,” swore Toly. When I finally looked up, blinking through the discomfort, his hand had darted to his boot and come up with a long, pointed dagger he notched under Rowan’s ear. The blackness around him vanished in an instant, the lie dissolving like smoke along with his low-country accent. “You just had to bring the landsman’s daughter.”

  “Toly?” Rowan squeaked.

  The young man tightened his grip on Rowan’s upper arm. “Quiet, boy. No squawking.” He narrowed his eyes at Lark and me and jerked his head at the runner. “You two. Get in. Now.”

  “What are you doing?” Lark cried, reaching her hand out to comfort Rowan, who was utterly frozen with fear. Toly slapped it away.

  “You heard me, get in,” the man growled. “I don’t need to let a little blood from your brother, do I?” To make his point, he pressed the blade tighter against Rowan’s skin.

  Lark didn’t hesitate to step over the end of the stern, shooting Toly a murderous look. “This runner ain’t built for more than three. All of us together’ll scuttle it.”

  Toly grinned a grin that wasn’t a grin at all, but just a way of showing off his teeth. “Won’t need to carry more’n three for long—the bank’s not so far. Can’t have any of you running back to warn folk, can I? I’ve done well from this clan and I’m not quite ready to leave it yet.”

  Despite having a deadly blade pressed to his throat, Rowan let out a roar of outrage. “You’re a ransomer! You took Thorne Varley and Echo Gladbrook!” He tried to elbow Toly in the gut, but a quick flick of the blade opened up a small red path under his ear that trickled down his neck and into his collar. Rowan cried out and tears sprung to Lark’s eyes.

  I quick put my foot into the well of the runner. “We’re coming, ain’t we?” I sat down careful in the bow beside Lark, who was wringing her hands in her lap. My hand stole round hers for comfort. Toly shoved Rowan in after us and rested his foot on the stern, peering at me shrewdly. He pointed his knife.

  “You had a little spell just then. What was that about?”

  “It’s got nothing to do with you!” I shouted, and was made to regret it directly. My temples gave an almighty THUD and I couldn’t help but mewl into my hands.

  “Oh, doesn’t it?” he purred thoughtfully. I peeped from between my fingers at him, saw him staring at me like a thief in a countinghouse. “This evening might be the gold coin at the bottom of my ale after all.”

  “Oh! Beg your pardon!” A woman’s voice rang out of the darkness. “Didn’t know there were already folks here!”

  Toly dropped the dagger in the stern in surprise. In the guttering light of the lantern, I could make out the figures of Jonquin and Mauralee.

  “Making friends, Only?” said my brother with a grin.

  I wanted to scream, to run to him, but I was stuck fast in Toly’s cruel eyes, which clouded over at the sound of voices behind him. Those eyes told us pretty clear that if we made a sound, he’d be more than happy to practice carving on us. Then his cheerful mask fell into place and he was once more wreathed in his loathsome lie.

  “Good eve, Mauralee, Master Fallow,” he replied, not turning toward them, but instead watching the three of us, hawk-like. “Just finished The Hare. Thought these three might like to have a go in her.”

  Mauralee put her hands on her hips, her hair glistening in the lantern light. “Don’t be soft, Toly! There’ll be too many of you. I reckon Lark and Rowan have had a lungful of river water or two in their lives. One or two more won’t do any harm, but leave Jon’s sister.”

  Jonquin stretched out an arm. “Come here, Only. We’ll let the other two go first just in case of leaks.”

  I stood to exit the boat, but Toly barked at me, “Sit down, whelp!”

  Bewilderment crossed Jon’s face while Maura’s creased with annoyance. “What spirit’s flown up your tailpipe? Don’t be a fool, just let her—”

  She broke off, staring across the water to the far bank of the river that ran close to the kingsroad. Lark and I turned, too, in time to see a lantern raised out of the blackness, once, twice, three times. Then again—one, two, three.

  Maura’s eyes grew wide and furious. “You gutless eel,” she growled, starting forward. “This clan took you in when you had nothing. This is how you pay us? By stealing our children for the king?”

  “What?” Jonquin growled, advancing on Toly.

  Caught, Toly tensed, ready for Jon’s charge. Lark squeezed my hand tight, ready for the moment to leap when he made his move, but it wasn’t the move anyone was expecting. With a quick twist of his heel, Toly put all of his weight to the stern of the tiny boat, launching it out into the embrace of the river. Me and Lark were flung forward on top of Rowan as the craft tipped from one side to the other, dark water sloshing over our feet. But Toly, who’d landed in the stern, grabbed one of the shining oars and kept us true, pushing us farther into the current with every powerful stroke.

  “Only!” Jon’s cry split the air as his boots crashed into the water. As I struggled back to my seat in the bow, I could see Maura racing up the towpath toward the camp, shouting for all she was worth. My brother got as far as waist deep before it was clear there was no catching us under his own power.

