Free Skin by Ilka Tampke Page A

confessing to me.’
    Fraid’s daughter was playing outside by the fire pit with a straggle of other children.
‘Tidings, Manacca,’ I called as I hurried past. ‘Do you want some broth?’
    ‘I’m not allowed in,’ she cried, turning back to her skittling stones.
    There was a scent of disagreement in the room as I shouldered through the inner doorskins
of the sleephouse. Fibor and Etaina were not within. Again Fraid sat with Llwyd alone.
    ‘Does he forget the reputation of Britain’s knowledge?’ said Llwyd. ‘We are known
the world over for our teaching.’
    I passed him a bowl and he took it gratefully.
    ‘Initiates travel from Germania to be taught here, from Gaul,’ he continued. ‘Albion
is at the very centre of learning, Tribequeen.’ He sipped his broth.
    ‘But he has seen the new world,’ said Fraid. ‘He sees freedom in it.’
    They were speaking of Ruther. I handed Fraid her soup and slipped to the edge of
the room.
    ‘He mistakes wealth for freedom,’ said Llwyd, ‘and might for wisdom.’
    They drank in silence for a few minutes. ‘You may leave,’ said Fraid, turning to
me.
    ‘Shall I not wait for your bowls?’ I uttered before I could stop.
    ‘No, Ailia.’ She frowned in surprise. ‘I asked you to leave.’
    I waited as the heavy skins of the inner doorway flapped closed behind me. Fibor
or Etaina could return at any moment, but I was hungry to know what was being said
inside. I leaned toward the doorskins and could just hear their muffled voices.
    ‘Why do you remove her?’ Llwyd asked. ‘I thought she held your trust?’
    ‘She lay with him at the fires. I do not want our words recounted at his pillow.’
    I heard Llwyd chuckle. ‘She certainly commands an allure beyond that of a kitchen
girl.’
    They both laughed, then quieted.
    ‘Ruther’s words have unsettled the journeypeople,’ said Llwyd. ‘With Belinus’s death,
we do not need one of our own warriors crying the greatness of Rome.’
    ‘I will summon the council tomorrow to discuss what we shall do.’
    Footsteps approached the sleephouse. Manacca squealed outside.
    My heart thudding, I continued to listen as the footsteps passed.
    ‘I have looked to the stars and to the birds,’ said Llwyd. ‘We stand at the dawn
of a change. And Ruther’s words at the feast have given it shape.’
    ‘Surely his knowledge of Rome can only strengthen us…?’
    There was a pause before Llwyd answered. ‘What strengthens us is the Mothers. We
have to hold them close. We have to protect our bond to them.’
    ‘But is it not already strong? The journeymen are powerful, as you have said—’
    ‘There is one weakness,’ said Llwyd.
    Fraid sighed and I heard the exasperation in it. ‘We have agreed to raise this no
further, Journeyman. It is no riddle I can solve. Why speak of it now?’
    ‘Because the Great Bear is dead. And a vulture is circling his carcass. When it lands,
make no mistake, we will need the strength of the Kendra. We will need the presence
of one who has sung.’
    ‘The bloodline is fallen.’ Fraid’s voice had a strange edge. ‘We cannot conjure her
from chalk or iron. With or without a Kendra, we must plan our defence against Rome.’
    I stood frozen in the dark corridor between doors, straining to make sense of their
words. Who was this woman? This Kendra? Why could she not be discussed?
    ‘No army of the tribes will triumph without her blessing,’ said Llwyd. ‘She is the
voice of the Mothers.’
    ‘Then why has she not spoken?’ said Fraid.
    ‘She will speak,’ said Llwyd. ‘We must make sure we are listening.’

    ‘Ailia!’ Llwyd’s voice rang through the early dusk.
    I had fled the sleephouse as I heard him prepare to leave, and now he sighted me
hurrying toward the kitchen. I stopped and waited while he caught up.
    Despite the stoop of his back, he moved with a journeyman’s grace. ‘May I walk with
you?’ he said as he reached my side. If he was suspicious of me he did not show