Appease

by Demelza Carlton

  TWENTY-FOUR

  "There is a particularly fine beast I've seen in the southern woods, sire," one of the woodsmen said. "Powerful fierce, like he's possessed by some devilish spirit. We stay in the northern parts while he's about."

  Reidar nodded. They couldn't have brought him better news. "Just the sort of challenge I'd like," he said, tossing a purse of coin at the man's feet. "Stay out of the forest for a few days, while we hunt. You will know when the beast is caught, for there will be a feast at the castle."

  Both men bowed. "Thank you, sire. We will."

  Reidar had given them enough money to feed two families for a week, or perhaps a little more. Surely that would be long enough. A week free of the cares of his kingdom, or worry for Sativa. Bliss, surely.

  He called to his men, and the spearbearers, to follow him into the forest.

  A quick fight, a bit of spilled blood, and victory to follow. Truly the sport of kings.

  He kicked his horse into a gallop, and set off between the trees.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  He'd left the lantern to taunt her, Sativa was sure of it. There was not even a window to look or squeeze out of – no exit but the bolted door. Her only escape was death, like poor Nekane.

  Who was still stuck in the privy, poor woman.

  Sativa's hands were sticky and red, and her tunic and hose were soaked. She hadn't known a body could lose this much blood and still live. And yet...still she felt no pain.

  Did that mean she was near the end? The end where the devil of a captain would do things to her corpse?

  Never.

  There had to be a way out.

  She glanced at Nekane. Perhaps the dead widow did hold the answer.

  As Sativa approached her, the stench grew, until she had to haul her tunic over her nose to bear it. This was the smell of death, though, and not the privy beneath her. And if it was anything like the privy aboard the Wydra, it let out into the water.

  Sativa swallowed, took hold of the corpse's shoulders, and shoved. No, the body was stuck. She studied it for a moment, then realised why. Gingerly, she pried the woman's arms out of the hole and lifted them. The body slid so fast it almost took her with it, but Sativa grabbed onto the lip of the privy in time to save herself.

  Save herself from what? A watery death was better than what waited for her here.

  Something tumbled from her tunic, and she instinctively reached to catch it before it fell. Too late, she realised she could be grasping for her own innards, and drew her hand back.

  To her surprise, a slashed wineskin dropped into the privy, landing in the darkness with a splash.

  A slashed...but the wineskin had been full. Sativa fumbled at her soaked tunic, trying to undo her belt to see the skin underneath, and the wound that should be there. The one that would kill her. The wound that...

  ...wasn't there.

  The stupid captain had stabbed the wineskin instead. But he'd soon be back, to do horrible things to her still-warm corpse. More than ever, she needed to get out.

  She eyed the privy. It was the only way.

  Sativa perched on the edge, uttering a prayer that she might reach shore safely. And not get stuck.

  She took a deep breath, and let go.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The day ended without anyone sighting the boar, but Reidar was content. There'd been signs of the beast, and they were certainly in its territory now.

  He shared a cup of ale with Rudolf by the fire as servants pitched his pavilion and prepared their meal.

  "You should have seen your face. You were so certain you'd found the beast in the bushes, and that it would be your kill, when all the rest of us said we were too far north. Standing there like some ancient colossus...and out popped...a squirrel!" Reidar roared with laughter.

  Rudolf didn't seem to find it as funny, though he did laugh. "You always were the better hunter. I left before I was old enough to join your father's hunting parties. It sounded big enough to be a boar!"

  "Rudolph the great squirrel slayer!" Reidar howled. He laughed until his belly ached. He had not felt this free in years.

  "Tomorrow will be better," Rudolf said. "You may take the beast, and when you miss, then I'll take my shot."

  Reidar spat out his ale. "I do not miss!"

  Rudolf smiled. "We shall see, cousin. We shall see."

  The evening was a merry one, with plenty of ale and even a little singing around the fire, until someone reminded them all that singing would only drive the beast away, not bring it within range of their spears. They quietened after that.

