I sat beside her. “Would you like me to read one to you?”
She smiled as big as she could and laughed gleefully. I took the book and found within it a story I knew. I stood and told it to the girl the way my father had told it to me.
* * *
The Boy and the Monster
There was once a young boy who lived in a tiny house far out upon the tundra. The boy’s parents were great hunters of caribou. The walls and floor of their warm cabin were covered with thick hides, all brown and gray and white—except for the spot beneath the bed—the place the monster lived.
“My name is Adanas,” the monster would whisper to the boy each night before he went to sleep. “My name is Adanas, and on the day you turn nine, I am going to eat you.
The boy told his parents, but the monster was clever and stayed hidden and quiet when they were home from the hunt. The boy asked them to stay for his birthday, but the herd was on the move to the calving ground, so a big hunt was planned.
Do not be afraid, my son. Stay warm. Stay warm, and you will be safe.
That night, while the boy was alone in the dark house, the monster whispered, “My name is Adanas, and in the morning, I will eat you.”
All that night the boy struggled to move the bed so he could cover the earth with warm hides. He pulled, and he pushed, and he lifted, but the bed was too big.
Alone and afraid, the exhausted boy hid beneath the blankets in the corner, hoping the monster would not find him.
Soon enough the light of dawn shone through the tiny crack above the thick shutters. He heard a noise from under the bed. A scratch and a hiss. The sound grew louder and louder, until, with a great thump, the bed was flung aside and the monster climbed up out of his shadowy hole. He was tall, twisted, and black. Icicles hung from his eyebrows, thick beard, and crooked nose. His eyes were yellow, and his teeth were long, pointed, and black. He wore a sheet of darkness and his shadow crept across the floor in every direction. The cabin became dim and very cold.
The monster peered about in search of the boy and spotted the pile of blankets shaking in the corner.
“My name is Adanas,” the monster said, “and now I am going to eat you.”
The monster moved toward the boy like an icy fog spilling down a mountain. He grinned and rubbed his huge hands together.
“Stay away,” the boy cried, but the monster only laughed, licked his lips, and slid closer.
Adanas rose over the boy and snatched away his blankets. The air was so cold, the boy could not think how to move. He shivered and searched for a way free of the black beast.
“Stay warm, and you will be safe,” his father had said.
The monster reached for him, and the brave boy jumped away from the great clawed hand and ran toward the window. The warm sun ticked the cracks and as the boy began to pull Adanas screamed.
“No,” the beast cried and leapt toward the boy, but the terrible monster was too late. The shutters sprang open, and the bright sun filled the room. The shadows wrapped around Adanas were torn apart, and the monster fell backward and shrieked. He began to melt. His hair and nose ran down his face like rain and his fingers plopped to the floor. He came apart like a snowball tossed in a fire, and in moments all that was left was a small puddle littered with pebbles and twigs.
The boy had defeated the monster.
He never forgot what his father said, and many years later when he too was a great caribou hunter, he taught his son the same.
Stay warm, stay warm and you will be safe.
* * *
Lilly clapped and cheered and begged me to read another. The second tale I found was much longer, though, and not nearly as exciting, so Lilly was soon fast asleep with her head on my lap.
I was supposed to have joined Madam Sedauer up in her room to help with some sewing but could not leave the girl, so the sewing was brought down to us instead. I helped with the work while Lilly snored quietly through the afternoon.
Others began to join us as they were freed from their work, and a sewing circle formed.
When the small girl finally woke, she whispered, “Is everyone here to visit me?”
“Yes, dear. You are very special.”
“Can I help?” she asked.
I gave her a long, marked string to guard, and she became a quick master of measuring things. She measured tables, fingers, and my hair a dozen times. One of the other women shooed her away, but I allowed it. Her smile made me smile. I was also glad for the practice. I wouldn’t be with child any time soon, but that day was coming.
