Moments later, as no one was looking her way, River squeezed out from under the cart and darted away between the market stalls.
The sudden movement caught the eye of the woman who sold baked goods. “Ahh… There went little Gabby—still alive, I see. It’s more than a year since her ma died. No one can get near her, but that may be a good thing…”
“That little one’s got a knife, I’ve seen it,” said the baker’s neighbor, a small round farm wife who sold vegetables. “With the priests’ house shut down—and yon wicked Prince Darwyn gone—maybe she’s got a chance.”
“There’s a boat coming into the docks!” someone suddenly shouted from the other end of the market. “A strange boat with an important party on board! Send some’un up to the castle—warn the steward!”
“… warn the steward… Chancellor’s gone and so’s the captain… warn the steward!” The words went around the market like a swirling breeze, and a farmer’s lad with long legs had gone running toward the castle.
But River missed that. She had gone—up the street, down an alley and behind some houses to cut across to the road. From there she headed to the tree line and on through to the orchards. Sometime later, she climbed her favorite willow, where she sat looking across at the castle wall. And worrying. Where was Queen Scylla?
Her fingers found the smooth flat stone on the lace around her neck. Theoria’s amulet was now hers… a stone that had belonged to a good witch, who did good magic.
“Tell me if you can witch for water,” the old man had said. “Come back and tell me!”
Her eyes slid over the willow branches… looking for a forked branch. Instead, she saw a small, stick-like creature crouched among the twigs, looking back at her with bright, beady eyes.
Queen Scylla’s journey back to the castle was accomplished without much trouble. Jay’s pony set the pace, its fast trot eating up the miles. The small carriage rode smoothly as it always did, and Scylla eventually convinced the two dogs to curl up on the floor and not jump up to bark at everything they passed.
The priests’ bodies, wrapped in bed coverings from the lodge, had been slung aboard a horse. At the first crossroads, they were unloaded. Two soldiers, who had brought shovels from the hunting lodge slung across their backs, hobbled their horses and set to digging a double grave.
“I want you to ask at each place if they know of an ancient spring nearby,” Scylla said to Coltic as they approached the first village along the road. But when the villagers or farmers heard the question, their awed expression at seeing Queen Scylla and her entourage changed to a blank stare and the response, “No, Captain.” Only once a small child piped up excitedly to say yes, but glares from his elders stopped his mouth as completely as a cork in a bottle, and further questions were met with silent shrugs.
After several such negative responses, Scylla raised her eyebrows at Coltic as he traveled beside the carriage. “I’m sure the villagers are well aware of the springs of the Goddess—neglected as they may be. Do not ask anymore. We will send out a proclamation regarding the return to the old ways and the priests’ banishment, and we may see more cooperation with that.”
“I’ll say Queen Scylla is returning from a pilgrimage to the spring of the Goddess,” offered Coltic. “I wonder what response we’ll see then.”
“A pilgrimage to the spring of the Goddess?” was the incredulous question at the next village. Eyes shifted, expressions were guarded. “Which spring?”
“In the forest not far from the King’s hunting lodge… a very ancient spring! Someone needs to tend that spring,” Coltic said cheerfully. “Good day!” The carriage and its escort moved on, leaving the villagers staring after them.
Announcements at the next few farmyards and villages drew similar reactions.
“Could we end this experiment?” Mako wheeled in beside the carriage as it rolled on. “I know the horses can use the breather, but all these conversations are slowing our progress.”
“I suppose they are. I wonder how many of these springs there are throughout the kingdom!”
“The necessity of finding children to tend them is daunting.” Mako shook his head. “I must consult with the lady Zara.”
“I look forward to meeting her. I plan to make my pilgrimage there next,” Scylla said.
“Hmmm. The lady can be daunting as well.” Mako gave her a rueful glance. “Also, you may have to ride Lady Sorrell’s horse. The road leading to the village is rough and this little carriage was not built for that.”
“Curses! Well, perhaps it can go part of the way.”
