They fell silent again.
“What if I have something of interest to show him?”
Autumn Leaves looked at him speculatively. “Depends what it is. He mightn’t find it interesting at all.”
Tarkyn subsided. “You’re right. It may be commonplace to woodfolk.” He thought it through, before continuing with more conviction. “But it is not at all commonplace to me and I would like the chance to discuss it. That in itself should be enough, surely?”
“I suppose so, if it’s important to you.”
The sorcerer hesitated. “The only thing is, I’m not sure that I can show him.”
“Why not? Don’t you trust him?”
“Very funny. Of course I bloody trust him. That’s what this was all about in the first place.” Tarkyn scratched his head. “I’m just not sure how to do it.”
“Well, you can either figure that out with Waterstone or you can work it out with me as a dress rehearsal, so to speak.” Autumn Leaves shrugged. “Personally, I think a practice run will just make you self-conscious.”
“It is quite unnecessary to make elaborate preparations. All I need is a pretext for visiting Waterstone the first time, which I now have, however flimsy. Let’s just find him and get on with it. At the very least, I can tell him about it even if I can’t show him.” Tarkyn pulled himself to his feet, accepting the offer of Autumn Leaves’ hand. “Where is he?”
The solid woodman guided Tarkyn through a stand of small silver birches then deep into a thicket of hazel trees where they came upon Waterstone sitting outside his shelter, whittling a new arrow into shape. There was a certain tension in his movements and he sent a singeing glance at Autumn Leaves as the two of them approached.
Obviously he knew we were coming, thought the sorcerer. He’s a woodman. Well, at least he hasn’t avoided us.
“Please don’t blame Autumn Leaves,” said the prince, his voice sounding formal because of his tension. “I have something I wanted to show you.” Tarkyn heard the cold tone of his own voice and took a moment to thaw. Then he swung from one extreme to the other and began to blither. “Well actually, I wasn’t going to show you yet, because it’s a bit of a work in progress but I decided I would, anyway. Autumn Leaves thought it mightn’t be as interesting to you as it is to me even though he doesn’t actually know what it is….” He rolled his eyes beseechingly at Autumn Leaves. “I’m not doing too well here, am I?”
He broke off as he realised that both woodmen were grinning broadly at him.
“No wonder you’re so blindingly honest. You couldn’t lie to save yourself,” chortled Waterstone. “Come on. Come and sit down. I’ll get us something to drink and you can tell me what’s so interesting, if you can think it up before I’ve brought you some juice.”
Once the three of them were seated with cups of apple juice, Tarkyn said, “Actually, I do have something interesting to tell you and hopefully show you. But first I need to clarify something. If someone has sent you an image at some time in the past, can you send that image on to someone else?”
The woodfolk nodded. “It’s just like sending a memory,” said Autumn Leaves, “An image is an image, wherever it comes from. It can be a real view of something, it can be imaginary or it can be from your memory.”
Tarkyn smiled in satisfaction. “Good. In that case, I think I should be able to do it. I’ll send you the image first and tell you how I got it second. Are you ready?” He closed his eyes and brought back the views he had seen from the heron’s eyes - lifting up over the river, soaring high above the woodlands, then swooping back down into the river. When he had finished, he opened his eyes and looked at them expectantly. “So, what do you think? Can you all do that?”
Waterstone and Autumn Leaves both looked stunned.
Waterstone was the first to speak. “That was…unexpected. I have never seen the forest from above, except from the mountain peaks. But can we all do what? Are you imagining how the forest would look? Where did you get the images from?”
Tarkyn beamed at them. “From a heron. That’s what I’ve been learning to do, mind link with animals.”
The woodmen exchanged glances before Waterstone spoke, “None of us can share images with animals.” He shrugged, “Maybe it’s because we use words so much. Your mind linking does work differently from ours. Have you tried it with any other animals?”
Tarkyn grimaced. “I haven’t yet instigated an exchange. The animals seem to come to me, really. Like the otter, the other night. It just happened to be there, working its way up the river so I sent out waves of reassurance and it came over to me. I could show you the whole exchange but I’d have to explain the feelings afterwards.