As it turned out, the women had quite a collection of garments they were trying to finish or mend, so many happy days passed there. Half-finished shirts and leggings were polished off, and every coat and scarf was remade to better keep out the cold. But when we ran out of things to make and things to mend, my silk, linen, and wool from the Kaaryon were the only available fabric. The women made no mention of it, but they did not have to. There was a reason Lilly liked sitting next to me more than her mother. My dress was soft and blue, and its silver thread sparkled.
I was glad for the distinction. That I should have the best clothes was proper. Lilly could not be the only one allowed to touch the fabric, though, so I asked them if they would help me make a coat.
The room blushed and bowed at the idea, so I brought down the bolt of heavy white wool and the oldest of my prince’s cloaks. The women were as giddy as the little girl as they gathered around the soft cloth. Most could hardly believe it was wool as smooth as it was, and we took extra care in our preparations. It took two days to lay out the patterns and to make the cuts. They weren’t going to waste any of it. The old cloak was sacrificed, and I was impressed with how well the women made use of the heavy padding, fur trim, and silver buttons. Their stitch work was tight and quick, and it was with a bit of sadness that the work came to an end. My opinion of the result caused blushing and assurances that the pattern was a very simple one. The calf-length coat, despite their humility, proved as beautiful as it was warm. It was double-breasted and fastened snugly upon the long row of marvelous buttons that flowed from my left shoulder to the curve of my waist and hip. It was even vented so I could ride with it on. The thick fur at the neck and cuffs made me want to sleep in it, and I doubted if a better coat could be found, even along the Grand Mhedhil.
To thank them, I gifted each a few scraps of the brocaded blue silk and enough of the white wool to make a hat and scarf. I had never seen a happier room in all my life. Lilly, of course, modeled every creation for us, and she learned that her smile and laugh made her the center of attention. The coat went into my wardrobe, and the room was busy for many more days of hat-making.
During those happy days of millinery, Fana joined us on occasion but did not set her books down to help. She was going to be a scribe, and there was no distracting her from it.
One of those times she held up the length of string she used to count the days. All of the knots were untied. I considered swearing at her but followed her down to the storeroom instead. No one said anything about it. They all knew why.
Afterward, Fana moved back up to her parents’ apartment, using the excuse of how noisy the space was. Which was true enough. Between the talkative women and the bang of swords and spears down the hall, the armory would be a difficult place to study. The men, at least, provided some comedy to go with the annoyance. They were certainly trying very hard, but the disorganized fall of their feet and the occasional thump as someone tripped would have us all in stitches.
Not too many more days passed though before I went looking for Fana and discovered she was not in her parents’ apartment as she’d said she’d be. I went immediately to find my prince, but he and Leger never left their alcove. Annoyed, I decided to spend the next day following her. I was not disappointed.
She went up into her parents’ room as usual after the afternoon meal, so I waited in my own with my ear pressed against the door. She left soon after, but instead of movin
g back down the stairs, she tiptoed to the far end of the hallway and into the storeroom next to Leger’s apartment. I was not expecting her to go there. I was doubly surprised when I heard someone else come up and move down to join her. Was Fana having an affair? It could not be allowed. She and I had agreed that she belonged to my prince.
I hoped he was not the one who had joined her.
I ground my teeth together and crept down to listen at the door. I heard Fana’s voice and then Gern’s and almost rushed in on them.
“I don’t know if I can do it, Fana. It’s so much to remember.”
“You have to. You are a lieutenant in the service of a Yentif arilas. They trust much to you. You cannot stop now. You have to learn it all.”
“I am sorry you have to read it to me.”
“Shh. Stop that. I will teach you how to read later. Now sit up straight and tell me the ones you know so far, and no skipping words this time either.”
I backed away from the door, both relieved and stunned. What an amazing thing I had created—a female scribe teaching a prince’s lieutenant the Manuals of the Hemari. Not a single soul in the Kaaryon, not a single soul in Zoviya, would believe it. I scarcely did myself. I retreated and crept back down the stairs.
