The Word Changers

by Ashlee Willis

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Nocturne,” he answered, puffing out his chest. “Falak sent me to aid your escape. It seems, though, that you did not want to make it easy on yourself.” He shook his head back and forth disapprovingly.

  “I—I thought I could trust ...” Posy’s voice faded. “Well, I was wrong. I learned my lesson. There is no one I can trust. Maybe not even Falak.”

  “Hoo-Hoo!” cried Nocturne indignantly. “Falak is the only one you can trust! He may be the king’s Chief Adviser, but he has a vision for the Kingdom that goes even beyond what the king himself wishes to do.”

  “Oh?” Posy answered, raising her eyebrows. “Just what is Falak’s vision?”

  “He knows what most of the characters only dream of ....” Nocturne stopped and eyed Posy suspiciously as if she would coax secrets from him against his will. “But I cannot tell you—those are things meant for the ears of King Melanthius and his advisers only.”

  Posy’s eyes widened. “But I have heard people speak of the Author. What does he have to do with it all? Doesn’t he choose how the Plot goes? Wasn’t he the one who wrote the book to begin with? That’s how it is with stories where I come from.”

  “Oh, the Author may still be here or there .... We do not know, really. But none of us has seen him for years and years. The characters believe he has abandoned his book. Falak says we must uphold the Plot ourselves.”

  “And what do you think, Nocturne?” Posy scrutinized the little white owl closely.

  Nocturne shook out his wings uncomfortably. “I ... I have often thought that perhaps ...” He stopped abruptly. “No. We cannot dally with this talk now. Falak would have my tail feathers if he knew I was speaking to you of these things! Of his plans! Please ...”—he hesitated—“do not mention it to him?”

  “Of course not,” Posy answered with a smile, feeling rather more warmly toward this creature than anyone she had yet met. “I am interested in how you think I will ever leave this room with guards posted at my door to watch my every move.”

  “Oh, that does make things difficult, but by no means impossible. Come,” Nocturne flapped to the window. “Open it,” he commanded.

  Posy swung open the heavy shutters. “I hope you don’t want me to tie my bed sheets together and climb down,” she said with a laugh.

  Nocturne made a guttural noise in his throat. Posy wasn’t sure if it was disdain or laughter. “Indeed, no.” He perched himself on the windowsill and said, “Ah, here we are.”

  Posy squinted into the night, which was clear and crisp. The night breeze felt refreshing against her tear-stained cheeks. She saw one small cloud in the sky, dark and low, which looked a bit ominous. Even as she watched, it was coming closer to the castle.

  “What is that?” she asked, pointing.

  “That, my lady, is your escape,” Nocturne said smugly. If owls could smile, he would have done so as he took in the astonishment on Posy’s face.

  “Why, it’s ... they’re ...”

  “Owls, yes,” Nocturne nodded. “Only some local ones hired for the job—none of them royal advisers, mind you; that would be undignified.”

  Posy watched with fascination as the owls swarmed toward her window, closer and closer, a great pulsing mass of wings. “But how are they my escape? What are they going to do?” she asked incredulously.

  “Well, you are obviously too large for a few owls to carry, aren’t you now? So we had to enlist around one hundred of them, just to be on the safe side. You are shorter than Princess Evanthe, but she was slenderer, so it was hard to judge.”

  “You mean, these owls helped the princess escape, too?”

  “Why, yes, they did. And proud of it, they are! You ought to hear them talk about it—well, I can tell you, I’m sure their friends are sick of hearing of it by now—I know I certainly am. All their high talk about furthering the Kingdom—bah. It’s Falak who deserves the credit for it .... He arranged everything.”

  Falak? Posy’s thoughts halted to a stop. Falak had arranged for the princess’ escape? Impossible! Hadn’t he told her that very morning he didn’t know why the princess had chosen to desert them, to betray the Plot? What could it mean?