“Go on,” said Autumn Leaves quietly.
Once he had sent the image, he said, “The otter sent me the river from her point of view to make sure I knew she was mind linking with me.” Tarkyn smiled, “She was irritated with me because I was a bit slow on the uptake.” He shrugged, “Hardly surprising I was slow, since it was the first time.” The sorcerer frowned suddenly, “Actually, now I think about it, it wasn’t the first time. On the night of the feast, I was upset,” here he glanced self-consciously at Autumn Leaves, “after seeing Tree Wind’s memory of my father and the way he enforced the oath taking. Anyway, there was a tawny owl up in the pine tree above me… the same one that came swooping over the firesite later that night… and now I think about it, he sent down some sort of comforting waves so that I could pull myself together and come out to face you all.” Before the woodfolk had time to absorb the prince’s admission of vulnerability, an idea suddenly struck him, “… The owl that warned me about the wolf the other night was female.” He grinned suddenly, remembering the woodfolk’s disbelief on the first night. “Maybe it was the other one’s mate?”
Waterstone directed a frown at him. “An owl warned you? You didn’t tell me that at the time. You gave me all sorts of other explanations….”
Tarkyn shrugged and smiled ruefully at him, “I was just trying to come up with explanations I could believe myself. I hadn’t had time to put all the information together then and I couldn’t really credit that I’d just looked down on the woods through the owl’s eyes.”
“Understandable,” put in Autumn Leaves, the peacemaker. “Not the first thing you’d naturally think of really, is it? Mind-reading an owl.” The other two looked at him without saying a word. “I’ll get some more juice then, shall I?” he said, getting to his feet.
As soon as Tarkyn and Waterstone were left alone, an air of constraint descended. After too long a pause, Tarkyn said, “You have a good friend in Autumn Leaves. He risked being burnt to a crisp for you.”
“Oh really?” responded Waterstone, not at all impressed, “He didn’t think you’d do anything of the sort. Not for a second.”
The sorcerer pulled the corners of his mouth down in mock dismay. “That’s quite lowering, isn’t it? To realise I’m already losing my fearsome edge.”
Waterstone watched him with his head on one side, a sardonic glint of amusement in his eyes. “And yet, if you think it needful, I’m sure you will easily create a twinge of apprehension to keep us all in line.”
Tarkyn’s stomach tightened. There could be no mistaking the bitter edge to Waterstone’s words…and he had said ‘us all’, not ‘me’. Until now, their conversations had been person to person, not prince to woodfolk. Tarkyn stood up and walked to the edge of the small clearing. He looked out, hands on hips, into the tangle of branches as he tried to work out what he could say. Before he spoke, the prince sent Autumn Leaves an image of himself gesturing for the woodman to wait. He vaguely hoped that it wasn’t too emphatic. He turned on his heel and stood looking down at the Waterstone.
“Waterstone,” he began, but faltered as he saw the woodman’s set face. He sat down again on the log next to Waterstone and leant forward, resting his elbows on his long legs. He drew a breath and tried again. “Waterstone, I couldn’t help not hearing all those things you to
ld me when I was unconscious. I couldn’t help not knowing what a true friend you had been to me. How it was when I awoke is not how it is now. I had hoped the message I sent through Autumn Leaves would have reassured you of that.” He glanced at Waterstone but still the woodman did not reply. Tarkyn leant down and picked up a long twig and methodically began to break bits of the end of it, as he talked. “Now it is I who feels a yawning gap opening between us. I don’t really know what else to say… Yes, I do. Autumn Leaves explained – quite forcefully in fact – what it meant to expose your memories without choice, as you did. Although I knew that beforehand at one level, I didn’t fully appreciate the courage it required of you to keep going. I can only say that I am sorry I pushed you so far. I can’t undo it. Autumn Leaves was horrified at what I had done and so am I. My only defence is that, as you so rightly judged, I am an inexperienced young man and on top of that, I have had no training in mind linking of any sort.”
