by S D Smith
She found a place near the base of the seventh standing stone and looked around for Emma and Picket. When she saw them, she waved to get their attention. Soon they all found a place in the shadow of the seventh stone where they could see the stage.
As the crowd grew and settled in, Emma spoke quietly. “I passed the Silver Prince’s receiving room on the way here,” she said. “I couldn’t see much, but I overheard arguing. He and his creepy advisor, that Tameth Seer character, were shouting at each other.”
“Shouting?” Heather asked. “I can’t imagine anyone shouting at Bleston.”
“Exactly. Not if they value their lives,” Emma said. “He cultivates a jovial image, but it’s easy to see that beneath it he’s deadly serious. He gets his way, or there’s a storm. I sensed that right off.”
“If anyone could argue with him,” Picket said, “it would be Tameth. He’s been Bleston’s counselor for years.”
“Maybe Bleston’s going to do something he wasn’t planning to do,” Heather said, hopeful.
“I don’t like it,” Emma said. “It felt so strange.”
“These are strange days,” Picket said. “Who knows what to expect? Like tonight. What are we doing here?”
“Bleston called an assembly,” Emma said. “He’s the ruler of this citadel now, and I think he wants to consolidate his power.”
“But don’t the votaries lead all gatherings here?” Heather asked.
“They do,” Emma answered. “But they don’t make military policy. In the past, they’ve always handed over the stage to Lord Ramnor. Tonight could be interesting.”
As she spoke, the senior votaries filed in two by two and mounted the steps leading up to the high stage. Reaching the top, they fanned out across the wide platform. The master votary, Prester Kell, and his wife, Sage Kins, came last of all. They stood in the middle, hand in hand.
A thumping music struck up, pensive and loud. Votaries waved branches over the wall lamps, casting eerie shadows over the hall. The music intensified as those on stage bent and bowed, making slow, solemn motions that signified tremendous upheaval.
Heather glanced around, noticing the rabbits of Terralain. For once, they were alarmed. Their eyes bulged as they felt for their swords.
The music built to a fever pitch, and the votaries crashed to the platform. Then Prester Kell and Sage Kins rose solemnly. A light burst behind them, and they seemed to glow. Hands still clasped, they moved slowly to the edge of the stage. Drums thundered, the votaries roared, and the broken light made baneful shadows dance around the room.
When Heather thought she could endure no more, the music suddenly stopped. Together, Kell and Kins leapt to the first standing stone. As they launched, the music returned, this time harmonious and bright. Trumpets blasted a happy anthem, joined by strings and voices singing in harmony. The chimes built up until they leapt in time with the trumpet’s two-note refrain.
The chief votary and his wife landed on the second standing stone, their feet hitting as a hail of cymbals crashed. This was repeated again and again until they reached the sixth standing stone. Heather, Picket, and Emma gazed up at them along with the rest of the rapt, expectant crowd.
They leapt to the trumpet’s call and landed with a crash of cymbals and the thunder of drums. Finally the music resolved in a melody Heather felt she must have heard before.
When the music ended, there was silence. Kins sat on the seventh stone, and everyone, starting with the votaries, followed her lead and sat.
Prester Kell touched his ears, his eyes, his mouth. As he did so, he sang, and though no instruments accompanied this song, most of the assembly joined in. “Let us hear with humility, see with generosity, speak with honesty, and so leap with audacity!” Prester Kell nodded, then held up his hand, turning slowly in a circle as he spoke.
“Gathered exiles of the Mended Wood. Children of blessed Flint and Fay, greetings. I speak to you today from the seventh standing stone. Why? It is for this reason, my friends. The seventh stone is a stone of turning. We know what happened on the sixth stone. We know the Wind Hook well. But the seventh stone is where Flint and Fay could have turned back. This is where they paused, turned, and saw what was behind them. This is where their final decision was made. Would they turn back and return to the life they knew, back on Immovable Mountain? Or would they go on, becoming they knew not what in a land they could not hope to understand? Their dreams were not guides but visions of what could be. This is where they turned and turned again and leapt at last into a new world.”
Heather sat taller, her gaze following the blue-robed prester as he circled above her.
“What would we do, faced with such a decision? Would we leap? I don’t know what I would have done. I only know what I will do. In this moment—and every moment is a new Leaping in miniature—I will do what our ancestors did. I will leap. And leap, and leap again!”
The crowd clapped and the music began again as the assembly rose to cheer the prester. Kell bowed low, then drew Sage Kins to her feet and raised his hand for silence. He and Kins began to sing. Soon, the whole assembly joined in.
“Bring us out of this mountain of doom,
Our upturned world of woe,
Take us leap by leap, by leap, along,
To glories yet unknown.
Every step on these silver stairs,
Over ancient abysmal heights,
Brings us closer to Blue Moss Hills,
Out of darkness and into the light.
The Immovable Mountain heaved,
And from stone to stone we soared.
By Fay’s stone book we look and see,
And we live by Flint’s stone sword.
We go on with grateful hearts,
For this inheritance so kind,
Our fathers dreamed, believed, and leapt,
So that we, one day, might fly.”