  “Sit down and stop fidgeting, rats!” growled Toly. “You’ll turn us over!”

  “The White Lady take you!” shouted Rowan, making a lunge for the oar, but quick as a wink, Toly’s ugly blade was in his hand again, this time pointed straight at Rowan’s heart.

  “I’ll admit, I’d get less coin for two than three, but I won’t lose any sleep over it,” the kingsman hissed. “Now, you settle yourself before I send you to the bottom of the river.”

  Lark yanked the back of Rowan’s tunic, pulling him down on his backside with a thud, as far away from Toly’s knife as he could get. Pressed against her sh
oulder, I couldn’t stop shaking, the merriment of the evening replaced with poisoned fear. Shouts of alarm could be heard echoing through the hot night, but the opposite shore with its mysterious lanterns loomed closer every second. Panic rose up to choke me, and I whimpered into the red fabric of Lark’s sleeve.

  She looked at me, brave and ferocious in the moonlight. “This ain’t any place for you, Only,” she whispered. “The woes of the river belong to the river. You belong to the land.”

  “What?”

  She smiled, sad as winter. “You tell Pa we’ll be just fine, you hear?”

  And before I had the chance to ask her what she meant, she gave me an almighty shove. Toly’s angry bellow was lost as I hit the river, too surprised to cry out. Water rushed into my ears and nose, and my tiptoes kicked desperately, trying to find the bottom. But we were in the heart of the cut, nowhere near the gentle shallows I’d always been allowed to paddle in. I broke the surface, gasping like a fish and turned around, not able to tell left from right. The current’s strong fingers grabbed at my feet, trying to pull me back under, but I kicked against it for all I was worth.

  I caught sight of the runner, which had stopped its swift progress toward the far bank. Toly struggled with the oar, trying to turn the tiny boat upstream after me. If I thought he was scary while he was lying, he was nothing short of terrifying as he attacked the water with every stroke, teeth clenched in rage.

  “Swim, Only!” Lark shrieked.

  I struck out hard as I could, straight across, just like Papa’d always taught us, in case we ever ventured too far into the river. Don’t bother trying to get back to the spot you came from, just get to shore. You always got feet to walk back home. I didn’t look round, but the steady swish of Toly’s paddle sang at my back, even over my own thrashing. I kicked harder, as if one of the imaginary giant pikes Non’d tried to scare us with when we were small were snapping at my heels. My arms and legs screamed for mercy, the weight of my clothes pulling me down, even as I clawed my way toward the bank. I hoped I’d not have to make a choice between drowning or giving myself over to Toly’s tender care.

  The light of the first torch broke the bank, followed by six or seven others. Furious shouts of “Kingsman!” and “Traitor!” flew like bolts over the water while figures scrambled to untie runners lashed to the backs of the barges. The dreaded sound of the oar behind me stopped, and I risked a glance between kicks. The sight was almost more than I could bear. One of Toly’s arms was wrapped round Rowan once more, the terrible dagger threatening the soft skin of his throat, while the other held out the paddle to Lark. He may have lost me as a prize, but he wasn’t ready to go empty-handed.

  “Row!” he barked. “And don’t think I won’t know if you’re not doing your best.”

  Lark didn’t hesitate to do as she was bid. She snatched the oar from the kingsman’s hand and set to the far shore, her eyes never leaving the angry, frightened face of her brother.

  “Lark!” I wailed, water filling my mouth. It poured down my throat, sloshing over into my windpipe. I coughed, but more followed as I tried to stay afloat. My next shout was more of a gurgle as my head ducked below the surface. Every summer, you’d hear of a whelp or two lost to the river. Their names were spoken like warnings. Would they speak that way of me? Don’t wade out too far! Remember what happened to Only Fallow.

  But I wasn’t to be a lesson for this hot season. A sharp tug to the collar of my overlet yanked my head back up into the night air. A pair of strong arms slid round my middle, and legs that weren’t mine tangled in my skirts, pushing us closer to the bank where a crowd of tense Ordish faces were gathered by lantern light. The blessed pebbles of the bank finally scraped at my calves, and a forest of hands dragged me onto dry land, clearing a path for me and my rescuer. I took two great handfuls of grass and earth to anchor me as I emptied the river from my lungs, being thumped on the back all the while by a wet and gasping Jonquin.

  “Pip? Look at me, sweetling. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  I choked up some more muddy water, so pleased to be sucking down air again, I didn’t care what manner of filth was running out of my nose and mouth. “No,” I croaked. “But he’s got Lark and Rowan!”

  Maura appeared at Jonquin’s elbow, out of breath. “There’s a clan meet coming together. A few folk have got runners after them, but . . .” She broke off, putting a gentle hand to my heaving back. “I heard just about all there is to hear about you, Only Fallow. I’m sorry we’ve gotta meet like this. Are you well?”