  “Ah, here we are now. Look sharp.” Nocturne dove off the windowsill and back into the room to perch on the end of the bed. Posy just managed to move sideways out of the opening of the window as the throng of owls all came flying and flapping into her room in a deafening whirlwind of feathers and hoots. She knew it would be a miracle if the guards stationed outside her door did not hear the commotion.

  “Now, fellows,” Nocturne’s voice rose above the shifting and the ruffling as owls perched on every possible surface in the room. “We must help yet another princess to escape. You fellows did a remarkable job last time.” Nocturne winked at Posy. “So I know you can do it again. We will be taking her to the stables. That is where Falak is waiting for her.”

  “But how—” began Posy, but Nocturne held up a wing to stop her.

  “Come over here now, if you please, and sit in the middle of the bed.”

  Posy looked at all of the round gleaming eyes staring at her curiously. She knew that even if she did not completely trust Falak, she had nowhere else to turn. Falak himself had said it the night before: she would have to trust him. She walked across the room and settled herself into the middle of the great bed. The owls immediately began to close in around her. If it hadn’t been so bizarre she would have burst out laughing. The owls began crowding each other, sinking their claws into the edges of the blanket Posy sat on, and she understood then what they meant to do.

  When they had taken hold of the blanket, the company of owls all began flapping upward until Posy was funneled down and her legs and arms seemed to fold in on her as the blanket went up on all sides. She closed her eyes and tried not to cry out as she tumbled backward into the blanket cocoon. The owls flew across the room toward the open window.

  “Not a hoot now, mind,” cautioned Nocturne as loudly as he dared above the incessant flapping of wings. “We must be as quiet as we can!”

  Too late for that, thought Posy as she felt a rush of cool air through the fabric enmeshed around her. She opened her eyes. The first things she saw were her own knees, for her nightgown had folded backward. She had undergarments on, but still she scrambled sideways, tugging at her gown to pull it down again. She soon found it was impossible to maneuver into a comfortable position. So she lay quietly, knees pulled to her chest, trying not to think about the possibility of the owls losing their grip on her. She gazed upward through the opening where the owls’ claws and wingtips were just visible and saw the white moon staring back down at her.

  Posy remembered a time when she had looked up at the moon in another world—her world. Was it not so long ago? The moon here was much larger. The stars twinkled with patterns that jumped out at her. A mermaid waved at her, far above, and swished its graceful tail, sending a shower of falling stars cascading across the black canvas sky.

  At last, the owls began to slow and descend, and Posy felt the ground beneath her back, and then a mass of blankets rippling toward her face and covering her in a mound.

  “Well done, well done, fellows!” Nocturne’s muffled voice came through the blankets.

  “Yes, indeed,” Posy now heard Falak’s voice. Posy pushed the blankets aside and got to her feet, feeling a bit dizzy. The group of owls flew away with one movement, gliding back into the dark as if they had never been. The night seemed strangely silent now. Posy turned to Falak, but her gaze focused on the person behind him, just leading a horse from the stable.

  “No!” Posy’s voice was low with panic. “He’s found out!” she said urgently to Falak, unable to take her eyes from Kyran as he sauntered over to them. Her body was ready to run. But where could she go?

  “Oh, you mean the prince,” Falak answered calmly. “He knows all. Don’t trouble yourself.”

  Kyran barely spared her a glance, though, and immediately
turned to Falak. “Why am I here?” he demanded. “I’m assuming it was you who summoned me? I’d know your cryptic, unsigned messages anywhere, Advisor.”

  “Yes, I did,” nodded Falak, unabashed at the prince’s accusatory tone. “We have great need of you, Prince Kyran. This is not your sister.” He spread a wing toward Posy.

  “Of course I know that!” Kyran said through gritted teeth. “Do you take me for a fool?”

  Falak blinked and continued as if Kyran had not spoken, “Your sister the princess Evanthe left the Kingdom and the Plot cannot go on without her. I am allowing this young woman to leave, though she was brought here for the purpose of fulfilling the princess’ role.”

  “And why would you do this, Chief Adviser?” Kyran scoffed. “Out of the goodness of your heart? Because you care so deeply about her well-being?”