When the song was done, Prester Kell turned toward the stage. “My dear friends,” he said. “Let us welcome one whom you all know. He has been for us a light in the darkness, a hook of wind on our sixth step. He has been a gift of life. I invite Prince Bleston, king of Terralain, to speak to us all in this hallowed place.”
The applause came like thunder, and Heather turned to see the Silver Prince, flanked by a spectacularly decorated honor guard, making his way up the steps to the stage. The crowd roared and sprang to their feet. Heather stood with them, feeling a growing sense of dread.
When at last the crowd was quieted, Bleston spoke. Heather reached out for Emma’s hand and clasped it tight.
“Thank you, friends,” Bleston said, “for your kind welcome, both to me and to my fellows. First of all, some things need to be made clear. Heather and Picket Longtreader, please come forward and join me.”
Heather was alarmed, and she saw that Picket was frowning. Reluctantly letting go of Emma’s hand, she made her way toward the stage alongside her brother. “My dear friends, I give you the hero of Jupiter’s Crossing and the Scribe of the Mended Wood!” The crowd cheered, and many rabbits reached out to touch them as they passed.
They climbed the stairs. When they reached the platform, Bleston embraced them. “Now,” Bleston continued, “there’s another rabbit who needs to be up here.” The crowd quieted as Heather’s heart raced. She clung to Picket’s arm. Bleston looked down at the foot of the seventh stone. “Emma,” he said. “Please join us.”
Frowning, and through a smattering of applause, Emma slowly made her way toward the stage. Picket shot a panicked glance at Heather. She stepped forward and tried to speak to Bleston, but he motioned for her to step back.
Turning to the crowd as Emma reached the platform, Bleston spoke in slow, serious tones. “I’m afraid Emma has a secret.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
THE WHITSON STONE
Bleston put his arm around Emma. Heather gasped. She caught a glimpse of Captain Frye, his eyes wide as he stepped forward.
“Our Emma is much more than the quiet healer s
he seems to be,” Bleston said.
“Do something,” Heather whispered to Picket.
Picket looked from Heather to Bleston, uncertain what to do. He spread his hands, palms up. Heather looked back at Emma, saw her confusion and embarrassment.
“I’m very happy to announce,” Bleston said, his smile wide and his voice like gold, “that Emma has—quietly and humbly—improved the results of our medical unit beyond anything I have ever seen, even in peacetime.”
Heather almost collapsed with relief. Picket sagged as well, his hands moving to smooth the fur on his ears.
“I’ve seen her team in action, and thanks in no small part to her, my son, Prince Kylen, is recovering.” The crowd cheered once more, and Picket leaned close to his sister.
“That was close,” he said. “But why does he have us up here?”
Bleston raised his hands, and the crowd slowly quieted. “My friends, I have invited these representatives of this community to join me on stage so I could make an announcement. A hero,” he said, motioning toward Picket. “A poet,” he said, smiling at Heather. “A healer,” he said, bowing to Emma. “These excellent rabbits are just some of the wonderful young friends I’ve met since returning to the world outside of Terralain. They give me hope. You, all of you, give me hope.
“I was born and raised in the First Warren. I was the oldest son of my father, strong and fully qualified to be his heir. When I left I took the token of my birthright.” Here he reached into his shirt and lifted the golden chain bearing the large bright ruby. “This stone, known in my ancestor Whitson’s time as the Ruling Stone, has been the symbol of legitimate authority in Natalia since our earliest days.”
Heather frowned. She didn’t like where this was going. “The owner of the stone was by rights the ruler of all Natalia. Though for a season I sojourned in another land, I have never abandoned that responsibility. And now Natalia and Terralain are united in purpose and in leadership.”
A soft murmuring rippled through the crowd. Heather could see that she and Picket weren’t the only ones who’d caught the scent of treason. Should she make a heroic stand and defy Bleston? Should she attack him? She listened warily with an undisguised frown.
“Together, we will forge a new alliance and oppose Morbin’s lordship. We will restore the Great Wood to the rightful rule of rabbits. We will drive out the usurpers. Until then, we must oppose those of royal blood who have become obstacles to our cause.”
Heather’s worry hardened into anger. She saw that Picket’s hands were balled into fists and his right hand rested on the pommel of his sword, worn at his side tonight.
The crowd grew more anxious as Bleston continued. “My brother’s son rules the First Warren as a puppet governor for Morbin,” he said, and Heather relaxed a moment. That was Smalls’ oldest brother, Winslow. “He must be routed out. Winslow oversaw the building of the wall. He ordered the burning back of the perimeter. He makes certain no word goes in or comes out. I have learned that they do great evil there, that raptor sentinels sit on the walls and swoop in to steal younglings when there is any trouble. I know it is said to be impossible to approach, let alone enter, but we must regain control of the First Warren! The Great Wood will follow.”
“What about the prince?” came a shout from down in the crowd. “Prince Jupiter Smalls?”
