[Galazon 00] When the King Comes Home

by Stevermer, Caroline

  “Yes,” said Ludovic. He took my tools away from me and carried them himself. “Tig, fetch the things from her room. Take them to Giltspur Street. If you see Amyas or her father, tell them she’ll be there soon.” Ludovic helped me up the steps. Flight after flight of steps. How could there be so many steps in the world?

  “I’m hungry.” Obediently I climbed more steps. “I want strawberries.”

  “Strawberries would be nice,” agreed Ludovic. “Only nine months until they’re back in season. Would you like something in the meantime?”

  “Ginger biscuits. From Dalager.” I kept climbing steps. “Don’t we ever get to go down? My back hurts.”

  “Nearly there.” Ludovic guided me through a door. After that the way was flat, or nearly. Mercifully we encountered hardly another step as he led the way along corridor after corridor.

  The maze of hallways reminded me of Istvan’s escape from the palace. “Where’s Istvan?”

  Ludovic sounded grim. “I don’t know. He’s probably keeping an eye on the prince-bishop. Don’t worry. He knows where to find us if he wants us.”

  “The prince-bishop?”

  “Him too.”

  I trudged after Ludovic. “Where are we, anyway?”

  “Almost there.”

  “That’s not very helpful. This palace is bigger than it looks.”

  Ludovic and I rounded a corner. Before us was a door to the outside. The guard, who wore a gray cloak over a green tabard, waved us past. We stepped forth into a kitchen garden.

  The late afternoon light made me close my eyes hard for a moment. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly six. Don’t worry. Not long to supper.”

  Orderly rows of root vegetables barred me from the temptation of the pear trees espaliered along the stone wall. I let Ludovic hurry me along without attempting to purloin a single fruit for myself. Even a carrot would have tempted me, but I was obedient.

  Beyond the garden was another guard, this one in a different uniform. He too let us go unhindered. Through that door was the courtyard leading to the main gate. The guards there displayed no interest in us at all. We walked unchallenged into a side street. I wondered if every regiment of guards knew Ludovic or if he had simply arranged bribes in advance.

  “Are you rich?” I asked, as we turned off the Esplanade. My bones still ached, but the freedom of the streets lifted my spirits. Relief made me light-headed. “Or merely famous?”

  “Me? I am poor but honest. The usual state of affairs, until next quarter’s wages are paid. Why?”

  I was patient. “The guards let us go. Did you bribe them? Or did they know you? But some of them had the regular palace uniforms on. So they couldn’t all be from your regiment.” I thought it over. “Even if they all knew you, it doesn’t mean they’d do what you wanted.”

  “God knows you seldom do.” Ludovic grinned at me.

  “You’re happy. What are you so happy about?”

  “It’s good to be safely out of the palace.” Ludovic’s dark stubble made his smile seem the more brilliant by contrast. “You’re right. Some of the guards knew me. Some of them did what I wanted despite that. The rest I bribed. And it worked. You’re out of custody.” He gestured grandly, and I realized we were in Giltspur Street. “You’re home.”

  So brief a time I’d been away from Madame Carriera’s workshop, to hold so much change. I gawked about me as we entered. Had the ceiling always been so low? Were the stairs to Madame Carriera’s salon always so steep?

  Had it always been so crowded? Piers and Saskia each had me by a sleeve. Tig was there, and I could see Amyas grinning over Papa’s shoulder. I’d been gone longer than I realized. Piers had grown taller. Saskia wore her hair up. Papa looked so thin. Even Amyas seemed different, larger and more capable.

  The salon was as elegant as ever, spotless and spacious. Yet to me it seemed as airless and hot as Rigo’s workroom. I caught myself swaying and squared my shoulders.

  “Give her something to eat,” called Ludovic. “She must be hollow by this time.”

  I looked around for him. “Where’s Istvan?”

  Ludovic frowned. “I was wondering the same thing. Make them feed you something and get a bit of sleep. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  An elegant hand fell on Ludovic’s shoulder. Madame Carriera turned him toward her. Though she wore the clothes she painted in, she was as immaculate as ever. “A word in your ear, young man,” she said. Her displeasure was plain.

