Only when he had reached the bridge did she stand in the stirrups and yell, ‘Write to me!’
‘He’s too far Firm muttered, but Jared turned and waved his hand.
‘His hearing is excellent,’ she said, foolishly proud.
They watched until the dark horse and its slim rider disappeared under the eaves of the wood. Then Finn sighed.
‘Come on. We should get back.’ They rode slowly and silent. Claudia was moody; Finn barely spoke. Neither of them wanted to think about the Pretender, or what decision the Council would come to.
Finally Finn looked up. ‘It’s darker. Isn’t it?’ The slants of sunlight that had lit the Forest earlier had gone. Instead clouds had gathered, and the breeze had become a wind, threshing high branches.
‘There’s no storm ordered. Wednesday’s the Queen’s archery day.’
‘Well, it looks like a storm to me. Maybe it’s real weather.’
‘There is no real weather, Finn. This is the Realm.’ But in ten minutes rain began. It came as a pattering and was suddenly a torrent, lashing with tremendous noise through the leaves. Claudia thought of Jared and said, ‘He’ll be soaked?
‘So will we!’ Finn glanced around. ‘Come on. Hurry!’ They galloped. The ground was already soft; the hooves splashed into puddles that spilled over the track. Branches whipped at Claudia’s face; her hair flew out across her eyes and plastered itself to her cheek. She shivered, unused to the cold and the wet.
‘This is all wrong. What’s going on?’ Lightning spat; from overhead the low, heavy grumble of thunder rolled down the sky. For a moment Finn knew it was the voice of Incarceron he heard, its terrible, cruel mockery, knew he had never Escaped at all. He turned and yelled, ‘We shouldn’t be under the trees. Hurry!’ They whipped the horses up and raced. Claudia felt the rain like blows in her chest; as Finn pulled ahead she shouted at him to wait, to slow down.
Only his horse replied. With a high whinny it reared, hooves kicking the air, and then to her horror it fell, crashing on one side, and he rolled from it, slamming into the ground.
‘Finn!’ she screamed.
Something slashed past her, whipping into the wood, thudding into a tree.
And then she knew it wasn’t rain, or lightning.
It was a hail of arrows.
Ruined, Like the Moon
15
Each man and woman will have their place and be content with it.
Because f there is no change, what will disturb our peaceful lives?
‘Claudia!’ Finn rolled over as a firelock blazed; the tree next to him was scorched with diagonal fire. ‘Get down!’ Did she have no idea how to act in an ambush? Her horse was panicking; he took a deep breath and ran from cover, grabbing it by the bridle. ‘Get down!’ She jumped, and they both fell. Then they were squirming into the bushes, lying fiat, breathless. Around them the forest roared with rain.
‘Hurt?’
‘No. You?’
‘Bruised. Nothing serious.’ Claudia dragged soaked hair from her eyes. ‘I can’t believe this. Sia would never order it. Where are they?’ Finn was watching the trees intently. ‘Over there, behind that thicket, maybe. Or high in the branches.’ That alarmed her. She twisted to see but rain blinded her She wriggled further back, her hands deep in leaf- flitter, the stink of decaying foliage rich in her face.
‘Now what?’
‘We regroup,’ Finn’s voice was steady. ‘Weapons? I’ve got a sword and knife.’
‘There’s a pistol in my saddlebag.’ But the horse had already bolted. She glanced sidelong at Finn. ‘Are you enjoying this?’ He laughed, a rare event. ‘It livens things up. But back in Incarceron we used to be the ones doing the ambushing.’ Lightning blinked. Its brilliance lit the wood and the rain came down harder, hissing through the bracken.
‘I could try and crawl to that oak: Finn muttered in her ear.
‘And get round …’
‘There might be an army out there:
‘One man. Maybe two, no more: He squirmed back, the bushes rustling. Instantly two arrows thwacked into the bole of the tree above them. Claudia gasped.
Finn froze. ‘Well, maybe not.’
‘This is the Steel Wolves,’ she hissed.
Finn was silent a moment. Then he said, ‘Can’t be. They could have killed me last night: She stared at him through the downpour. ‘What?’
‘They left this next to my head.’ He held up the dagger; the snarling wolfshead dripping in his fingers.
Then as one, they turned. Voices were approaching through the hissing forest.
‘See them?’
‘Not yet.’ She eased forward.
‘I think our enemy has.’ Finn watched the small movements of branches. ‘I think they’re puffing out.’
‘Look.’ A waggon was rumbling along the track, precariously laden with mown hay, the loose cover flapping in the wind. A brawny man walked beside it and another drove, sackcloth hoods covering their faces, their boots thick with mud.
‘Peasants.’ Claudia said. ‘Our only chance.’
‘The archers might still be—’
‘Come on.’ Before he could stop her she scrambled out.
‘Wait! Please, stop!’ The men stared. The big one swung a heavy cudgel up as he saw Finn behind her, sword in hand. ‘What’s this?’ he said sourly.
‘Our horses were frightened and ran off. By the lightning.’ Claudia shivered in the rain, puffing her coat around her.
The big serf grinned. ‘Bet you had to hold each other tight then?’ She drew herself upright, aware that she was soaked and her hair dripped in a tangled mess, made her voice cold and imperious. ‘Look, we need someone to go and find our horses, and we need...’
‘The rich always need.’ The cudgel tapped against the raw red hands. ‘And we all have to jump but it won’t always be like that. One day soon…’
‘Enough, Rafe.’ The voice came from the waggon, and Claudia saw that the driver had pushed back his hood. His face was wrinkled, his body bent. He seemed old, but his voice was strong enough. ‘Follow us, missy. We’ll get you to the cottages, and then we’ll find your horses.’ With a low hup! he whipped up the ox, and the heavy beast lumbered past. Claudia and Finn kept close under the shelter of the towering load of hay, wisps slipping off and drifting down on them. Above the trees the sky had begun to clear; the rain ended quite suddenly, and a shaft of sunlight broke through, lighting the distant aisles of the forest. The storm was passing as quickly as it had come.
Finn glanced back. The muddy track was empty. A blackbird began to sing in its stillness.
‘They’ve gone,’ Claudia muttered.
‘Or they’re following.’ Finn turned. ‘How far are these cottages?’
‘Just here, lad, just here. Don’t you fret. I won’t let Rafe rob you, even if you are Court folk. The Queen’s people, are you?’ Claudia opened her mouth indignantly but Finn said, ‘My girl works for the Countess of Harken. She’s a lady’ maid.’ She fixed him with a stare of astonishment, but the wizened driver nodded. ‘And you?’ He shrugged. ‘A groom in the stables. We borrowed the horses, it was such a fine day. . . We’ll get into terrible trouble now. Beaten, probably.’ Claudia watched him. His face was as doleful as if he believed the story himself; something about him had changed in a moment to an apprehensive servant, his best livery ruined by the mud and rain.
‘Ah well. We were all young once.’ The old man winked at Claudia. ‘Wish I was young again.’ Rafe guffawed with mirth.
Claudia set her lips tight, but tried to look miserable. She was cold and wet enough for it.