by Emmett Swan
To his immediate left, a row of market stalls lined the paved path. Merchants occupied only half of the stalls, and these had few customers. But the merchants were active, their banter filling the air.
He didn’t want to accidentally bump into one of the customers as they haggled and scurried back and forth among the stalls, so he opted to leave the main path. He stepped between two empty stalls, through a hedge, and onto the property of a residence. It wasn’t as grand as the tall building by the south wall but looked to be the home of an affluent person. The dwelling had an L shape, with a small misty pond in the nook of it. The water was a striking blue, and rows of reeds clustered along the bank.
Laughlin was feeling the heat and momentarily pondered the coolness of the water.
“I doubt the water is much cooler than this thick air,” he said. “Though a refreshing rinse would feel good.”
But he decided it was best not to delay. He approached the dwelling to see who was there, but the side facing the pond had no doorway. He walked around the building to the other side and found a door, but it was locked. But then he noticed an elevated terrace attached to the end of the dwelling. He figured the residents had to have access to the terrace from within, and since it was only a man’s height above ground level, he decided to investigate. It was easy enough to climb up the side and over the railing. It was a wide area clustered with sandstone benches and decorated with odd yellow crystal sculptures. And there, along the back side of the terrace, was a double doorway into the dwelling.
He tested the door and gained entrance. He wandered the halls and rooms of the home, feeling somewhat like a criminal, but aside from a servant in the kitchen, no one was there.
He followed the same pattern in the next two homes he investigated, climbing up on the terraces and entering. He did find a few Derfarians in their rooms and had a couple of close calls as servants passed him in the hallways, but there was no sign of Keeva.
He was on the terrace of his fourth residence, having climbed over the railing and heading toward the entrance, when he heard a feminine voice. Instinctively, he crouched down. The voice had come from someone sitting at a bench that was obscured by one of the massive sculptures of yellow crystal, so the voice had taken him by surprise. Recalling that he was invisible, he stood without concern and continued on his way.
Then the person began singing. Laughlin halted.
Such a sweet voice! he thought. As he listened to the lilting song, he carefully approached the voice to get a better look. The land of Derfaria contained many beautiful people, and this young lady was no different. Her hair was white, and her complexion porcelain pure. But she was not tall and thin like many in Derfaria, but of average height and with limbs that were well defined with feminine muscles. She glanced in Laughlin’s direction to pick up a small tray, and he saw her rich sapphire eyes. They were the most beautiful he had ever seen.
The woman was tinkering with pieces of colored glass and thin wires, obviously making jewelry of some kind. As she worked, she continued to sing in her pure and true voice. It was a tune Laughlin had never heard, but it was sweet yet full of melancholy.
He walked to a bench a few feet in front of her and quietly sat down. Surely, a few minutes could do no harm. There was time, yet, to find Keeva.
The young woman continued to sing and wind thin wire around pieces of colored glass into pendants and rings, and Laughlin found that he could not take his eyes off of her. He longed to speak to her and for her to be able to lay eyes upon him. He pondered the consequences of revealing his presence. What would her reaction be? Since she could not see him, just hear his voice, she would undoubtedly judge him to be a Panaguan spy. And if she sounded the alarm, it would affect not only him, but all of them could be in danger. He could not risk it.
Laughlin was not so mesmerized that he had lost sight of his mission. His freedom from the curse, as well as the freedom for his brothers, depended on them finding Keeva and persuading her to release them. But the vision before him gripped him tightly. Her light-blue eyes were wide and sultry, her lips full, and her rich long hair cascaded over her shoulders. Judging from her smooth, clear skin and her facial expressions as she sang her song, he guessed her age to be close to his.
You should move on, Laughlin. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Had he ever seen anyone so lovely? And suppose he did want to reveal himself to her. If he did, what would he do then? What would she do?
Forty-One
Jessica sensed Conall beside her as she stepped through the door where the guard had been then closed it softly behind her. From the sound of footsteps, she knew the guard had returned to the other side of the door, but no alarm was raised. Jessica let out a breath.
They stood in an anteroom of some kind, but it was strange. Long and narrow, it contained little ornamentation. A pathway went down the center of the room toward another door on the far side, this one unguarded. On either side of the main path, there were elevated auxiliary paths, a step or so higher than the main one. Below them, black water filled the chamber.
“What kind of place is this?” pondered Conall.
“Some odd Derfarian notion of architecture,” suggested Jessica. “They seem to like having water around.” As she said these words, something vague concerned her. But it was in the back of her mind, unclear. She decided not to let it bother her. After all, there was no one in the room, and they were invisible. Conall tugged her hand and they began walking the main path toward the opposite door.
“I would wager this door leads to the royal chambers,” said Conall. “Or perhaps a vault full of gold.”
“Better make it silver,” said Jessica, remembering what Thallach had said about the scarcity of gold in Derfaria. Another step down the path, and the vague thought that concerned her a moment earlier came closer to the surface. There was something about this room. Why would there be multiple pathways?