“This is Master Orwen’s carriage and racing pony,” pointed out Jay, who had been driving in silence and watching the interactions with interest. “You should ask him.”
“I will when he returns from Gryor. At any rate, we’re getting closer to the castle now, Princess. I will ride ahead to meet our guests. Slow that pony down, Jay. I will need some time before you arrive. If there’s cause for alarm, I’ll send a messenger and you, Captain, will take whatever evasive action is necessary!”
3
People who are dead do not always stay dead, River had deduced after seeing the priests’ corpses come back to life. She had been watching for her ma again, although it had been so long since the night of fear and flames that River could not remember exactly what she looked like.
“Dead… they’re dead…” the neighbors had said sadly as they stood around the blackened remains of the house, while little River peered out from her hiding place in the bushes. She had already learned how to skulk, even then… and find food if there was none.
She had been four, almost five, when the shack burned. She never saw her ma or pa again. Her ma had said she would be five when the hot weather began, although exactly when she didn’t know. And, as the seasons rolled all the way around with the next hot season ending, she knew she must be six. She had many hiding places and knew how to scrounge for food, but even so she was sometimes cold or hungry. And lonely, because it was safer to skulk alone, creeping through the bushes or climbing high into trees. She trusted only her extra sense—the one that made her scalp prickle in warning. Danger was everywhere, but River was fast and wary.
Now she found herself caught off guard, high in her favorite willow tree, with a small greenish stick-like creature sitting on a branch some arms-lengths away from her.
“Greetings!” it chirped, its beady eyes staring at her from under the leaves.
River froze in surprise.
“Greetings!” Even more unexpectedly, another voice spoke up. River’s eyes slid to the right. The second one crouched among the twigs a little further away.
“Do not be frightened!” said the first in a thin cry. “We are looking for a child living in a tree. We have not seen others, although we have searched all around these parts.”
“Ask it for its name!” the other hissed. Its greenish-gray coat was shaggier than its companion’s.
“Your name, child?”
“River.” Unexpectedly she found herself replying. “I saw a stick man before, but he was gray… he broke his arm.”
The first creature’s sharp gaze flicked to the other. “This child saw him… the great Keet! It is she.”
“He was here. He wanted to know how to get into the castle.” She pointed towards the castle kitchen.
“Ah,” sighed both creatures.
River thought back to the scraps of conversation she had overheard in the market earlier. “A trellet, they said…” she said. “A little gray stick man… with Queen Scylla!”
“We are trellets too,” piped up the one who was sitting further away. “We have travelled from the deep forests of this kingdom.”
“We look for the child living in a tree. This, we point out, is very odd!”
“What is?” countered River.
“A giant living in a tree, even if a baby giant!”
“I am not a baby!” she said defiantly.
“You are not much more than a bab
y,” the trellet further away screeched back. “But do not take offense… we are here to assist.”
“Assist what?”
“Never mind, never mind!” The closer one hopped up and down on its branch. “You are she for whom we search!”
River’s eyes flew from one trellet to the other. What could they want, and why were they in her tree? “I got a knife!” she told them. “Come near me and I’ll chop your stick fingers off.”
“Do not worry, baby giant! We do not plan to hurt you.”
“We will stay far out of reach,” shrieked the other. “We have tasks to accomplish!”
The trellets’ words made no sense. River shifted forward on her perch and swung down to the next branch.
“We will follow… where are you going?”
“I’m hungry!” River descended the tree rapidly and ran along the riverbank towards the orchards. When she looked back, she could see no sign of the two stick-like beings.
The season of windfalls had begun, and she searched for fallen fruit with the fewest wormholes and the least bruising and wasp damage. She did not like climbing the orchard trees… the bark was rough, the limbs brittle, and wasps buzzed aggressively around the fruit. She found two pears with only a little scabbing on the skins. They were almost ripe. She munched on the first as she continued from tree to tree, finding a slightly bruised apple next. She heard rustling in a tree above and looked up to glimpse the trellets. Ignoring them, she wandered on.
