by Jenny Ealey
“So, if you knew her, why did you do nothing about it?” demanded Thunder Storm.
“We did.” Bean stared up at the woodman, “Now, are you going to sit down and relax while we talk to you or would you rather I stood up? It feels very uncomfortable having you standing over me like this. We promised His Highness not to harm any of you and frankly, we’d be mad to try. So feel free to relax.”
Waterstone nodded briefly and sat down. The others followed suit. String pottered around providing cups of tea for everyone before sitting down himself.
“Go on then,” said Waterstone, “What did you do about it? I am Waterstone.”
“We talked her into giving him to the mountainfolk to mind.” Bean scratched his head, “I’m not sure that that was such a great idea, in retrospect. They haven’t been very kind to him either.”
“We couldn’t keep him, you know. She wouldn’t let us.” String sipped his tea, “Not, mind you, that we were busting to, much as we like him. Big commitment for a couple of confirmed bachelors. But we did offer.”
“Woodfolk are not usually so unkind,” said Thunderstorm thoughtfully. “I can’t believe she would treat her own son like that.”
Bean sipped his tea and looked over the rim of his mug at Thunder Storm and said conversationally to his mate, “Should I bother to continue, do you think, String? If we are to be disbelieved, I can see little point.”
Thunder Storm gave a slow smile, “I beg your pardon. I did not mean it like that. Perhaps I should have said that I find it hard and distressing to believe.”
String frowned at Bean, “Stop being so pedantic, Bean. You knew what he meant.”
“Just wanted to set the ground rules, String. We are, after all, in a reasonably sticky situation from our point of view.” He returned his attention to Thunder Storm, “Hail hated that kid. From the moment he was born.”
“No, Bean. Get it right,” interrupted String. “From the moment he was conceived.”
“Yeah, true.” Bean sighed, “It was all so bloody unfortunate. There was a landslide, you see. Hail was caught in it and swept down the mountainside. She was found, injured and unconscious, by a trapper who went by the name of Pipeless…lost his pipe a long time ago and never made himself another one….Do you remember his real name, String?”
String frowned in effort of memory but shook his head, “No, not at the moment. It may come to me, though.”
“Anyway, Pipeless took her back to the little hut he had built to stay in, up on the mountains when the weather was bad. He looked after her for weeks while she recovered and unfortunately fell in love with her.”
“As you would,” put in String, “Looking after a maiden in distress.”
“But of course, she was woodfolk and wasn’t having any. She was horrified to find herself in close proximity to a wizard in the first place.”
“Yeah, Pipeless was a wizard you know. Very learned,” supplied String helpfully.
“Not that it matters for the purposes of this story.”
“Well, it does.”
“String, shut up. I’ll never get through this if you keep interrupting me.”
String put up his hands and shrugged, “Just trying to help. But no problem. I will leave it to you.”
Bean looked at him for a moment before continuing, “One day, when she was nearly recovered, they were out walking near his hut and he just lost it. He’d tried to make her love him in return and when she didn’t…well, the long and the short of it is that he raped her.”
There was a shocked indrawn breath all around the fire. Midnight looked around at everyone, aware that they were disturbed about something. Tarkyn looked down at him, sent reassurances and placed a steadying arm on his back.
Despite himself, it was String who continued, “We heard her crying out, but by the time we arrived, we were too late. We dragged him off her and as soon as her arms were free, she drew a knife and threw it at him. It hit him in the chest and he dropped like a stone. But as he died, he muttered some words and we’re pretty sure it was some kind of a curse.”
Bean shrugged, “We don’t know much about wizardry. So we don’t know what he said. But we’ve remembered it. We’ve remembered the syllables even though we don’t know what it means because we were worried that it might matter to Hail.”
“Anyway, she had put the last of her returning strength into that throw and passed out. We carried her back to the hut, put her to bed and made her comfortable but when she awoke, Hail was mortified,” said String, picking up the story. “She hated us, all sorcerers and wizards, with a vengeance after that but she still wasn’t well enough to leave or to look after herself. We kept her supplied with food and water but kept well away, other than that.”
