by Jane Yolen
“A nobility of purpose? What in all of Faerie does that mean? Sounds a lot like toff nonsense to me.”
He scratched his chin. “I mean that I believe what my father says about the curse of rule. I believe in the responsibility of leaders to their people. And I believe I have . . . I’ve failed in that responsibility, not once, but twice now.”
“Failed how?”
“Once when I let Jack Daw deceive me. And the second time when I let my mother free me.”
“Bah!” She spat into the moss for emphasis.
“It’s not what you believe, Nomi, it’s what I believe. And I believe I have . . . um . . . I’ve failed as a hostage. I failed as a prince. I alone am responsible for this war.”
And so saying what was lying heavy on his heart, he walked on, no longer able to look over at Snail, only looking down at his feet.
It took Aspen a few moments to realize Snail was not following him. Glancing back, he saw she was leaning against a birch tree, one hand idly picking at the bark.
“You haven’t failed as a friend, Your Serenity.” She looked up at him and smiled. “I mean Karl. The minstrel.”
“Haven’t I? Last I checked, we were alone in the woods with no home, no plan, and no allies. Oh, and no less than two armies gathering for war whose soldiers will have orders to kill us on sight!”
Snail stopped picking at the tree bark and stood up straight. She stepped toward Aspen and said, “And last time I checked, no less than two kings and one queen have ordered our deaths, and yet here we are, alive.”
She stood in front of him now and grasped him by the arms. “Alive!” She looked hard into his eyes for a moment then backed away a step. “Listen, Karl. I’m sure you feel like you’ve lost everything.”
“Well that is . . . that’s comforting.”
“I wasn’t done. And now you’re interrupting me.”
“Sorry.” He could not believe he just said that. To an apprentice. The world had turned upside down and he was not sure he was comfortable with that.
“You may have lost everything,” she said, “but you don’t see what you’ve gained.” She walked a slow circle around the nearest tree, her hand on its trunk. “I didn’t even see it till just now.”
He watched her, confused. “See what?”
“It’s been easier for me to understand, because I had nothing much to lose. Except my life.”
“Understand what?”
“That we’re free. We may not live to see next week. Mab’s mercy! We might not live through this day and the night. But we’re beholden to none. No one owns us. From here on, we make our own path.”
“That sounds nice.” And suddenly it did. Wandering the world free of responsibility, free to come and go as one pleases, no king or kin sending one to stay in dirty, old fortresses full of dirty, mean creatures. “But . . .”
“But?”
Aspen sighed. “But I am beholden.”
“Princespeak.”
“All right—I’m beholden. It means the same thing.”
“And that is . . . ?”
“Listen, Snail—”
“Nomi,” she corrected him.
“Right. Nomi. For you, freedom must be wonderful. You didn’t choose your life—it was thrust upon you. No one—especially not me—would blame you for taking your new freedom and disappearing into the woods with it. But I want . . .” He paused. “No, I need—”
“A nobility of purpose,” Snail finished for him.
He nodded and she stared at him with what he hoped was admiration but feared was pity. “Yes.”
“And what is this purpose?” she asked.
“I don’t know . . .” he began but stopped abruptly as he realized he did know. It was so obvious he wondered that it had taken him so long to think of it. The fact that it’s completely impossible and insane may have had something to do with it. Quickly he shrugged the thought off. Folding his arms in front of him in what he hoped was a resolute pose, he said to Snail, “I’m going to stop the war.”
He was very surprised that she didn’t snort again. Instead, she asked him quite seriously, “And how are you going to do that?”
“I’ve absolutely no idea,” he answered honestly. “But I know I’m going to need help.”
She cocked her head at him, then looked away into the forest, as if mentally wandering its paths alone and seeing where they led. Then she sighed a bit theatrically and took two steps up to him and hooked her arm through his. “If I end up a kitchen slave again because of your ‘nobility of purpose’ I’m going to be very, very angry.”
Chuckling, Aspen lead them out of the clearing’s thin light and back into the dark of the thicker forest where they might be safe for the coming night.
“Good,” he said. “I like you best when you’re angry.”
“And I,” she countered, “like you best when you have a plan.”
END OF BOOK ONE OF THE SEELIE WARS TRILOGY
JANE YOLEN, called “the Hans Christian Andersen of America” (Newsweek) and the “Aesop of the Twentieth Century” (The New York Times), is the author of well over three hundred books, including Owl Moon, The Devil’s Arithmetic, and the How Do Dinosaurs . . . series. Her work ranges from rhymed picture books and baby board books through middle grade fiction, poetry collections, and nonfiction, and up to novels and story collections for young adults and adults. She has also written lyrics for folk-rock singers and groups, and several animated shorts. She’s done voiceover work and talk radio. Her books and stories have won an assortment of awards—two Nebulas, a World Fantasy Award, a Caldecott Medal, the Golden Kite Award, three Mythopoeic Awards, two Christopher Medals, a nomination for the National Book Award, and the Jewish Book Award, among many others. She has been nominated three times for the Pushcart Prize. She is also the winner of the World Fantasy Association’s Lifetime Achievement Award, the Science Fiction Poetry Association’s Grand Master Award, the Catholic Library’s Regina Medal, the Kerlan Medal from the University of Minnesota, the 2012 de Grummond Medal, and the Smith College Alumnae Medal. Six colleges and universities have given her honorary doctorates.
Also worthy of note, she lost her fencing foil in Grand Central Station on a date and fell overboard while white-water rafting in the Colorado River, and her Skylark Award—given by NESFA, the New England Science Fiction Association—set her good coat on fire. If you need to know more about her, visit her website at www.janeyolen.com.
ADAM STEMPLE is an author, musician, web designer, maker of book trailers, and professional card player. He has published many short stories, and CDs and tapes of his music, as well as five fantasy novels—three for middle graders and two for adults. One of the middle grade novels, Pay the Piper (also written with Jane Yolen), won the 2006 Locus Award for Best Young Adult Book. The Locus plaque sits on the shelf next to two Minnesota Music Awards and trophies from his Fall Poker Classic and All In Series wins. His solo adult novel, Singer of Souls, was described by Anne McCaffrey as, “One of the best first novels I have ever read.”
For musings, music downloads, code snippets, and writing advice, visit him at adamstemple.com.