She ate the second pear after she crawled into a thicket near the road, just down from the castle. The soldiers, the blonde captain, and the chancellor himself—all of whom she often had seen in King Tobin’s company—had ridden away from the castle, market gossip had revealed. Eventually they would come back. Wouldn’t they?
She was not disappointed. Early in the afternoon, she heard distant hoofbeats. She peered out through the leaves to see four riders approaching the long hill toward the castle.
“Riders coming!” said a screeching little voice from above. Irritated, she raised her eyes to see her unwelcome companions clinging to the swaying branches above her.
“What are you doing up there?”
“We are tree folk… Accept our apologies. We have not introduced ourselves. I am Bew,” the one with smoother fur said.
“I am Spar,” said the shaggy one.
“Are you following me?” she demanded.
“Our apologies again, small giant… yes, it is our task.”
River gave them an irritated, dismissive wave and peered out, more interested in the approaching riders.
Chancellor Mako and three soldiers, she noted. They were silent and grim, and their faces struck fear into River’s heart. She watched the sweating horses pass by, slow to a walk, and head toward the gates.
According to the market gossip, more than just four soldiers had ridden out from the castle during the night. River scurried through the shrubbery and climbed a taller tree for a better view down the road. She paid no attention to the flickers of movement as her new companions leaped from branch to branch in her wake.
Eventually her patience was rewarded. In the distance she saw a faint dust cloud. Soon she made out a group of horses and a vehicle. Could it be the same carriage in which Queen Scylla had returned to the castle almost a week ago? Oh my!
Captain Coltic rode his lanky bay horse beside the small carriage while the same boy as before held the brown pony’s lines. Beside him, the small, slight figure of Queen Scylla sat upright. A plain straw hat shaded her face, and her crumpled traveling clothes were not queenly at all.
A dusty troop of guards accompanied the queen. River could see their alert eyes sweeping the roadsides as they neared her tree. She peered down, fascinated, and forgot to shrink back out of sight. No one ever looked up!
From the wicker carriage, Scylla surveyed the walls of the castle ahead. For once, she was not looking forward to her return. No one had come riding back to warn of danger. They could only presume Mako felt it was safe to continue. He had better be right, Scylla told herself.
Something caught Coltic’s attention and his gaze flicked upwards. Instantly he leaned toward Scylla, whispering, “Look up… in the tree!”
Scylla tilted her head back, seeing a small dirty child in ragged leggings, a sleeveless tunic, and bare feet. She sat astride one thick branch, her hands gripping limbs on either side. Her long, tangled hair was light-colored, and big gray eyes stared down directly into Scylla’s.
She nodded in return and wiggled her fingers at her. The little girl’s awed expression remained unchanged as the carriage and its escort swept on, leaving the tree behind.
“So tiny!”
“One of our feral children, the smallest one… about five years old, I think. She carries a knife—I’ve seen it.”
“The kitchen must start feeding them as soon as possible,” said Scylla. “I wonder if the chancellor has any hope of catching her. She may be the perfect age to go to Zara’s village.”
But River didn’t hear the last exchange. She was all but transfixed in the tree, ignoring the bird-like chittering of the two trellets as they entertained themselves by swinging from twig to twig around her. For the next half hour, she didn’t trust herself to climb down. She kept seeing Queen Scylla’s blue eyes and the wave of her fingers. To her—River!
The horses’ hooves clattered on the stones as Queen Scylla and her Guard approached the gates. Jay drove the pony in and drew up in the courtyard. A soldier on guard stepped smartly up to seize the rein, while another ran inside. Of Scylla’s own escort, five or six vaulted to the ground to stand guard, and the others led the horses away.
Scylla stirred herself stiffly, waking up the dogs. She climbed out of the carriage. The dogs jumped up in full cry. Scylla leaned on the sword stick and tested her injured ankle, ignoring them. With the binding still on, and as she had rested her foot much of the day, walking was not impossible. She did not care to think about what further damage she might have caused overnight on the forest paths.
