“Oh, yes indeed! And I saw a jug of elderberry cordial wedged in my carriage, though goshawk knows where it came from. That shall do for starters, and we can eat heartily at midday.” Juniper squinted at the opening, suddenly unsure how close to midday it might already be, given their late stop the night before. “We must find a spot for the timepiece as soon as we’re settled in. I feel quite adrift without it.”
Despite the uncertain schedule, the morning meal was zipped through, and Juniper led the way toward the exit. Only as she glanced back over her shoulder at the visibly eager group did she realize that Cyril, Root, and Jessamyn were not among them. That explained the freely joyous mood! Well, let the troublemakers sleep as long as they liked. This would be far more enjoyable without them.
Erick reached the opening first. He turned to Juniper, and a corner of his mouth quirked up. “Your Highness, Princess—no, make that Queen Juniper of the Hourglass. Shall we?”
“My high royal adviser Erick Dufrayne,” Juniper said. “We shall!” She reached out to grab his hand, and together they pushed through the vines and out of the cave.
• • •
The first word that came to Juniper’s mind when she stepped into the perfumed sunlight of the Basin was . . . enchanted. The early-morning sun peeped over the mountaintop opposite, sketching the valley in a charcoal-and-honey glow. They’d emerged on a wide rocky outcropping partway up the inner face of the Basin. From here, they could see the whole valley—no bigger than the palace grounds in all, but how much space did they really need? This was paradise, and it was perfect.
Farther down the slope, the ground was dusty and graveled, studded with boulders and hard-packed red earth. In the distance was the faint roar of a waterfall, the apparent source of a stream that divided the valley crosswise from west to east before it disappeared in a cluster of spindly trees. The land on the far side of the stream was a riot of wild green growth.
“Egad,” breathed Erick.
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it? Absolutely perfect.”
“Would you look at that tree?”
On the near side of the stream, perhaps halfway down the valley, a giant dropsy tree spread fat green leaves. “I’ve never seen a dropsy grow that big!” Juniper exclaimed.
It was obviously no ordinary tree; even from this distance, they could see how it presided over the valley, watchful and sober and almost regal.
“Shove on over, then!” Tippy chirped into Juniper’s back. “I’m getting trampled here behind. Er . . . shove over, please, Your Very Highest!”
Juniper scooted sideways on the outcropping, making room for the rest of the group to spill out behind her.
“For the wonder!” Alta breathed.
“’Tis truly a place of magic,” said Leena with reverence.
Erick was already starting down the rocky cliff side. The trail had clearly seen feet before theirs, but it still took Juniper’s full concentration to keep from skidding on the loose, dusty gravel.
“We’ll have to leave the carts up in the cave,” Erick said.
Juniper hadn’t thought of that, but of course he was right. The wagons would never fit this narrow track. “It will take a lot of trips to bring all our provisions down this way, but it doesn’t have to be done all at once. Little by little, as we need it, right?”
Ahead of her, Erick stopped moving. He eyeballed the rocky ledge and the base of the ground down below. “There was this one thing I read,” he said. “Tallow Dorfman’s Ingenious Devices of Practickal Usage—he’s got all sorts of inventions and ideas in there for making work go more smoothly. There’s one that’s fiery clever—using a system of ropes and stabilizing boards to lower an object straight down. Pulley or some such? It’s just what we need here.” Erick grinned. “I think I stuffed the book into one of my bags.”
“I bet you did,” said Juniper. Every one of Erick’s bags was book-lumpy and breakback-heavy. His pulley idea did seem like the perfect solution, though, and she opened her mouth to say so, but Erick was off again, careening toward the valley. The ground was barely a long jump away, but at this point the path split and a second trail led sharply to the right.
“Wait a moment,” she said to Erick, who’d already landed below. Then she called back toward the others. “Look over here, all! What do you make of these openings?” She turned onto the narrow, curving trail, which hugged the inner cliff in a wobbly-straight line. After a couple minutes, the rock face opened into a door-shaped gap.
