Candlewax

by C. Bailey Sims

  “Dung makes an excellent paint, especially with threads of linen,” said Bessie.

  The Cinnan shook his head and moved away.

  Cyril plopped down heavily into one of the deep chairs and grinned.

  “Interesting technique,” said Quor as he strolled into the alcove. “I don’t think he understood your words, but the flashes of thought when you pictured your words were most puzzling. Perhaps I shall share it with the Speakers. I had come to tell you that you should guard your thoughts, but I can see that my worries were unnecessary.”

  Cyril nodded respectfully at Quor and watched as the Cinnan Speaker politely withdrew. The king’s dark eyebrows raised impishly. Catherine found herself staring at his face, helpless, when she felt Bessie squeeze her arm and was able to look away. Catherine smiled at her friend and shook her head sadly.

  Outside the wind droned on.

  When Catherine returned to her room, she saw that her pack had been placed in a corner and her cleaned sheepskin coat was draped over a chair. She quickly emptied the pack and checked the contents. Everything was there except the rough maps she had drawn, her cartographic notes, and the blank parchment, ink, and quill. Why those dirty thieves! They’ve stolen from me again. Catherine closed her eyes and found that she could picture the map and the notes in her head. Unless they can steal my thoughts, I’ve still got a rough idea of how we got here. She thought of her friends and said a prayer of thanks.

  The next day Cyril was back to pacing. By mid-morning, when Julia finally brought Spelopokos to the Overlook Room, the great cat joined Cyril in his studied march back and forth in front of the windows. Sometimes when they passed each other Cyril’s hand brushed lightly across the fairrier cat.

  Without the amulet, there’s no way for us to return to Lackanay, let alone bring back a mate for Spelopokos. No wonder he’s worried. Catherine decided to do something about Cyril’s brooding silence.

  “Pardon, King Cyril. Would you be willing to share with Crystallia the design for the cisterns above your stables?” she asked in order to take his mind off their troubles.

  The question took Cyril off guard. He paused in mid-stride and tilted his head down as if to consider it.

  “’Tis a marvel, sire,” said Menard. “I see no harm in sharing your design with Princess Catherine. Would that every stable in the land had cisterns to stop fires. ‘Cept maybe Kallik’s.” He laughed.

  Cyril turned to look at Catherine. His face had lost its frown, and a glimmer of amusement filled his hazel eyes, which had taken on a golden-green hue. One would think he was part fairrier cat with those eyes. The thought made Catherine smile.

  Cyril came and sat beside her on the cushioned bench, his hands on his knees.

  “It’s a simple enough idea, really. I could have the drawings copied and sent to King Stephen. They would be a gift to Crystallia,” said Cyril. “Perhaps in return, you could divulge Crystallian methods of water-training horses.” He grinned and Catherine was blinded.

  “You do not use this technique in Candlewax?” she asked, feeling her color rising.

  “Not yet,” he said, his knee accidentally brushing hers.

  Catherine glanced at Bessie and Menard and saw that they were feigning nonchalance and hanging on every word. Spelopokos, on the other hand, found the horse talk rather dull and had decided to take a nap. For the rest of the morning they exchanged ideas of horse husbandry and talked about famous lines of breeding, which ended, of course, with Ty, Cyril’s favorite horse.

  When he was not looking at her, she let her eyes again soak in the smallest detail of him: the way his mouth curved when he smiled, his soldier’s stance, the careful study he made of everything that interested him. Why, he is a seeker, just like me! The recognition astonished her.

  Suddenly a great silence overtook them. Catherine looked out the window. The wind had stopped. Menard, who had been sharpening his sword, straightened and looked up. Long shafts of light shone down through the breaking clouds and filled the Overlook Room with a blinding glare. Catherine squinted and put her fingertips on the mullioned glass.

  “Cyril, look!” Catherine jumped an inch in the air. He joined her at the window.

  Bessie, who had fallen asleep with her mouth open, stretched, blinking. She rose quickly to stare out the window with Catherine. For the first time they all could see that the mountain home of the Cinnans was perched in the face of a cliff. Catherine could make out some narrow trails, and farther down she saw terraces. Outside, the spectacular expanse of mountains was covered in snow and ice. Only the brilliant blue sky and a few dark, craggy ridges gave contrast to the glaring whiteness.

