Then a mob of guards and ecclesiastics and Papa and Mama poured into the room.
Mama went straight to Aurora, who evidently thought the entire thing had been a great deal of fun. The six of us were surrounded by various robed dignitaries, including the Abbess, who patted my cheek and winked before telling the others how clever and brave they had been.
The ecclesiastics who couldn’t get near us and Gerrold went over every thumb-length of the doorway to make sure that there wasn’t a trace of the Wraith left. I felt as limp as an overcooked carrot.
Those of us who had our swords out sheathed them before someone pressed up against the edges or the points and got hurt. I heard Sir Delacar’s voice booming above the babble of the crowd. “You heard it! That was the Cradle Song! Pure human magic calling on the Infinite Light! Blasted that Wraith right into the next world, they did!”
And I realized exactly why Sir Delacar was making all that fuss about it being “pure human magic.”
People were still giving me side-eyes about my Fae blood even though the revelation had been weeks ago.
With any luck, this would put those fears to rest. I had called on the Infinite Light and had been answered.
Nothing could be more human than that.
I slowly worked my way out of the mob of people to the side of the room where Mama and Aurora stood, defended from encroachment by Melalee. With five others to fuss over, people didn’t seem to notice that I had moved away from the crowd.
“She’s fine,” Mama said, without my asking. “I think she liked the bright lights.”
“The screaming frightened her, but she’s a brave little girl,” said Melalee proudly. “Not a whimper out of her.”
In fact, despite all the hubbub in her room, my baby sister was smacking her lips and blinking drowsily as if she was ready to go back to sleep again. I just hoped being frightened by the screaming Wraith wasn’t going to give her nightmares.
The Abbess and Gerrold worked their way over to us as well, and I asked the questions I had wanted to ask since I’d seen the Wraith. “Where did that thing come from? How could it get in the palace?”
“It might always have been here,” the Abbess said. “The history of this building has not always been a good or happy one. Don’t tell poor Thomas, but that ‘banishing’ spell he does merely puts whatever dark thing is here to sleep. The Dark Fae may have awakened it before we set the protective spell in place.”
So another of the things that we had been assured of as children was wrong! As if the world weren’t a dangerous enough place, the palace could still be haunted. Lovely.
“Then I think we should ask your fellow clergy to help me make a sweep of the palace from top to bottom to make sure there are no other surprises lurking in the shadows,” Gerrold said grimly.
“I quite agree, Sir Wizard,” the Abbess replied, linking her arm with his. “Let’s go collect the useful ones before they begin going homeward or get involved in a jolly old theological debate that lasts the night.”
I, however, was not going to be part of that. Because the next thing I knew, Sir Delacar had swept me up with the others, herded everyone out of the nursery, and led us down to the Great Hall, where we could, singly and together, tell the tale to everyone who wanted to hear it again… and again… and again until we were given too much wine and sent to bed because we were stumbling over our words.
CHAPTER TEN
I WOKE UP WITH A BIT OF A HEADACHE; BUT IT WAS ENOUGH TO remind me that I probably should not have accepted that last cup of wine last night. From the looks of things, Elle and Anna were feeling the same. Still, it was only eight days to midsummer and setup for the Midsummer Faire had surely already started down in the town. After our sterling performance as a team last night, I had high hopes that Sir Delacar would let us have half a day off to visit it.
The only thing I was really worried about was how frightened people living in the palace would be now that we’d had a Wraith ghosting through our rooms. But when the three of us went down to breakfast, it seemed I needn’t have worried at all.
Our fellow squires practically fell all over one another to make sure we had our share—more than our share, really—of everything on our end of the table. And they all wanted to hear about last night. So we took turns—I told about spotting the Wraith and running for the nursery, then Anna and Rob told about me bursting in, then Giles and Nat told about Melalee coming to get them just as everyone else was leaving the Great Hall. And Elle finished up by describing what happened when we all chanted.