Leena, Roddy, and Sussi were just behind her as she pushed into the little cave. Light spilled in the wide window, illuminating a smooth rocky floor and walls that shimmered faintly in the dim light. A long flat stone at the far edge begged to be covered in bed cushions, and two round boulders could make cozy stools.
“Why, it’s an apartment!” exclaimed Sussi. “A tiny little home! May I live here? Oh, may I, Your Highness?”
“There’s another one just ahead,” called Roddy from outside. “And ever so many more along this trail. There’s enough for each of us to have our own, I’d expect!”
“I shall set it up directly,” Sussi exclaimed. She dropped the bulky bag she’d been holding and whipped out a fancy cloth embroidered in scarlet and turquoise, which she spread over the nearest stone, flinging a burst of color around the room. A small white vase set atop the cloth, and the room suddenly looked warm and lived-in.
Juniper clapped her hands together. “This is even better than I’d hoped! We shan’t need to build houses after all, not unless we want to.”
“See these little knobs along the wall?” Sussi crooned, quite in her own world by now. “I shall hang my gown and my traveling cloak right here. And look at these cunning hollows, all up and down the wall! Wee shelves, they are . . .”
Grinning, Juniper stepped back out into the trail. Boys and girls scurried in and out of the openings, laughing and calling, lugging bags and bundles into their new rooms. “Have you claimed your apartment yet?” she asked Erick, dropping down to join him on the ground below.
“There’s time,” he said, waving a hand. “Look at how many there are. We shan’t run out.”
“I feel as though we’ve done a good week’s work already, and we’ve only just put foot to soil!”
Erick nodded and patted the sack slung over his shoulder. “More time for reading is what I say.”
Juniper shoved him. “Forget reading! You’ve had enough musty tomes for a while. Your task this summer is to revel in the glorious out-of-doors. I mean, look at this place!” With that, Juniper took off running, and Erick followed close behind, his book sack thumping on his back.
The next hour was spent in a frenzied rush of exploration, discovery, and delight. The river cut across the middle of the Basin, and they had to go some distance to find a spot shallow enough so they could wade to the other side. In contrast with the southern bank’s dry, dust bowl landscape, the north bank was carpeted in lush, green grass. They followed the river to its source, where a gigantic waterfall thundered down into a crystal pool. Turning back around, they could see the river cascading straight across the valley to its far eastern tip, through the copse of young trees they’d seen from the cave—fruit-bearing trees, if Juniper wasn’t mistaken—until it disappeared into a gurgling tunnel that cut down through the mountain and out of sight.
“This is the mouth of the River Lore!” Juniper exclaimed. “It cuts through my Basin just like it cuts through all of Torr.”
“That sounds . . . significant?” Erick offered.
Distantly, Juniper recognized that he was teasing her. Mostly, though, the rush of discovery and exploration had left her feeling breathless and awestruck and very, very queenly.
“The Basin,” she murmured. “That name is not nearly impressive enough for this place. I do like the word basin, though. It’s got a solid ring to it.” It also made her think of her fat
her, who had called it by that name.
Erick looked up. “Call it Queen’s Basin, then. That’s a proper regal name, and you get to keep the bit you like.”
“Queen’s Basin.” Juniper turned the name over in her mind, then smiled. “I like it. No, I love it. Queen’s Basin it is. How does one name a country, do you suppose?”
Erick smiled. “Done,” he said.
• • •
Queen’s Basin was a larger-than-life gift that got better the more they unwrapped it. By the time the sun was high in the sky, however, Juniper and Erick agreed that by far the best and most magical spot was the giant dropsy tree.
They named it the Great Tree, because sometimes the most obvious name was the best. It loomed near the center of the Basin, on the South Bank but with thick branches extending over the Lore; a careful climber might follow one branch along its length and hop down onto the springy grass of the North Bank. The Great Tree had wide, dark leaves and craggy branches. From the ground, the trunk’s base was so wide that Juniper thought every member of Queen’s Basin touching hands outstretched still couldn’t have spanned it entirely. A giant wheel-shaped stone had been pushed against one side of the trunk, and by scrambling up it, Juniper could reach the lowest branch and swing herself up an arboreal sort of staircase.