  Menard joined them at the window. “Makes me dizzy up here in this aerie. I wonder where Candlewax is from here. I feel a bit turned around,” he grumbled.

  “I don’t see where we were by the hot spring,” said Cyril.

  “We are looking out from the other side of Cinna Fortress,” said Quor unexpectedly. They hadn’t noticed him coming into the room. A sullen man they had not seen before was standing there, watching Quor’s eyes as he spoke. Quor continued, “The hot spring and the trail are behind us. Our pastures and farming terraces are on the south side of the mountain, so you can’t see much of them either.” The man at Quor’s side looked agitated. Quor ignored him.

  “This great gulf looks just like the illusion we saw, when it seemed like you were walking on air!” Bessie said.

  “Very observant, Bessie. It is the illusion we use to hide the trail to Cinna Fortress. It is also the view we hold in thought when evading the Crossers. None of them has ever followed us.”

  “And it doesn’t always work on fairrier cats,” Pokos added.

  “Fairrier cats can resist our illusions. They come for our sheep, and goats, and—” Quor stopped himself. Pokos looked at him strangely.

  “Man eaters,” said Pokos, appalled. “The cats have become man eaters.”

  Quor nodded solemnly.

  “I could have told you that, Pokos,” said Menard gruffly. “It’s a miracle we made it through that first night.”

  “It wasn’t always so,” murmured Quor. “It started with the Crossers. They came for fairrier cat skins. And game has become scarce in Cinna.”

  “These Crossers, they ‘crossed’ through the Cinna Gate?” asked Cyril.

  “No, Cyril. That gate is for the invited. It was built for the wearer of the Ancient Onyxes. The Crossers came by way of the sea from Alliana through the rocky straits to the north. It is the only other passage. Our mountains and All Souls Ravine have trapped many a hapless traveler who thought they could just walk into Cinna.”

  Pokos’s eyes flashed yellow at the mention of Alliana and Catherine remembered how much he hated Allianan hunters.

  “Why haven’t they sailed back?” asked Catherine.

  “We destroyed their ship. No one thought they would last this long.”

  “You have a strange way of killing folks,” said Menard. “Don’t want to bloody your own hands, do you?”

  “It is forbidden,” said Quor apologetically. “Violence is abhorrent to us. Cinnans have no experience in the ways of the sword. Piercing the body, cutting it, or shedding blood is not our way.”

  “What of my pendant?” Catherine whispered.

  “We cannot speak of it here, Catherine,” Quor glanced at the man hovering next to him. “I have summoned Mekrita to take you and Bessie to be purified. She will explain.” Sure enough, no sooner had he spoken than Mekrita entered the alcove.

  Catherine squinted in the bright sunlight that hit them the moment they left the fortress. The Cinnans had already cleared a path through the snow, but even so, Mekrita had given Bessie a pair of boots. It feels good to be outside again. Catherine sucked in the cold air and smiled.

  Only the three of them were there. Wafts of steam rose from the surface of the gurgling pool. Mekrita took sprigs of rosemary and other herbs from a small pouch and sprinkled them over the surface of the bubbling
water.

  “Is she going to cook us?” whispered Bessie to Catherine, giggling.

  Mekrita laughed and turned to look at Bessie. She knelt down and swished her hand back and forth in the water.

  “It is not so hot, Bessie.” Mekrita’s words were slow and quietly spoken. She pronounced the t’s at the end of “not” and “hot” with an exactness that sounded strange. Mekrita took off her robe and boots and slid slowly into the hot spring. Catherine and Bessie did the same. They wore the loose, white muslin shifts that Catherine and her friends had seen the day the Cinnans had beckoned Spelopokos into the pool. The water felt piping hot, in spite of what Mekrita had said.

  “You know, we just had baths yesterday,” whined Bessie.

  “This is different. The spring of Cinna will purify you,” said Mekrita. She turned to Catherine. “It will focus your thoughts. Once you are purified we will seek the Ancient Onyxes. We are hoping your bond with the pendant is stronger than the illusion of its being hidden. Quor and the other Speakers have not been able to break through Magnus’s defenses.” Mekrita gave Catherine a serious look. “It is important to clear your mind of all troubles and be quiet in word and in thought.”