“Let me finish, please.” Bleston said. Heather noticed Tameth Seer, his face set in a smug sneer at the uneasy crowd. Bleston went on. “I have been determined—for years I’ve been determined—to return to the First Warren and assert my claim. But my brother’s rule prospered. He ushered in a golden age of rabbit civilization. I kept up, by my own secret means, with what happened at court and with his many wars. My heart went out to him when he fell, and I wondered if it was time for me to return and reclaim my place. I wanted to bring the ethic of Terralain, that every rabbit can be a king, to all of Natalia. It took some years, and many things had to be set in order, but I set out from Terralain with this intent.”
The unrest in the crowd swelled, and Heather saw Captain Frye’s lieutenants gather around him, uncertain what to do. Picket stepped away from Bleston. Emma and Heather followed him.
“Friends,” Bleston said, turning toward the three rabbits on stage. “Hear me out. Have I not earned this?”
Picket paused. “You have, Prince,” he said. “But I beg you to consider what your words mean.”
Bleston nodded, then pointed at Heather. “This young rabbit has spoken to me,” he said. “And it is because of her, the Scribe of the Cause, that I have made a decision.” Heather’s heart pounded. Tameth Seer sneered, and the crowd quieted. “When Prince Jupiter Smalls returns,” he said, raising the ruby high, “I will personally hang the Whitson Stone around his neck and pledge my allegiance to him as bearer of the Green Ember and Natalia’s rightful heir. I will stand beside him and serve him all his days. United, we will fight Morbin Blackhawk and end the reign of terror under the Lords of Prey. We shall reclaim the First Warren and, at last, bring into being the Mended Wood!”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
REVELS ENDED
The crowd surged forward, cheering loud and long, awash in relief and exultant in joy. The room exploded with happy shouts.
“The Silver Prince!” they cried. “Long live the Legend of Terralain, the Savior of Halfwind! Hail the Silver Prince!”
They clamored around the stage, shouting his name, praising him more vigorously than on the day he saved them from the attack. Picket shook his hand and joined in the celebration. Heather crossed to hug him. She wept, feeling a swelling pride and surging hope in her heart.
She turned to Picket and hugged him long and hard. She hugged Emma too, and the three friends danced on stage as the vibrant celebratory music resumed. Loud as it was, it could hardly be heard over the raucous cheers that filled the room. Discordant songs broke out in honor of the Silver Prince and Prince Jupiter Smalls.
It was a wildly happy scene, and Heather let herself enjoy it. She danced, leapt, sang along, and hugged a hundred strangers. It was clear that she and Picket weren’t the only ones who had been anxious about what Bleston’s presence meant for the prince.
She saw Helmer standing at the back of the hall, a scowl on his face. But even his disobeying orders and leaving the hospital couldn’t upset her on this night. She shook her head as he limped off, and she ran to hug another neck.
She watched Picket and Emma, hand in hand, dancing a jig beside the musicians. How far he had come since the days when Emma had called him “Shuffler” and he’d spent weeks moping around Cloud Mountain. Fresh tears came, and she ran to them, joining in their exuberant dance.
* * *
Picket hadn’t been so happy in ages. He sang along with the raucous songs and danced like a fool for the joy swelling inside him. Captain Frye came by and clapped his back. He turned and hugged the old soldier, and they made an unspoken peace.
The appearance of the captain sent a stab of regret through Picket as he remembered his imprudent advice to Smalls. But surely, with the support of Bleston, the prince’s cause had never been more favorable. Smalls would be king, and, supported by Bleston, he had a real chance to win.
“I wish the prince were here!” Emma shouted, trying to be heard above the noise.
“Me too,” he agreed. “With any luck he’ll be in Kingston by now. And if news reaches the conference that Bleston has pledged his support, no lord of any citadel will stand in his way.”
“It’s amazing,” Heather said. “I can’t remember ever being this happy!”
“If only Morbin will not act too quickly,” Captain Frye said, “and we can gather all the citadels under the prince’s banner. We may have time to prepare an answer that evil old bird will remember.”
They sang. They danced. They ate and drank. The night stretched on and the revels faded, leading at last to deep, peaceful sleep and a slow start in the morning.
* * *
Picket arrived early at
the Fowlers’ course and found Perkinson already there.
“My, but you’re an early riser,” Picket said. “Or a never-went-to-sleeper.”
“I slept a little,” he said. “But I don’t need much sleep to outwork you.”
“We’ll see about that,” Picket said, smiling.
“Aren’t we supposed to work together?” Coleden asked, jogging up.
“Everything’s a competition with those two,” Jo Shanks said, joining them. “Even teamwork.”
“And,” Picket said, “you’re last, Jo.”
“We all know what that means,” Perk said, smiling and rubbing his hands together.
“I don’t know what it means,” Cole said.
“Oh, right,” Perk said. “New guy doesn’t know what it means.”
“Tell him what it means, Jo,” Picket said.
“It means,” he said with a scowl, “that I have to set up the obstacles.” He trotted off, yawning as he went. “I thought you’d be different while Captain Helmer’s out.”
“You thought wrong,” Picket said. “I follow in my master’s footsteps.”
“That’s a little terrifying,” Heather said, blocking her own yawn as she appeared on the course. “Are you really going to make Jo set up with his bad arm?”
“His poor arm!” Perk cried.
“Let’s wrap it tight with love!” Cole said, smiling. They all laughed. All except Heather.