Quarter Day

By Lesley Arrowsmith

It starts with a boy on a beach. He's running away from home when Arian Malcolm meets him, and he did it by opening a magical Portal to escape. She is sent to the Duchy of Montfermo to find out what has happened to him - and what happens to the magically Talented who are born there. Montfermo has cut itself off from the outside world for seventy years, and is only now allowing foreigners within its borders - and what Arian discovers there threatens the safety of all the surrounding lands.
This is a sequel to Like Father, Like Daughter, describing Arian's first solo mission as a trainee Harper.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lesley Arrowsmith
• Release date: Jul 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301977154

Lesley Arrowsmith

I work in a bookshop in Hay-on-Wye, the Town of secondhand Books, but I was trained as an archaeologist, and worked mainly in medieval archaeology. More recently, I've become interested in the world of Steampunk.

Book preview

Arian Malcolm is given her first solo mission as a Harper, to deliver letters to the Tiraeg ambassador in Montfermo - and to find out what has happens to the Montferman boy she met on the beach near Ravenscar. The boy is an yspridwch - magically Talented - and nobody knows what happens to the Talented in the Duchy.

This story is a sequel to Like Father, Like Daughter.

Quarter Day

by

Lesley Arrowsmith

41,500 words

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Lesley Arrowsmith

Smashwords edition, Licence Notes

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The Boy on the Beach

Arian raised her arms and, with no-one to see her being so childish, pretended to be a seagull as she ran down the path. After half a moon of being cooped up at Ravenscar with huge waves crashing against the cliffs and endless rain lashing the grey walls, she needed to feel free as a bird, even if it was just for a little while. Today blue sky showed between the clouds. The breeze from the sea tugged at her long black plaits, and moulded the skirts of her tunic against her legs. Her boots slipped on loose sand between the clumps of marram grass - and she laughed out loud.

Ahead of her, a young lurcher bitch trotted, grinning as she followed the scent trails of rabbits through the spiky grass. Yonne wasn't Arian's dog - she was Nesta Gerallt's, and she had been sitting by the gatehouse when Arian went out, waiting for someone to go for a walk with.

A little way out from the Tower, the cliff top dipped down, and there was an easy path to the beach. Yonne paused at the top and looked back at Arian hopefully. Arian waved her on and followed her down. She wanted somewhere a bit more sheltered than the cliff top to eat her breakfast, and the beach would be deserted, just waiting for her to make the first footprints in the washed clean sand.

Yonne went sniffing round the rock pools at the bottom of the cliff, her tail wagging. She snuffled at something in a pile of seaweed. If that's dead fish I don't want to know, Arian called after her.

Yonne left the pile of seaweed, chewing something in the corner of her mouth, and staying well out of Arian's reach. She wandered close to a pile of rocks, sniffed the air thoughtfully, spat out whatever she had been chewing, and gave an excited yip as she moved in closer to investigate. Something moved - something bigger than Yonne. Arian peered round the rock - and a filthy, frightened face peered back. Arian gasped, as surprised as the boy. He scuttled backwards, into a small space between the rock and the cliff face. Yonne followed him.

Go away! the boy yelped - and he was speaking Occitan.

Arian froze. What was a boy from the Palatinate doing here, in the middle of Ytir?

Frowning, she looked around the beach, and then out to sea. There was no sign of a ship out there, and no driftwood on the beach - there hadn't been a shipwreck. Wherever the boy had come from, she didn't think he could have come from a passing ship.

Curious rather than wary now, she moved to get a better look behind the rock. Yonne had ignored the boy's instruction and was sniffing his face delicately. It was a very dirty face and, as Arian got closer, she caught the full force of the smell that went with it. The boy was covered with what looked like, and smelt like, the contents of a cess pit. Hair that might be blond underneath the muck was sticking up in smelly spikes around his face.

He pressed himself back against the rock - there was nowhere else he could go.

Arian squatted down where she was, so that she was nearer to his level. It's all right, she said, in Occitan. I'm a friend.

The boy didn't look convinced.

My name's Arian, she went on. What's yours?

Roland, he said, after a moment.

She smiled encouragingly. That's a hero's name, she said. She reached into her shoulder bag slowly, and brought out a bread roll. Would you like to share breakfast with me, Roland? she asked.

The boy would not come close enough for Arian to touch him, but he looked longingly at the bread. Keeping a wary eye on Yonne, who was quite capable of running off with the food just for the fun of it, Arian put the bread on the sand and backed off. The boy snatched it up, and retreated again.

I've got some cheese to go with it, if you like, Arian offered. She had taken some more bread out of her bag, and was cutting a slice of cheese with her bronze knife. She left a piece on the ground close to Roland.

Don't you dare! she murmured to the dog in Tiraeg. Not for you!

Yonne put on a sulky look, and wandered away. She returned to the pile of seaweed, and found something new to chew.

Arian looked up to find the boy staring at her. He looked terrified again. She wiped off the blade of her bronze knife, slid it back into its sheath, and watched the boy's wide blue eyes follow it all the way. He seemed to have forgotten the cheese.

