In fact it was late afternoon by the time Clariel had her first sight of Hillfair, the sprawling nest of houses and outbuildings that an Abhorsen of three generations gone by had begun by building a summer lodge on the western ridge that ran along and above the River Ratterlin. Hillfair was three leagues north of the much older and enormously more defensible Abhorsen’s House, but that was smaller and more inconvenient, occupying an island in the river on the very brink of the great waterfall where the Ratterlin fell twelve hundred feet to the lowlands below.

‘There it is,’ said Bel. ‘Hillfair.’

His voice was weak and strained, his lips dry and mouth parched from too much whistling. Though they had generally followed the Ratterlin south for more than two hundred leagues, requiring little change of direction, the vagaries of the wind meant Bel had needed to change altitude. They had also flown much higher approaching High Bridge, to give the place a wide berth in case the town authorities reported their passage or had been ordered to shoot them with the large bolt-throwers that adorned the guard castle there, relics of the long-ago days of Kaelin Scaler and her river pirates.

Clariel leaned around Bel and looked ahead. They were still two or three leagues away, and at that distance Hillfair looked like a small town. There were at least twenty buildings, some of stone and some of wood, spread out on the flat top of the ridge and down to the river, the latter on terraces that had been carved out of the rocky hillside.

‘How many people live here?’ asked Clariel. ‘And how many belong to the family?’

‘Five or six hundred, I guess,’ replied Bel. His voice was scratchy. ‘And at least half that number are Abhorsens, one way or another, though most are distant from the main line. Just call everyone cousin and you’ll be right enough.’

‘It’s a daunting prospect,’ said Clariel. ‘I hope the Abhorsen will let me go soon.’

‘I will fly you to Estwael, if I’m allowed,’ promised Bel. He hesitated, then added, ‘Though I might need a few days’ rest first. I haven’t been this tired since … forever, really.’

‘Thank you,’ said Clariel. ‘I hope I do get to fly with you. You’ve been a good friend.’

Bel mumbled something and the tips of his ears turned red, the blush easy to see on his pale skin. Clariel noticed the blush and perceived she was meant to hear the mutter, no doubt a protestation about ‘mere friends’ or something like that. Bel wanted more, obviously, but she did not. She liked his company, and he was a friend, as she judged things, proven by his actions. But she felt no passionate attraction, no giddy desire. She’d never felt that, though she’d heard enough about it from other young women in Estwael. She had always presumed it just came upon them, but she did wonder now if it might grow from a small spark of friendship. But it didn’t matter. Not now.

‘A good friend,’ she repeated.

‘I know,’ sighed Bel. ‘If I had a denier for every time I’ve heard “let’s be friends” I’d be richer than Kilp.’

‘Come on, Bel,’ said Clariel, suddenly cross with him. ‘Denima was falling all over you. She’s prettier than me, and smarter too, I’d say.’

‘I wouldn’t say so,’ said Bel stiffly. ‘Either one.’

‘I’m just not … not interested in men,’ said Clariel.

‘Oohh,’ said Bel, blushing again.

‘Or women either,’ added Clariel. She felt a strong desire to slap him around the ears a bit and if he hadn’t been wounded might have done so. ‘Think about the situation I’m in, will you! How could I be thinking about … about kissing and bed games with everything that’s happened … that is happening?’

Bel was silent. Evidently he had no trouble thinking about such things at all, at any time.

‘You’ll be safe here,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Maybe after a –’

‘Will I?’ asked Clariel. ‘Let’s see. But in any case, let me say again to be perfectly clear, I am not interested in jumping into bed with you or anyone, or sighing and cooing and playing at romance, or planning a marriage or any of it. But I do value you as a good friend. All right?’

‘Perfectly clear,’ said Bel. ‘And understood. Sorry.’

‘Good,’ said Clariel. ‘I need my friends, few as they are.’

‘I’m glad to be one,’ said Bel, with forced cheerfulness.

Clariel wondered if she’d really made her point, or if Bel’s natural optimism would break out again in a few days. She really didn’t want to have to keep rebuffing him, because he was a friend. But she also didn’t want any further complications in her already troubled life.

