“Because he’s not blurting out accusations!” Emeline snapped.
“I see what you mean,” Dada muttered to Reese. “If a Theurgist could consider murder, a Sapient well might consider theft.”
The knight nodded.
“And don’t think for a moment that that automaton is safe either. We should go,” Reese said as the crowd began to dissipate. Some people went into the academy, but most were filing out under the arch. They headed in the same direction.
“Sir Reese!” a commanding voice broke through. Emeline jumped.
Helid himself was approaching them, the balding Theurgist and a silver-liveried guard flanking him. She shrank back instinctively.
“Helid Theurgist,” Reese greeted him coolly.
Helid tilted his head back to look up at him shrewdly. Then his bright gaze flickered over Dada and Fish.
“Welcome home, young knight. I’ve heard that you had quite the adventure in Blyne, one involving my colleague Rellum Sapient,” he said mildly.
“Indeed,” Reese replied. There was a short silence.
“Since I know him well, I imagine he discussed certain unfounded suspicions with you. But I do hope you weren’t foolish enough to believe him.” Helid smiled without warmth. “In fact, it would be most unwise to follow him down that tunnel.”
Reese’s expression darkened.
“But you both have tunnels, don’t you?” he asked in a stony voice. “Much like that noble beast the weasel.”
Helid’s eyes flashed, and they glared at each other for several moments. “I would mind my tongue if I were you, young knight,” he snapped, finally.
Then he turned to look at Dada, who bowed his head warily.
“I assume this is the family that brings tidings of Ithin in their village woods.” He clasped his hands together in satisfaction, his voice unbearably arrogant. “I so look forward to hearing their story! I’m delighted that it will finally convince the king of our position.”
The other Theurgist whispered to him; Emeline heard something about “the museum.” Helid nodded and announced, “I’m afraid we have more pressing matters to attend to. Good day!”
The two of them marched away, their guard following.
The villagers watched unhappily.
“Let’s go. Now,” Dada said.
Reese led them back through the gateway. The group of them piled up against him as the last of the crowd bottlenecked there; Emeline was pressed against him, suddenly very aware of the warmth that came from his back and broad shoulders.
“Dada, how did they make the automaton move around like that?” Dale asked.
“It’s a machine, Dale. Its insides must look something like a clock’s,” Dada explained, exhausted.
“But they didn’t wind it up, Bird. And it’s not steam-powered, either,” Fish said, scratching his head. “As far as I’m concerned, that was a living doll, just like the ones Helid mentioned.”
“But he said those dolls hurt people,” Dale said. He looked at Emeline and murmured, “Do you think that kind of magic was Keldare, like yours?”
“No.” Reese had turned his head to listen. “Hers is much more elegant,” he said, and looked away.
hailed a red carriage to take them back to the Mother’s Milk. Dada had wanted to return to the royal inn immediately, but everyone was hungry, and he had to admit they didn’t have much of their own food left.
The carriage took them past a park where children were playing games Emeline didn’t recognize—something with short sticks used to keep a lightweight ball aloft. The air was full of silvery jingling from the bells they wore.
“Imagine if we wore bells like that at home,” Aladane said to Dale, watching the capital children with scorn. “Dale, we’d be outcasts!”
Emeline snorted as the carriage pulled up in front of the Mother’s Milk; the idea of the Equane schoolhouse having standards in style made her laugh. But Aladane was somewhat popular with the girls, while Dale was oblivious, so she supposed it made sense that he was more aware of his image.
“We ought to tie some bells on that boy,” Fish told Dada, nodding at Aladane. “It’d be a lot harder for him to stow away in wagons.”
As the group of them piled out of the carriage, Emeline looked up at Reese hopefully, thinking perhaps he would eat with them. The knight stood looking in through the windows, then turned to meet Emeline’s gaze.
She looked away, suddenly embarrassed—it was silly of her to want him to stay with them.
What was she thinking? What could come of it anyway?
