A Princess of Landover

by Terry Brooks

  She followed him up, ascending the tower steps in steady progression, counting until she lost interest. Slits cut into the walls allowed for just enough light to find the way but not enough to chase the gloom. The bats clung to the walls here and there in shadowy communities, but she couldn’t quite decide how they got in since the slits seemed too narrow. It wasn’t until she neared the top and the light brightened that she saw barred window openings in the upper reaches of the tower flanking a heavy ironbound door that sat at the apex of the stairs.

  Thom reached the door, lifted the latch, and pushed. The door opened with a creaking of metal fastenings, and sunlight poured through in a bright gray wash.

  Once through the opening, they were outside the castle, elevated on a battlement that gave a 360-degree view of the countryside beyond. Mistaya could see for miles, even though the day was hazy and the lake country mists snaked through the forests to coil in pools in the vales and deeps. She could see the dark flanks of the mountains south and west, and father north the deep emerald of the Greensward.

  She even thought she caught a momentary glimpse of Sterling Silver’s bright gleam through the drifting haze.

  “What do you think?” Thom asked her, and she gave him a broad grin.

  They sat facing each other on a bench at the edge of the battlement, their food and drink settled between them, the sweep of the countryside visible through notches in the ancient stone. It seemed to Mistaya that the battlement had been constructed not so much for defensive as for architectural purposes, and she didn’t think it was ever intended for Libiris to be defended against an attacker.

  “There really is a throw latch on the door,” Thom advised with a wink, “and I threw it. Rufus will have to find something else to do with himself until lunch is over.”

  “Why is he spying on us, anyway?” she wanted to know.

  Thom shrugged. “Hard to say. I’m sure he has his reasons. It’s not just you. He watches me, too. Not all the time, but now and then. I think he does it to feel like he’s in control of things. Nominally, he’s in charge of my work. Practically, he doesn’t have any idea at all how I go about it. The Throg Monkeys don’t listen to him, either.”

  “The Throg Monkeys are just plain creepy. I wish we had some other help we could call on.”

  “I wish that, too. I wish we could do more to put the library back to where it once was. Have you bothered to look at those books you’re cataloging? Some of them are wonderful, filled with useful information and strange stories. I love looking at them.”

  “I would love it better if Pinch wasn’t watching all the time.” She gave him a look. “I guess I haven’t paid much attention to what’s in the books. If they’re so useful, why isn’t anyone reading them?”

  He shrugged anew. “People haven’t come here in decades. Not since before you and I were born. Most don’t even know about the library. As a matter of fact, most don’t even read. They’ve forgotten how or don’t take the time. They have all they can do to keep food on the table. Life isn’t easy for most living here in Landover. They have to work very hard.”

  She frowned, aware that she hadn’t given the matter much thought. “I suppose that’s true.”

  He didn’t say anything more for a moment, munching solemnly on his food as he looked out across the countryside. “When I come up here, I like to pretend that all the lands, for as far as I can see, belong to me, and I can do whatever I want with them.”

  She laughed. “What would you do, if you had the chance?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I’d give them away.”

  “Give them away? To whom?”

  To all those people we’ve been talking about. Most Landoverians living in the Greensward have to work for the Lords because the Lords hold title to all the land. Half of what they farm or earn or forage belongs to their masters. They owe allegiance in case of war. They owe fealty oaths of all sorts. They really don’t have anything that they can call their own. I’d give them the land.”

  She nodded, thinking. “Hasn’t the King thought of this? I heard he made a lot of changes in the old feudal system.”

  “He did. More than any King before him. He’s done a lot of good. But he can only do so much. If he tried to take the land away from the Lords of the Greensward, there would be a war. Only the Lords can give away their own land.”

  “But doesn’t the King own this land?” she pressed, gesturing at their immediate surroundings. “Isn’t Libiris his?”

  “Libiris is his, but the land isn’t. As a matter of fact, title to this particular piece of land is held jointly by the Lords and the River Master. It took years for them to agree on using even this small piece to build Libiris. I don’t think they’ve ever agreed on anything since.”

  “Maybe they could be persuaded to do more,” she said.

  He laughed. “Why don’t you be the one to persuade them, then? A girl who talked with the dragon Strabo and lived to tell about it should be able to deal with mere mortals!”

  “Maybe the King could do something,” she suggested impulsively.

  He gave her a look. “You know, I was once inside the castle and saw the King.”

  She felt her throat tighten. “How did that happen?”

  “I was with a group of boys carrying baggage for one of the Lords. So I was allowed inside for a bit, and I saw the King and his Queen. I even saw their little girl.”

  She nodded slowly, measuring his look. “How long ago was this?”

  “Quite a while. I don’t remember a lot about it. I was just a boy. The little girl was just a child. She would be older now. Your age, maybe.” He grinned. “But she wouldn’t be nearly so interesting or pretty as you are, I bet.”

  She was suddenly anxious to change the topic of conversation. “Tell me the rest of how you ended up being sent here as an indentured servant.”

  He finished the last of his bread and meat and washed it down with several swallows of water. “As I recall, the bargain was that you were supposed to tell me something interesting about yourself first. Something other than that story about you and the dragon.”

