Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [192]
“I’ll just go fetch your Da. At least we’ve got the wedding to look forward to.”
Niffa took the chance to slip out, grabbing her hooded cloak from the row of nails by the door. The ratters lived in two rooms attached to the public granaries, theirs by a written right going back as far as anyone could remember, provided that they and their ferrets “did work with all due diligence” to trap and kill the rats come for the grain. To get out, Niffa had to squeeze down a narrow corridor, then climb down a ladder to the alley running between the granaries, squat stone buildings clinging halfway up Citadel’s hill. Soon she would be leaving Citadel, going over to the crannog house where her betrothed lived with his family, the weavers. She would have to learn to spin, she supposed, and how to handle cloth instead of ferrets.
“I’ve got to marry someone.”
She startled herself by speaking aloud, glanced round furtively, but there on the edge of twilight no one walked nearby. Every day that her wedding grew closer, her heart ached more and more. She loved Demet, she supposed, and she knew she was lucky to be allowed to marry a man she honestly did care for. I wish I could have gone with that Gel da’Thae bard instead of Jahdo, she thought. I wish I could see what lies off to the east, or to the south, or even off to the west, Gel da’Thae or no Gel da’Thae. Not that there was the slightest chance of her ever traveling, of course, not the slightest chance in the world.
Down at the shore stood a rickety wooden jetty, beaded with coracles. These little round boats belonged to everyone and no one; Niffa helped herself to the nearest. She laid her cloak on the thwart and rowed across the steamy lake to tie up at another jetty, then made a haphazard way to the actual shore, climbing from house to house and deck to deck until she gained solid ground. When she looked up, she could see lanterns bobbing up top the city wall. The town militia kept a perpetual guard, even in winter.
She climbed up a ladder to the catwalks and eventually found Demet, her betrothed, over the east gate of the city. He was a blond lad, tall and on the beefy side, with a ready grin and pleasant blue eyes. He was grinning now, as he held his lantern up to see his visitor.
“And what be you doing, up on the walls? Going to join the militia?”
She laughed, laying a hand on his arm.
“I come with bad news, truly. Mam wants our wedding to wait till round the darkest day.”
Demet swore, turning away and setting the lantern down in a niche on the wall proper.
“I did hope you’d be mine a bit sooner than that,” he growled.
“And so did I.”
He sighed, leaning on folded arms on the top of the wall. She could just reach to do the same. Out across the snowy dark, the moon was rising, full and pale against the winter stars.
“Here!” Demet said abruptly. “There be someone out there!”
Sure enough, when she followed his point she could see a figure, all wrapped in a cloak, judging from the silhouette, making a slow way through the snow toward the city. Demet hailed his sergeant, who came striding along to look.
“Well, now, it be needful to keep the gates shut, but whoever that may be, he’ll freeze if he spends the night out there.” The sergeant paused, chewing on his mustaches. “Well, now. I’m not sure what be best to do.”
The guards consulted, arguing back and forth, calling down to an officer on the ground, while the figure walked closer and closer. Niffa suddenly felt a profound dread, a sick terror, as if she’d bitten into a piece of meat and tasted poison. Whoever that figure was, it meant nothing but harm to Cerr Cawnen. She wanted to cry out, to warn against opening the gate, to announce that better this creature freeze to death