“What kind of changeling are you?” demanded Brand, sitting up and swinging his feet out of the bedclothes.
Jak came awake with a start. He looked at Brand, and then saw the owl. “What's going on?”
Brand pointed. “It's trying to get in!” he hissed. “It's bewitched!”
Just then, there came a creaking sound from the hall. Very quietly, the brass door handle twisted and the door edged open. Jak scrambled up and fumbled beneath the bed for his crossbow, which he had stashed there when Aunt Suzenna wasn't looking. He had it out and pointed toward the door before he realized it wasn't cocked. With practiced motions, he bent the prod back and loaded a bolt into the guiding slot.
The door was open now, and an indistinct figure entered the room. It held a candle, cupped by one hand so as to dampen the light.
“Corbin?” breathed Brand.
The hand dropped from the candle, and Corbin's face was illuminated. “You're awake?”
Jak made a sound of disgust and alarm. “I nearly shot you, Corbin! Any fool knows to knock before entering!”
“Shhh!” Corbin hushed them, easing the door shut behind him. “My father will hear, or worse my mother.” He then revealed the purpose of his visit, producing a deck of stained and scarred playing cards and a jar full of polished sticks and betting beads. Tucked beneath his arm he had a loaf of bread, with a packet of cheese and a small jug of berrywine riding in his pockets. “It's your own stuff,” he said, tapping the jug proudly. “Rabing Isle makes the best berrywine still.”
Jak groaned, unloading the crossbow. “You think of nothing but your stomach.”
“And of games,” added Corbin with a chuckle. “By the way, why are you two awake and so flustered?”
Brand pointed to the window, but the owl had fled. They explained the incident and inspected the damage the bird's talons and beak had done. Corbin pursed his lips in concern. “An owl you say? Looks more like an eagle, by the look of these marks.”
“It was strange-when it looked at me, I felt that it wasn't afraid and that it wanted to find me. There was no fear at all in that creature. Perhaps it was some kind of changeling.”
It was Jak's turn to be skeptical. “For a fact, things have been odd this autumn, and the Harvest Moon is almost upon us. But I don't think that the Faerie would break their pact with the River Haven just to get at the likes of you and me. What could be their purpose?”
“Still, this all seems mighty queer to me,” said Corbin. As he spoke, he methodically set up a table in between the two beds, laying out the food, wine and game pieces. He didn't even bother to ask if the others wanted to play. There was no need.
Brand could keep quiet about what was plaguing his mind no longer. He told Corbin everything about the shadowy horseman he had seen earlier on the shore. Corbin listened intently while he divided the betting beads evenly, dealt the cards and arranged the polished sticks in the appropriate patterns. When Brand had finished, Corbin shook his head and scratched his red beard. “I know of no one like that, nor have I heard anything of such a man. But this is not to say that I doubt you, cousin,” he said hurriedly, cutting off Brand's protests.
Soon, they grew tired of discussing it and turned to the games and the food. Brand was quite tired, but nothing could keep him awake like food and games. The three played Jiggers and Swap-Cards long into the night. They kept their voices low so as not to awaken Corbin's family. Corbin won most of the hands, but Brand was just as glad to have something to keep away thoughts and dreams of the shadow man at the river and the giant bird that had torn up the windowsill to get at him.
Chapter Five
Morning came too soon and they had to fight themselves awake. Never did their beds felt better than when they tried to leave them for the cold dawn air. Shivering, they washed up and dressed in fresh clothes before tramping down the creaking spiral staircase to answer Aunt Suzenna's call to breakfast. She set a grand table that morning. Corbin's two older brothers Sam and Barlo were there in addition to his father, Tylag.
“Good to have you boys here this mornin',” said Tylag, spooning a heavy portion of mushrooms and bacon onto his plate. Brand could hardly wait to get his hands onto the serving bowl. To his joy and Corbin's obvious chagrin, his uncle passed the bowl to the guests first. “We'll be needing help to bring across a heavy load today. The Glints have brought a mighty big offering, and they've made a deal with me to handle the crossing of the livestock.”
Brand and Jak tried their best not to grimace visibly. The Glints maintained the largest flocks of sheep on the river, and were well-known to give generously for the offering. More than a hundred fat sheep and twice as many sacks of meal were likely to be involved. At the same moment, they looked at Corbin, trying to catch a trace of guilt in his eyes.
Corbin seemed preoccupied with his milk glass. His fork too, seemed to have become worthy of study. The brothers exchanged knowing glances. Corbin had duped them into this “chore” which would likely amount to an all-day venture of sweating and straining. Brand sighed quietly, finally getting hold of the serving bowl and giving himself a heaping load of steaming mushrooms and glistening bacon. They should have known not to trust a ferryman's son who offered them free food.
“We'll be glad to help, Uncle Tylag,” said Jak with all the good grace he could muster.
“Don't be worrying, boys. We'll work those corn muffins and that midnight wine into muscle instead of fat,” chuckled Aunt Suzenna. Jak and Brand glanced at her sharply, and saw she was smiling. Their Uncle Tylag, too, wore a cagey grin. It was clear that their midnight festivities had not gone unnoticed.
Corbin seemed to hunker down a bit, attempting to avoid attention. It was impossible for him to truly reduce his great bulk, and the only effect was a lowering of the head and a hunching of the shoulders. He perked up when the serving bowl came close, however. Brand and Jak were working on the next one, loaded with a hash of green potatoes, radishes and spiced mutton. It was a specialty of Aunt Suzenna's. Just the aroma made Brand feel better compensated for the day to come.
Chapter Six
Hours later they pulled the last load across the rippling waters from the northern shore of the river to the southern tip of Stone Island where Tylag's ferry landed. Brand had discovered where Corbin's muscles had been earned. His own arms burned by now, equaled only by the burning of his hands inside the thick leather gloves that his uncle had given him. Each time he grabbed hold of the thick rope and hauled in unison with his cousins, his biceps seemed to groan aloud. This groaning, however, if it was audible, was entirely drowned out by the frightened bleating of the sheep that were roped in a cluster at the center of the ferry. The river gurgled and splashed over the timbers of the ferry, which was primarily a large platform of logs lashed together and supported with crossbeams. Gray with long exposure, the wood of the ferry was seamed and cracked and prone to giving splinters. Brand glanced back at Jak, who looked as winded as Brand felt. Jak's blond hair was matted with sweat and stuck to his forehead in dark rat-tails.
As the day wore on it grew increasingly cold, unseasonably cold. The wind blew from the west and there was the hint of snow in it. They were approaching the cliffs of Stone Island when Brand saw the shadow man again. Up atop the whale-backed ridges of the cliff stood a dark figure on a horse, his cloak a rippling black shadow of a shadow. Brand's breath was ragged. His hoarse shout of alarm was carried away by the river winds. What the others did notice was that the line had slackened. Jak tapped his shoulder, shouting something that Brand never heard. Brand simply stared until the shadow man turned his horse and slid into the shadow of the pine trees that topped the cliffs.