  “It’s not his fault,” I said. “I know I shouldn’t be here. But he took me away from the palace, and where else could I go?”

  Madame Carriera looked fierce. “You asked him to bring you here? After you ran away without a word?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.” Words caught in my throat. The effort required to explain myself was too great. What explanation was there, after all? I had abandoned my studies. I had ignored her teaching. I had destroyed the work of a master. All my weariness came down upon me. The room no longer seemed uncomfortably warm. I felt cold and sick.

  “At least you had the decency to return my notebook,” said Madame Carriera. “It helped, then?”

  “The crown is the city,” I meant to say. The words stuck in my dry throat. Instead, I said, “The king is the city.”

  “I brought her here,” said Ludovic. “The responsibility is mine.”

  “Under my roof, all the responsibilities are mine,” said Madame Carriera. “Don’t make me regret it.” She looked around the crowded room. “Any of you.” Her eye fell on Piers. “There’s soup in the kitchen. Go heat it up. Water it down, there’ll be plenty to go around. Hail should have hers thin in any event. If she eats too much at once, she’ll only make herself sick. Now, Hail, sit down and tell us everything.”

  “Thank you.” It wasn’t enough to say, but it was all I could find words for. I shook my head. Carefully I sat down on the bench Amyas brought me. “Thank you all.” My voice wobbled and my eyes stung.

  “Come on,” said Saskia. “Out with it.”

  I shook my head.

  My father sat on the bench and put his arm around me. “She’s had enough.”

  I leaned into his warmth. The chill within me retreated, replaced by the silent reassurance of his touch. My head was heavy, so I put it on his shoulder. I was asleep before the soup came.

  When I woke, it took me a few minutes to realize where I was. My bed was comfortable, warm, and clean. The ceiling was freshly plastered, ornamented in each corner with a neatly frescoed emblem representing the seasons. From my pillow, I could see the tumbled fruits of autumn directly overhead. It reminded me I was hungry. There was something else I needed to recall. I couldn’t remember what.

  I realized I was in Madame Carriera’s house, in the garret room I had shared with Saskia. I looked around. Yes, judging from the neat array of personal effects, Saskia was still in residence. At a guess, she’d done the fresco. It was in her style.

  From the angle of the light through the fly-blown windows, I guessed it was midday. All my things were on the floor at the foot of my bed, an unsightly tumble of possessions.

  Clumsy with too much sleep, I washed and dressed, took care of the basics. I was eager to make my way to the kitchen and find something to eat. And then—what then? There was something else I had to do. I couldn’t remember what, but it was sure to come back to me. Distracting myself with food would encourage the evasive thought to come forth and make itself known.

  In the kitchen, I found bread and cheese. While I was slicing the cheese, I scowled with the effort of recollection. There was somewhere else I ought to be. Never mind. Food was the first imperative. I sat down with my slabs of pale cheese and dark bread and fell to.

  “Awake at last,” said Saskia. She came through the kitchen on her way to the scullery carrying an armload of beets. “There’s soup left if you want some.”

  The bread and cheese went quickly. I found the soup and ladled myself a bowl.
No beets in it, I was glad to see. “I thought you’d be off on your own by this time. Hasn’t your masterpiece been accepted by the guild yet?”

  Saskia dropped the beets at my feet and deposited a bucket of water beside them. “Scrub those. For that, I should make you do it without a brush.”

  “For what?”

  “For asking me that, as if I’m no better than Gabriel, going off and setting up in competition. You know very well that I’ve been accepted, but there’s no way I can leave Madame Carriera with only one apprentice. There’s more work than Piers and I can manage as it is, even with your brother to help us grind pigment.”

  “Amyas helps?”

  “He’s not bad.” Saskia pulled up a stool and sat down where she could study me intently. She seemed satisfied with what she saw. “It’s good you’re back, though.”

  I finished my soup and helped myself to another bowl. “It’s good to be back.”

  “I have work to do.” Saskia rose and shook out her skirts briskly.