  When they retired for the night, Reidar felt an inexplicable chill. No one else seemed to notice, so he merely called for some extra furs and told himself that would be an end to it.

  The cold seemed to have settled in his bones, and it took some time to dispel, but eventually he forgot he was in the forest and may as well have been in his chamber at home, he was so warm.

  Rudolf was right. Tomorrow would be better. A sense of wellbeing washed over him, like he'd been engulfed by one of the waves he could hear crashing on the not-too-distant shore, and he drifted off into a dream where Sativa sat at his side instead of his cousin, and after they shared a cup of ale, they shared a kiss. The kiss lasted until he carried her to his bedroll and their night together was bliss. Oh, what a dream.

  If only it were true.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Sativa gasped as the freezing water engulfed her, her last breath before the sea closed over her head. She kicked off the side of the ship, heading for the wavering light at what she thought was the surface. She burst into cold air and wished she hadn't, as the breeze turned out to be colder than the water.

  Dusk had fallen, but there was enough light to see the darkness that was the shore. Praying that no one aboard the ship saw her, she set out for land.

  Her hose and boots drank seawater like a drowning man, weighing her down. Determined not to drown when she was so close to her destination, Sativa stripped off the offending items. Only modesty made her keep her tunic. That and the camouflage it offered her pale skin as the moon rose.

  An eternity passed, as she stroked for shore. Kicking, pulling with her arms, taking breath after breath and spitting out salt water as the waves taunted her, but the beach drew ever closer.

  Then a wave picked her up and her arms windmilled wildly as she tried to paddle out of it, but to no avail. The wave broke, plunging her beneath the water until she grazed the sandy seabed. Gasping, Sativa kicked off the bottom, only to find that her head broke the surface before her feet had left the seafloor. She staggered ashore, barely believing she'd made it. She wanted to lie on the sand and sleep for a week, but she couldn't. Not while she was still so close to the ship. Still visible to them, perhaps.

  Her legs felt like they carried their own ballast, they were so heavy, as she dragged herself up the beach and into the trees. A breath of wind was enough to send her teeth chattering as her bones turned to solid ice. Still she trudged on. There would be no wind once she was deep enough into the forest.

  A few steps in, then a few more. Soon, she could no longer see the beach, but she could hear the waves. Still she walked. She would continue until she couldn't any more, and then she would lie down and sleep.

  Moonlight was dim between the trees, so she stumbled often, but Sativa refused to stop. It looked like it was growing lighter ahead. Light could only mean people, and civilisation. Someone who could help her.

  A large fire sat in the clearing, sending up a prayer of smoke into the sky. Sativa thanked whoever had lit it, and approached as close as she dared, holding out her hands to warm them. She had nothing left to trade but the small cheese, wrapped in its now salt-stained cloth, but she would offer it gladly if it meant getting warm and dry again.

  "You kept me waiting," a grumpy voice greeted her. Oh, the voice was old and scratchy, too, but the elderly woman wanted her irritation known.

  "Please forgive me," Sativa said politely. She
had heard that old women who lived too long sometimes lost their wits, and she had been taught to be polite to her elders.

  A hunched figure stepped out of the shadows and straightened. "Your father taught you well, Princess."

  Sativa squinted at the woman. "Do I know you?"

  The woman cackled, then coughed. "Perhaps, perhaps not. I am too old to be your fairy godmother, in truth, but as my daughter is still learning to take my place, I wanted to see you one last time. I am Dalia."

  Though the hem of her tunic was too short to do it properly, Sativa attempted a respectful curtsey. "I am honoured, Godmother Dalia."

  "Come, girl. My visions said you would be hungry, and in need of a fire's warmth. You are not out of the woods yet."

  Sativa did as her godmother bade her. For the first time in she couldn't remember how long, she ate her fill, and the food was good. But the wine was too strong, and she began to wish that she had not drunk so much of it, for her eyes started to close of their own accord.