Well, they all wanted to hear about the Wraith being destroyed several times more, so Anna, Rob, Giles, and Nat all took turns describing it.
I ate slowly so as not to disturb the slightly precarious state of my stomach. But I could not help but notice that the same faces that had watched me suspiciously yesterday were all wide-eyed and friendly this morning. Sir Delacar had been right! The mere fact that I had used something every person in Tirendell had learned as a child to destroy a Wraith meant that I had gone from being considered dubious to utterly trustworthy. Suddenly, I had gone from a thing to be wary of to our beloved Princess’s loyal defender. My Fae blood had eclipsed my human blood a mere day ago. Now the reverse was true.
This was, well, wonderful!
And sharing this attention was, I thought, extremely good for my five friends. There was no helping the fact that I was the leader of the Companions, but the more I could be the leader among equals, the more comfortable I was going to feel. I honestly could not imagine being Papa and ordering people about all the time, with everyone looking up to you and expecting you to provide answers.
“All right, lads, enough,” Wulf said, pitching his voice so it carried over everything. “Time to get to work for all of us.” The tone of his voice warned that he wasn’t going to tolerate any nonsense.
“Whew!” Giles said as we headed for the training yard and Sir Delacar. “Wulf doesn’t put down his foot often, but he boxes ears if he gives an order and you don’t jump to it. There was no talking after we all went to bed, and nothing to slow us down this morning.” But his eyes showed me how excited he was. “I can’t believe we all did magic!” he exclaimed. “I just can’t believe it!”
“Well, you should, because we all certainly did,” I said as we entered the training yard. “If I was the arrow, you all were the bow.”
Sir Delacar huffed with approval. “That’s a nice way to put it, young Miri. And it’s a fine thing to know that you can work this way. Once Gerrold starts teaching you more-proper spells, you’ll likely be glad of the bow behind you.”
I kept quiet about the Cradle Song not being a “proper” spell, since both the Abbess and Lady Brianna certainly seemed to think it was.
“And speaking of Gerrold, you two are going to work together to put that spell on the guards that will let them see magic and the creatures of magic.” Then Sir Delacar turned to the others, who looked a little disappointed. “You’re not being left out. After last night, it is quite clear that somehow Miri can use you to help her. So you’ll be taking turns to do just that.” He chuckled as their faces lit up, and he sounded extremely satisfied. I soon found out why.
Before yesterday, the members of the Royal Guard had been recalcitrant about allowing me to do anything with them involving magic.
Today, they were falling all over one another to have the spell cast on them.
So Gerrold and I had a line waiting for us down in the training yard. I went ahead and started, with one of the Companions literally lending me a hand with one hand on my shoulder. And just like last night, even though I was using Fae magic, I was somehow able to get power from my friends; maybe because they were practically glowing with enthusiasm and happiness, and that is where Fae magic gets some of its power. When one started to feel tired, another came to take his or her place. As a result, we got through every single member of the Royal Guard and some of the knights as well, with me doing about three-fourths of the w
ork so Gerrold didn’t exhaust himself. And we did it all in the space of the morning.
Brilliant.
I was feeling awfully proud of us when we went in to eat—though, mind you, we ate like a pack of starving animals when we got there.
And to be honest, what I wanted to do when I finished eating was lie down and take a nap. But I went out to the tree and Lady Brianna’s cottage because I’d gotten used to doing things when I was tired, sometimes so tired that I didn’t think I’d be able to do them at all.
Lobo was waiting for me, and to my surprise and pleasure, so was Viridity. “I understand you had an exciting evening,” Lobo said conversationally as I emerged from the door in the tree that let me out on the road.
I stared at him in shock. Wolves don’t smirk, but I thought I heard something like a smirk in his voice. “A little bird told me,” he said. “Or rather, a big bird. That raven of Wizard Gerrold’s is a dreadful gossip.”
I rolled my eyes but laughed a little anyway. “It all came out right in the end, but we were pretty scared.”