Then she realized the Derfarians were in fear of incursions from invisible spies and perhaps even assassins. The royal family would be vulnerable. So access to the chambers would have to protect them from invisible persons. Persons who would take the obvious path, the one down the center. The secondary paths would be taken by those who knew the difference.
“Conall, we should step up to one of these other—”
The pathway gave slightly, sinking a couple of inches. A chamber above their heads opened, deluging them with white powder. A large bell hidden in the rafters began clanging loudly, rapidly.
Jessica could see the white outlines of Conall standing next to her. The powder had thoroughly coated them. She could just make out the concern on his face as both doors on either side of the long room burst open. Armed guards stood in the entryways.
“Spies of Panagu!” cried one.
“Assassins, no doubt. Seeking access into the king’s chambers,” said another. “But caught in the act. Now you will be disposed of at King Brecan’s discretion.”
The second guard advanced on them holding a spear and a large tarp.
“We’re not from Panagu!” exclaimed Jessica. She was about to say more but began coughing, and a heavy tarp was draped over both her and Conall. They felt a rope winding around them, tightly binding the two of them together. With the powder flying everywhere, she could hardly breathe. Jessica’s heart was beating wildly as panic rose. She heard Conall’s voice loudly in her ear.
“We are not of Panagu!” he croaked between coughing spasms. “Please give us an audience with the king.”
“Oh, you’ll get an audience with the king, all right,” a voice said, somewhat muffled by the tarp, “when he decides how you will be executed.”
Forty-Two
Riley stood in waist-deep water ten steps from the edge of the pond. He scanned the banks and, since no one was around, felt safe enough to submerge his head under water, reveling in the pleasure of the sticky sweat rinsing from his hair. A few feet away, splashes told him Meyler was nearby, also enjoying the pond. But
no matter how good the water felt, Riley knew they needed to return to their task of searching for Keeva. He was about to prod Meyler to leave the pond when two Derfarian men walked by. Riley whispered to Meyler, and they stood still. He didn’t want splashes in the water to reveal their presence. Riley watched as the two men sat on a bench—the same stone bench below which their invisible clothes were stashed—and entered into animated conversation. At least they were facing the other way, toward the large plaza and not the pond.
There was no safe way to retrieve their garments from underneath the bench. Even if they could slip them through the Derfarians’ legs, water dripping from their skin onto the flat stones would reveal their presence.
Another Derfarian strolled by and greeted the two on the bench. This newcomer joined in the lively conversation. Riley couldn’t believe their bad luck.
Meyler gripped his arm and gave him a slight pull. Slowly, they edged away, rippling the water as little as possible. The pond was several acres wide and shallow, never more than chest deep. Meyler led him to the far side of the pond, where the bank nearly reached the compound wall, with several clusters of reeds scattered about. There were no buildings, just the wall itself, so they were reasonably well hidden. They eased behind the thick wall of reeds and Riley relaxed. They would wait it out and pick up their clothes as soon as the group left the bench.
As they waited, Riley and Meyler felt confident enough to splash about and speak in low tones. They played and frolicked in the tepid water. Riley liked Meyler’s laugh, and once he started laughing, it tumbled out in waves. Riley laughed too, and it took great effort to keep the volume of his giggles low enough not to be heard.
Out of breath from their play, they rested. Riley used his toes to squeeze the sandy bottom as they peered through the thick cluster of reeds. The Derfarians were still there and still engaged in conversation.
“Well,” said Riley, “we’ll wait them out. I don’t mind hanging out here.”
“You make a good companion,” said Meyler. “I haven’t laughed as much in ages.”
“Me either,” said Riley. “It’s fun to laugh with someone. I don’t have much chance back in Kentucky.”
“Why not?”
Riley shrugged then realized that Meyler couldn’t see him. “I guess I don’t have many friends,” he said. “At least, that’s what my parents always tell me.”
“That’s difficult to understand.”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s because I’m not into sports and stuff like a lot of guys my age, and I’m a bit of a smartass.”
“You are an intelligent donkey?” Meyler asked with some amusement.
“No, that’s…I mean I have a sarcastic wit that I sometimes use to make fun of others. And they don’t like it.”
“You haven’t made fun of me,” noted Meyler.
“Well, I like you. You’re a good dude.”
“Such strange expressions. But I think I understand. And I like you too. I could be your friend. Easily.”
“Thanks,” replied Riley. “And what about you? Do you have many friends?”
“Not so many. We have tutors for our schooling, so I don’t have much opportunity to meet others my age. I spend most of my time managing my family estate with my brothers. Well, I used to. But Conall can be hard to please. I have to always be on my toes.”
“He’s tough on you?”
“Aye, but he looks after me. He wants what’s in my best interest—I know that. But he has high expectations. And I feel…”
“Feel what?”
“I feel I disappoint him a lot.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Riley.
“Aye. It’s true. Conall is capable and confident in so many ways, and when I’m not up to his standard, he doesn’t understand it. I can ride a horse better than most. But Conall can clear any fence with ease and he expects me to be able to do the same. But I can’t always do it. Once I fell and split open my back.”