  “That wasn’t a bargain I made. That was your condition for finishing the story—a very unfair condition, I might add.”

  He thought about it. “All right, maybe it was. If I finish the story, will you tell me something else about yourself afterward?”

  She stuck out her hands. “Let’s shake on it.”

  They shook, his hands strong and firm as they grasped hers. She liked the feel of them—not too rough, but they had seen hard work.

  “Well, then?” she asked, withdrawing her hands from his.

  “There’s not much more to tell,” he said. “My father sold me into indenture to His Eminence because he felt I might find a better future here than if I stayed with him. There wasn’t much work in the village and no one to teach me a useful trade. Or at least not a trade that interested me. He thought that coming here, working with books I could read and studying on my own when I wasn’t working, might better serve me.”

  “Well, couldn’t he have sent you to study with His Eminence instead of indenturing you for five years? It would have been the same thing!”

  Thom shook his head. “His Eminence wouldn’t allow it. No one gets to come to Libiris and stay without a reason. His bargain with my father was that if I came, it was as an indentured servant. That was the condition to my apprenticeship. When I am done working, I owe His Eminence half of my first five years’ earnings in my chosen trade, as well.”

  “That’s unfair!” Mistaya was indignant. “He can’t do that!”

  Thom laughed. “Tell you what. When you talk to the King about persuading the Lords to give up their lands to the poor people, put in a good word for me, too.”

  “Maybe I will,” she declared boldly.

  He leaned over and brushed her hair back from her face in a curiously tender gesture. “You have a good heart, little sister. Whoever you are and wherever you came from, you have
a good heart.”

  She didn’t know what to say. “I think you have a good heart, too,” she managed.

  There was a moment when their eyes locked and time seemed to freeze. She waited, her anticipation of what might happen next so sharp it made her ache.

  Then abruptly he stood up. “Come along. Back to work. Rufus will grow bored if we’re not there to be spied upon.”

  She certainly wouldn’t want that, she thought. She felt a pang of disappointment that their time alone together was over. She wanted more. She determined that she would have it.

  Picking up their plates and cups, she followed him back through the tower door and down the stairs to work.

  It was late in the afternoon, the time nearly run out on their day’s efforts, when Mistaya heard someone calling. The voice was so faint and so distant that at first she thought she was mistaken. She stopped what she was doing and listened for a long few moments without hearing anything more. Her imagination, she supposed. A place this cavernous could play tricks on you, deceive you into hearing and seeing things that weren’t there.

  She had risen to begin sorting through a new stack of books when she heard it again. She stood listening anew, staring off into space and trying to pinpoint the location. She thought it had come from somewhere back in the Stacks, where the darkness was so thick and deep that it was virtually impenetrable. But there was only silence.

  “Did you hear something?” she asked Thom finally.

  He glanced up and shook his head. “No. Did you?”

  “I thought so.”

  He shrugged and went back to his sorting. She watched him for a few moments, absorbed in his work, and then she quietly rose and started walking toward the interior of the Stacks, searching the gloom. The shelves ran on endlessly into the darkness, finally disappearing altogether. How far back did they go? How big was this room, anyway? She kept walking, glancing over her shoulder once to where Thom knelt on the floor, absorbed in his work. The silence was deep and pervasive, broken only by the soft sounds of her footfalls and Thom’s rustling of pages.

  Then she heard the voice again, and this time she was certain that it came from somewhere in the direction she was going.

  “Ellice!” Thom called out suddenly. “Wait!”

  She stopped and turned. She was surprised to find that she had gone far enough down the aisle that he was almost out of sight. “What?”

  He was approaching her at a run. “Don’t go any farther!”

  She stared at him. “What are you talking about? I was just …”

  “I know what you were doing,” he interrupted. His face was flushed as he came to a stop in front of her, and she was shocked to catch a glimpse of fear on his angular features. “I don’t want you going into the Stacks by yourself. Not ever. Not without me. Understood?”

  She nodded, not understanding at all. “What’s back there?”

  “Nothing,” he said quickly. Then he shook his head in denial. “Maybe nothing. But maybe something, too. I don’t know. I just know it might be dangerous.” He saw the look on her face and grimaced. “I know how that sounds. But I know what can happen because it happened to me.”

  She gave him a look. “Are you going to tell me what it was?”

  He nodded. “But not here. Not now. Tonight. Just promise me you’ll do as I say.”

  She was touched by his concern. He was genuinely worried for her. “All right, I promise. But I still think I heard something.”

  She followed him back to where they had been working, quietly dissatisfied. She had told him she would not to go back into the Stacks alone, but she had already decided she was doing exactly that the first chance she got. It wasn’t lying exactly; it was more like …

  Well, she didn’t know what it was more like. But it was not his decision to make; it was hers.

  She had heard the voice clearly the last time it called, and she didn’t think there was any way she could ignore its plea.

  Help me, it had begged.