  “Wash up the dishes when you’re finished, don’t forget.”

  “Did you do the fresco?”

  “The four seasons? I did.”

  “Excellent work.”

  “Yes, I know.” Saskia looked pleased with herself. “I made Piers take down the old plaster for me. He had so much practice doing the other room, he didn’t even protest.”

  “What did you base the emblems on?”

  Saskia beamed at me. “Nothing but pure genius. I am a member of the guild now, remember.”

  “So grand you’ve become.”

  “Don’t you forget it. And don’t forget those beets.” Saskia went up to the workroom and left me alone.

  I helped myself to one more bowl of soup while I tried to concentrate on what I was forgetting. Something was eluding me. Something I needed to do. Or somewhere I needed to go. Something … I put the bowl down half empty. Somewhere else. I needed to be somewhere else. I went out the back door, leaving the beets.

  The city seemed strange to me. I walked the tangle of streets, looking for signs of the harvest season. I found few. The dealers’ stalls were sparse. What goods were for sale were oddly expensive. Where I had once known a city of crowded markets and wide-flung windows, I found grim scarcity and windows shuttered. To make the streets seem bleaker still, a fine rain, little more than a mist, began to fall.

  I walked in the direction of the Shene gate. There was somewhere I should be, but I could not remember where or why. It felt odd to be out alone. I’d been on my own when I walked home along the Lida, convinced I was fleeing from the law. Since I’d encountered Istvan under the bridge, I’d been in company, never entirely alone. At least, never alone and free to go where I wished. My liberty intoxicated me. I walked faster.

  By the time I reached the Shene gate, I was breathing fast with excitement. My cheeks were warm. I had found where I needed to be. I had realized what I needed to do.

  There were soldiers before the gate. Recruiting officers were addressing the knot of bystanders there. As they spoke, young men came forward, occasionally in pairs but most often alone, and enlisted. The prince-bishop’s army required men for the campaign against Edward of Ardres. A mighty army would march forth from Aravis and conquer Red Ned once and for all. His threat would be ended before the leaves were off the trees.

  More young men were arriving all the time. They all looked as excited as I felt, though the men who had already enlisted were looking a little puzzled about what there was to be so excited about.

  I watched and listened avidly. This was what I had to do. I had to go north with the army. This grand force of fighting men would put paid to Red Ned once and for all. Aravis would be safe then. Before I came forward to join them, though, I needed to prepare. I needed my things. Sturdier shoes, something to eat. My notebook.

  In haste, I turned back toward Madame Carriera’s. The effort required to leave the recruiters at Shene gate was great. It was like walking on ice, to make myself move in any other direction. But I couldn’t go to war without my notebook.

  SEVENTEEN

  (In which I go to war.)

  When I returned to Madame Carriera’s house for my things, I discovered I had been missed. Saskia was waiting for me at the door. She followed me up the steps, wanting to know where I’d been. At the landing outside Madame Carriera’s salon, Ludovic Nallaneen intercepted me. I yielded to his entreaty, and we went into the salon to talk.

  “Where did you go? What have you been doing?” Ludo asked.

  “I walked down to the Shene gate,” I told him and Saskia. “The army is gathering there.”

  “Don’t I know it,” said Ludo. “The prince-bishop is enlisting recruits. It isn’t a particularly safe place for an unaccompanied woman. Nor man, for that matter.”

  “You left the beets,” Saskia reminded me. “That doesn’t surprise me, but you might have washed up the dishes you used.”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  Saskia did not seem interested in my penitence. “You might have told me you were going out.”

  “I didn’t plan it. I had to go. I knew I had to go somewhere. But I couldn’t remember where.”

  “You could have told me before you left.”

  “You weren’t there.”

  Saskia looked cross. “Neither were you.”

  “I’m sorry.” I turned back to the stair. “I only came back to get my things.”

  Ludo put his hand on my arm and left it there. “No, wait a moment. Sit down.” He steered me to a bench. “Where are you going?” I looked up at him. It made my neck hurt. “I need my notebook. And my other things. And I need to go back to the Shene gate.”

  “What for?”