  “Because we must find the real princess,” answered Falak shortly. He gestured toward Posy and Kyran. “And you two are going to find her.”

  “What?” exclaimed Posy.

  “Would you rather be back in the castle, then, awaiting your fate?” Falak asked innocently, eyes wide. Posy had no reply.

  “Why do you think I need to accompany her?” Kyran asked Falak skeptically. “If she leaves alone, no one would think twice about it, since we all know she is not the real princess. But if I left, too ... my father would surely send out a search for us!”

  “Not if I advise him against it,” answered Falak smoothly.

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” the prince said. “Why me? Why must I go as well? What have I to do with it?”

  “Why, Prince Kyran, I thought you would wish to find your sister! I thought you would want to bring her safely home!” Posy detected a subtle tinge of mockery in Falak’s voice. She thought it would be wise to watch this creature, this owl who was so close to the king. How did they know where his true loyalties lie?

  “Safely home?” burst out Kyran. “Wherever she is, however horrible it may be, she is better off there than here; that is certain! And you know it!”

  “Prince,” Falak said quietly, his voice heavy with a secret, “it is not known for certain, but it is thought that the princess has gone beyond the Borders and into the Wild Land itself.”

  Kyran’s face blanched when he heard the owl’s words and Posy saw fear flare behind his eyes.

  “I think you know what that means, Prince,” continued Falak. “I think you know the genuine danger she puts herself in, going to that place.” Kyran gave a silent nod. “So you see why we must find her and bring her back? Her fate in the Kingdom would be nothing compared to what she might face in the Wild Land. And who better to find her than her own brother? Her own brother who knows her mind and her thoughts better than anyone else? Who better to guess at where she might be?”

  Posy saw the determination on Kyran’s face then, and knew he had decided to find his sister, even if it meant going against his father’s wishes. And, she thought fearfully, I am to accompany him to this Wild Land, whatever that might be. The situation felt wrong, all wrong. She had not known exactly what would happen after her escape from the castle, but never would she have expected this. Never would she have wanted it. Now she was forced from a bad thing to something even worse: a journey to find a runaway who had no wish to be found. A journey to a place called the Wild Land, which had made the prince himself turn pale with dread.

  “Can you ride a horse?” Kyran turned to Posy and demanded.

  “N—no, I never have before.” She suddenly felt like crying.

  “Well, then, you will have to ride pillion with me,” he shrugged. “It will make our progress slower, and the horse will tire more quickly, but it can’t be helped. Come on, then.” Kyran turned to Falak and nodded. “I suppose you will be in contact with us somehow or another?”

  “Yes, I will send Egbert or one of my other owls to you if there is news or if I have instructions for you. You must remember, though, that once you are out of the Kingdom, beyond the Border and into the Wild Land, I will have no way of knowing where you are. The mist cannot follow you there. Then it will be up to you to contact me—and you must contact me. If I do not know where you are, I cannot protect you.”

  Kyran swung onto his enormous black horse and reached down for Posy’s arm, raising her easily into the saddle behind him.

  “You will find provisions in the saddlebags,” Falak said.

  “It is not a journey I would wish to make,” Kyran said suddenly, looking straight into Falak’s hooded orange eyes, “But I do it for my sister. I hope you are not scheming for yourself, Chief Adviser. I hope this chase will not prove to be pointless or contrived.”

  Falak widened his eyes and ruffled out his chest. “Prince Kyran,” he said, “you insult and wrong me. I work for the good of the Kingdom, as I always have and always will. That is my solemn promise to you.”

  “I suppose the good of the Kingdom means going behind the king’s back and sending his son and heir into danger, eh?” Kyran said, his horse dancing circles in anticipation of flight as Posy clung to his waist in terror. “Ah, well, we will see.” He flicked the reins and said, “Go on, Belenus.” The horse turned and trotted through the stable yard, its hooves thudding dully on the beaten-down earth.