What was I to do about my discovery? It was certainly good for our lieutenant to learn the manuals and how to read, but for him to spend so much time alone with Fana was not. She belonged to my prince. Part of me wanted to push the girl into Gern’s arms, but I would not betray my prince’s desires. Such selfishness would doom me. I had to find Gern another girl.
I kept a very close eye on the pair after that and spent some time each day considering the other girls. None were very attractive, most were too old, and the two who weren’t were already betrothed. I considered breaking up one of the pairs but abandoned the plan as too complicated. In the end, I decided Pemini would be the best match. She was very plain but an excellent cook and had large enough breasts to keep him endlessly occupied.
A number of days later, I spotted Gern in heavy clothes making his way down toward the kitchen while everyone else ate their morning meal. He would have gotten by me if I had not been so watchful. I followed him down and snuck up on him as he made his way through the dark kitchen stores toward the small sally door.
“Where are you off to, Lieutenant?”
He was startled and stumbled into a stack of boxes. One almost came down on his head before he got control of them.
“Milady. Forgive me. I did not see you,” he whispered.
“You’re not sneaking out, are you?”
“Yes, but just for a bit. Thell and the rest of the guards know I am going.”
“Where to?”
“It is a surprise, milady. You will understand when I get back.”
“Oh, I love surprises. Tell me now.”
“Milady, it’s not so important. I’m just going for a ride out to the cliffs. Please do not ruin the surprise. No one thinks we can do it this year because of the snow.”
“Sounds like fun. Take me with you,” I said, confident he would gladly tell me what he was up to rather than take me along.
He looked ready to flee. I was about to let him escape when he calmed and his head tilted a bit to one side. “You are a good enough rider. Do you have warm enough clothes?”
I had not actually considered going, but the sudden option filled me with excitement. A ride out to mysterious cliffs made the castle seem very dreary. Oh, and I’d get to spend time with Clever. I missed him very much.
“Yes,” I beamed.
“Hurry then, milady. Wear the warmest clothes you have and meet me in the stable. Do not let anyone see you.”
I wanted to ask him more questions, but he opened the sally door and cold air broke over me. I yelped and retreated, made my way back up. My leggings and white wool coat were heavier than I had remembered, and by the time I found my way to the sally door, I was starting to sweat. I had a hard time opening the old door without getting my coat dirty, but after a sharp kick, it obeyed me.
The sudden brightness of the snowy world blinded me, and the quick invasion of the wind was a surprise. I had felt cold like that at Bessradi a few times, but Urnedi had allowed me to avoid it. I shivered and wondered for a moment how terrible it must be upon the plains if such grim cold had come to Enhedu. I wrapped my scarf snuggly and tightened my hood around my face.
My eyes adjusted slowly. The bright snow was waist-deep, the drifts in some places well above my head. A trail had been hewn out of the white carpet between the sally door, Leger’s massive woodpile, and the stable. The stable was almost buried by the drifting snow. A heavy leather flap hung over the doorway.
Oh, no. Clever and the other horses did not have an Urnedi manor to retreat to. I rushed inside. Two lanterns gave a red glow to the dark place, but the air did not bite.
“Pretty good trick isn’t it, milady?” The old man grinned and gestured. “I was beginning to wonder at Leger’s sanity when he began shoveling snow up around the sides of the stable. Then the snow drifted up onto the roof, and blast my britches, it worked just like a giant, white blanket.”
“Clever is okay?”
“Yes, milady, a bit restless, though. You should visit him more.”
He was right, but I said nothing while he and Gern finished saddling my horse.
“Are you ready to go?” the old man asked.
I nodded, but Thell gave me a long look.
“You sure about this, milady? I doubt the prince would approve.”
“We’ll manage,” Gern said before I could. “If the weather gives even the slightest hint it will turn, we will come right back.”
“I will be fine.”