“That doesn’t sound good. Did it hurt?”
“Like the blue blazes! But Conall was watching, so I climbed right back on my horse.”
“He made you keep riding?”
“Well, no. I was bleeding badly so he sent me home. But I wanted to be ready to keep going, should he want me to. It wouldn’t have pleased Conall to give up.”
“I think he loves you, though.”
“Aye, he does.”
Riley suddenly realized he could make out the form of Meyler’s arm in the water. A second later, Meyler’s head seemingly materialized a few feet from him.
“Hey!” he cried. “We’re visible! Shit, what now?”
It was true. They were both visible and naked. No longer secure, Riley felt vulnerable and afraid. He stooped low in the water and looked around the edges of the pond with quick glances. But there was still no one around the pond except for the group of talkative Derfarians at its far edge, and the reeds protected them from view.
“Move further this way,” whispered Meyler. They eased deeper into the reed cluster.
“The norl didn’t last so long,” mused Riley.
“Aye,” said Meyler. “Perhaps the water did rinse the magic away.”
“I think it just expired. Whatever the reason, we’d better stay low until we can grab our clothes and sneak out of here. The gate’s not far from the edge of the pond. We should have no problem returning to the meeting place.”
As they watched through the reeds, they saw with dismay two Derfarian women come up to the group and greet them.
“It’s a frigging party!” whispered Riley.
“They can’t converse forever,” said Meyler. “We’ll just have to wait.”
“I hope the others aren’t caught with their pants down too,” said Riley, able to smile at his own joke. Meyler smiled with him.
It was nice to be able to see Meyler’s face again as they talked. Glancing down in the clear water, he could make out the outlines of Meyler’s body. Being undressed in a strange land made him feel vulnerable, but there was something liberating about the danger as well.
Meyler turned to survey the bank of the pond behind them, and Riley saw a scar on the lower portion of his shoulder.
“Cool scar,” he mentioned matter-of-factly. “Chicks dig scars. Is it from the riding accident you mentioned?”
“Aye.”
It was interesting that Meyler lived in a period when they did rugged and dangerous things on a daily basis—jumping horses, using swords, pursuing gold thieves, overseeing peasants, and all that. Old world stuff. He’d never done anything dangerous enough to run the risk of getting a scar, unless, maybe, he were to slip while sneaking out of his sister’s bedroom window.
He looked down Meyler’s back and saw another, smaller, scar under the waterline, just above his hip.
“I see another one,” he said and lightly caressed it with his fingertips.
“Aye,” replied Meyler, his voice low. “Another riding accident.”
“Do you have others?”
Meyler glanced down at his body. “I don’t think so. But the day’s not over.” He winked at Riley.
Damn, he is so cool!
“How about you?” he asked, glancing over Riley’s skin. “Any war wounds?”
“Not really. I’ve been lucky, I guess.”
“I’m glad. I’ve noticed how fine your skin is. Smooth and blemish free. It would be a shame to mar its perfection.”
Riley wasn’t sure how to respond to Meyler’s remark. “Thanks,” he managed. “Hey,” he added, feeling he should change the subject. “What are you going to do if we get this tree curse dealt with? Maybe you could go to Kentucky.”
“To America? I don’t know. I think Conall would want to stay near our ancestral land. We’ve been there for generations.”
“Yeah, but the Petersons own the Kyne House now.” Meyler’s eyes glistened at his comment. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know all this is pretty hard on you. But we’ll help you get it sorted
out. Just know you can always go back to Kentucky with me.”
Meyler nodded, regaining his composure. “That’s good to know. Look! More people are gathering on the plaza.”
“Crap!” said Riley, looking at his hand. “I’m turning into a prune.”
Forty-Three
Laughlin continued to stare, transfixed, at the striking young woman. She sang several songs as she worked with her glass and wires. He knew he should be looking for Keeva, but he couldn’t help himself. Besides, he still had an hour before the rendezvous back in the pine grove, so surely no one would begrudge him this pleasure. Living as a tree for over two centuries had the tendency to make one truly appreciate a beautiful face.
The young woman held up an elegant necklace and placed it on her chest. It was beautifully done and Laughlin, who generally cared little for such things, was impressed.
She has an artful eye as well as beauty.
She paused in her work and peered curiously at the bench upon which Laughlin sat. He felt exposed, though he looked himself over and found every inch still invisible. Did she somehow sense his presence? He froze and dared not breathe. Panic rose in his belly, and his mind raced.
Still, lad, still. She cannot see me.
She stood up, frowning, and stepped toward Laughlin’s bench. He quietly rose and stepped aside to avoid detection, but he wavered. She came closer, stretching out her hand. Then she was close enough that her scent washed over him, and his desire to move entirely left him. He wanted her to touch him. To know he existed. He held his breath and watched her fingers. So close now, he could feel their warmth. Then it was too late.
Her fingertips lightly brushed his cheek. She jerked back her hand, her eyes wide and her mouth open. The spell was broken. There was fear on the woman’s face.