  Catherine tried to dismiss her thoughts and found it surprisingly difficult. Thoughts of Crystallia, or Pokos, or the pendant kept churning in her head. Her anger with Julia and Magnus didn’t make it any easier. Then her mind turned to Cyril, almost against her will, and she quickly moved on. That would set me back for hours

  “Very good, Bessie. Catherine, let go of your anger and try to think only about the water,” advised Mekrita.

  Catherine thought about the smooth rock shelf she was sitting on. She thought about the wonderful, penetrating heat of the water and the fresh coldness on her face and how good the rosemary and other herbs smelled. She let her feet float up in the gentle current and felt the water buffeting her toes. She closed her eyes and thought of only the water, drifting without consciousness of time.

  As gentle as her grandmother’s kiss, a vision of the talisman slipped into her mind. She saw the seven onyx stones set in the intertwined leaves and vines of silver. She saw the chain going around a neck, dark hair falling behind. She saw the face and opened her eyes in surprise.

  “She is wearing the pendant!” cried Catherine. “Julia is wearing the pendant!”

  Mekrita stared at her as if she hadn’t comprehended.

  “Why that lyin’, stealin’ pig. No wonder all they eat is slop. They’re a bunch of pigs!” Bessie blurted out.

  “Well, not all of them are pigs, Bessie.” Catherine jerked her head toward Mekrita, who still looked dumbfounded.

  “Oh. I’m right sorry, Mekrita. I didn’t mean it like that,” murmured Bessie, turning a darker shade of pink.

  But Mekrita was paying no attention to them. “This is very serious. If it were anywhere else we would have a chance of taking it. Now the only way to get it back now is by direct confrontation,” she murmured to herself.

  “I’m not afraid of confronting Julia! I should have done it right when Quor told us that she was going to keep the pendant. You all don’t believe in killing others anyway.” Furious, Catherine climbed out of the hot spring and began to towel herself dry.

  “You don’t understand.” Mekrita held her hands to her eyes for a moment. She sighed then looked directly at Catherine. “Magnus and Julia are very powerful. Now that she wears the pendant, her thoughts will be intensified. There are other ways of killing besides swords and knives.”

  “Well, I’m not going to sit around while Lackanay is in danger. I’ll just grab it off her neck,” said Catherine, pulling on her robe. Bessie and Mekrita clambered out of the spring.

  “You would never make it, Catherine. Unless...”

  Catherine paused, boot in hand. “What?”

  “Well, unless you invoked Cinnan law. You or your proxy may fight her or her proxy and the dispute would be settled in favor of the winner.”

  Catherine shook her head. “But it’s my necklace in the first place. There is no dispute. Everybody knows it. Besides, isn’t fighting a bit crude for your people?” She pulled on her boots, ready to march into the fortress and yank the pendant off of Julia’s neck. The warm water from the spring quickly turned icy in the frigid air but Catherine did not care. She kept thinking about Julia’s gloating smile and the way she fawned over Pokos. Pokos! Does he know that Julia wears the Ancient Onyxes? Could he sense it even if Julia were not in danger?

  “No, Catherine,” Mekrita answered her unspoken questions. “Pokos does not know Julia wears the talisman, although it has been drawing him closer to her.”

  “I knew it! She’s been tricking him, hasn’t she?” Catherine stomped her boot on the snowy trail.

  “I have felt it these past few days,” admitted Mekrita. “I thought it was just the food she feeds him, but now I see it was the Ancient Onyxes.” Bessie and Mekrita drew on their robes to catch up with Catherine.

  Breathless, Mekrita put her hand on Catherine’s arm, as if she feared that Catherine might run back to the fortress. “You should also know something else.”

  Her urgent tone made Catherine stop and turn. “The seven perfect onyx stones of the pendant came from Cinna originally,” said Mekrita. “The people of Tabrek set them in silver according to our laws of balance, harmony, and leadership. Our people gave them this crafting knowledge nearly two thousand years ago. It forms a perfect lens with which to focus thought. Magnus claims that the prophecy serves only Lackanay and that it will bring the downfall of Cinna if you are allowed to carry it out. He says the stones have returned to Cinna to stay.”