‘You didn’t tell me we had that Free Magic creature aboard,’ she said, going for a change of subject. Clariel had tried not to think about Aziminil, trapped in the silver bottle, but she had found it difficult. Even now, she thought she could almost hear a despairing cry for help, on the very edge of audibility.

‘Oh,’ said Bel. ‘You saw the bottle … Kargrin told me not to tell anyone, including you. It’s spelled so only an Abhorsen can touch it.’

‘Hmm,’ said Clariel noncommittally. She wondered if Kargrin had worked out that she had let the creature escape on the island. But that seemed unlikely. Maybe he was just being secretive in general. ‘What will happen to her … that is … it?’

‘It’ll go down to the Abhorsen’s House,’ said Bel. ‘The original house, you can’t see it yet. It’s in the river, as running water defends against the Dead, and you don’t get much faster running water than in the middle of the biggest waterfall around. See that huge low cloud up ahead, past Hillfair?’

Clariel did see the cloud. She had wondered why it sat so low and alone, with the rest of the sky so blue.

‘That’s from the waterfall? And the house is there? It must be damp.’

Bel shook his head, a little too vigorously, and winced at the pain.

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘The mist doesn’t fall back on the house. A spell, I suppose. The whole place is wreathed in spells. Even the river currents are ensorcelled, so you can get there by boat without being taken by the waterfall. Presuming you’ve been invited, of course.’

‘Why doesn’t the Abhorsen live there any more?’ asked Clariel. ‘I’ve only ever heard people talk about Hillfair.’

‘Take a look along the ridge road,’ said Bel. ‘You’ll see.’

Clariel frowned in puzzlement, but looked. There was a long line of people on horseback moving towards the closer buildings, but they were still quite distant so she couldn’t make out more than that.

‘Riders,’ she said. ‘Might be a hundred of them, I suppose. What of that?’

‘The Grand Hunt, returning to Hillfair,’ said Bel. ‘I hope they had a good day, it always puts Himself in a better mood.’

‘I still don’t understand,’ said Clariel. She knew about Grand Hunts; there was one in Estwael three times a year, she’d even ridden in a few. But it was a ridiculously overdone show, in her opinion, with massed riders and packs of

dogs all getting in one another’s way, and foolish rituals, and it depended on weeks of work beforehand from foresters and the Borderers, and beaters on the day. ‘I heard the Abhorsen likes to hunt …’

‘Loves to hunt,’ said Bel. ‘Twice a week, if not more. And everything is about the hunt. Half the buildings in Hillfair are horse stables or dog kennels. That’s how it got started, in the first place, with the Abhorsen Kariniel … Let’s see, she was Tyriel’s great-aunt, so your great-great-great-aunt … She was hunt mad and you can’t keep horses in the old house, and the island is inconvenient. So she built a lodge and stable and called it Hillfair.’

‘But, isn’t the Abhorsen meant to travel about the Kingdom making sure the Dead stay Dead, that Free Magic creatures like the one we faced don’t appear, and so on?’ asked Clariel. ‘I know there hasn’t been trouble, but if he’s hunting all the time instead …’

‘Exactly,’ said Bel darkly. ‘That’s always been my point, that there might be all kinds of perils slowly brewing. But no one down there wants to know, they simply don’t believe that things could turn back to the bad old days. Like I said, I doubt if Yannael has even read The Book of the Dead. Maybe even Tyriel hasn’t himself. I can’t remember ever seeing him wear the bells. That’s why I’m getting ready, so at least someone is prepared.’

‘Prepared for what?’ asked Clariel. As she spoke, she felt a shiver pass through her, and the Paperwing’s shadow cut like a knife across the silver waters of the Ratterlin below.

‘Whatever happens,’ said Bel. ‘Take that Free Magic creature in Belisaere, for example. The Abhorsen should have come to deal with it straight away, not left it to Kargrin and Mistress Ader. And why would something of that power be free now? I bet there’s more, or more coming. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Clayr have already warned Tyriel and he’s just ignored it, like the King ignores everything he doesn’t want to know about. Charter save us from old men!’

Tags: Garth Nix Abhorsen Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net