They all stared at him. Renold had not said a word since Coltic confessed to being a sorcerer. Neither had Sorrell. Scylla said, “I can not possibly remember all that… can you write it down?”
Coltic went on into the silence. “It is all written in Rellant’s history. Have Morse look through the books. Look back at the old king Belrin’s reign, which should be written there. That is when the wizards ruled mightily along with the kings. Terrible things happened. The wizards competed for fun and their games turned deadly. They called it the Time of Trouble. Too many used their powers wrongly, and unpredictable things occurred. They sought new spells and other powers, creating magic that disrupted the world. King Belrin took control in the end. He banned the wizards and the sorcerers and all magic practices. The old ways were prohibited. They changed the worship of the Goddess to something much simpler, and a new faction of priests led the worship. It was thought to be safer for all.”
“Ah, is that how the priests’ religion began?” Scylla asked with keen interest.
Coltic nodded. “It is. I was the son of a wizard. I was born with abilities and groomed to follow in the footsteps of my father. He was one of the wizards guilty of going too far. He, along with the others, was captured, punished and banished. I witnessed these great battles, and saw the dangers threatening the world. I renounced the practice of sorcery at seventeen and left the realm a few steps ahead of those who hunted me and all the other mages, sorcerers and wizards. My father may be alive somewhere—he also renounced his wizardry in penance for the damage he had caused. I have not seen him since the reign of King Corbin. I ran across him on a boat of travelers on which I was a guard against pirates. My father could not travel on water without being deathly sick, and that was how I knew him.” He stopped.
“Please assure us, Captain… you are not the seventh son of a seventh son?”
“They said I was,” Coltic admitted. “I have lost track of whether any of my six brothers still survive. Several of them were dead by the time I was born. They were not sorcerers, and my father was...” He stopped.
“Your father was…?” Scylla prompted.
“Old,” Coltic said. “He was old even then.”
“Do you have any children?” asked Scylla, after a moment’s contemplation.
“I had a family during Belrin’s reign, in a foreign country. I was a sailor then. I returned to our village to find many had died of a plague… including my wife and children. Some years later, I lived with a widow who ran a rooming house in Gryor. She had a son of mine, born during King Lorin’s reign but although I stayed for some years, I had to leave.”
“Because she aged, and you did not?” asked Minda.
“People talked,” Coltic acknowledged with regret. “There were questions. I could not stay.”
There was a long silence in the queen’s chambers.
Then Scylla stirred. “So…” she began. “You, Captain, are ninety-three years old. You were born during the reign of my… great-great-grandfather, King Belrin. You are the seventh son of a seventh son—a wizard. You renounced sorcery at seventeen and have—it seems—enjoyed your life as a guard, sailor and all else in some various realms. Is that correct?”
Coltic nodded.
“You have not aged as one expects an ordinary man to age. You also have just put yourself in danger for us, in protection against Woliff and his secretary. Why did you do that?”
“I am aware of the growth of the rot in Gryo. But not aware enough, I suppose of a similar rise here in Rellant. I did not foresee the betrayal of King Tobin, to my great regret. I have enjoyed my life in the King’s Guard above all… the endless games, the hard rides, the hunts, and the camaraderie.” He grinned at Renold and Mako. “These past few years have been among the best of my life. I have now seen that the priests who were to guide the realms have become corrupt and dangerous, and that life in Gryor and Rellant will see far too much suffering and misuse. I could have stood by and watched Woliff’s men burn the village, invade the castle, and kill my friends… but I could not walk away. Without breaking my vow to resist sorcery with sorcery, I would have seen many of you die, and perhaps I would have too.”
“I thank you, Captain Coltic, and I ask you to stay on with us and continue in our fight against Gryor.” She looked around at the others. “Chancellor, Captain Renold… what are your thoughts?”
Renold said wryly, “I would not like to see the back of him, although I am not yet used to his new face.”
“I cannot say I even comprehend what you claim as truth, Captain. I did not like the presence of the trellet or the other strange occurrences, but I know our battles are just beginning. I can only agree our company is weaker without you… and that without this ‘shroud’ of yours, yesterday’s outcome could have been very different,” Mako said, nodding slowly.
