Ascalla's Daughter

by M. C. Elam

  “Miss Ceri, got to get you up now. No time left for hunting. Right now we got to think about us and that boy a yours.” She grasped Evan’s forearm tugging until the girl stood.

  “Maudie, without it, I can’t open another path into Ascalla.” Her cheeks blanched the color of snow, and she teetered toward the woman. “Help me!”

  Maudie caught her before she fell. “Can’t be true, Miss Ceri. Just can’t. Was you plain as day done it.”

  Evan willed her heart to quiet. “We have to find it, Maudie.”

  Maudie wrapped her arms around the girl. “Can’t Miss Ceri. Can’t find it cause I be knowing the place it is.”

  “Where, Maudie. For the sake of the Mother tell me.” She jerked free of the woman’s embrace, casting about the room, peering under furniture, into corners.

  “Miss Ceri got to stop now. That black pearl be gone. When you lost your wits it dropped on the floor same as you. Mr. Christopher and Lady Ellyanna, they had just got clear when Old Maudie saw it rolling straight on after them. It be gone, Miss Ceri, gone into that other world.”

  Evan stared at her. “Through the portal? It rolled through the portal?” The breathy whisper that came from her throat marked nothing of confidence.

  “Aye Miss Ceri, it be gone and now you got to think of the babe. The pearl be gone, but whatever you got in you what brought you this far, well, that still be deep inside.” She nodded toward Brenan. “He be waking up soon and we got to fool him Miss Ceri, fool him right smart.” She picked up a large urn and shoved it into Evan’s hands. “Come on now missy. Best give me what for else wise we be in trouble sure.”

  An empty stare was the girl’s only response.

  Maudie searched for some sign that Evan understood, but the blank gaze in those dark eyes frightened her more than anything she could name. Addled, her Miss Ceri might just be struck dumb. Maudie had seen that a time or two, like the night the gent got stabbed so bad back in the whore’s barracks. The girl what done it, she be near dumb two days before the life light come into her eyes. Well, Maudie didn’t have two days. Already Brenan be thrashing his legs like he might wake any minute. She needed Miss Ceri right in the head. Couldn’t let that gore-bellied, canker-faced bastid find them like they be. Remembering how her ma always told the lickin’ she be about to give fair broke her heart, Maudie thought she understood. Resigned, she hauled back and slapped the girl. Not so as to leave a bruise or even a red handprint across her cheek but hard enough that Ceri’s head wobbled round on her neck like a ball what couldn’t settle down in ring and pin. Then Miss Ceri’s eyes went kind of bright with a touch of fire, and Maudie knew she be back in her head and fixing to slap her back. Instead, she drew in a flood of air like some great typhoon about to let loose a stream all in a rush, looked at Maudie and raised the urn over her head.

  “Now do like I say. Give me a clout hard enough I don’t wake up before tomorrow and get on back to that babe. Come morning you swear you didn’t hear a solitary thing.”

  “Maudie I...”

  “Don’t think none on it. Got to do it or we be lost sure.”

  “Aye, lost. Turn around, Maudie. I can’t hit you while you look at me.”

  29 - Strategy

  Dark clouds cast shadowy fingers across the moon, and the first rain droplets fell like tiny daggers, swift and sharp and cold. The downpour increased, and a harsh wind forced Christopher and Ellyanna close to the side of the mountain. They struggled to keep Chinera in sight and took what rest they could beneath the sparse scrub that grew beside the trail. The spindly branches afforded little cover, and so they kept moving. By the time they reached the high timber above Curling Wood four days past the Arch a steady drizzle had replaced the deluge. Elly’s eyes glittered with fever, a nagging cough her constant companion.

  Chinera led them to a place where a large overhang draped the path, and a spindly growth of mountain pines managed a foothold in the meager soil. The last of Elly’s strength faded, and she slumped against Christopher’s chest. He paused to let her catch her breath. Chinera came to stand beside him. She nosed the back of his leg just behind the knee.