  Sativa blinked back drowsiness, wanting to ask the question that burned in her mind before she surrendered to sleep. "Godmother Dalia, thank you for your hospitality. I am grateful but...I must know one thing."

  Dalia grinned, her eyes seeming to glow in the firelight. "Yes?"

  Sativa fought to find the words that wouldn't make her question sound like an accusation. "Why are you here now? Why not earlier, when I was kidnapped by pirates, or locked in that room, or earlier still, when my father tried to marry me to a shoemaker?"

  Dalia nodded. "Do you know what my powers are?"

  "You are a seer," Sativa said. "I do not know what else."

  "I sometimes see the future, yes, as I foresaw your sisters would die because of a creature that came out of the darkness, as a different darkness would swallow you, too, in time. I have a talent for curses, or I did. It's been many years since I cast one."

  "So you saw the pirates, and the shoemaker, and everything else?" Sativa asked impatiently.

  Dalia nodded once more. "I saw the pirates, and much of your flight from your father's court. Yes. The shoemaker...ah, young George's fate has little to do with yours. He was always destined for Melitta. He's my daughter's godson, you know."

  Sativa's head hurt. There was so much she didn't understand. "But why are you here?"

  Dalia blinked. "Because you need me, of course! If I weren't here, you'd freeze your little titties off in the forest and never find your way to that handsome king of yours."

  King? "Reidar is a prince, not a king."

  "When his father died, your Prince Reidar became king. He's eager for a queen, though, so you mustn't delay. Tonight, you may rest, but in the morning, you must find him."

  Sativa couldn't seem to stay upright any more. Too tired. Her head rested on the ground and it was too comfortable to resist. "Will you show me the way?" she mumbled.

  "No, dear, I'm too old to be traipsing around the forest. My friend will show you the way. As long as you follow her, you won't get lost."

  "Oh, good," Sativa tried to say but she wasn't sure if she managed to get the words out before she fell asleep.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  A shaft of sunlight tickled Sativa's eyelids as it passed. She pulled her blankets more closely about her, wondering why her chamber was so cold. The fire must have gone out in the night, or someone had left the shutters open. Probably her sister Stella, who liked to look up at the stars.

  No, Stella was dead, devoured by a dragon, like the rest of her sisters. And Sativa could not be in her chambers, for she slept aboard a pirate ship, pretending to be a boy until the ship came close enough to shore to swim to safety.

  Ugh. Swimming. Fighting the waves until they grew tired of her feeble flailing and flung her on the shore.

  Now she remembered the night that had been. Or had it been a dream? Nekane, the crazy captain, and her future-seeing fairy godmother?

  Sativa blinked her eyes open.

  Last night's great bonfire had burned down to coals, and her one thin blanket did little to keep out the early morning chill.

  "Mrow?"

  Sativa stared in surprise at the source of the sound. A cat the colour of smoke sat beside the fire, licking at a package Sativa recognised – the cheese she'd stolen from the Barbe. The only food she had.

  Sativa scrambled to her feet and attempted to shoo the animal away, but it only turned to hiss at her before returning to what was left of its meal. Precious little, she found, when she ventured close enough to see. No point in wasting her time for a bite or two of drowned cheese.

  When the cat was finished eating, it sat to wash its fluffy fur, taking its time in a grooming ritual that could have satisfied a palace lap-cat, instead of this forest-born beast. When the beast's bath was done, it crossed the clearing and stopped to look back at Sativa. "Mrow?"

  She shook her head at the expectant beast. "No. Dalia said to wait here for her friend, who would guide me."

  "Mrow." Was it possible for a cat to look exasperated, or was Sativa simply imagining the expression on the cat's face?

  She regarded the cat for a long moment. "I don't suppose you're a female cat? Dalia did say her friend was female, though surely she would have told me if she was feline, too."

  "Mrow."

  Sativa sighed. Try as she might, she'd never understand the cat's meaning. Being able to talk to beasts would be a useful gift around about now. If she was wrong about this...