“Why would you be scared?” Viridity asked. “A mere Wraith is nothing compared to one of the Dark Fae.”
“Because I didn’t think when the Dark Fae attacked,” I told the unicorn. “I just jumped in. I had plenty of time running up the stairs to the nursery to think.”
Lobo barked a laugh. “And now you know enough to be scared.”
“I wish I knew what it was that was so special about Aurora to attract all this terrible attention,” I said as we trotted along under the deep cool of the trees. “It doesn’t make sense. She’s not Fae-blooded, I am. We’re not a great kingdom. We’re too small to start wars with other people. We’re not really all that important.”
“We don’t know, either,” Viridity confessed. “We’ve decided to take an interest mostly because the Dark Fae have, and anything bad for them is good for us.”
The little unicorn looked quite recovered from his ordeal—and I had no doubt that healing Aurora had been an ordeal for him. “By ‘we’ do you mean the Light Fae in particular or all the magical creatures that aren’t already allied with the Dark Fae?”
“Hmm,” Lobo said, before Viridity could answer me. “There are always going to be creatures that insist on staying neutral.”
“At least until something attacks them,” added Viridity.
“That’s no different than humans,” I admitted. “Some people think that staying neutral will keep them safe. Some think that good and evil are relative and that they can’t possibly judge.”
“Some people—and creatures—are idiots,” Lobo replied crossly.
Just then Clarion leapt over the bushes at the side of the road and landed beside Lobo. “I heard you mention idiots. Are you making fun of me behind my back?” Clarion asked, although I could tell from his tone of voice that he was joking.
“No, if I want to insult you, I’ll do it to your face, it’s more entertaining.” Lobo snapped playfully at him. “What brings you here when you could be eating leaves?”
“Brianna asked me. I have no idea why.”
“And Brianna has butter cake,” Lobo said, drooling a little.
“Butter cake?” Viridity asked curiously. “Is this something I should know about?”
Both Lobo and Clarion began to describe the wonders of Brianna’s butter cake—which I had not yet tasted—and ran over the top of each other with superlatives. Viridity was highly amused. Truth to tell, so was I. That a plant-eating creature like Clarion would be mad for baked sweets didn’t surprise me—my Brownie loved bread with a little honey on it and naturally sweet things like apples and pears. But that a meat-eater like Lobo would be so in love with a cake was both unexpected and hilarious.
Brianna was waiting for us in her little garden outside the front door. She was wearing an illusion that got rid of her wings and had her gowned like any ordinary middle-aged peasant woman. If I hadn’t seen the glow of magic about her, I probably would not have recognized her. What little of her hair that showed under her cream-colored kerchief was brown; her modest dress was a dull dun, with a smock over it that was imperfectly bleached.
But the only one who would be sitting out in front of that cottage was Brianna or someone she had specially asked to do so. And her face was still Brianna’s when you looked closely enough—just Brianna coarsened and aged in a way I had never seen on a Fae’s face. We approached, and the first one of us she greeted was Clarion.
“Clarion, I found something in my storeroom that I thought might be useful for you and Miri,” she said as the other three went in single file through her little gate and I closed it behind us.
“Oh?” Clarion’s guarded tone told me that he suspected Brianna was about to ask a favor of him on my behalf. “Well, say on.”
Brianna stepped aside to show us what her skirts had been concealing.
A saddle. But it was a distinctly odd-looking saddle, smaller than the one I used on Brownie, with an odd pommel, and very light.
Clarion bent his head down to nose it. “Huh. Interesting. So you’re proposing that I should serve as her horse now?”
“Not exactly. Only in an emergency, when she needs to get somewhere swiftly.” Brianna was using her most persuasive tones. “This isn’t just any saddle. It’s one specifically fitted to a deer’s back. Look.”
She pointed out all the ways it was different from a horse’s saddle—it was meant to sit farther forward over the shoulders; it had a wider chest band and rump band to keep it from sliding back and forth as a deer leapt; and it had a very tall pommel to hang on to. “The stag that wore this centuries ago was no more minded to wear a halter and reins than you would be, so we gave the rider something to hold on to for added safety. I remember when I had it made for him.”