  “Aye, girl, I’m coming.” He lifted Elly in his arms and moved through the trees. The branches parted revealing a small cave. He entered behind Chinera and paused until his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. Another step brought the toe of his boot against rock, and he recognized the passage as a kind of low-ceilinged tunnel that followed the outer wall. He could not identify the source of the greenish light that illuminated the space until his boot crushed a small colony of Fairy Fungus rooted in a crevice. Thousands of glowing spores, each like a tiny lantern, hung in the dank air for long moments before settling to the floor of the cave. His height was a detriment here, and he carried Elly in a crouched position. It made his legs scream in a protest that echoed the rivers of pain that throbbed between his shoulder blades. When fatigue sapped the last of his energy, he sank to the ground and leaned against the wall of the cave. Wet and cold, he cradled Elly in his arms and slept.

  ***

  “Come now, lad. A few sips of this will heat your bones.” Melendarius gave the boy’s shoulders a shake to rouse him and held a drinking horn to his lips. “That’s the way. Take a little more now. Burns a bit on the way down I dare say.”

  Christopher pushed the horn away. “Elly?” he choked.

  “I’ll not lie to you, lad. The girl is gravely ill, but she’s tucked abed and well tended. I’ve brewed a bit of something to break her fever.”

  “Where, where is she.”

  “Easy, now, all is well. You’re safe in Baline. When Chinera could not rouse you, she fetched us straightaway. If she hadn’t led you into the cave, I doubt either of you would be alive. Here now, a bit more mead.” The old man who held the drinking horn had a pleasant sort of face that radiated trust.

  Christopher shook his head. “Elly, please, let me see her.” He tried to sit up but fell back on the fur pallet next to the hearth. Chinera padded to his side. Her nose prodded the palm of his hand, and he stroked her ears. A shadow fell across him, and the biggest man he had ever seen stood between him and the fire.

  “Jenny’s got you a bed ready and waiting. Fixed a bit of broth and some bread and cheese, too.”

  “Ah Marcus, good. A night’s rest and something warm in the belly will have our young friend feeling better in no time.” The old man’s gaze drifted back to Christopher. “Think you can walk, lad?”

  “Aye.” He struggled to his feet but wavered like a sapling against the wind. Marcus caught him as he fell.

  “Ah there now, milord. I be thinking you’ve a way to go before those legs’ll do more than wobble.” Christopher started to protest, but the big man lifted him into his arms as though he were a child, crossed the common room and climbed the stairs. Jenny motioned them into the freshly prepared room where he lowered Christopher to the featherbed.

  “If you be seeing your way to it, milord,” said Marcus, “pray answer me one questions before you take your rest. Miss Evan, err Ceri, be she safe?” He stuttered around the names unsure which Mister Christopher knew.

  “Are you Marcus?” Christopher’s voice possessed little vigor.

  “Aye, I be Marcus, milord.”

  “I know that name. Safe I know not, Marcus, but when last we saw her, she and the babe fared well.”

  “Alive then?”

  “Aye, both alive.”

  Melendarius admitted that Evan’s situation was precarious. She lived from minute to minute, and his second sight did not always read her life light even though he reassured them of her safety. Still Marcus’s query had naught to do with trust, least not on his part. Why, he’d trust that old man’s word with his life, but Jenny had sent Jem straight away to fetch King Hawk with word of the pair’s arrival, and Marcus knew he would want more. Just to hear Mister Christopher speak the words eased his mind some, too. His wee Evan be alive.

  ***

  Jenny ladled stew into a woode
n bowl, filled a tankard with ale from a keg of their best and spread a slice of bread with fresh-churned butter. She placed the items on a large tray and crooked her finger at Jem.

  “Can you carry the tray without you be spilling anything, Jem? Mister Christopher be puny enough without he ends up wearing my stew his first day out a bed.”

  “Aye, Ma, I be the man for it.” Jem jumped to take the tray, but she put out a hand.

  “Hold up there a minute, little man. Reckon a dollop of honey be good on that bread.” She fetched a pot from the larder and dipped a wooden stick that had a carved ball affixed to the end into the mixture. She lifted it clear of the pot and dripped honey over the bread.

  “What that be, Ma?” Jem asked.

  “Ah, you know the way Marcus got him an eye for making things?” She looked toward the common room where he, King Hawk and Melendarius sat around a table talking with Mister Christopher. Her features turned tender at the sight of the big man,

  “Aye, I be knowing that.”

