Daughter of Lies and Ruin by Jo Spurrier

Author:Jo Spurrier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Voyager
Published: 2019-08-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

I set out with renewed caution, fluttering from tree to tree. The lion had headed almost due north, leaving lots of blood behind him. If I was back home at Burswood Farm and sent to find a beast bleeding as much as this I’d expect to find it dead under a bush somewhere.

In the end I was nearly right.

I perched on a twig hiding under the leaves, holding very still as the lion lay in the dust. The only movement was the rise and fall of his ribs as he panted with shallow breaths.

About a hundred yards away stood the remains of a crumbling stone building. Perhaps it was an old hunting lodge, or a guards’ post — there wasn’t enough left of it for me to tell. A wooden wall had been built around it, but I use the words ‘wall’ and ‘built’ loosely. Some of the wood had been shaped into planks, but most of it was just sticks and branches, woven and knotted together with vines. At a glance it seemed like something built for privacy more than protection, but after spending the summer learning about Aleida’s gardens and orchard I wouldn’t like to test the idea. Smoke rose from somewhere behind the wall, and even from this distance, even with the sparrow’s nose, I could tell that it didn’t smell too good.

Up ahead the bear waited by the gate, swaying from foot to foot and making a low, guttural cry. He kept looking back at the fallen lion, but never came back to check on his companion. He just stood there, swaying and making a deep moan.

I flitted closer, moving from tree to tree, but when the gate began to move I dived into cover.

A woman heaved the gate open. It had no hinges, only more vines, but she moved it as though it weighed nothing at all. She said nothing, made no expression as she looked the bear over, but when her gaze fell on the lion her face twisted into a countenance of displeasure, and she stalked along the path towards him.

She didn’t look old. That surprised me for some reason. I’d only briefly glimpsed Gyssha, Aleida’s old teacher, and she’d been old and wizened, with skin like crumpled paper and limbs like sticks. This woman seemed to be of middle years, with sun-browned skin and muscular arms. She wore a leather jerkin that left her arms and shoulders bare, and a battered and filthy piece of cloth wrapped around her hips for a skirt, beneath which her feet and legs were naked. Her reddish hair was a mass of knots and tangles, and her arms were covered with little black marks; tattoos, but nothing like the ones worn by the marked men. These were a complex pattern of dots, triangles and lines, arranged in an odd geometry.

She walked up to the lion and prodded him with her foot. He stirred, raising his head in a snarl, but then let it fall again to lie still in the dust.

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