“Did someone build up there?” came Erick’s voice behind her. The branches creaked under her weight, then his, as they shifted up the three or four levels until . . .
“Oh!” Juniper gasped as she scaled another branch and pulled herself into the heart of the tree. Above her stretched a dense green canopy, the leaves diffusing the sunlight to a pale translucence, so the heart of the tree felt like a magic bubble, wide-open yet perfectly contained, blocked in from the outside world. And the base—
Juniper swung off her branch and landed on a smooth, wood-plank platform. Someone had been here before, had sawed and sanded rows of boards, had fastened them to the branches in a solid floor that stretched in a full circle around the Great Tree’s trunk. Juniper jumped a little in place, and the floor didn’t shift.
“It’s sturdy!” Erick remarked, scrambling to his feet behind her. “Who could have made this, do you suppose?”
“Perhaps it was my father,” she said, remembering what he’d told her about his trip so many years before. It seemed impossible to think of him engaged in such backbreaking effort, or producing anything quite so solid. It was an odd feeling, to be surprised by someone you thought you knew inside and out.
“Look over here,” Erick called.
The tree’s trunk continued up over their heads, with narrowing branches and lightening leaves. But Erick was leaning into the trunk, which was about as wide around here as a broom closet.
Then Erick . . . disappeared. Juniper ran over and peered at the trunk. To her surprise, it opened into a tiny round room—cozy with silky-smooth walls, hollowed from the trunk in what seemed a natural fashion, navigating around the grooves and bumps of the still-living tree’s inner core. The chamber was big enough for three or four bodies to pack in tightly. It was the perfect size for one girl to stretch out in comfort.
Juniper fell in love with it on sight.
“This shall be my personal chamber,” she pronounced. “And the Great Tree will be our gathering spot. We can throw a little housewarming party tonight.” She thought back to that all-kids dance party, the night that had started this whole adventure. Would it be like that here? The mood, the energy, the—
“Tonight?” Erick asked doubtfully.
“Well, yes. Why not?”
“It only seems . . .” Erick hesitated, then reached up to rub his nose. “Well, we haven’t even begun to settle in. And yesterday’s journey was awfully long.”
Juniper considered. “Tomorrow? Oh, very well, I suppose you’re right. Three days’ time, then. We must set up, and plan, and get everything ready, for starters.” She paused. “You didn’t happen to bring along any books that deal with country-settling, did you?”
Erick grinned. “Do you really need to ask?”
Down below, Juniper could hear the buzz of conversation growing. By now the others would have finished their own early exploration, and they would be looking for what came next. Also, Juniper’s stomach informed her, it had to be well past time for luncheon.
Stroking the wall one final time, Juniper scrambled back out onto the main platform. “We’d best go gather up the others.” She felt both giddy and strangely serious, as though her proper life was catching up with her after an enchanted morning away from reality.
The two clambered down what they’d already begun thinking of as the staircase, where the branches were so arranged that you hardly felt you were descending a tree at all. They dropped to the rim of the wheel-stone and from there to the ground.
Back out in the open after being under the Great Tree’s dome, Juniper squinted a little. The sun beat down on the valley like a flaming torch. They were high up in the mountains, she knew—ever so high, not far from the peaks—and a sprinkling of snow could be seen on the very tip-tops. Yet here in their crater of a valley it was full-on summer, as hot as any day in Torr. Tilting her hand to block the sun’s glare, Juniper saw that the rock face all around the bowl-shaped valley glowed silvery white in the midday rays. It was as though the stone itself amplified the light and stored it and sent it spilling into the canyon like a torrent. How was that possible? It was a true wonder.
