Professional Documents
Culture Documents
BONE QUEEN
PELLINOR: CADVAN'S STORY
Alison C roggon
a note on the text
Alison Croggon
Melbourne, Australia
A note on pronunciation
in their faces. Some were injured, and the blood ran bright,
red rivers in the black grime on their skin. One man was being
restrained by two others from climbing back down the shaft;
he was shouting that his friends were down there, that he had
to go down and get them. The others were soothing him, not
attempting to argue; it was clearly impossible to enter the mine
until the dust and gases had cleared.
Every detail seemed terribly sharp, outlined in the clarity
of disaster. When he recalled it later, Cadvan remembered no
sound: he knew that people were talking and shouting and
weeping, but in his memory there was only a dreadful silence.
He turned to the man who limped up next to him, a hewer
called Taran who had injured his foot a couple of days before-
hand and so had not been down the pit. Cadvan had helped
him clean and bandage the deep cut, techniques that needed no
magery, and had advised him to stay at home until the wound
closed, or else he would face almost certain infection and the
possible loss of his foot. Taran had screwed up his face at the
advice, but Cadvan was glad to see that he had taken it.
How many were down there? he asked.
Maybe three dozen, said Taran. His face was tight and
pale. Inshi and Hal went down this morning. Hal forgot her
lunch. His expression crumpled for a moment, and Cadvan
grasped his hand in sudden sympathy. Inshi and Hal were
Tarans younger brother and sister. They worked as haulers,
dragging the coal from the face in baskets so it could be
winched up to the surface by the windlass: dirty, dangerous,
body-breaking work at the best of times. If they hadnt come up
by now, Cadvan thought, there was little hope that they were
still alive.
Even Cadvan knew about the dangers of explosions. Gases
in mines were a constant peril, but it was the firedamp that coal
T HE B ONE Q UEEN 7
way into or out of the mine. They would die in the darkness,
swiftly of the thickening air or slowly of thirst, beyond hope of
rescue. Their last hours would be beyond imagining. After his
two patients had died, Cadvan had used his Bard sense to try to
discover if there were any more survivors. He set his ear to the
ground and sent his Bard-born hearing as deep as it would go.
He heard the groan and sweat of the earth, the slow grinding of
the rock, the implacable trickle of water seeping into the mine
now that the windlass was broken and could no longer pump
the tunnels dry. He heard no human sound, no breath or heart-
beat or cry.
He didnt tell the villagers. At first he thought he must, to
save them the torture of illusory hope, but then he uneasily
wondered whether he had any right to rob them of even that.
The knowledge gave him some small comfort. He was as sure
as he could be that no one had survived the accident only to
face the worst death of all, in the dark, alone.
If anyone deserved such a death, he thought, it was Cadvan of
Lirigon. And yet he lived and breathed, facing nothing worse than
his own nightmares. If any further argument was needed that the
world was unjust, he would be the clinching evidence. Cadvan
lived on, useless to anyone, while good people whose lives were
needed, who were loved and missed, died without reason.
When sleep wouldnt come, Cadvan found himself obses-
sively retracing the choices that had led the rising star of the
School of Lirigon, the man who had been hailed as the most
gifted Bard of his generation, to his present disgrace and exile.
In the bitter clarity of hindsight, there were no excuses: his own
condemnation was absolute, more unforgiving even than his
harshest judges in Lirigon. He had taken every step willingly
and recklessly, heedless of those who had warned him. . . . But
here his mind flinched. He forced himself to finish the thought:
he had been heedless even of she who loved him most, she
12 T HE B ONE Q UEEN
who had paid the price for his folly as surely as if he had mur-
dered her with his own hands. For such a crime, there was no
redemption.
Sometimes, in his weaker moments, he wondered if this
pit in which he found himself had been his destiny, a fate that
he could not escape. It was a thought he always pushed away,
as the cowardly plea of a man who would not face his own
actions. All the same, the Dark had been there from the very
beginning.
II
and would not speak another word, so they sighed and left.
Cadvan had not been allowed in the room during the visit,
but he knew they were talking about him, and he eavesdropped
easily enough using his listening. What he heard excited him,
and he decided that he wanted to be a Bard more than anything
else. His father cuffed him and told him to get on with his work.
After that, Cadvan conceived a great resentment against
his father. He began to run wild, leading other children on
his escapades. It was nothing very harmful: raiding orchards,
throwing stones, and other such mischief as occurs to small
boys. Because he had the Gift, he could go hidden and speak
to animals, which gave him the edge in their pranks. He was
stretching his powers, but his use of them was willful. His
behavior worried his aunt, his mothers sister Alina, who had
a little of the Gift herself and was a perceptive woman; and she
spoke again to Nartan, telling him he ought to send the boy to
the School.
Nartan was a stubborn man, and he said he would not agree
to his firstborn going away. Alina told him he was a fool and
was breeding problems for himself, but he wouldnt listen. The
truth was that Nartan burned with a greedy love for his son, a
love that he could not admit even to himself, and he could not
face letting him go. It was often said that Cadvan was very like
his mother.
