Bardess of Rhulon

by Verna McKinnon

  “I hope so,” Rose said softly. “I didn’t leave on the happiest of terms.”

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “Now I’m afraid of what my parents might write backespecially my mother. I’ve always been trouble in her eyes.”

  “That’s because trouble always finds you,” Meg commented, walking toward them. “Can’t I leave you alone for five minutes without being attacked or abducted?”

  “Meg!” Rose gushed in a whisper. Hoping not to anger the various patrons sitting at the reading tables or the prune-faced book keeper. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “That’s quite a nasty bruise,” Meg frowned, examining Rose’s cheek. “Did that damn changeling do this to you?”

  “Yes, but I got a few licks in. Thanks for the dagger, by the way. It saved me from the changeling.”

  “Good,” Meg grinned and hugged her. “Still be careful with those fingers. I’ll teach you some techniques.” She looked at Rose’s hands. “What happened? Did it bleed on you?” Meg demanded, bending down and carefully taking them into her gloved ones. “That is a nasty rash.”

  “The cost of combating demons,” Rose grumbled. “They gave me some ointment, but it still itches. I should have brought the jar with me!”

  “Commander Sparrow is here? Excellent,” Culain observed with an arched brow. “I can use another pair of hands. Being a statuesque woman in this case is beneficial to the cause. I hereby assign you the high shelves. I think I’m developing a case of vertigo on those spindly ladders.” Culain, ever the courtly gentleman, bowed deeply. “Welcome, Commander Sparrow.”

  “Thank you, Ambassador Ironheart. Or should I address you as Prince?”

  “I will answer to anything as long as it’s not insulting, good lady. I pray our summons to this secret but worthy endeavor has not caused you trouble with your superiors?”

  Meg shook her head, “The summons came directly from the Emperor, so it actually impressed Captain Nerlis. Not an easy task. Do you want to check my blood?”

  “Meg, you don’t have to. I know it’s you.” She also wanted to spare Meg from removing her gloves in public.

  “How?” Culain asked.

  “Her breath doesn’t smell like rotten oranges. I remember that very clearly from last night. It was faint, but very distinct.”

  “That is a fact I did not know,” Culain said.

  “It’s one fact I wish I never learned,” Rose replied.

  Darius returned with a few books. “Our party is growing.”

  “Prince Darius,” Meg acknowledged with a graceful bow.

  Rose scratched her hand again and then deliberately stuck them in her pockets. “Darius, this is my good friend, Commander Meg Sparrow. She saved me from slavers when I came here. She’s ever so brave.” The agony flared and she went back to rubbing at her skin. She moaned, “Sorry. I know it’s rude, but this itching just keeps getting worse!”

  Culain looked concerned. “Rose, we better have the physician look at that again. It’s worse than last night. I think it’s gotten worse.”

  Robert, wheezing from climbing up the stairs, shuffled toward them. “We have permission,” he whispered triumphantly, waving the document he received from the Master Librarian. He paused and looked at everyone. “What’s wrong?”

  Meg looked worried as she examined her hands. “The message I received said you were attacked by a changeling, but you were unharmed. This is definite harm. It’s not just red. You’re developing black spots. This is troubling.”

  “Imagine my feelings?” Rose retorted, feeling uncomfortable with the attention.

  “No, I mean there is something about those spots that mean something, I just don’t remember what. I know who can tell us though.”

  “I think we should take Rose to see the physician now,” Culain lamented. He looked genuinely troubled. “I’ve seen it cause a little rash, but nothing like that. I’m so sorry, Rose. Forgive me.”

  Robert interjected quietly, “Your Highness, we’re attracting attention and should leave. We should get Miss Rose to a doctor.”

  Indeed, both patrons and keepers were looking at them.

  “Yes, let’s get out of here now,” Culain agreed.

  “How much of that creature’s blood did she get on her?” Meg asked as they quickly walked together.

  “Quite a bit,” Culain answered grimly, shaking his head. “Her hands were covered with its blood. It took a bit of effort to wash it off. Rose stabbed it several times in her efforts to escape. She’s a very brave girl.”

  Rose did not feel brave, and had become winded trying to keep up with the fast pace as they ran down the stairs, except for poor old Robert who stiffly took each step slowly.

  “Prolonged or heavy exposure to changeling blood can be dangerous,” Meg said. “And I don’t mean a rash.” She grabbed Rose’s hands. “Stop scratching or I will tie your hands.”

  The faint little pink patches flamed red with little flecks of black. It was actually much worse since she woke up. Rose winced with that memory of the monster glaring down at her as it held her prisoner down. “Ghastly creature. I hope it’s rotting somewhere. I thought a rash was normal for exposure to demon blood?”

  “Demons are not normal,” Meg emphasized. “Neither is your rash.”

  “I requested the court apothecary examine the creature’s blood,” Culain said. “I will ask if he knows what we should do for Rose.”

  “Is the court physician trained in treating demonic injuries?” Meg asked, frowning as she examined the rash again.

  “Most are of course, but changeling attacks aren’t common and neither is their blood,” Darius replied. “That is why we are here gathering our research.”

  “I have a friend I trust. She’s a witch named Zula Rutu. She lives in the old part of town, but she has great knowledge. I trust her. I ask that you trust me, Prince Culain. Let me take her to Zula. I will take care of Rose,” Meg promised.

  “Of course,” Culain agreed quickly. “Take my carriage.”