There was a long silence. Tarkyn picked up another long twig and started breaking bits of it while he waited. When that twig was in little pieces on the ground, he debated whether to pick up yet another twig or whether just to get up and leave. He decided for one last try. He picked up a third twig and said inconsequentially, “Of course Autumn Leaves may be right. I might just be an utter bastard… in which case you’re better off keeping well away from me, like most woodfolk do.”
Waterstone finally spoke. “Autumn Leaves said that?” He smiled reluctantly. “Maybe he really did think he risked being burnt to a cinder, after all.”
The sorcerer shook his head, smiling. “I doubt it. Not by then, anyway. But I do know he would have risked it, if he felt he had to.”
At last, Waterstone turned his head to look at the prince. “Do you know what upset me most?” Tarkyn decided this was rhetorical and didn’t answer. “I wasn’t able to do what I had contracted to do. I pulled out of the memory instead of allowing you to choose. After all that effort, I wasn’t able to prove that there was nothing I couldn’t show you because I stopped the memory, not you.”
“Waterstone, you’re too hard on yourself. I understand completely why you were unable to continue at that point.”
“You may understand but that will not stop the doubts.”
The prince smiled wryly. “I may be an utter bastard but I am neither an utter fool nor a liar. I said I trusted you beyond any doubt and I do. That last memory and your strong reaction to it showed me the motivation for your friendship. That’s what I needed to know. The earlier memories didn’t, which was why I asked you to keep going.” Tarkyn threw down the remains of his twig and sat up. “I hope the cost wasn’t too high - Autumn Leaves tells me it was – especially when the trust you won from me is something you take for granted from everyone else. I hope it was worth it to you. It is beyond value to me.”
The woodman’s face broke into a slow, warm smile. “Now I understand all that, it was worth it …and I’m glad you pushed the point until you were satisfied. So, if you still wish to maintain this friendship, even knowing the unkind thoughts I had about you when you first arrived, I suppose I can deal with your occasional flashes of ruthlessness.” Waterstone rocked backwards as a wave of relief poured over him. He shook his head, laughing. “You are hopeless. Your emotions get the better of me, let alone you.”
A few minutes later, Autumn Leaves finally ran out of patience and turned up with a stone carafe of apple juice.
“Whoops. Sorry,” said Tarkyn. “I forgot to send you another message. How was the last message?”
Autumn Leaves blinked as he thought about it. “Hard to say. Since I now know more about your attitudes, I wasn’t offended by it. I think people will have to get to know you better to interpret your messages properly, though. So”, he said, as he poured the juice into the three goblets, “Have you two sorted yourselves out?”
“Yes, thanks,” replied Tarkyn with laughter in his eyes.
The other two looked at him. “What’s so funny?” demanded Autumn Leaves.
“I’ve never had so many people treating me in such an avuncular manner before.”
“Who else is?” asked Waterstone. He frowned. “Not me?”
“No. Not you, but Stormaway and Thunder Storm both seem to have taken me under their wings.” He chortled. “And of course Autumn Leaves is busy looking after both of us… now that he’s stopped lecturing me. Even Summer Rain had an unexpected moment of kindness last night.” He shook his head. “I am struggling to maintain a dignified distance, I can tell you.”
The two woodfolk stared at him. Then, their eyes glazed slightly as they thought amongst themselves. As the seconds drew out, Tarkyn cocked his head to one side and asked, “Would you mind sharing whatever thoughts you are having? It’s becoming a little lonely out here.”
Waterstone came back into focus “Sorry. We were discussing whether there is a need for a dignified distance, as you call it. From your point of view, from our point of view, practically and traditionally, especially when we have such different societies. We got carried away.” He nodded thoughtfully. “It’s complicated, isn’t it?”
Tarkyn nodded, suddenly nothing more than a young man trying to make sense of the world from a very strange standpoint.