One day, when Cadvan was about ten, a stranger came to
the village on a black horse. He was tall and severe looking, and
he was dressed in rich clothes. He went straight to the cobblers
house, demanding that a strap on his horses bridle be fixed at
once. Nartan was not at home, so Cadvan took the job. Cadvan
saw that the strangers horse was ill-treated; its mouth was bleed-
ing. This angered him, and he spoke to the man without respect.
If you were more gentle with your hands, he said, the
strap would not be broken.
T HE B ONE Q UEEN 15
The stranger told the boy to hold his tongue, and then
examined him more closely. What he saw interested him, and
he asked his name. Concentrating on fixing the bridle, Cadvan
answered sullenly, not liking to be questioned. Finally, the
stranger asked him if he had the Speech. Cadvan looked up
swiftly and took a long time to answer. At last he nodded.
Why are you not at the School? asked the stranger.
My father will not let me.
The stranger heard the resentment in the boys voice and
smiled to himself. He picked up a pebble from the ground and
tossed it in his hand.
How might I make this pebble fly, boy? he said.
Cadvan shrugged. Throw it, he said.
Aye. Or give it wings. As Cadvan watched, the pebble
turned into a butterfly and flew away.
Cadvan knew that illusions were the least of charms. Its a
trick, he said scornfully. I havent time for silly games.
The stranger laughed. My name is Likod, he said. I will
be back. Then he mounted his horse and rode away. Cadvan
stood in the road and watched him until he was out of sight.
The meeting disturbed him. He didnt like the stranger, and
he liked even less the way he treated his horse; yet there was
a fascination about him too that made him deeply attractive.
For the next few weeks he waited for Likod to return, but he
did not; and after a while Cadvan decided that he hadnt meant
what he said. The conversation had made him curious, and he
began to experiment more widely with the simpler enchant-
ments glimmerspells and other mageries of illusion.
Time passed, and Cadvan grew into a handsome boy. Every
spring the Bards of Lirigon would ride to speak with his father,
and every year his father spurned their offer. And every year
the boy grew wilder.
It was around this time that the Bards of Lirigon began to be
16 T HE B ONE Q UEEN
a man soon, he said. And yet you still let your father tie you
to his house? The world is big, my boy. You dont belong here.
He said no more than what Cadvan already thought, but the
boys face darkened at the mans mockery of his father. I am
with my own people, he said angrily. Who are you to speak
thus to me?
You know my name, said the man. Unless you are more
stupid than I thought.
Cadvan wanted to deny it, but he did know his name.
Likod, he said, unwillingly.
Likod looked pleased. So you have some wit. Or some
memory, he said. You have the Gift: from here I can see it is
in you in no small measure. Why havent the Bards of Lirigon
taken you to where you should be? They betray their duty.
Your training is no business of your fathers.
Cadvan had no answer, because he had sometimes won-
dered the same thing. But Bards will not teach children with the
Gift if their parents do not permit it.
Come with me, said Likod. I have something to show
you. Your father is away from home; he will not know.
Cadvan wondered how Likod knew his father was out.
Then he said, I have to finish mending this boot. You can come
back later if you want.
Likod made to move away, but Cadvan would not go any-
where until he had finished his task. He bent his head down
and concentrated on his work, ignoring the stranger. When he
finished, Likod was still waiting for him.
Cadvan met his eyes and shrugged as if he didnt care. He
slowly put away his tools and stood up to follow the stranger.
Likod led him out of the village and a short distance into a
beech wood. It was high summer, and the light shone bravely
on the leaves, but where Likod walked it seemed that a shadow
18 T HE B ONE Q UEEN
followed him and the birdsong sank into silence. Cadvan felt
fear settle inside him, and he began to feel sorry that he had
come. But despite his doubts, he kept on following.
At last Likod stopped in a small clearing. He turned and
smiled at Cadvan.
Now, he said, I will show you something you have never
seen before.
He gestured and spoke some words that Cadvan didnt
understand, and between them there began to gather a dark-
ness, as if Likod were making a hole in the air. Cadvan now
was very afraid and wanted to cry out, but his tongue stuck
to the roof of his mouth and he could make no sound, and his
feet were rooted to the ground. He was no longer aware of
the woods or the sunshine around him: he could only watch
the shadow gathering before his eyes.
The blackness thickened and roiled, and he heard a noise
like rushing wind or water. And then, to his astonishment,
Cadvan saw a picture form before his eyes, and the picture
moved and was alive. It was of a glittering city, with grace-
ful walls and towers, which stood by a great mere so still that
stars were reflected on its surface. The city was built of white
stone that shone as if it were carved of moonlight. It seemed
to Cadvan that he entered the city and walked around inside
it like a ghost, and that he peered through casements and saw
men and women in fine robes speaking together, or making
beautiful things; but none of them saw him.
The vision passed, and Cadvan came to, as if out of a swoon.
Likod let down his arms, and the darkness disappeared.
Cadvan stared at him with amazement.
What is that place? he asked.
It is a place that is no longer, said Likod. By my art, you
glimpsed the ancient citadel of Afinil, which has been gone for
many lives of men. Is that not wonderful?
T HE B ONE Q UEEN 19
www.candlewick.com