“Minda?”
Minda said, “I thank you too, Captain. These things are difficult to accept and I may have to overlook some of it. I may take a new look at the villagers’ folklore, however, and make inquiries at our farmstead.”
“Sorrell?”
“I am not sure what to think,” said Sorrell. “Recall that I am a simple village lass and some days I wish I had never come to this castle.”
“You have saved my life at least three times, Sorrell, and I do not know what I would do without you,” Scylla told her.
“Pah! Neither do I, Princess. I say if a sorcerer turns up and shows himself to be on our side, let us encourage him… no, beg him… to stay, regardless of whether he is twenty-six or ninety-three!” She stared at Coltic. “Ninety-three! Good Goddess! You look not a day over fifty!”
In Gryor, Arrow’s journey on foot—the last few miles to his destination—took longer than it should have. He was cautious, slipping through the woods and pastures when he could to avoid soldiers and toll barricades. Finally, as he topped a rise, he saw in the distance the high square towers of the Walled City, with the rooftops of the sprawling Unwalled City that had grown around it. The sun hung low on the horizon, and the sky was aglow with magical color.
“Aha!” he muttered, feeling his hard-edged purpose stir within him. “There it is, Arrow, me lad… it’s time to seek your mark!”
He walked on until the sun had almost set, looking for a place to curl up for the night. Seeing a decrepit hut on the other side of a field, he went to investigate and found the broken-down sheep shed better than no shelter at all. He kicked rubble out of a corner and lay down to rest. At dawn, he awoke, shivering.
He left the shed and resumed walking. His destination was so tantalizingly close that he could disregard the cold, his hunger, and his poverty: the ruffians at the last tollgate took almost every coin Haddon of Dyers Keep had paid him for the gray horse.
7
River woke with a start in a hollow high in a tree. It was a large nut-bearing tree, standing tall in a grove past the orchard. The hole was one of her safe places, where she stashed treasures, including the gold coin. She climbed the tree every few days, just to remind the squirrels and birds to stay out of it.
Someone was poking at her with a sharp stick.
“Wake up! Wake up!”
River sat up, blinking in the early morning light. A small greenish stick-man peered in at her with his beady black eyes. No, there were two sets of eyes fixed on her. Bew crouched next to Spar, busily gnawing at a nut.
“Go away, you trellets!” she complained, aiming a swat at Spar, who brandished the twig. The edge of the hole hampered her reach, but even so her tormentors jumped quickly back.
They perched on nearby limbs, jabbering at her. “Wake up! Wake up!”
She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled her tattered sheepskin over her head. She had found it months ago by the road and kept it in the tree. Last night raindrops had spattered in through the hole and the fleece had kept her warm.
“Wake up, tree baby, wake up! Queen Scylla... Queen Scylla!” Bew and Spar repeated that a few more times, as was their
habit. By the third time, River was leaning out with sudden interest.
The sun was just barely up and the early morning mist was burning off. She glimpsed riders trotting in formation on the games field, but the tree obscured her view.
“I see soldiers,” she yawned, rubbing her eyes. “What are they doing?”
“The boy drove the fast pony down the road by himself,” said Spar, the shaggy trellet. “Now he is back. See all the soldiers!”
“I see them. Where is the pony boy?”
“In the castle! In the castle!”
“Is Queen Scylla leaving the castle?” A sudden thrill of excitement ran through River.
“Go sit by the road, tree baby! Did you not say you wanted to see the queen again?”
“Tree baby! Tree baby!” screeched Bew in wild excitement. “Go—go! See the queen!”
River sucked in a deep breath and coughed, sticking her tongue out. She hauled herself out of the hole and descended branch by branch, with more caution than usual because she was barely awake. When her bare feet hit the dew-soaked grass, she reacted with a squeal. Then she crawled out of the bushes on the horse-pasture side and darted to the road. She climbed a tree and perched on a thick, forked branch, her legs snugged up to her body and her arms wrapped around them. Through the screen of leaves, she could see the troops milling about near the castle.
