Shadowfell by Juliet Marillier Page A

straw family. ‘Thank you. I shouldn’t linger here.’ Mara’s eyes met mine across the table, where three cups of brew stood gently steaming. ‘You’ve been kind,’ I added. I would not tell her about Grandmother. She need not know that I understood all too well what it meant to see a loved one come to this. ‘I honour you for your courage and goodness.’
    Mara wrapped her hands around her cup. ‘Not so good,’ she murmured. ‘I look at him sometimes and I wish . . . Never mind.’
    ‘It can be hard to go on.’ I had tended my grandmother for a scant two seasons before an ague killed her. Garret looked strong and healthy; he could live for forty years.
    ‘He’s my husband.’ She spoke with devastating simplicity. ‘I’m all he has.’

    Not long after, with my supplies replenished by a gift of bread and cheese that Mara had insisted I put in my bag, I was at the door of her cottage, my cloak around my shoulders, my belongings on my back.
    ‘If I could shelter you here, I would,’ Mara said. ‘But folk distrust us. If they weren’t afraid of Garret’s temper, they’d have cast us out long ago.’
    ‘You’ve already given me more than most folk would,’ I said. ‘Best if I move on now. How far away is the bridge?’
    Mara turned pale. ‘You mean the old bridge? The one up that way?’ She jerked her head toward the north, up the track.
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘Nobody goes there, not any more.’ Her tone was hushed. ‘Try it and the river will send you down again, stone dead. You can’t get across up there.’
    My heart sinking, I looked back down the valley toward the king’s bridge, which was the only other way. The guards were checking everyone before they passed over. Their weapons glinted in the weak autumn sunlight. ‘I’ll have to chance it,’ I said. ‘Goodbye, Mara. Thank you.’
    ‘The gods guard your steps,’ she said, her voice a mere whisper.
    Behind her in the doorway, Garret suddenly loomed. He had tucked his straw family into the neck of his shirt; their faceless heads peeped out over the coarse homespun, blind witnesses to my departure. He uttered a series of sounds that I took to be a farewell.
    ‘Goodbye, Garret,’ I said, managing a smile. ‘You’re a good man and I wish you happiness.’
    From one of the houses further along the track there came the sound of voices, and Mara pulled me back inside the door. ‘Wait,’ she muttered.
    Two men emerged from the house. There was a further exchange of words. One went back in and the other headed along the track toward us. We waited, the door closed to a crack, the three of us silent. The man kept walking, passing Mara’s cottage without a sideways glance and disappearing in the direction I had come from. I breathed again.
    ‘Go now,’ Mara said. ‘I doubt if anyone here will challenge you, but that fellow who passed, Donal, will likely report that he’s seen a stranger in these parts. You’d best make haste.’
    ‘Report,’ I echoed. ‘To whom?’
    ‘Sentries. Guards. Word always gets back to the Enforcers, one way or another.’ Her tone was flat.
    There was a tight feeling in my stomach. ‘I’ve brought down trouble on you,’ I said.
    ‘I’ll have a story ready. Besides, even the Enforcers are wary of Garret. He protects me well, in his way.’ She hesitated. ‘It’s quite a walk to the old bridge. Looks as if you don’t have much choice of ways, with Donal heading down toward Summerfort. Don’t try to cross at night. That place, it’s . . . there’s a thing there, an uncanny thing. Underneath. That’s what they say, that it won’t let anyone go over.’
    Given a troop of Enforcers and an uncanny thing under a bridge, I knew which I would choose. ‘Thank you, Mara,’ I said. ‘I wish you well.’
    ‘Travel safely.’ The door creaked shut.

    Beyond the straggling row of houses, the path became steeper. My fey-mended shoes were still sound, but my legs soon grew weary. My pack felt as if