  I nodded weakly, resting my head against Jon’s knee. I didn’t want to move an inch, but the fright and cool breeze from the water set me to shivering in my sodden clothes. And worse than that, I thought to the greedy look in Toly’s eye when he’d wondered after the pain in my temples. This evening might be the gold coin at the bottom of my ale after all. Surely he didn’t have any idea about my . . . what had Lark and Rowan called it? My cunning. I ticked myself off for being foolish—how could a rat like Toly have the first clue about something neither me nor Non understood properly?

  “Why don’t you take her up to our tent?” Maura urged. “Get some warmth back in her bones—and yours. I’m sure there’ll be some who’ll want to speak with her.”

  The face of Master Fairweather came unbidden into my head. I could think of ten things I’d surely rather do than have to face the man whose whelps had just been stolen. Lark and Rowan, who’d given me the Jack, a rich helping of kindness . . . and my freedom.

  “Come on, Pip,” coaxed Jon, his strong hands sliding under my arms, like they had in the river. “Let’s do as Maura bids.”

  I stood on legs still made of butter from my escape, letting Jon lead me back toward the light of the camp. But all the while, my heart stretched farther away as the runner with my two new friends disappeared into the darkness, bound for unknown shores.

  7

  The inside of the tent was warmer than the cool night air outside. Jon pulled the flap of material closed behind us, muffling the noise of the frantic camp outside. Although I was a little glad of the quiet, sweat began to mix with the river water and trickle down my body in the close heat. My brother moved round as if he belonged there, stoking several oil lanterns to flame. On a low round table, one of them sat beneath a stand with an iron kettle on top. I stood like a lemon in the corner as he opened one of several dozen drawers in a large sideboard that ran the entire length of the back wall of the tent. Gathering ingredients from one drawer and then another, he lifted the lid of the kettle and cast them into its belly. Satisfied, he replaced the lid and turned to me.

  “Sweet All, Pip, sit down before you keel over,” he chided, guiding me to a pile of thick pillows that smelt of sage and dust.

  My tongue was still tied up with worry, so I just hugged my knees tight to my body and watched him bustle around the Ordish tent like it was his own. This ain’t a passing fancy, I thought suddenly, more than a little jealous. It’s like he’s chosen a different family. But I could still feel his grip where he dragged me from the belly of the river, so I tried to squash those tiny, unhelpful thoughts best I could.

  The hiss of the boiling kettle filled the tent as Jon came to sit beside me, his own wet clothes clinging to his skin. There was a darkness in his eyes I’d never thought to see there.

  “I’d like to show his entrails the light of day,” he murmured, low and frightening.

  I recoiled in horror. “Mother All says that killing’s the gravest sin there is.”

  Jon had nothing to say to that, but the lantern light deepened the shadows on his tight-clenched jaw.

  I didn’t care to think on what he was thinking of doing to the kingsman. “So . . . who was he? Toly, I mean?”

  “He showed up ’bout two years ago. Said he was from a clan up north and he’d had a row with his pa. Happens sometimes. Living as they do, sometimes there are things that can’t be help
ed. People start again, join new clans.” The kettle’s thin whistle interrupted him and he rose to quiet it. Tin cups appeared from one of the drawers and he tipped the liquid out of the vessel, steam curling round his wrist like a cat’s tail. “They’re a lot like Papa—think everyone’s worthy of a chance. Even if it turns out it ain’t deserved.”

  He brought me my cup, which I took gratefully and inhaled. The warm mint, goldleaf, and chamomile quieted my soul as I took a cautious sip. We two sat quietly for a spell, each grateful for the other’s wet shoulder to lean on. But I’d had too much inside to keep in for long.

  “Will they catch them, do you think?”

  Jon shook his head grimly. “Ransomers know what they’re about. Those whelps will be half a mile away when the rest of the runners hit the shore. By the time they manage to find someone to loan them a cart and get to the crossing at Lochery . . .” He trailed off, his fist curling round the handle of an imaginary dagger. “I reckon Mother All might have looked the other way.”

  A rush of cool air swept into the tent, making the lanterns gutter and spit. Jon and I sprang to our feet as Bula appeared, his face knotted and anguished. I thought for a second he would shout or bluster, but instead, he crumpled, falling to his knees with a silent sob.

  Just that morning, I’d known little of the Ordish, save for the old tales and what I saw season to season—and somehow, between sunrise and sunset, I’d got tangled up in the best and worst of their lives.

  Jon covered the space in two strides to kneel beside the heart-stricken man. The same little jealous thorn pricked at me, and again, I swatted it away, ashamed. Instead of begrudging my brother’s closeness with the river folk, I wanted to share it. Thinking of the acorn, silently burning inside my nameday box, I stepped closer. Bula’s head jerked up, and I froze. His quivering lips parted.

  “He . . . they didn’t come to any hurt, did they?”

  “No, master,” I croaked. “Lark did as she was bid. She kept them safe.” A lump began to creep up my throat. “She kept me safe, master. And I wish . . . I wish I had a way to thank her.”