“And really, it is your sole decision, isn’t it?” Waterstone shook his head slowly. “It’s a big decision to make, for a young prince who has suddenly become the liege lord of such a different society.”
“And because of all that has happened, I still haven’t stated my expectations as I promised I would on the night of the feast,” said Tarkyn.
Autumn Leaves was regarding Tarkyn with some concern. “I hope I haven’t offended you, Your Highness,” he said, “I am not used to dealing with princes. None of us is.”
“No. You haven’t offended me…At least no more than anyone else has, given the differences in our customs.” The prince smiled and shook his head. “You will know if you really offend me, I can assure you. You have not behaved around me as I have been used to, but it becomes increasingly obvious that the woodlands are nothing like court and, without wishing to be rude, woodfolk are not very good at being courtiers.”
Seeing Autumn Leaves frown, Tarkyn continued, “It does take years of training, you know. You have to grow up believing in the monarchy and its importance to the whole structure of the nation. Everything in our society - all the feast days, all the customs, all the routes to wealth and power - originate from my family.”
Tarkyn picked up another twig and set about destroying it slowly, like those before it. “You people have only known a king for two days and me for how long - three weeks? Nothing in your society depends on the monarchy except, of course,” he put in dryly, “the safety of the forest.” The prince shrugged, “But your society and customs and etiquette are not built around the monarchy. You don’t even seem to have a hierarchy. So you don’t know how you should behave towards a nobleman, let alone towards a member of the royal family.”
He stood up and walked a little away from the two woodmen. Standing with his back to them, hands on hips, the prince stared unseeingly into the tangle of hawthorn and said quietly to himself, “And therein lies the dilemma.”
He swung around and walked back to stand towering over them, his long black hair framing his face, his drawn brows shading his strange tawny eyes. “And the other side of that dilemma is that I am not used to such familiarity. Even within my family, there have always been protocols, particularly but not only when members of the public are present. Even close friends are expected to show deference and follow rules of etiquette.”
The two woodmen sat watching him intently, waiting to see where this monologue was heading. The prince glared down at them. They waited. Finally the prince threw up his hands. “You see! With the best will in the world, you have no idea what I’m talking about.”
“Well, why don’t you stop standing over us like some looming bird of prey and sit down, have another drink and explain it better so we do
understand?” suggested Waterstone mildly.
At that, Tarkyn broke into laughter tinged with more than a little hysteria. He threw himself down on the log next to them and gulped down the best part of a cupful in one draught. He looked at Waterstone and Autumn Leaves incredulously. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t sit in my presence if I’m standing?”
“No,” they chorused. “How would we?” added Autumn Leaves.
“Or that you shouldn’t lean over me, as both of you have done in the past?”
“Obviously not or we wouldn’t have.” replied Waterstone tartly.
“Or that you should bow every time you approach me?”
The woodman goggled at each other.
“Or that you shouldn’t raise your voice to me?”
“Well,” said Waterstone promptly, “I’ve failed signally on that one but I bet Autumn Leaves kept his voice down. He’s good at saying what he wants to without raising his voice.”
“Or that you shouldn’t speak to me until I address you first?”
“Oh, I certainly failed on that one,” chortled Waterstone, rolling his eyes at Autumn Leaves. “I talked to him for days when he was unconscious, before he addressed me.”
A wave of frustration tinged with anger rolled into the minds of the two woodmen.
“Now settle down, Waterstone.” said Autumn Leaves gently. “You’re starting to upset him.”
Waterstone calmed himself and smiled ruefully at the prince. “I’m sorry, Tarkyn. I shouldn’t tease you when you’re trying to be serious.” He gave the prince a friendly pat on the knee not realising that, once more, he was transgressing. “Look, if you want us to learn these things and behave in certain ways, we’ll just have to learn. I’m sure Stormaway would be happy to teach us.” Waterstone smothered a smile as he added, “It could take us a while to get the hang of it and there are quite a large number of us to teach. Still, it will keep Stormaway out of mischief.”
The prince frowned suspiciously, “What are you laughing at?”
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