Bean gave a wry smile, “After all, neither of us wanted a knife in the chest!”
String shook his head sadly, “Poor girl. She had a terrible pregnancy. She threw up all the time and couldn’t find the strength to leave. So we looked after her from afar, leaving supplies for her outside the door and then departing as quickly as we could.”
Bean sipped his tea. “Then one day, as I was dropping off some food, she came out of the hut and asked me in. She kept a knife in her hand the whole time I was there, but it was a start. I think she wanted to find out how much we knew about woodfolk and whether she could trust us not to say anything.”
“And she was lonely. We went there often after that, didn’t we, Bean? She always kept her knife close to hand and we didn’t ever try to dissuade her from it.”
“As she came closer to term, she found it hard even to get out of bed. So one or the other of us came every day to look after her.” Bean drank the last of his tea and shook out the mug. “We were there when Midnight was born. We helped her through that too.”
String grunted with laughter, “She kept that knife next to her through the whole thing. I don’t think she really thought we were any kind of threat by then, but it had become a habit with her.” He shrugged, “Still, if that’s what she needed to feel safe, then fair enough. Like you blokes with your shield earlier on. We may be trustworthy but you bring your own reasons for mistrusting us to the table. It’s no reflection on us if you don’t trust us.”
“Can be inconvenient though, can’t it, String?”
“Yeah, true. Anyway, once she had borne her child, she recovered quickly and left the hut about six weeks later.”
“But she always hated that baby, didn’t she, String?”
“Yeah. Everything was too hard and too much trouble. She resented him like crazy. Maybe if he’d been a girl, it might have been better.”
“No, don’t think so, String. Whether he was a boy or a girl, he’s still half sorcerer and conceived by rape.”
“Yeah, true. Poor little bugger. Not his fault.”
The woodfolk and Tarkyn had all transferred their attention to Midnight who was quietly sitting in the dirt next to the prince and playing with his wooden animal. Feeling their eyes on him, he looked up and confronted them with the brilliant green of his non-woodfolk eyes. For a moment, he panicked but Tarkyn grabbed him before he could run and held him firmly. After a few seconds, Tarkyn gradually released his hold, checking that Midnight wouldn’t run. Tarkyn put his hand on his heart and pointed to himself and then Midnight. The little boy slowly relaxed into a smile, put his own hand on his heart and, reassured, went back to playing with his animal.
“You’re a nice prince, aren’t you?” said Bean. “I thought princes didn’t concern themselves with the affairs of the hoi polloi.”
Tarkyn’s face reddened slightly and he glanced around the woodfolk, “To be perfectly honest, I haven’t, until recently. In retrospect, not something I feel too proud of.”
“Sire, you should not be too harsh on yourself. You have always been meticulous in fulfilling the expectations of your role,” said Danton.
“I know I have, Danton. Where I have fallen short is in accepting those expectations without question.” The
prince smiled around at his woodfolk companions, “Luckily, these people have done my questioning for me.”
“But to be fair,” said Waterstone, “you did not have to respond to our questioning. It is you who have chosen to change your expectations.”
“Speaking of which,” responded Tarkyn, slipping in under their guards, “have your own expectations changed in any way after hearing these sorcerers’ story?”
Tree Wind huffed. Thunder Storm looked thoughtful. Autumn Leaves smiled wryly at Tarkyn, while Rainstorm chortled at Tree Wind’s discomfort. Then surprisingly, all eyes turned to Waterstone. Tarkyn raised his eyebrows and waited.
Waterstone folded his arms, “You could order us to accept them.”
“I could.”
“Hmph,” Waterstone’s eyes went out of focus as he communed with the others.
“They are discussing it,” explained Tarkyn quietly.
“Interesting,” commented String. “What are they doing? Speaking telepathically?”
“Yes, more or less. Images and words,” answered Tarkyn.