  THEY SEEK HER HERE, THEY SEEK HER THERE

  High Lord Ben Holiday, beleaguered King of Landover and increasingly troubled father of Mistaya, was up early the next morning. He had been unable to sleep for yet another night and had slipped out of the bedroom and come down to his desk in the library to do some work. Even though he was consumed by thoughts of his absent daughter, there were pressing issues in the governing of his Kingdom that required resolution. And even though much of what he did in those still-dark morning hours consisted of rumination and paper rearranging he still felt as if he was doing something.

  He looked up in surprise as Bunion appeared in the doorway and announced the arrival of a messenger from the River Master. Ben was still in his robe and pajamas, not accustomed to receiving visitors either at this hour or in this state of dress. Still, he would make an exception here. He told Bunion he would see the messenger, and the kobold disappeared without a word. Within minutes the kobold was back, their visitor in tow. The messenger entered with a slight bow, an oddly misshapen creature with twigs and leaves growing out of his body and patches of moss attached to the top of his head.

  “High Lord,” he growled softly, a strange guttural sound that caught Ben by surprise. “The River Master awaits you on the far side of the causeway. He wishes to speak to you of his granddaughter.”

  Ben was on his feet at once, asking Bunion and the messenger to wait where they were. He headed down the hallway and up the stairs to wake Willow. They were washed and dressed in minutes and on their way downstairs to meet Mistaya’s grandfather. The River Master refused to go inside man-made structures, which were anathema to him. All meetings had to be conducted out in the open. Ben was used to this and didn’t let it bother him. The River Master almost never left his home in Elderew. The fact that he had come to Sterling Silver said much about the importance of his visit. In any case, Ben would have gone anywhere to meet him if he had news of Mistaya.

  He glanced at Willow as they descended the stairways of the castle in the company of Bunion and the woodsy-clad messenger. She looked calm and alert despite the circumstances, her beautiful face serene. The fact that she had been awoken from a sound sleep seemed not to have affected her at all. Nor did she seem bothered by the unexpected visit from her father, who was indifferent to her in the best of times. Ben knew she had grown used to his coldness, the result of his inability to accept her mother’s refusal to become his wife, a betrayal of which Willow’s birth reminded him every day of his life. His grudging acceptance of her marriage to an outsider and her status as Queen of Landover was the best she could hope for. If not for Mistaya, he would undoubtedly have less to do with either of them than he did, so she was probably grateful just for that, though she never spoke of it.

  Ben studied her a moment—the slender curve of her body, the smooth and graceful walk, and the strange mix of emerald-green hair and moss-green skin. He had loved her from the moment he had encountered her so unexpectedly, twenty years ago, standing in the waters of the Irrylyn, naked in the moonlight. She had told him he was for her, and that in the fairy way they were bound by fate. He could not imagine now, though he had been doubtful then, that it could have turned out any other way.

  She glanced over at him suddenly and smiled, as if she knew what he was thinking. She was almost prescient, at times. He smiled back, reaching over and taking her hand in his. Whatever else happened in their lives, he knew they would never be apart again.

  They left the castle through the main gates and crossed the drawbridge and causeway to the far shore of the mainland from their island home. The River Master was waiting just inside a screen of trees not two hundred yards from the moat. He stood with a single retainer, his tall, spare form as still and hard as if it were carved from stone. He wore a look of obvious distaste, which might have had something to do with the people he was meeting or the purpose of his coming or even the weather—there was no way of telling. His nearly featureless face, smooth and hard, turned toward them as t
hey approached, but gave no sign of interest one way or the other.

  Ben nodded as he reached Willow’s father. The leader of the once-fairy nodded back, but spared not even a momentary glance for Willow.

  “I’ve come about my granddaughter,” he announced tonelessly

  How typical of him to refer to Mistaya as his granddaughter, Ben thought. As if she belonged to him. As if that were what mattered.

  “She came to Elderew to ask for ‘sanctuary,’ as she referred to it,” he continued, hurrying his sentences as if to get through quickly. “She complained that she was being misused and generally misunderstood by her parents. I don’t pretend to understand all of it or even to care. I told her that her visit was welcome, but that sanctuary was not a reasonable solution to her problems. I told her she must go home and face you directly rather than trying to use me as a go-between.”

  He paused. “In short, I did what I would have expected you to do should one of my children come crying about their treatment.”

  Something about the way he said it suggested that he was referring in oblique fashion to Willow. Ben didn’t get the connection, but thought it best not to comment. “But she didn’t take your advice, I gather?”

  The River Master folded his arms. “She disappeared sometime during the night and was not seen again. The once-fairy, on my orders, attempted to track her and failed. That should not have happened, and I worried over the reason. Only a true fairy creature could hide its tracks from us. Was she in the company of one? I waited for her to return, as I thought she might. When she didn’t, I decided to come here to tell you what had happened.”

  Ben nodded. “I appreciate that you did.”

  “I should have done more. She is my granddaughter, and I would not forgive myself if something happened to her.”

  “Do you have reason to think that something has?” Willow asked suddenly, speaking for the first time.

  The River Master glanced at her, as if just realizing she was there, and then looked off into the distance. “She came to Elderew with a pair of G’home Gnomes. She claimed they were friends who had helped her. I thought them untrustworthy traveling companions for a Princess, but she is never predictable. Her mud puppy was with her as well, however, even though we did not see him, so I thought her safe enough from harm.”