The big doors swung wide open as Captain Coltic offered her his arm. Sparky, recognizing his surroundings, kept barking with excitement.
“Quiet, Sparky!” Chancellor Mako ordered as he came out the arched doorway with more soldiers behind him. He descended the steps to take Queen Scylla’s elbow on the other side. “I expect you to take those dogs away with you, Jay!”
“I will, as no one else seems to like them,” Jay replied, affronted.
“Jay’s coins,” Scylla remembered. “Chancellor, he must have his reward!”
“Head home in the morning, Jay,” Mako said over his shoulder. “This soldier will find a stall for the pony. Report to the queen’s chambers later. Don’t leave without your due… or the dogs!”
Leaning on the sword stick and with Coltic’s aid, Scylla made her way up the three wide stone steps and in through the arched doorway. But instead of escorting her up the grand staircase, Mako gestured to the right. There was an air of tension among the soldiers. Those who had arrived with Scylla were road-weary but alert as they took heed of a low-voiced order from Mako. He turned back to her.
“This way, Princess. Our guests are waiting in the king’s reception office.”
“And who exactly are our guests?” she asked coolly as they moved down the wide hallway.
“The High Priest Woliff of Gryor—and his secretary, Mangus, accompanied by three soldiers and a manservant. The sailors have remained on the boat.” Mako’s voice was calm and measured, but when she met his eyes, they held a warning.
“I look forward to meeting our guests.”
The late king’s reception room seemed full of men when Mako opened the door. Six of the Queen’s Guard entered smartly, dust or no dust, and took up positions inside. There was a wide semi-circular threshold with one step to the floor; and Scylla stopped in the center, mindful of the other soldiers who had stopped just outside the door.
A large man with graying hair cut short sat in
the king’s heavily carved chair. He wore a ceremonial robe of finely woven fabric with a faint shimmer on the smooth finish. He rose to his feet with a half bow. Several other sets of cold, hard eyes stared at her… the secretary who carried a leather pouch, and four other men. Although only three carried swords, they all emitted menace.
Scylla felt like a lamb standing before a pack of wolves. With reluctance, she let go of Coltic’s arm. She clasped both hands on the curved hilt of her sword stick, scuffing the tip on the stone at her feet.
“Queen Scylla, may I present the High Priest of Gryor, Woliff…” said Mako. “He honors us with his presence!”
Scylla said through stiff lips, “Welcome.” She noted that the castle steward, Herron, was also present and with him was the secretary-treasurer whose name she had forgotten. He looked as if he would have preferred to be elsewhere. At least they, like Mako, wore court clothing suitable for greeting important guests.
“With Queen Scylla is Captain Coltic of the Queen’s Guard. They have just now returned, as I explained, from the queen’s pilgrimage to an ancient spring of the Goddess.”
“Ah, how excellent to show such devout worship,” said Woliff in a deep voice. Even with the floor a step lower than where Scylla stood, he stood taller than she was. “Queen Scylla, I see you honor your humble guests by receiving us so soon upon your return!”
I do not honor you in any way, Scylla thought. She gave him a slight smile, hoping it did not appear as false as it felt. “What brings you to our small kingdom? The journey by boat, I hear, is not the most pleasant.”
“I concur—the journey was tedious in many ways, your majesty,” Woliff agreed, his smile not reaching his eyes. “In other ways, interesting! It is of no matter, however. I am Protector of the Kingdom of Gryor—pleased to present you, Queen Scylla, with a gift from our King Joff… who is turning eighteen soon,” he continued. He motioned to the secretary, a smaller, younger man with round cheeks and deep-set eyes. He reached into his pouch and brought out a necklace of gold chains interlinked in a wide choker style. Several large rubies hung among the chain mail in heavy settings. The metal and the stones glittered in his slender, well-kept hands. With a motion that was almost a caress, he held it out.
The Queen and the Mage Page 5