Bean studied the woodfolk for a few moments. “And what’s their range?”
Tarkyn shrugged, “I’m not entirely sure but it is several miles.”
“Is it? That’s marvellous, isn’t it?” mused Bean. After a short pause, he became bored with waiting and said laconically, “Of course, we might have been bullshitting. One of us might have been the rapist.”
For a split second a ripple of uncertainty flicked across Tarkyn’s face. Then he shook his head, “No one had to know any of this, if you hadn’t told us. No one has mentioned it. I don’t think Hail has told anyone. So why would you bring it to light if you were the guilty party? Doesn’t make sense.”
“Well done, Tarkyn,” said Danton dryly, “You answered their next little riddle.”
Bean laughed, “Have to keep oneself entertained, you know.”
String frowned anxiously, “They’re taking a long time, aren’t they?”
“I expect they are consulting with all the mountainfolk and the other woodfolk as well. After all, it is a fairly momentous decision, isn’t it?” replied Tarkyn.
“And begging your pardon, Your Highness, but if you could order them to accept us, why didn’t you?” asked String.
“Hmm, tricky question. You explain, Danton.”
“The woodfolk were forced to acknowledge Prince Tarkyn as their liege lord by his father. Until the prince arrived in the forest two months ago, they have never had leaders among themselves. So the prince does not wish to assert his authority excessively,” replied Danton urbanely.
“I see,” said Bean thoughtfully. “Breaking them in slowly, are you?”
Tarkyn glared furiously at the trapper and then glanced at the woodfolk in some trepidation. Sure enough, Waterstone had come back into focus and was watching him, waiting for his reply. “No, I am not,” he said vehemently. “I would never do that. These people are my friends and kinsfolk. We have reached an agreement that will stand until we feel the need to change it, at which time we will discuss it together.” He could feel himself going red. “Waterstone, you believe me, don’t you? This is not the thin end of the wedge.”
Waterstone gave a slight smile, “Tarkyn, don’t panic. I always believe you.” With that, he went back out of focus.
Tarkyn heaved a sigh of relief. “Stars above Bean, that was a thoughtless comment. They can all hear you while they are mindtalking, you know. Just as you can tune into another conversation when you’re talking.”
Bean nodded, “Sorry about that, Your Highness. They seem to have great faith in you, though, that woodman in particular.”
The prince smiled, “They all do, as I do in them. That woodman in particular is my bloodbrother, Waterstone.”
“I should point out,” put in Danton, “that His Highness could not lie to save himself. So we are all quite safe in trusting his word.”
“Precisely,” said Waterstone, coming back into the conversation. He smiled at his bloodbrother. “But we would be safe, even if he could lie.” He turned to the trappers, “Did you see Hail again after she left the hut?”
“Yes. We achieved that much at least,” responded Bean. “She is a trapper, just as we are; and by choice she spends most of her time in the mountains on her own. But if our paths have crossed over the years, she has always shown herself and we have shared a meal together before she moved on.” He chuckled, “Always with the knife. But never mind. So we have watched Midnight grow up. For months at a time she would disappear and return to the outskirts of her people but always the mountains would draw her back.”
String grimaced, “She was very harsh with Midnight. She hated him. He was living proof that she had, in her own eyes, betrayed her people and that she had been raped. And she hated the fact that he couldn’t hear and didn’t understand her. She would beat him when he didn’t know what she was asking him to do, out of frustration as much as bitterness. It was dreadful to watch. And it was hard to talk to her about it. She resented anything we had to say. And we knew, if we pushed too hard, she would go away and never let us see her or Midnight again and then we wouldn’t be able to help him at all.”
Bean looked over and, when he caught Midnight’s eye, beckoned to him. The little boy came over and Bean sat him on his knee with his arm around him. “We’re not very fatherly types but we were the only people he ever saw who weren’t shouting at him or belting him.”