“Thank you again for showing us around, Sir Reese,” Dada told him, smiling warmly. “And for keeping us safe.”
Reese nodded, running his hand through his hair. “I regret dismissing the guards that Quaith left you. Someone should be with you at dinner.”
“Could we eat with you and the knights?” Dale blurted out.
Reese snorted, taken aback. “I’m afraid they aren’t all as charming as I am.”
“Do you eat special food?” Aladane asked.
“Yes, we eat knight food,” Reese said, deadpan.
“Do you eat in the hall with the king?” Dale asked.
“No, His Majesty eats alone in his chambers.”
“What about the Sapients and the Theurgists?”
“They tend to keep to themselves as well.”
“And the servants?”
“Will you two stop asking questions?” Fish exclaimed. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“But we’re not asking you,” Aladane pointed out.
“Al,” Dada warned.
“Do you have to eat dinner in the hall or can you eat anywhere you want?” Dale asked Reese.
“Do you have to pay money for it in the hall?” Aladane chimed in.
Reese gave Emeline an incredulous look. She smiled and shook her head, signaling that it was hopeless.
“Couldn’t we eat with you? Please?” Dale pressed Reese.
“Dale, that’s enough,” Dada cut in quickly. “Sir Reese has spent enough of his time with us. He has things to do.” The boys fell silent obediently, but they looked at Reese with hopeful eyes. “We should get back in touch with Quaith. Sir Reese is right. We need more protection.”
“Quaith will be at dinner in the hall,” Reese told them slowly. “…I suppose you may as well come with me and kill two birds with one stone.”
Dale and Aladane grinned at each other triumphantly, and Emeline bit down a smile. Reese looked at her and then away again quickly. She felt her heartbeat quicken.
Did he want to spend more time with her, as she did with him? Was he worried about her? Or was he just protecting a royal witness?
“Are you sure? Will it cause any trouble?” Dada asked him.
Reese shook his head and started in the direction of the hall’s silver gates, the same ones where the other knights had called out for entrance. She lagged behind a little as the others followed him, nervous, even when the guards opened the gates at Reese’s command. What would the fine folk on the other side think of her and her family?
Beyond the gates, there was a pathway of polished stones, stretching out ahead into shadow. Reese gave Emeline a concerned look, suddenly, as she made sense of the source of that shadow.
Trees. It was a forest.
She froze, and he put a steadying hand on her arm.
“Is that…?” Dale asked.
“Woods!” Dada exclaimed. He and Fish stepped back, horrified.
“It’s all right,” Reese told them. “This is the king’s private grove. It is safe. I swear.” His large, warm hand on Emeline’s arm comforted her more than his words.
“The king has a grove? Has he gone mad?!” Fish demanded. Dale was frowning nervously. Aladane’s mouth hung open.
Reese looke
d as if he were about to make a sharp reply, but then thought better of it. “It is completely disconnected from the world outside this wall, and it always has been,” he said patiently. “It’s a thousand years old. I assure you, it’s absolutely safe. The king himself takes walks inside it whenever he is well enough.”
“Why ever would he do that?” Fish muttered, shuddering.
Emeline took a small step forward. A safe forest? Was it possible? Reese let her arm go, watching her. The trees sighed softly in a breeze.
“Because…it’s beautiful,” she breathed. It had never really dawned on her before, that woods were beautiful as well as dangerous. And if one could remove the danger…?
“There should be a moat,” Dada said. He stopped Dale from moving to follow her.
“If His Majesty had ever seen anything like what we saw back at that old manor, I imagine he would’ve told one of his knights,” Reese said calmly. He stepped out onto the path and Emeline followed hesitantly, the others hanging back. Behind them, the silver doors were cranking closed, wound by a massive winch.
Then the gates were shut, and they were alone in the woods.
Fear swelled up inside her. The family padded anxiously after Reese, listening to the stirring of leaves and branches, smelling the bark and the damp earth. The trees blocked out most of the evening sky.