  “The recruiting officers are there.”

  Ludo’s dark eyes narrowed. “They aren’t recruiting artists. I hope you don’t plan to enlist.”

  “No. Not formally. I’m not a soldier.”

  “No. We agree on something. That’s good.” Ludo sat beside me, his arm over my shoulders. Saskia stood between us and the door looking vigilant. “Now, Hail. Why do you want to go to the Shene gate?”

  I searched for an explanation. I wasn’t successful. I knew the urgency of my wish to rejoin the soldiers, but I couldn’t explain it. “Well, to join the army. I have to go with them.”

  “Ah. Why?”

  “To fight for the prince-bishop?” It didn’t sound convincing, even to me. “To fight for Aravis?”

  “You?” Saskia looked worried. “Hail?”

  Ludo was looking worried too. “Where did you get that idea?”

  I couldn’t put my feelings into words. “I don’t know. I just have to. I woke up knowing there was something I have to do. It took me a while to realize what it was.”

  “Has she ever had this notion before?” Ludo asked Saskia.

  Saskia shook her head, frowning. “Never. She was a bit odd when I talked to her in the kitchen. She didn’t say much.”

  “She didn’t?” Ludo felt my forehead. “Hail, do you feel ill?” To Saskia, he added, “Her clothes are damp.”

  “It’s raining.” I drew away from him indignantly. “No, I don’t feel ill. I feel fine. But I have to get my notebook.” I started for the door. Saskia stopped me. “Hail, don’t go.”

  “Hail—”

  There was a note in Ludo’s voice that made me turn and stare. “What’s the matter?”

  Ludo said, “I’ve spoken with Istvan. He’s spoken to the prince-bishop. Rigo gave the crown you cast to the prince-bishop. Together they’ve begun another ritual. Rigo’s spell should free Julian from Dalet’s power. So they are using the crown to call Julian to them in Aravis.”

  “The crown is the city,” I said. “That makes sense.”

  “The call doesn’t seem confined to Julian. Citizens began volunteering for the prince-bishop’s army. They want to enlist to help the prince-bishop fight to protect Aravis. They can’t explain why.”

  “Dear heaven,” said S
askia. “Is that where you got the idea?”

  At first, I didn’t answer. I searched my memory of waking. The urgency I felt had been there from that moment, running beneath my thoughts. If it wasn’t my idea from the beginning, I had made it my own. “I cast the crown. Rigo cast the spell. I might have some link to it.”

  “Judging from your behavior,” said Ludo, “you do.”

  “If the spell Rigo cast worked, Julian should be free of Dalet’s spell. Won’t he come to Aravis as soon as he can?” asked Saskia.

  Ludo said, “Istvan doesn’t believe the prince-bishop wants Julian in Aravis.”

  “Well, if the prince-bishop is using the crown to call Julian, why does he need an army?” asked Saskia. “Why can’t he wait until Julian comes to get the crown?”

  “What if Julian brings Red Ned’s army with him?” countered Ludo. “They won’t want him wandering off all on his own.”

  “It’s Julian’s crown, not the prince-bishop’s,” I said. “We’ll take it to him.”

  Ludo sighed. “That’s what Istvan says.”

  “Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll just go pack my things and be right back.”

  It was far from settled. There were many arguments about my plans. I won them all. My trump card was the link I felt to Rigo’s call. I did not try to emphasize my reaction to the call of the recruiting, but I didn’t need to. My symptoms were few but clear. It was painful for me to ignore the call of the spell Rigo was casting.

  At last even my father yielded. He granted permission for me to travel under Ludo’s protection. My preparations were made and my plans approved. I was going forth with Istvan and the prince-bishop and Rigo and Ludo. Together we were going to free Julian from his captivity and put paid to Dalet and Red Ned of Ardres.

  Tig was given his new orders. Ludo reassigned him to accompany me. We even had the same horses we’d arrived with. Tig was not happy.

  Madame Carriera was resigned to my departure. She did not try to change my mind. Amyas and Piers agreed that I was going on a grand adventure. Saskia refused to speak to me.