“Finally, we talked her into leaving him with his kin when she returned to the mountains. We thought that they, at least, would have no cause to hate him, as his mother did.” String grimaced, “But none of them knew how to handle a deaf child.”
“They thought he was a fool,” put in Tarkyn.
Bean grimaced, “And I suspect his mother must have told them that he was disobedient and wilful.” The trapper felt a continual tugging on his beard and looked down, “Which he is sometimes, like all little boys, but he’s not bad or evil.” He frowned, “And what do you think you’re doing?” he asked Midnight.
Midnight grinned and lifted part of Bean’s beard up. It was halfway through being neatly plaited. Bean nodded and smiled, “Go on then. Anything to keep you busy.”
Waterstone went back out of focus briefly to relay the last piece of the jigsaw. When he returned, he was looking grim.
“There is a strong faction among the mountainfolk that want Midnight killed. They think it is an abomination to have a child who is half sorcerer and half woodfolk.”
After a shocked silence, Tarkyn said flatly, “They are under oath. Tell them that Midnight’s fate is not up for discussion. He will remain with me and it is the responsibility of all woodfolk to keep him safe even as they look after all woodfolk children. Clear enough?”
Waterstone gave a slight smile, “Yes. Thanks.”
A few minutes later, they were all back in focus.
“We have some good news and some news that I suspect you may not like,” reported Rainstorm.
“Go on,” nodded Bean.
“You will be allowed to live,” said Rainstorm.
String breathed a sigh of relief and exchanged glances with Bean, “And the uncertain news?”
“You must live with us until we are sure of you. At least six months,” said Tree Wind.
“Are you holding us prisoner?” asked Bean.
“Don’t be silly,” rumbled Thunder Storm. “We don’t have jails or the time to stand guard over you. But if you leave us, then the first woodfolk who see you, will kill you.”
String looked strained, as though he was on the verge of panic again, “What if I want to go off for a walk on my own or just with Bean? I can’t last too long around a lot of people, you know.”
“As long as you stay within view of our lookouts, you’ll be okay. That gives you a fair degree of latitude,” said Thunder Storm. “We’ll show you the sort of area that covers. If you look as though you’re going too far away, the lookout will send a warning arrow
into a tree next to you.”
String took a deep breath and then another, but failed to calm himself. “Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! I can’t manage this. I have to go. Out of my way!” String jumped up and rushed out of the cave into the pouring rain.
Bean sat calmly, watching him go. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back. It’s too wet out there for one thing and he’s left his pack behind.” He transferred his gaze to Midnight and tapped him on the head to gain his attention, “Hey little one, How’s the beard going?” He tapped on his beard to explain what he was saying.
With a smile, Midnight held up half of the beard, which had been neatly plaited into four braids. Bean held up a thumb to show he liked it. Midnight smiled and began work on the second half.
“At least we’ll see more of Midnight,” said Bean, “Though to be honest, he’s probably easier to take in small doses.” He looked around at the woodfolk, “Thank you for advocating on our behalf. And have you decided which of your groups we will reside with? I gather there is more than one.”
“We are the forest guardian’s home guard,” said Rainstorm with a touch of pride. “We are on the move, whereas the mountainfolk, who are Hail’s people, will stay here. Personally, I suspect they would make your life difficult.”
“I think you are right,” agreed Tree Wind. “They are not used to sorcerers as we are and they will be filled with horror at Hail’s fate at the hands of a sorcerer.”
“So we suggest that you throw in your lot with us,” rumbled Thunder Storm, adding with a twinkle, “We’ll try not to crowd you in too much.”
Suddenly Bean beamed, “I think it’s marvellous that we can stay with you for a while. We can learn so much from you and, you never know, you may learn a thing or two from us.”
“So you’re not worried about needing to be off on your own?” asked Tarkyn.
Bean waved his hand airily, “No, not at the moment. I suspect there may be times further down the track when it grates with me. But worry about that when it happens. Right now, I’m happy to stay alive and to have the pleasure of getting to know you after all these years of carefully avoiding you.”