Clarion raised his head, an expression of acute interest in his eyes. “And who would that be?”
“Valiant,” she said. The name meant nothing to me, but it clearly did to Clarion, who took a step or two back.
“Oh,” he said thoughtfully. “Well.” While Brianna waited patiently, he contemplated the saddle and brought his head down to sniff it. We were all quite silent as Clarion thought; the only sounds were the bees droning in the garden and the birds chirping overhead. “Well,” he said again, after a very long pause. “There’s no harm in trying it on.”
Brianna lifted it as if it weighed nothing, and as I looked at it more closely, I realized that it did weigh next to nothing compared with saddles I was used to. Which made sense, since there was no way that a stag could carry the sort of weight that a horse could. Except for a very light frame, the saddle was thin and mostly padding. Saddle leather was usually extremely weighty, made from the heaviest part of the hide. I don’t know what sort of leather this was, but it was perhaps only glove weight. But it must be tough to have lasted for centuries. I wondered what sort of creature the leather had come from and if the leather had had the same sort of magic done to it that kept the sheath of my sword in good condition.
Brianna adjusted the saddle on Clarion’s shoulders, then tightened up the chest and rump bands. Clarion pranced in place a little, shook himself all over, then gave an experimental jump or two. “Hmm. Comfortable. Surprisingly comfortable. I suppose there’s no harm in having Miri try it out as well.”
Brianna boosted me into the saddle, which had leather loops instead of stirrups; and the loops were up high so my knees were much higher than they were when I was riding a horse. That forced me to shift my weight slightly forward and hold on to Clarion’s trunk with my entire leg, not just my thighs.
Clarion snorted a little. “Well. This is much better than I expected. Let’s go for a little run, shall we?”
And before I could say yes or no, he reared up, spun around, and leapt over the garden gate.
I clung tightly to the pommel, which was actually a loop of something hard covered in leather so it was easy to grip. And the difference between riding with this saddle and without it w
as night and day. I wasn’t sliding all over Clarion’s back, I didn’t have his sharp spine poking me in regions best left unpoked, and I actually felt secure. In fact, I started to enjoy the ride once I got used to shifting my weight over his shoulders to assist him as he bounded through the trees. He was much, much faster than Brownie or any other horse I had ever ridden.
I felt a pang of regret when I realized that he had turned around and was bounding back toward the cottage. With a last leap, Clarion landed on the garden path, and I dismounted properly rather than sliding off and landing in a heap on the ground. I realized that I was grinning because that had actually been fun!
“All right,” Clarion said, holding his head up and looking straight at Brianna. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll serve as Miri’s mount in the spirit of my ancestor Valiant. But only in an emergency.”
“I wouldn’t ask anything else of you, Clarion,” Brianna said soothingly. “I’ll keep the saddle in the storage seat of this bench; if there is a great emergency, I can call you for Miri rather than having her run through the forest shouting your name and attracting who knows what kind of trouble.”
Oh, so she knew about that. I flushed with embarrassment.
“Come over so I can take it off you, then there is butter cake for everyone while Miri tells us what happened at the palace last night.”
I almost groaned, thinking that I was going to have to repeat that tale yet again. But then… there was butter cake, which I was now quite eager to taste. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell it once more.
“But first, Miri, as a test of what I have taught you, I want you to dispel my illusion.”
So that was why she hadn’t dropped it when we arrived.
Well, I was rested, and feeling quite good, but I had never done this before and I didn’t want to be humiliated in front of my friends.
I gathered my Fae magic together and stared hard at Brianna while Lobo, Clarion, and Viridity watched me with great interest as I willed Brianna to look the way I knew she looked.
I had the magic settle over her like a cloud. I held it there as long as I could, then when I couldn’t hold it any longer, I let it dissipate. And as it faded, it took the illusion with it.
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