Hap took one step backward, suddenly aware of how vulnerable Oates was because of the spell. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to pry! But …” He hesitated, then went on, anxious to make amends but careful not to pose another question. “Maybe you’ve learned how to be truthful while you’ve had this curse. You could be a different man, even if you’re cured.”
Oates sniffed, and looked at Hap with reddened eyes. “Do you really believe that?”
Hap was glad he wasn’t the one with the curse, because the truth was that he had no idea. “Yes, Oates, I really do,” he said.
Lying is a funny thing, Hap thought. Telling a lie made him feel worse. But the trace of a hopeful smile on Oates’s face made him feel better.
* * *
Hap stepped onto the terrace behind Oates. He heard the hush of the evening breeze and the cry of gulls skimming the waves. Across the harbor, the falling sun roasted the bellies of the clouds.
Umber was in the garden, sitting on a bench below a tree that grew from an enormous stone planter. With a broad smile, he waved Hap over. Oates stayed back and leaned against the wall. He pulled a tiny flute from his pocket and played a sad, lovely tune with a skill that surprised Hap.
“I hope you don’t mind Oates hanging about,” Umber said. “But I think you should be well guarded until we’re certain Occo is gone.” Umber had an apple in his hand. He cut it into pieces with his knife and popped them into his mouth. “Would you like some fruit, Hap? Take anything you like.”
Hap looked up and his jaw dropped. “How … ?” he said. The tree was of moderate size, perhaps ten feet tall, but far wider. Its branches sagged under the weight of dozens of fruits. But they weren’t just apples; the tree bore all manner of fruits and berries. Some should have been on bushes, and some on vines, and yet they were all together: apples, pears, peaches, plums, oranges, lemons, limes, strawberries, clusters of grapes, and others he did not recognize. An intoxicating odor met his nose because the tree was also bursting with blossoms.
“Something, isn’t it?” Umber said, spitting an apple seed. “It’s my tree of many fruits. A gift from a wizard I know. He’s devoted all his magical craft to botany. Perhaps you’ll meet him someday; he’s on one of the thousand isles out there in the Rulian Sea.”
A fist-size strawberry dangled over Hap’s head. He plucked it and took a bite. The sweet taste was so intense that his eyes closed on their own. “Wonderful,” he said when he’d swallowed.
“Don’t get juice on your shirt. You’ve gone through enough clothes for one day.” Umber leaned back on the bench and took a deep whiff. “I’ve got some other magical plants up here. There’s one that purrs when you touch it, one that grabs flies out of the air with a tongue like a frog’s, and one that crawls from pot to pot when nobody’s looking. This tree is my favorite, though. I sit on this bench many nights just to savor the fruit and watch the stars. It relaxes me when my mind buzzes like a beehive, as it’s prone to do.” Umber tossed what was left of the apple into another planter nearby. The vines of that plant slithered and wrapped around the core. “I could walk you around, but it’s getting dark and we’re off to the palace soon. Tell me, are you tired at all?”
Hap shut his eyes and took a silent inventory of his condition. He was bruised and scraped. The nick on his heel was still tender. His jaw hurt; he suspected he’d been clenching it since the encounter with Occo. But while his muscles could certainly wear down after a while, so far it didn’t seem like his mind needed rest. “No. I’m not tired.”
Umber’s eyes twinkled. “It’s been days now. I think it’s safe to assume that you simply don’t need sleep.”
Hap lowered his head. He couldn’t even imagine how the urge to sleep would feel. “That isn’t normal. Is it?”
“Well … no. It’s extraordinary. I’m jealous, honestly. I like my sleep, but imagine how much more a person could accomplish if he didn’t spend a third of his life in a stupor!” Umber shaded his eyes and looked to the western horizon. “Nearly sunset. Come on, Hap. This is worth a look.”
Hap followed Umber to the edge of the terrace, where Oates had just finished playing the tune he’d begun.
“That was a nice song,” said Hap.
“Umber gave me the music,” said Oates.
