Free The Singing by Alison Croggon Page B

unbearable as the cold. They stood in a small, bare room of undressed stone lit by a single lamp, but it seemed almost homey after the chaos outside.
    "I expect Malgorn will be at the top," said Cadvan, gesturing toward a flight of stairs. Maerad nodded, and they wound their way to the top room. Like everything else in the Watch House, the room was without decoration, save for the horse emblem of Innail carved in relief on the wall above the wide hearth, where a fire burned. The storm rattled the shutters of the windows, and Maerad suddenly felt claustrophobic. What was going on outside? In the middle of the room was a broad wooden table surrounded by chairs, and the Bards of Innail's First Circle were gathered around it, deep in discussion.
    Malgorn turned as Cadvan and Maerad came up the last steps, and waved them over. "Wise of you to come back," he said.
    "The weather took a turn for the worse," said Cadvan. "And I have some bad news. A winged wer swooped down on Maerad as we came over here."
    "A wer?" Silvia looked up, her face pale. "Malgorn, I told you the wards were not enough."
    "The warding spells worked well enough in Tinagel," said Malgorn sharply. Their conversation had the air of an old argument. "And it's all we can do. We're stretched thinly enough as it is."
    "Aye, we are." Indik looked grim. "This is a different attack from Tinagel, Malgorn; the weatherworking has an ill feel about it. This is no mere storm, though the Light knows that was bad enough at Tinagel. There's the smell of sorcery in the air. And I
    sense something approaching that I haven't felt before. I like it not."
    Maerad blinked. Indik was right: there was a presence, a sense of menace that she had only noted subliminally, that grew in intensity with every moment. It was unsettlingly familiar ...
    "I recognize that presence," said Cadvan. "I remember it all too well. It is the Landrost."
    A sudden appalled silence fell over the table. Of all the Bards, only Indik looked unmoved.
    "I thought the Elementals could not leave their place," said Kelia, a short Bard who sat to the left of Malgorn, her dark brows drawn into a fierce frown. "I thought that the Landrost was bound to his mountain."
    "They don't like to leave," said Maerad. The Bards turned to her, listening gravely. "Arkan—the Winterking—told me that it is to them like losing their being. But that doesn't mean that they can't."
    "Would he be weaker for being away from his mountain?" asked Indik dubiously, pulling at his lower lip.
    "I don't know." Maerad looked helplessly around the table. The six most powerful Bards in Innail sat before her. In battle, each of them was worth a rank of soldiers; and yet she felt her heart quailing within her. "But—there's a taste like sorcery in the air. The Elidhu are not sorcerers."
    Indik flashed her a sharp glance.
    "You think that there's some Hullish business here too?" he asked. Maerad shrugged. "There have been no Hulls in any other attacks. It's the one thing I've been grateful for. Well..."
    He straightened himself, and looked around the table.
    "Clearly, the wards have been breached by wers," he said. "I think they should be maintained, all the same. I sent out scouts early this morning, as soon as I smelled the weather, and they tell me there is an army of mountain men marching this way; they will be here soon. And there will be wers on the ground, to be sure." Suddenly his eyes went blank, as if he were listening to something no one else could hear. The other Bards watched him in silence, waiting courteously; Indik was mind-touching, in silent conversation with a Bard on the walls. At last he looked up. "Kelavar tells me that outriding forces have been sighted outside the east wall. They can't tell how many, visibility is very poor, but the flying wers are playing havoc in the town. Not much damage, but a lot of panic. Again, they don't know how many. He thinks five wers have been killed."
    Malgorn frowned, stood up, and walked over