  “Well,” she said and turned her focus back to Jem. “Marcus saw as how the honey made a wee mess running down the side of the jar when folks got a bit. Took him a notion and went to carving. Calls it a honey drizzler.”

  “Works good don’t it, Ma?” Jem’s eyes twinkled.

  “Rapscallion,” she tousled his hair and gave it a little tug. “You be knowing about my drizzler the whole time.”

  He rolled his eyes and grinned. “Truth told, Ma, took to carving me a few. Marcus said as how he thought Avery Buckley might pay a bit for them once he saw how they worked. Got a fair number ready for taking into Falmora.” He took a partially finished drizzler from his pocket and gave it to her.

  Jenny turned it over in her hand. “What this be?” She fingered a spiral channel he had carved around the ball.

  “Thought as how it might catch a little more honey in that groove,” said Jem.

  She ran her finger over the channel and then handed it back to him. “Be a spell afore we see Falmora, son, but I dare say Avery be glad to have a store of drizzlers fine as this. They be fit for sale in that Emporium of his”

  Jem beamed. His mother’s compliments might be rare, but that made them all the more welcome when he earned one. “Aye, Ma. Marcus told as how King Hawk be bound for Falmora soon. Said it be his center of,” his speech trailed away. “Can’t remember his exact word for it.”

  “Best get that stew on out to Mister Christopher afore it turns cold.”

  “Aye, Ma.” Jem had kept mum about riding with them. The less his ma heard on that account the better. At least until the time came. He picked up the tray and started for the main room but turned just before he reached the doorway. “Ma, my sweet tooth’s fair raging what with watching all that honey drizzle onto Mister Christopher’s bread. Think mayhap I might get me a bite after I take the victuals to him?”

  “Well, lad, I spect some honey bread be honest pay for the pile a wood you chopped this morning.” She eyed the empty basket by the hearth and watched Jem lower his eyes. “Now, get on to chores with you. I got to relieve Annabelle and tend to Lady Ellyanna.” She lifted a pitcher of water, filled the washbasin half-full and scooped soap from a large crock. She worked her fingers together scrubbing the remnants of the day’s chores from beneath her nails.

  Persnickety soul, that Lady Ellyanna, not a bit like Mister Christopher. Jenny liked his warm smile and polite manners. She liked the way he called her Miss Jenny and looked her in the eye when they had occasion to speak. Lady Ellyanna was a different matter. She had ordered Jenny about from the minute her fever lifted. Not a single time had she called her by name. It was girl this and girl that, and then yesterday, after she had worked the morning in the kitchen garden setting out the new seedlings for squash and greens and sweet onions, she heard that little bell go to tinkling in that impatient kind of way Ellyanna had of giving it a shake or two, pausing, and then having at it again. Jenny had climbed the stairs, wiping her hands on her apron, and stuck her head in at the door in time to see Ellyanna wrinkle her nose like a dog with a snoot full of pepper.

  “Don’t you ever bathe, girl? You’ve the smell of a pig sty.”

  Jenny had felt heat rise in her cheeks and imagined how they must fairly glow, but the lady took no notice. Just went right on stitching little forget-me-knots into that piece of linen she held on her lap. Jenny swallowed her anger, chewed her lip to smother the expletive she wanted to hurl smack in the face of the insult and answered in the sweetest voice she could muster.

  “Aye, milady, I sponge the stink off a me regular. No time at all, I be smelling fresh as a nosegay a Sweet Williams. Pure wonderment what a little soap does for a layer of honest toil. Shame it don’t cleanse the spirit a those what judges others.” She thought she caught a glint of irritation on the woman’s face and felt an inner moment of triumph, but it was short lived.

  “Fetch me the floss basket, girl.”

  Jenny had sighed. The basket was right at her feet. She almost said something but thought better of it. What was the use? She retrieved the basket of Lady Evan’s pretty threads, handed it over and watched Ellyanna rummage through it.

  “Where is the red? Did you drop it, girl?”

  Nay, milady. Red be right on top.”

  “On top, you say? If it were on top, I’d see it. You must have knocked it onto the floor.”

  Jenny reached into the basket and retrieved the ball of red thread. “Here you be. On top, just like I said.”