“There’s a thought, Hap—tell me, did that tune sound familiar?” asked Umber, tapping his fingertips together.
“No, sir,” said Hap. “What’s it called?”
“It’s a movement from something called the New World Symphony. By a most excellent composer named Dvo ák. Play some of the other stuff I’ve given you, Oates. And Hap? Let me know if you hear anything you know.”
Hap nodded. Oates shrugged and started a new song.
As Hap listened, he couldn’t help but stare down at the water and look for the Creep’s ship.
“It’s not there, Hap,” Umber said. He had a knack for guessing Hap’s thoughts. “The guardsmen said the Creep got to his ship and took off in a hurry, without bothering to hoist a sail. The sea horse tows him, apparently. They said not even the Swift could have caught him. He was badly injured, you know. Perhaps he’s scared off for good or crawled away to die.”
Hap doubted that. But he relaxed a little, and tried to appreciate the beauty spread out below. His eyes were drawn to the ancient castle that Sophie had called Petraportus.
The once majestic form had fallen into ruins on the rocky island near the foot of the Aerie. Hap saw a crude breakwater of jumbled stone that spanned the watery gap between the two. A closer look told him what that formation really was: The nearest tower had toppled into the water, forming an accidental bridge. It looked like one could reach it by a narrow staircase that was carved into the Aerie’s side.
The great dome of the old keep was half collapsed. Hap saw an old man and woman standing at the foot of the broken walls. The wind blew the man’s gray beard over his shoulder as he threw a weighted net into the bay. The fisherman and his wife, Hap recalled. The only ones crazy enough to live in a crumbling castle.
“Lord Umber, what happened to that place?” he asked, pointing.
“Petraportus! Where do I begin?” said Umber. “Two centuries ago, a different city stood by this harbor, as grand as Kurahaven is today. The power of that kingdom grew, and the ambitions of the kings swelled with it. They had been traders, but suddenly they decided their goals could be better met through aggression. Their ships of exploration became ships of war, and they sailed out to conquer lands far and wide and bring fortunes back. Eventually they built Petraportus, the wonder of its age, which seemed to rise right out of the sea. In fact, the sea flowed into the domed keep, through a gated arch so wide that ships could sail inside. Imagine the splendor! And around the keep stood four enormous towers, one for each point of the compass. Only the west tower remains.”
A warm breeze kicked up, bringing with it the salted scent of the Rulian Sea. Umber paused to tilt his head back and sniff.
“What happened to Petraportus?” asked Hap.
“Torn to pieces,” Umber replied. “There was an invasion of sea-giants—enormous beings that, legend says, awoke from their slumber in some hidden cavern and marched up from the depths of the sea. They fell upon the city and did what sea-giants do: eat people and steal treasures. Nearly all the buildings where the city now stands were flattened, and most of those who didn’t flee were turned into supper. Except for Brinn the Bold, that is. He sat on the throne of Petraportus in those days. History says he was a stubborn man. He probably should have hopped on his fastest ship and sailed away, or taken refuge in the Aerie. But he thought Petraportus was strong enough to keep him and his court safe. Sadly, that was not the case. Brinn’s army couldn’t hold the monsters off. The sea-giants tore at the walls until the castle began to tumble. The keep caught fire, and Petraportus turned into an inferno. They say Brinn jumped from the west tower, swinging his battle-ax as he fell onto a giant hundreds of feet below.”
“Did he die?” Hap aske
d.
“Not until he landed!” Umber chuckled. “After the fire went out, the giants plundered the castle’s treasury. What was left of Petraportus has been in a state of slow collapse ever since. See the tower that’s broken off halfway up? That was the south tower, and it fell only five years ago. I’ve been inside a few times, playing the archaeologist. You can hear the stones shifting when the wind blows hard. I don’t go much these days—that old fisherman and his wife prefer to be left alone. But it’s quite exhilarating, being in there.”
Oates pulled the flute from his lips. “It’s quite stupid, being in there. You could get killed.”