“Well, I wouldn’t do it if I were you, but I’m an old man. You be careful and come back safe.” Then he winked and pointed. “But don’t come back unless you catch something.”
I noticed Gern had hung a large coil of rope over the back of his saddle. One end was tied with a massive metal hook. Could we be going fishing?
Gern mounted, and I followed his lead. Clever made a series of the happiest of his noises, and I patted his neck before waving to Thell. The old man retreated into the warmth, and Gern moved us into the trees.
“We ride west?” I asked.
“Yes, milady. All the way to the coast.”
“This is a fishing trip?”
“Of a sort,” he replied with a smile. He tried to nudge his mare into a faster gait, but the snow was too deep for her, and she faltered.
“Clever should lead. He is much stronger.”
Gern gave it too long a thought before he relented. I suspected he had more on his mind than the size of our horses, and we had not made it very far before I figured out his game. He wanted to ask me how he could woo Fana. I smiled. This would be the perfect chance for me to put him onto another scent. I tried to work out what I would say before he found the courage to ask. While he did, he coached me through the snow.
“The ground is fairly even, but you should keep your pace slow. You never know what’s underneath. There is an old stone road up ahead. The ride will be much easier once we reach it.”
Clever cared as little for this advice as I did and bounded into one of the drifts as if it were all a great game. Gern’s horse followed gingerly along our path.
As promised, we found a break in the trees. The wide space we entered felt almost like a straight Bessradi street. The trees on either side were the tall buildings, and the road a cobbled boulevard dusted with fresh snow. We cantered along the road as if winter had never come.
I began to hear the rush of water but could find no evidence of the coast or a waterfall. The road approached a small hill. The sound got louder and more mysterious until I recognized that the hill was a wide snow-covered bridge.
“The river?” I asked. “What a marvelous bridge.”
“Yes, milady. It is very old. It is twin to the one that crosses the river near the yew forest.”
> The stone arch rose high over the wide river, and I slowed Clever as we started across. The wind was cold and brisk above the trees. I shivered.
“Is it safe?” I asked.
“Very, milady. This bridge will be here long after you and I depart this world.”
“That is a grim thing to say to a lady while she rides above such a river. I was asking about the wind.”
“Yes, milady. I am sorry for being so dull,” Gern apologized with a thump of his knuckles upon his forehead. “I misunderstood. We are safe from the wind, too. It is hardly blowing today at all.”
I felt a bit silly. Clever was as solid beneath me as he had ever been, and if I fell, there was plenty of crunchy snow and a thick stone rail to catch me. It was not a narrow bridge.
I hid my embarrassment and gave Clever a nudge. My good horse was not bothered by wind, river, or bridge, so we were soon across. On the far side the straight road climbed slowly up onto a ridge, and when we reached the top, the wind there had me shivering.
“How much farther?” I sniffled.
“Halfway there now, milady.”
The adventure was dulling quickly. The sun had climbed a bit higher in the sky, but it had not gotten any warmer.
“Milady,” he managed finally, “can I ask you a favor? I feel terrible for bringing you out here for my own selfish reasons, but I need your help.”
“Do not start talking around it in little circles, Lieutenant.” I smiled. “If you have a favor to ask, ask it.”
“Yes, milady.” He cleared his throat. “I am in love with Fana.”
“Oh?”
“She is kind to me, but I fear she must think me stupid. Please, what can I do to make her love me?”
“That is a very difficult thing to ask, Lieutenant.”
“I am sorry. I know it is hopeless.”
“Not entirely, Gern. But I think you are forgetting how busy you will both be.”
“Milady?”
“Gern, she is to be a scribe, you a lieutenant of the guard. I know she is finding time now to teach you how to read—yes, I know, and don’t bother asking how I found out—what I am saying is that come the spring, you are going to need a woman who can devote herself to you. Fana will be in the gallery all day and night, and that is no way to start a family.”
Ghost in the Yew: Volume One of the Vesteal Series Page 18