The trellets suddenly arrived, leaping through the branches near River and chirping like birds among the twigs.
“You trellets be silent!” she said, which made them scream with laughter.
“I am Bew...”
“I am Spar! … Be silent! Be silent!” they shrieked at each other and bounced up and down, clinging with feet and hands. “Heeheehee!
“Pew and Spry!” River taunted. “Peeyew!”
“Hush!” said Bew suddenly. The trellets stared earnestly toward the castle. “See! The pony is trotting out—there is the boy, with Queen Scylla beside him! Did we not tell you, tree baby?”
“Queen Scylla! Queen Scylla!” screeched Spar, maniacal with excitement.
“Stop it!” River gestured impatiently at them. “I see Queen Scylla’s hat.” The soldiers had formed into a tight group of four riders ahead of the queen’s carriage, one on either side, and four more behind. Another small group of soldiers took up the rear, with a pack mule on a lead. The whole cavalcade advanced from the castle, and River watched avidly.
“Where is she going?” she whispered to herself.
“Where is she going?” the trellets echoed in their tiny shrill voices. “Where! Where!”
“Hush up!” she hissed.
The leading riders approached the tree. “Hoi, Jay!” one was saying, half turned in the saddle to look back. “Is that pony under control yet?”
“Of course he is,” Jay’s voice rose in irritation. “He is merely eager to go!” The brown pony was fighting the reins, even though the horses ahead of him blocked his speed.
“Eeee! Eeee!” Bew the trellet raced out to the end of a thin branch not far above the riders’ heads and screamed. What was he doing? River shrank back, tightening her arms around her legs to make herself smaller.
Sure enough, the soldiers’ heads turned to look. Queen Scylla’s hat brim tilted back as she searched the roadside for the source of the screams.
“What kind of bird was that?” a soldier muttered as he passed below River’s tree.
“Was that Keet?” Scylla’s voice reached River’s ears. “Captain, did you hear it?”
“Company halt!” thundered Chancellor Mako from behind.
“Company halt!” another voice echoed… Captain Coltic, riding his lanky bay next to Queen Scylla’s carriage. All the horses came to a halt, some more readily than others. Eyes searched the nearby branches. The pony champed on his bit and rolled his eyes whitely, but he had to stand or collide with the horses ahead of him.
Bew took advantage of the moment. “Eeee!” he screamed again in triumph. “Greetings, Queen Scylla! Greetings!”
Spar flitted through the twigs and perched for a moment near his companion. “Where are you going, Queen Scylla?”
“Trellets! Two… Can you see them? They differ from yours, Princess.” Captain Coltic studied Bew and Spar with interest.
“Yes, I see… they are greenish rather than gray. And smaller than Keet.” Scylla raised her voice. “Greetings, trellets!”
There were some uneasy mumblings from among the soldiers. “Curses,” the one closest to the tree growled as his horse sidled nervously away from the tree. “Look at the sharp teeth! Do they bite?”
“Greetings! Where are you going, Queen Scylla?” Bew demanded again.
“North to Spring Hill village, on a pilgrimage to the spring,” Queen Scylla answered.
“The spring!” Both trellets shrieked again. “Eeee!”
“Why are you here?” Scylla asked.
“We have tasks! Tasks to perform!” They darted back up through the branches until they were near River, drawing all eyes. She cringed, huddling as small as possible.
“Look,” said the captain from below. River squinted down and saw his bright eyes staring at her. He looked more tired than the last time she had seen him. “Princess, there is the little child again.” He raised his voice. “Guard! Walk on a few steps! Jay, get that pony to walk up.”
“Walk?” River heard Jay’s echo under his breath. “Well, I will try.” The carriage lurched forward. Now it was directly under the tree. When she flicked a cautious glance down, she saw several upturned faces.
“Greetings!” Queen Scylla called.
Oh, my! Was the queen talking to her? River leaned forward and looked below. Yes, the blue eyes under the hat brim looked directly at her, as they had two days ago. Around the carriage, several of the horses shifted nervously. The impatient pony, dwarfed by his companions, pawed the dirt.