Umber rolled his eyes. “Thank you as always for your candor, Oates. Play something else now. Have you learned the latest tune I gave you? ‘Yesterday’?”
Oates frowned as he concentrated. “You last gave me a tune two weeks ago.”
“No, you dolt! The song is called ‘Yesterday’.”
“Right. Another song from wherever it is you came from.”
“Just play the tune, Oates.”
Oates grunted, licked his lips, and began a slow, haunting tune. For a moment, Umber’s eyes lost focus as his attention drifted to some inward place. Then he blinked and returned to the moment. “Where was I? Oh yes. So, the sea-giants lived in the ruins of the old city. Nobody dared come near the place. The Aerie itself was too strong for the giants to break in, but people were still afraid to stay. All of Kurahaven was deserted for a century or so until the invaders were driven out.”
“By who?”
“A sorceress named Turiana. Her powers, and her knowledge of the magical creatures and monsters of the world, were amazing. She had a talisman that allowed her to command the minds of other beings, and she ordered the sea-giants to return to the sea. Just like that, those behemoths waded into the depths and disappeared, and they haven’t been seen since. This was still a few centuries ago. Once the sea-giants were gone, Turiana took the Aerie for her home. After a while, people returned—this bay is irresistible to merchants—and the city rose again on top of the ruins. The old line of regents was gone, but a new king from the south of Celador came to rule. That royal line continues to this day.”
Hap nodded, soaking up the history. “What happened to the sorceress?”
Umber put his elbows on the wall. “A sad tale. She was a friend to the kingdom for a long time, and even came to the palace once in a while to advise the king. It was always an event when she emerged, because Turiana was more beautiful than you could imagine. Men came to Kurahaven from all around just to get a glimpse of her. But while she would leave the Aerie occasionally, nobody was ever allowed to enter. Over the years she kept to herself more and more, until she was only glimpsed on the roof in the moonlight. Strange things started to happen. Terrible noises came from the Aerie: shrieks, moans, and animal cries. Sometimes a dark cloud hovered over this place when the rest of the sky was clear. And there were rumors of foul creatures that emerged at night and prowled the streets. The city was fine by day, but anyone who wandered outside after sunset was liable to disappear. Even the king’s guard wouldn’t venture out.”
Hap looked down on the vibrant city, imagining a time when everyone bolted their doors at night. “But why? Why did things get so bad, after she did so much good?”
Umber propped his chin on one hand. “I suppose magic is a little bit like invention, Hap. One can dive in with the best intentions, but it’s just as easy to get seduced by the sinister possibilities. Take fire, for example. You can harness it in a lantern, a kiln, an oven, or a furnace. Or you can use it to burn a village to the ground.
“Who knows exactly why Turiana went bad? I suppose she opened too many spell books, collected too many wicked talismans, and made contact with too many diabolical beings. I think her intent was to master dark magic and use it for good, the way she saved Kurahaven from the sea-giants. But finally the wicked side beckoned.”
Umber took a moment to watch the top of the sun melt behind the craggy western horizon. Oates had finished his song—or let it simply die away—and stared at Umber.
“This is the way things go, Hap,” Umber said. “When a weapon is created—whether it’s a war machine, or a wicked spell, or some chemical monstrosity—it’s bound to go off eventually. Turiana went off in the worst way. She cast unspeakable spells and murdered anyone who stood in her way. She demanded an enormous tribute of gold and jewels, and threatened to bring greater harm if her demands weren’t met. For a while, it looked like Kurahaven might become a ghost city all over again.”
“But it didn’t?” asked Hap.
“No. Someone showed up and defeated Turiana.”
“Who?” asked Hap.
Umber stood up and grabbed the lapels of his vest. “You’re looking at him. And as a reward, I was given the Aerie as my home.”
“You?” said Hap. “You killed Turiana?”
“Do I strike you as a violent man, Hap? I didn’t kill her. I just defanged her.”
“But where did she go?”
Umber cleared his throat. “Nowhere, my boy. She’s still here.”
Hap wobbled where he stood.