  Ellyanna snatched it from her. “Are you contradicting me, girl?”

  “Nay, just trying to be of help.”

  “Humph, leave me you nasty thing.”

  Jenny had left and counted herself glad to be away, but when she mentioned to Marcus how hateful the lady treated her, he chucked her under the chin and kissed her forehead.

  “Poor thing’s got cause to be sour, Jenny.”

  Thinking about it now, she reckoned as how he be right. Still meanness never got a body on her good side. She smoothed the loose tendrils of hair that had crept from beneath her day cap, climbed the stairs and crossed the landing. Annabelle saw her and scurried to the door.

  “Lady Elly be sleeping. Jenny, I be thinking something’s wrong with her eyes.”

  Jenny gave her a puzzled look, “Her eyes?”

  “Aye, called for me to light the candles and asked the hour.”

  Jenny noted the sunlight streaming through the open shutters. “Room be bright as day. why you think she wanted candles?”

  Annabelle put a hand on her arm and drew her away from the door. “When I told her be just past time for the midday meal, she give me a peculiar look and took to her bed. Said the room be full of shadows like dusk.”

  “Think she be addled?”

  Annabelle shook her head. “Nay, I think the fever’s took her sight.”

  Annabelle’s somber explanation made Jenny regret she had felt so ill toward Ellyanna. She told Annabelle about the incident the day before with the floss basket.

  “A sure sign it be coming on,” said Annabelle. Mayhap Melendarius got him a potion might help.

  “Best we stay close,” said Jenny. “Poor thing’s got no end to her miseries, what with leaving her wee one behind and now this,” said Jenny.

  Annabelle raised an eyebrow. “Got to tell you something else. Can’t stand thinking it on my own.”

  “What that be?” Jenny asked. Her eyes grew as bright as two gold sovereigns.

  Annabelle looked back toward Ellyanna. She put a finger to her lips and whispered so she was certain only Jenny heard her. “You ever see a mother didn’t pine for a lost child?”

  Jenny shook her head. “Reckon not.”

  Annabelle nodded toward Ellyanna. “Got us one a lying in that bed. She don’t mention him at all. I tell you Jenny, that babe be Lady Evan’s.”

  “Why you be thinking that? Can’t see Lady Evan passing her wee one off to another,” Jenny shook her head. “Can’t believe she’d do su
ch as that.” Her voice rose, and they both saw Ellyanna stir.

  “Shush! Course she wouldn’t less she had good reason. But it come to me, like in a dream, and I saw Lady Evan take a babe straight out a that woman’s arms. Crying and whimpering like a newborn it be, and Lady Evan took it to nurse.”

  “Think it be a true vision?” Jenny’s eyes grew large.

  “True as any.”

  “Annabelle, I be thinking someone got to break their word, and tell King Hawk he got him a child on her.”

  ***

  Hawk thrummed his knuckles on the table top and watched Jem stack wood in a basket by the fireplace. “You say he plans to hit Baline just before fall harvest, strike and burn the crops in the field.”

  “Aye, Majesty. Preston Fugate, his valet, overheard the plan,” said Christopher. He spooned in another mouthful of Jenny’s stew.

  “How do you know you can trust the valet?” Hawk raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  “I trust him. He is the reason I knew Robert Merrill escaped when the Owlmen captured Heathgard.” Jenny’s fresh-baked bread and honey disappeared in three bites, and he washed it down with a few swallows of ale. “Few in Lawrenzia pledge true loyalty to Peter Brenan.” He said. “Uses fear to rule. Fugate is one of many under his fist.”

  “He’ll not spark loyalty that way,” said Hawk.

  “Exactly, and he hasn’t. His troops plot escape. His servants slip away in the night. His Elite Guard remains stalwart because he lavishes them with all manner of plunder. He placed spies among the ladies that surrounded Elly. He wanted an excuse to kill me, and when it didn’t work the way he thought, he freed me to walk the city thinking to trap me in a conspiracy.”

  “You might have escaped?” asked Hawk.

  “Aye, I could have walked away but,” he glanced toward the upstairs room where Ellyanna slept, “not without Elly.”

  “Must be a reason to it. He set spies to follow did he?” asked Marcus.