“Eeee!” shrieked the trellets. “Tree baby! Tree baby!”
“Oh, hush up, you trellets,” River exclaimed. She stood up on her branch, catching the limb above and ready to swarm higher.
“Greetings!” said the queen again, staring right at her. “Are these your trellets?”
“I don’t know whose they are,” River shouted back brazenly, surprising even herself. “Greetings, Queen Scylla!” How exciting! All those mornings she had watched and waited for the princess to appear… and now her dream had come true! She could even greet her in person. “A good morning to you!”
“And to you… Did you enjoy your dinner last night?” asked the queen. Her face was long and pale beneath the hat brim, and her smile showed crooked teeth. Her clothes today were nicer than what she had worn last time. Despite the teeth, River thought she was as beautiful as the Goddess herself. Her ma had told her stories of the Goddess and the spring… a long time ago. So long ago it was like a dream.
But how did Queen Scylla know of River’s dinner?
“Did you enjoy your dinner?” the question came again. “I hope you will come again tonight!”
“Tree baby! Tree baby!” The trellets shrieked and darted away through the quivering branches until she couldn’t hear them anymore. Should she climb higher?
“Where are the trellets now? Good Goddess, are we plagued with trellets again, Princess?” The chancellor rode up next to Captain Coltic. He looked upward and met River’s entranced gaze. “Ah, I see the lass…”
River stared down at the chancellor. Yesterday, he had stood behind the kitchen gate, watching as she and the other feral children came for the food. He had not seemed dangerous then. But who could tell? He had it right though… plagued with trellets!
Next, he addressed River directly. “Are you coming on the pilgrimage with us?”
From above, she saw the heads of both the captain and Queen Scylla snap towards him.
River’s mouth rounded into an O of amazement. Had he really said those words to her? What could he mean?
“Is your name Gabby?” he asked next.
“Not Gabby!” River shrieked rudely. She didn’t know what else to do, so she hauled herself to the next branch and scrambled on upward until she was near the top, clinging tightly to swaying branches. The rustling leaves muffled the voices below, and she refused to look down again. Not until they were all gone.
“They say her name is Gabby, but she won’t answer to that anymore,” Mako said to Scylla. “As we see! I won’t call her that again. Well, Princess, we should carry on. It’s a long ride to Zara’s village.”
“How did you plan to take that child to the village?” Scylla said in an acidic tone. “She won’t fit in this carriage!”
“I hadn’t planned to take her. But if she had wanted to come, she could have ridden on the pack mule. It’s only carrying food and supplies… a light load. That child is barely larger than a trellet herself.”
“The trellets call her tree baby,” Coltic observed lightly. “I wonder what she calls herself.”
Scylla’s eyes searched the branches above, but she had lost sight of the small dirty child who had launched herself higher with such impressive agility. “It seems she and the trellets have gone into hiding! I wonder if we’ll see them again.”
“Company… move!” Mako ordered, raising his voice. “Off you go, Jay.” The pony leaped forward behind the soldiers’ horses and Scylla gasped and clung to the side of the carriage.
“He is fresh,” Jay reminded her. “Do not worry, Princess!”
“Carry on, Jay! I’m sure he will lose his eagerness soon enough. Good Goddess! Who could have foreseen that we would meet up with trellets this morning?”
“Trellets!” one soldier muttered to his companion nervously as their horses jogged in company along the road. “Are those creatures real? I thought they were just an old wives' tale!”
“No, they are real…” the other said under his breath. “It’s good luck, you know, to keep a trellet. Or so they say!”
Arrow approached the outskirts of the Unwalled City, excitement thrumming through him with every footstep on the cobbled road. He passed the soldiers’ village—hoping not to attract attention—and went on through the farmers’ market with its pens of sheep, cattle, donkeys, and horses alongside the squawking, feathery mess of chickens, ducks and geese. What was noisier… the animals hauled out of their familiar surroundings to be sold, or the people shouting over the cacophony, bitter because half their profits had already gone to the tollgates they had had to pass along the way?
The Queen and the Mage Page 15