  Reluctantly, she dropped her blanket on the ground, shaping it into an arrowhead that pointed in the cat's direction. The direction she would follow the beast, though it might be folly, and the way Dalia's friend would have to go in order to find her if the cat was not the promised guide.

  Swearing roundly at all the sharp sticks on the forest floor and herself for losing her boots in the sea, Sativa set off behind the cat.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Reidar sat by the rekindled fire, a crust of bread in one hand and a cup of ale in the other as he broke his fast, while the rest of the hunting party readied themselves for the day. His pavilion was already packed away, but others were not as used to travelling as he and several tents still stood in the clearing.

  Einar strutted around without his tunic, pointing at the scars on his chest that were hard to see beneath all the white hair, and telling the tales of how he got them to any man who'd listen, and quite a few who didn't.

  Dag had brought a hound that he swore could sniff out boars better than any beast alive, and he had a leash around its neck, letting it lead him around the clearing, sniffing for signs for their quarry. So far, it had found and frightened two squirrels, twice Rudolf's score from yesterday.

  Rudolf emerged from the trees, straightening his tunic. Another man who had to piss away a lot of last night's ale.

  Reidar nodded at Dag and his dog. "What do you say, cousin? Shall we let the beast lead the way today?"

  Rudolf shrugged.

  "He has a scent! Sire, we should follow it!" Dag shouted.

  Others caught his excitement and headed for their horses.

  Reidar rose. "Why not? Let's ride. I fancy roast pork for my dinner."

  Rudolf was close behind him. "A wager, cousin? That you will take home your heart's desire today?"

  Reidar turned to stare at Rudolf. Such a strange thing to say. Almost as though the man knew what he'd dreamed last night. "There is no wager to make. I smell victory in the air today."

  Behind him, Rudolf's voice said softly, in a tone so low Reidar suspected he wasn't supposed to hear: "We shall see. Stranger things have happened to kings while hunting. I suspect victory will not be yours on this day."

  A chill closed around Reidar's heart, but he shook it off. Rudolf's words could be traitorous or prophetic, or mere nonsense he'd spouted to make mischief. Whatever the truth, it would out itself today, for one thing was certain – there was something different in the air. An expectation, a promise...of change. And he would embrace it.

  Reidar leape
d onto his horse's back. "Time for the hunt to begin!" he shouted.

  And so it began.

  THIRTY

  The damned cat was like water – endlessly running, while Sativa struggled to keep up. When Sativa stopped to rest or take a drink before crossing yet another stream, the animal would sit and stare at her, occasionally uttering that same, superior, "Mrow," that seemed to be all it could say.

  Her feet hurt. No, all of her body hurt, and her belly added an extra growled protest at the absence of breakfast. In the tales she'd heard as a child, there were berries and all sorts of things to eat in the forest. So far, she'd seen nothing except her stolen cheese. The one the cat had eaten. Idly, she wondered if cats were edible.

  As though the beast had heard her, the cat stopped, then scrambled up a tree.

  Annoyed, Sativa stumbled to the trunk and peered up. "I can climb, too, you know."

  Something exploded out of the underbrush behind her, setting the squirrels chittering away in fear.

  Sativa risked a glance over her shoulder and almost screamed at the biggest tusked pig she'd ever seen, mere yards from her.

  The beast hadn't noticed her yet, but if it did, one of those tusks could end her as surely as Captain Zydrunas' blade, and she had no skin of wine to save her now.

  Sativa leaped, reaching for the nearest branch as her feet scrabbled for purchase on the tree trunk. Her muscles screamed as she climbed, but she knew she'd scream louder if the pig got to her.

  Her bare feet slipped, leaving her hanging in the air a few inches from the ground.

  The pig turned, and its small eyes seemed to glow red as it spied Sativa. The beast charged.

  Her arms ached from trying to support her whole weight, but Sativa did her best to swing her body to the side in one last, desperate hope that she might gain a foothold on the slippery tree.