  “And just what was he planning to do with us? With Pokos?” Catherine felt an icy finger of fear brush her spine.

  “That is to be decided. Pokos would stay but you and your friends are in peril. That was one of the things Quor wanted me to tell you, because he and the other Speakers have not been allowed time in private with you these past days. Magnus suspects the Speakers. Quor risked his life in speaking as he did at dinner that first night. Only a great master of speaking and self-discipline could have done it. He was desperate to tell you the truth about the pendant.”

  “And now they suspect him. But they don’t know about you,” said Catherine.

  “And it is only for the purification that they let you come,” whispered Mekrita softly.

  “Well, I certainly feel much purer now,” said Bessie sarcastically.

  Mekrita looked taken aback. “Bessie, do not jest about such things. In Cinna, to wash away one’s thoughts is a sacred thing. Quor demanded that they allow you this before your fate is decided. Magnus could not refuse. He has been impatient for the weather to clear.”

  “Tell me more about this law, the one that I could use against Julia and Magnus,” said Catherine.

  “It is a law that is as ancient as the Onyxes, and one that cannot be denied, even by Magnus. It is very dangerous, because you might lose the contest. The cost would not only be forfeiting the talisman, but your lives as well. The challenger has the advantage of choosing the type of contest. If you wish to invoke the law you must say ‘Duray Principas.’”

  Catherine said the words carefully and Mekrita nodded. She said them six more times to commit them to memory. Bessie practiced too, just in case.

  “Once you say the words there is no going back. They are sacred words of petition that must be fulfilled.” Mekrita looked worried. Their wet hair had begun to freeze and Bessie was shivering. Mekrita said, “I must clear my thoughts of all words and calm my emotions before going back to the fortress. Please do not speak to me inside.”

  “Thank you, Mekrita. I wish there were something I could do for you and your cousin. We are in your debt.”

  “Carry out the prophecy, Catherine.” Mekrita turned toward the fortress, her face once more a bland mask. “It would be a great gift to us.” The soft fall of their footsteps on the snowy path was the only sound that broke the silence.

/>   Catherine felt numb with cold by the time they walked through the rock wall into Cinna Fortress. Bessie’s lips were blue and her teeth were chattering. Mekrita led them silently back to their separate rooms, first Bessie and then Catherine. Although they passed no one, Mekrita had resumed her cool demeanor, avoiding Catherine’s eyes as she shut the door on her windowless room. We are little more than prisoners here!

  Catherine longed for a fireplace with a cheerfully burning fire. As usual, the polished stone beneath her feet radiated warmth, but it did nothing to lift her spirits. She took off her damp robe and muslin shift and put on her own clothing. There was none of Pokos’s fur to line her socks. Every time she had meant to ask for more she was interrupted by one of the Cinnans, or Julia came into the room to collect Pokos for his daily feeding. Now she knew this was more than coincidence.

  She put on the soft woolen shoes that the Cinnans wore inside their fortress day to day. At least they were more comfortable than the shoes they had made her wear that first night. As was her custom these days, she tied on her dagger.

  She couldn’t wait to tell Cyril and Menard about Julia and the pendant. She ran down the hallway to the Overlook Room in anticipation, pushing the door open. The room was deserted. A hollow, uneasy feeling filled the pit of her stomach. It grew as she realized she hadn’t seen a single soul in Cinna Fortress since they had come back inside, not even children.

  “Hey, where is everybody?” asked Bessie from behind her. Like Catherine, her hair was still damp from the hot spring.

  “I don’t know, Bessie,” murmured Catherine. Far across the room she noticed a scrawl on the frosty edge of one of the windowpanes. With a feeling of foreboding she forced herself to cross the room and read it. Someone had written the word in great haste.

  SACRIFICE

  “Sacrifice? What do they mean by that?” asked Bessie. Her voice seemed extra loud in the empty room.

  “Shhh,” whispered Catherine. Hearing the word spoken aloud terrified her even more. When Quor said they “sacrificed” sheep for Pokos she had assumed that he had chosen the word by mistake. Did the Cinnans... ? She couldn’t finish the thought. She wouldn’t allow herself to ponder it, but the memory of how the Cinnans had used Pokos to lure them to the fortress came back to her with perfect clarity.