The image of the Ithin in the cottage flared up and she closed her eyes. How can we do this?
“Is this the only way in?” Aladane whimpered.
“This doesn’t feel right at all,” Fish muttered. Beautiful or not, it was a primal fear they were facing now.
There was no sign of the King’s Hall ahead; the wood was too thick. A single lighted pole marked a division in the path, and Reese turned left, glancing back at Emeline. She followed slowly, feeling like she was in a dream, a dream that could turn into a nightmare at any moment. But she trusted Reese. She trusted Reese.
“Emeline, stay close,” Dada said, low.
Reese reached another lighted fork in the path and they all hurried after him. There was a small stone fountain near the fork, carved into the shape of a boy pouring water.
“Water!” Dale whispered. He and Fish immediately plunged their hands into the basin, splashing themselves thoroughly.
A flock of birds suddenly burst into the air from the tree-tops. Aladane squawked. He and Dale broke into a run and Dada started after them, Fish following.
Emeline almost sprang off, too, but she stopped and looked at Reese, her heart hammering. Surely the hall was close now! Surely they were almost there! Why didn’t he say so?
“Go left!” Reese yelled after her family, upsetting another group of birds. His green eyes sparkled and she realized that he was trying not to laugh. Her temper flared.
“Are we entertaining you?” she demanded, repeating his remark from the practice field. But her voice was shaky.
He did laugh then, but to her relief, there was nothing mean-spirited about it: It was a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I suppose quite a few terrified villagers have raced through here over the years.”
She nodded, the warmth from his laugh thawing her. She forgave him. They walked together quietly until they came upon a yawning doorway in a stone wall. Just inside it, Dada and Fish stood panting, the boys gaping back out at the trees.
“Emeline!” Dada called, relieved, and she rushed to join them. Reese strode in afterward and wisely said nothing as the villagers collected themselves.
They were in a high-ceilinged corridor. Several enormous, deteriorating tapestries hung from the walls, protected by panels of spotless glass. The floor was covered in smooth blue tiles, polished clean.
“Are there any more trees?” Aladane panted. “I don’t think I can run anymore.”
“I guess it’s a good way to keep people out, anyway,” Fish grumbled, peering back into the grove.
Trying not to smile, Reese led the way down the corridor. There was an armored figure standing up ahead, but Emeline quickly realized it was just an empty suit on display. It was the black armor of a Lash Knight, well-polished, but the dark plates looked thinner, much less impenetrable than Reese’s suit. Like the tapestries, it was very old.
“Who did that belong to?” Aladane’s voice still sounded breathless.
“Sir Rengle,” Reese said.
“The first Lash Knight!” Dale exclaimed. He darted over to the armor shell.
“Not the first. Just the first to wear the black armor,” Reese told him, sounding distracted. He glanced at Emeline as the others stopped to admire Sir Rengle’s suit.
“Why does the helmet look like a dog’s muzzle?” she asked.
“Because we’re faithful to the king.” He lowered his voice. “The other knights at dinner…I was serious when I said they’re not as charming as I am.” There was only a trace of sarcasm in the words.
She searched his face for a moment, unsure whether he meant that the knights would be unpleasant to her family, or to him, in front of them. She remembered the knight in the field who had thrown knives at him out of turn, and wanted to take his hand. But she couldn’t, of course.
“It’s all right,” she said instead.
The corridor bent to the right and opened up into a crowded hall, the air filled with the hum of footfalls and voices. Gone was the blue-tiled floor of the outer corridor, replaced with a very old stone, worn so smooth by age that her boots slid. There were tall, dark windows on one side, paned in colored glass that would glimmer in daylight. The people bustling by included guards in leathers and upper servants in motley; snatches of conversation reached her ears.
“…And then the cook threw a pan at him! The whole kitchen was laughing…!”
“…Sir Dinta was on board when the captain fell ill….”