  Posy turned to look once more at the castle, its great white towering walls glowing eerily in the moonlight. She sent out a silent wish that she would never have to return there, that her escape would not lead her into further danger. Somehow, she felt both of these wishes were futile.

  Falak perched silently on the fence, his large changeful eyes the only thing indicating he was not a statue. He watched them as they neared the shadows beyond the castle. Posy turned and lifted a hand to him in farewell. His eyes flashed, once, and his owlish expression turned to something full of menace. Something—Posy sucked in her breath—full of hate. A shiver racked her body and was gone, and with it the feeling of dread. The moonlight, Posy told herself with a yawn, could play many tricks.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Quest Begins

  Kyran and Posy rode all night. Several times, Posy's head drooped and her cheek fell against Kyran’s back as she grew weary. When she became conscious of it, she snapped back up, alert, shaking her head to drive her fatigue away. She couldn’t help admitting to herself, however begrudgingly, that as much as she disliked Prince Kyran, it was rather comfortable riding with her arms around his warm torso and having someone strong to lean against. Twice she felt the muscles of his stomach tighten as he leaned to pat Belenus and she had a pleasant sensation which quickly turned into red-faced embarrassment at what she found herself thinking. She wished she could keep her mind on where they were going, but she found herself closed in on her own thoughts. At last she decided conversation would keep her awake, and her mind from wandering.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” Posy started, realizing too late that the question might seem to imply distrust.

  Kyran shifted in the saddle and grunted.

  “I am sorry,” Posy tried again, truly contrite. “It’s just that I am afraid. Can you understand how I must be feeling? My family is a world away—literally—and I’m in a book. I’m an outlaw and a runaway, and I’m on a journey with someone who can’t stand me!”

  “Well, as heartrending as your self-pity is to me, I can’t say that your fate is any worse than mine,” Kyran answered snidely. “Actually, it is much better than mine, I’d say. If you had stayed at the castle, at least you would have had a glorious end in sacrifice. My life has no such meaning, according to the words of our story. And now that I am run away ... my father ....” His voice faded. Posy felt a surprising twinge of pity for him. She did not have to imagine what it was to be on the wrong side of the king’s wrath.

  “He will be angry,” said Posy quietly.

  “He will be outraged. But Falak will calm him; he always does.” Posy watched the back of Kyran’s head as he shook it and sighed. “Falak is the one ... he is the one who trul
y governs the Kingdom, not my father.”

  “But it is Falak who is helping us!” Posy said. “And it is Falak who brought me from my world to this one so I could fulfill the princess’ role.”

  “Yes, so don’t you find it a bit odd that now you are here, he wishes you away again?” He shook his head again, his black hair brushing the back of his neck. “I only wish I knew what he was scheming. He has too much power. Not like the old days. The owls weren’t always royal advisers, you know.”

  Posy blinked confusedly. “So, let me get this straight,” she said. “The Kingdom is where the Plot takes place. The Kingdom is ruled by your father, King Melanthius. Everyone in the Kingdom is a character.”

  “Yes, yes and yes,” Kyran answered impatiently. “I would have thought you’d been here long enough to figure those things out by now. How do they do things in your story?”

  Posy laughed and said, “Not like this, that’s for sure.” She continued her earlier thought. “So, if the Kingdom is part of a book, and the Plot is the same every time a reader comes, how can there have been a time when Falak and the owls weren’t royal advisers? Has the Plot changed from what it used to be?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose ...” Kyran’s voice was uncertain. “At least I’ve heard stories by those who remember, although not many are brave enough to speak of it to me. Everyone knows if it were to get back to my father that there was talk of the old days... well, let’s just say, it wouldn’t be good.”

  “He wouldn’t kill them?” Posy asked.

  Kyran’s still, silent back was answer enough. She shook her head. This king wasn’t a king at all ... he must be a tyrant.

  “It was so long ago, though,” Kyran continued at last. "It was when the Author first wrote the Plot. Too long for many to remember now.”

  “And the Author,” Posy pushed on, “Where does he come in? Why does everyone talk about him as if he used to be around, but isn’t anymore?”