Erick took off across the clearing to where the others were dashing wildly about, arms frenzied and garments aflutter. Juniper began to run after him, then changed her mind and slowed her pace. She could see why her father had loved this valley. She herself had been so caught up in its magic this morning that she’d gone whole stretches of time without thinking once of the palace, or the danger facing both her father and Torr. She had a feeling that such carefree lightness could become rather addictive.
It all came back to her now, though. Erick was right; there was a lot to be done. And a lot at stake, too. By now, her father’s army must have repelled the attackers. He’d promised a messenger, which was likely to arrive in the next day or so. But until she knew for sure that all was well, she had to stay strong and clearheaded. And ready. Queen’s Basin was a paradise, yes, but it was still a long way from being a country. Building it had to come first. It’s what her father would have done. Get work done, then have fun—that was what he’d always taught her. And this was his mountain paradise, wasn’t it?
There would be time for freedom and chasing down joy and running wild through the fields. It just wasn’t that time yet. Juniper walked slowly and regally toward the clearing, clasped her hands, then stood and waited for her subjects to settle down.
It was time to be queen.
BEING QUEEN, IT TURNED OUT, WAS RATHER easier thought than done. After a certain amount of darting and dashing, Erick and Alta managed to corral everyone in the open space near the Great Tree. The group was wild and unruly, and Juniper searched in vain for the queenly poise she’d felt just minutes ago. How did her father manage being responsible for an entire country, with millions of people looking to him for guidance and organization? Here she had just thirteen subjects, and she felt completely outnumbered.
Well, she thought, maybe I don’t quite have even thirteen subjects.
Across the clearing, Cyril approached with long strides. Jessamyn and Root followed behind him to either side. Cyril’s hair was sleek and shiny, his tailored coat crisp and spotless, and his nose lifted so high, Juniper could see clear up his hairy nostrils.
“Well, well, well,” he murmured in tones of highest scorn.
“Cyril,” she said, voice clipped. “It’s good of you to join us.”
“Such a quaint little spot you’ve turned up here,” he replied, throwing himself down on a nearby boulder, crossing his arms on his chest with an expression of infinite boredom. Waiting for me
to fail. The words popped into her mind, and she registered her own limp curls, her skirts crumpled from yesterday’s travel. Cyril knew the path her thoughts were taking; she could see it in his face. Juniper shook herself. She was her father’s daughter, and nothing—no pride-filled noble, no unruly mob, no mind-boggling mass of tasks to be done—would shake her confidence before she’d even begun.
“Gather round!” she called out, but her thin voice barely left the ground. She scanned her surroundings: Roddy and Filbert arguing about how the boards might have been affixed into the dropsy tree; Sussi wading out into the stream and exclaiming about depth; Toby running three leashed goats around in wide circles; Tippy stalking one kid after another, then popping out from behind them like a manic jack-a-box.
Cyril caught her eye, cocked his chin, and smirked.
Without breaking Cyril’s gaze, Juniper brought her thumbs to her mouth, and—delighted to put her mother’s years-ago instruction to such a fine practical use—let out a piercing whistle. There were no chandeliers to rattle out here. But the sound electrified the clearing, rocketing through it like a slingshot and quashing the hubbub outright.
“Well, that’s better,” said Juniper. “Let’s all come in close now, shall we?”
Stragglers pushed in to the circle. The hush thickened as everyone settled and turned toward Juniper.
She cleared her throat. “Hello, everybody. I’m so glad you’ve all made it here safely to our very own new kingdom!”
“Juniper Kingdom!” Tippy materialized, all elbows, between two taller kids in the front of the group. “Hip, hip, hooray!”
To Juniper’s surprise, the group broke out into a loud cheer and chorused, “JUNIPER KINGDOM!” She glanced over at Erick, who winked and chanted along with them.
She lifted her hands and the group quieted. “I won’t say that doesn’t have a certain ring,” she said. “But my chief adviser and I have put some thought to a proper name for our new country, and the result is . . . Queen’s Basin.” She let the words sharpen in the air and carve their own space like a shimmering sign above the valley.
Princess Juniper of the Hourglass Page 8