“…Have you done the curtains yet? The ones in the library…”
The crowd parted for a tall young woman striding along in a flowing, gold-embroidered dress, her dark hair coiled elegantly around her head, her bronze skin glowing. Was this a fine lady like the kitchen girls at the Mother’s Milk had mentioned? Emeline looked sideways at Reese, but he gave no sign of even seeing her. Perhaps he was used to such beauty.
A lady’s maid in a short cotehardie and wide-legged trousers followed the lady, checking a page in a small book. “And you have dinner with his father afterward, so may I suggest…”
Then they were gone, replaced by a group of boys dressed like the ones that brought the knights their weapons on the practice field. Squires? They wore the same brown tunics, and they were elbowing one another and laughing.
Dale bumped into one of them and the boy yelled, “Watch it, ragtag!”
Emeline shot him a look and he smirked back at her. Brat.
“Why does it take so many people to run this place?” Fish asked, bewildered.
“I’m not convinced it does,” Reese replied.
“That’s what I figured,” the farmer muttered.
Reese led them through an archway into a large, grand room with a vaulted ceiling. It was lined with many tables and chairs, all of them trimmed in silver. In fact, everything in the room glinted with silver, even the plates and glasses carried by servers in royal blue livery. An enormous, elaborate cluster of lights dangled from the cavernous ceiling, putting the fixtures in the villagers’ rooms to shame.
There were also colored-glass windows that looked out into the dusky woods. Emeline quickly averted her eyes from them.
At the tables, there were a few Lash Knights still half-dressed in their armor, but many were dressed like Reese—most of them were large, strapping men uncomfortably squeezed into their seats. There were also men and women dressed like Quaith in trim coats and motley trousers.
“That’s a bird!” Aladane declared, pointing at the meat on the plates. “Look, that’s a wing. Is it good?”
> “When they don’t burn it.” Reese sauntered toward one of the side tables where empty plates and a spread of food were waiting: rolls of bread with nuts baked in; strange-looking, colorful salads; lumpy roots in a brown sauce; plenty of meat; and a yellow stew smelling of garlic. The scents were intoxicating, even if the sights were strange, and Emeline felt hungrier than she had expected.
Carrying their plates, the Equanians followed Reese past many staring eyes to a table with empty seats. He sat down with a thump and began to eat with no comment. There was some bustle as the boys moved to sit together, and then they were all seated and poking at the strange food.
“Hello!” a familiar voice said.
Emeline looked up to see Innish standing at the table. He had cleaned up since they’d seen him last, and wore an embroidered vest over black trousers, the same necklace chain still disappearing under his shirt. He was holding a silver mug.
“Hello, Innish,” Dada said, and Fish nodded, chewing.
“I didn’t expect to see you with us at dinner. How are you finding the capital?” Innish pulled out the empty chair next to Reese and sat down.
“It’s amazing! Reese has been showing us around,” Dale said. Innish gave Reese a surprised look, but the knight ignored him.
“Do you live here in the King’s Hall?” Aladane asked Innish.
“Don’t answer that. The questions will just keep coming,” Reese warned, drinking. Emeline laughed, and his eyes smiled at her over his mug.
“I do. I live in the guards’ quarters,” Innish told the boys amiably. “In the old days, the knights, upper servants, and guardsmen dined separately, but since King Altin’s time, we mingle freely. You, my boy—our young historian! Did you ever read anything about him?”
Dale thought for a moment.
“He went to the Outer Lands like Lord Irwind. But he came back.”
“That’s right, and he returned with some strange new ideas,” Innish said, eyes twinkling.
“Like what?” Emeline asked.
“He proposed that academies, libraries, and museums be accessible to everyone, and he changed the royal tax system so that villages and small towns owed less than the cities,” Innish explained patiently. “He also ended the royal treatment of kings’ and queens’ extended families, so that regular citizens no longer had to bow to lords and ladies that were cousins and so on. He generally made things less formal between the common people and royalty, you see.”
Between the Water and the Woods Page 16