You're wizard-handed, he said at last. And - the knife isn't iron, and, and this seemed worst of all, "you're wearing trousers!"

I always wear trousers, Arian said. Oh, I suppose all the women where you live wear skirts, don't they?

He nodded, and glanced at the knife again.

And, 'wizard-handed' - you mean left-handed? she asked. Yes, of course I am, and I use a bronze knife - but I'm not a wizard. She did have a Talent - she could control the element of Fire, to a certain extent - but she wasn't about to tell him that. Roland looked frightened enough without having to worry about different sorts of Talent - and the thought of 'wizards' certainly seemed to worry him.

Reassured, the boy made a grab for the cheese. This time, Arian noticed - he was left-handed, too.

As soon as he'd finished, he looked hopefully for more. Arian rummaged in the bottom of her bag. There was a handful of cherries there, the last of the season, and she'd been looking forward to them - but he looked a lot hungrier than she was. She put them down on a flat stone with only a small pang of regret, and stretched her legs out in front of her on the sand, just a little bit closer to Roland than she had been before.

When he had finished, the boy took a deep breath, and said; I need to go to my uncle.

Well, tell me where your uncle is, and I'll see what I can do, Arian offered. What's his name?

Uncle Hugh - Hugh Marchant. He's got the big mill at Pili, Roland said.

Sorry, I don't know where that is, Arian said. Is there a big place that it's near?

Roland nodded. Fermo, he said, reluctantly.

Are you from Fermo? Arian asked. She didn't know where that was, either.

Please don't send me back, he begged.

You've run away from home, haven't you? Arian guessed. She frowned. Did they do that to you at home - cover you in muck?

The boy nodded slowly. They all pick on me, he muttered, looking down at the sand. "He says I whine all the time, and I need to toughen up."

"He?" Arian asked quietly.

Roland started to tremble. Master Cakebread, he whispered, barely audible, as if saying the name would summon the man.

Hey, it's all right, you're safe from him here, Arian said. I won't let anything bad happen to you, promise, and I'll help you get to your uncle.

The boy brightened a little. Are we near Pili? he asked.

Only if Pili's near the sea, Arian replied, smiling.

Roland shook his head. It's in the mountains, he said. He stared out then at the sea as if he hadn't properly noticed it before. A foam-topped wave hissed gently up the beach and sank back, and he watched it, fascinated.

How did you get here, anyway? Arian asked, half to herself.

Roland crouched, with his arms around his knees, and wouldn't look at her. Dunno, he muttered. He shot her another terrified glance, and looked away again. I didn't do anything, honest. It was just - they were laughing, and it was dark - and then I wasn't there.

Oh, my, Arian murmured. It seemed obvious to her now. The boy was an yspridwch - a 'wizard' - and he'd opened a Portal from Fermo all the way to the coast without any understanding of what he'd done. She jumped up, and held her hand out to Roland. Come on - we've got to go and see my master. He'll know what to do about you. He probably even knows where Pili is - he's been everywhere in the world.

When the boy didn't move, she smiled encouragingly. Come on, she repeated. You've ended up in the best place you could possibly be - this is Ravenscar, in Ytir. There are all sorts of people here who can help you.

Roland cowered back again. His eyes were wide with panic. Ytir? he whispered.

Arian let her hand fall to her side. What had she said wrong now? You can stay here, if you want to, she said, trying to make amends. I can go and ask for you.

He nodded dumbly, trying to make himself as small as possible.

It's all right, really it is, Arian went on, trying to convince him. No-one will hurt you. But Master Gwalchmai really needs to know about you. He'll know what to do.

Yonne reached the gatehouse long before Arian did, and turned round to lope back for her. When Arian finally arrived at the gates, she was out of breath from running, and holding the stitch in her side. Nesta Gerallt was leaning on her spear in the lee of the gatehouse, out of the wind. She bent down to fondle Yonne's ears. You're in trouble, she said. Master Gwalchmai's been looking for you. You should be at your harp lesson by now.

Goddess, I forgot, Arian said. Where is he? I really need to talk to him - there's a boy on the beach....

Nesta pointed back to the long low range of buildings where Master Gwalchmai Morgan had his quarters. I hope you've got a good excuse for him, she said, as Arian set off at a run again.

She arrived at Master Gwalchmai's door with just enough breath to start apologising before he said anything. I'm sorry, really I am, but - look, you've got to come....

I don't have to do anything, Gwalchmai cut in. You, on the other hand, were supposed to go for a short walk and then be back here for your lesson.

But, there's a boy on the beach, she said, speaking very quickly. He speaks Occitan, and he's covered in filth, and he says he's from Fermo. She paused for breath, and then added, Do you know where Fermo is?

He scowled. Of course I know where Fermo is. I know where everywhere is. He grabbed his cloak from the hook by the door and swung it around him as he spoke. He was still fastening the pin when he strode out of the building. Tell me more about this boy, he commanded.

Arian skipped to keep up. His name is Roland, and he's got an uncle in Pili. Uncle Hugh, I think he said.

Don't think; be sure, Gwalchmai said. A Harper has to have a near perfect memory.

She nodded. They passed through the gatehouse with barely a nod for Nesta, who caught hold