“It’s true,” said Oates.
“Of course it’s true,” said Umber. “Perhaps you’ve heard me talk about our ‘guest’? That’s Turiana. She’s in the caverns behind the Aerie. Locked up tight for the good of the kingdom, but treated well enough. But enough history, Hap! The night is here—time to head for the palace.”
* * *
Hap followed Umber to the gatehouse. They could have used the smaller exit, but Umber opened the black door, delighted to show off the magic once again. One of the men who always guarded the entrance was holding the carriage door open. With his other arm, he held a squirming black cat with a splash of white on one paw.
“A cat, Dodd?” Umber asked with one eyebrow raised. “You know they aren’t welcome here.”
“Beg pardon, Lord Umber,” Dodd said. The cat dug its back claws into his side, squirmed loose, and ran under the horse. “Ouch! She wandered up this afternoon.”
Umber watched the cat slink from sight. “Let’s go,” he said to Hap, and climbed inside the carriage.
“Isn’t Oates coming?” asked Hap. He wasn’t sure Oates liked him, but he always felt safer with the big fellow near.
“Bringing Oates to the palace is dicey,” replied Umber. “I never know what important person his brutal honesty will offend.”
“Or what fine lady will slap him,” said Dodd.
“True, true,” Umber replied, laughing. “Hap, we’ll make do with my private guard: Wilkin, Barkin, and Dodd. As long as they don’t mind giving up their card game for a while. That’s not a problem, is it, Dodd?”
“Certainly not,” said Dodd, the guard holding the door.
“He would say that,” said Barkin, who climbed to the driver’s bench to take the reins. “Since he always loses.”
“Though my sword has some repute, cards were never my strong suit,” recited Dodd. A laugh came from the rear of the carriage, where the third guard—Wilkin, Hap deduced—mounted the back of the carriage. Wilkin had dark hair to his shoulders, Barkin’s mane was wiry and the color of rust, and Dodd was hairless except for the rectangle on his chin. They bristled with athletic confidence and were well armed, so Hap’s mind eased a bit. He heard Barkin call to the horses and snap the reins. The carriage lurched and rolled.
“Oh!” said Umber. As an afterthought, he flashed the black-stoned ring at the door, and uttered a word that Hap knew meant close. The black door swung shut and sealed itself tight.
They rattled onto the causeway at a greater speed than any previous trip. Hap clutched a strap that dangled from the ceiling. They think Occo might attack, he thought as he rocked from side to side.
“Hap, did I mention that Dodd is a poet?” Umber said. He shouted out the window. “Isn’t that right, Dodd?”
Dodd clung to the side of the carriage. He put his face in the window and touched
a hand to his forehead, saluting.
“Give him a topic and he’ll compose a rhyme on the spot,” Umber said. “Come on, Dodd, what do you have for this occasion?”
Dodd scratched his chin for a moment. Then he began, raising his voice so the others could hear over the clattering wheels:
“Recently our good Lord Umber
Added to the Aerie’s number
A fine young chap, a lad named Hap
The green-eyed boy who knows no slumber.
“Now they ride beside the sea
With presents perched on Umber’s knee
Off to the palace to drink from the chalice
And meet the royal princes three.
“One prince loves to fill his glass
One we are sure is a snake in the grass
The other royal is steadfast and loyal
But frankly a pain in—”
The recital ended abruptly as they hit a bump in the causeway. Hap popped off of his seat. Umber thumped his head on the roof. “This is bracing!” Umber said, rubbing the top of his skull.
* * *
The road curved with the harbor wall for a while, and then they turned up the long slope that led to the palace. Hap leaned out to watch the great structure growing before his eyes. It was even more beautiful in the dark, with tiny lanterns burning like stars in the highest windows.
They rolled across the wide wooden bridge that spanned a ring of water surrounding the castle walls. “Moats are usually foul, but you could drink from this one,” Umber said. “It’s fed by the spring at the center of this palace: the Heartspring.”
Happenstance Found (Books of Umber #1) Page 10