  “How will we transport the books?” Robert asked.

  “Take mine,” Darius offered. “I arrived in a carriage also. The books can be delivered to your chambers, Culain,” “I think we should get Rose medical attention right away.”

  As they bantered, dizziness overwhelmed Rose and her eyes blurred. A disturbing image bloomed in her mind, of crawling through dark tunnels, the smell rank and putrid. She actually felt herself creeping through the filthy passageways as though she were there!

  “Rose what is it?” Darius asked, concerned, bending down to take her arm. “You look so pale. ROSE!”

  Culain caught her as she collapsed. Rose squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will the images out of her mind. The panicked voices of Meg, Darius, Culain, were so far away now. She was linked to the thoughts of the changeling now.

  Bloodso much blood that the changeling lost. A sickly chill spread throughout Rose’s body and she began shivering as the library fell away from her reality and was replaced by the dark underground with damp walls. The changeling crawled in the shadows. Bleeding from daggered wounds and cursing the stupid dwarf girl! The hatred was so intense Rose flinched. She was suddenly aware of wholesome sunlight and green grass replacing the dim tunnels, but the changeling did not like the golden sunlight. It hungered and must risk exposure or perish. The changeling cowered in a bush by the stables, whimpering, until a lone stable boy walked near, carrying a bucket of oats. The changeling’s wounds required blood and flesh to heal. Must heal! The changeling swiftly scuttled from the shadows and pounced! Rose cried out as the creature attacked the stable boy, tearing at his flesh and feeding. It did not just eat the poor boy, to Rose’s horror. Its foul deviltry sucked the life out of him, leaving a ravaged husk. Shivering with revulsion, Rose screamed, shattering the connection.

  “Damn it!” Rose cried, shaking off the vision. “I just saw the changeling! I don’t know how I know, but it just killed someone.”

 
“What?” Meg cried.

  “I saw it in my mind,” Rose cried. “It had just crawled out of some tunnel where it was dark. Then it was in the sun. It hates the sun. There were stables and horses. I could even smell the hay. A stable boy walked by and it pounced on him. It killed him! It needed to heal so it murdered that poor boy to do it.”

  “If it has not fled the palace grounds, that would be the royal stables,” Darius whispered. “I will alert my guards to investigate right away. They’re waiting for me outside.”

  There was a commotion in the library now with people beginning to gather around them and a sour-faced keeper was briskly walking toward them.

  “I’ll take care of this crowd,” Robert Silverberry whispered quickly. “Just take Miss Rose and go. Now!”

  Culain’s expression was grim. “Agreed. Go now. Hurry!”

  Darius lifted her easily in his arms and hurried down the stairs, Meg keeping equal stride.

  “Am I possessed?” Rose cried, terrified. “What is happening to me?”

  Meg Sparrow’s steely green eyes brooked no resistance. Her bold pace forced the curious gawkers to silently clear a path as she marched toward the great doors. She shook her head grimly. “Not possessed, but I think you’re linked to the changeling’s mind.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  They arrived in a rundown section of the city; crowded with timeworn wooden structures with slanted roofs, two or three stories high, along narrow dirt streets that teemed with activity. Some were dwellings, based upon the rows of laundry hanging on rickety balconies. Ramshackle shops and people crammed together doing the daily business of living.

  “What do they call this part of the city?” Rose asked weakly, as Darius helped her down from the carriage.

  “We call it old town,” Meg replied, “though richer folk refer to it as poor town.”

  Despite her discomfort, Rose’s curiosity about new places never waned. This older quarter of the city was dirty and smelly, but full of vitality. Vendors hawked trinkets and goods; a fruit merchant was peddling melons and oranges; women carried woven laundry baskets or burlap sacks of groceries.

  A reedy boy with shaggy brown hair came running up to Meg. She tossed him a coin and he took Fayre’s reigns protectively, stroking her forehead, which delighted the horse.

  “They seem to know you around here,” Rose commented.

  Meg dismounted Fayre. “I’ve spent a lot of time here.”

  Another bout of furious scratching shadowed any further curious questions.

  “Stop that!” Meg chastised. “Do I need to put you in iron cuffs?”

  “That may be inevitable,” Rose groaned forlornly.

  Darius looked around like a dazed child who heard a fairy tale with an unhappy ending. “I know the poor exist, but I never knew they lived in such poverty in our city. Not even the docks are this squalid.”

  “First time in poor town?” Meg inquired. “The people here do all right. So don’t fret too much over it, Prince. They’re just working folk, well most are anyway. They care more about a loaf of bread than a coat of paint or fancy cobblestoned streets.”

  Darius gently picked Rose up and carried her, careful not to touch her enflamed hands. They followed Meg up a narrow flight of stairs to the second floor with a long narrow porch. A weather bruised sign of a golden crescent moon hung over a narrow door painted in bright blue and red swirls.

  Meg opened the door and a little bell chimed when she crossed the threshold. Inside the shop was shadowy with mystery and chockfull of earthy aromas. Candles and crystals of many colors were strewn about on a display table, with assortments of beaded jewelry and charms. The back wall was lined with several unpainted wooden shelves packed with dozens of mysterious clay pots, glass jars, and wooden boxes etched with runes. Darius set her down gently, but remained close.

  “Is anyone even here?” Rose whispered.

  A beautiful woman pushed back a red curtain at the far end of the room. She sized up her visitors with a casual glance. Her smooth complexion was dark as onyx, framed by a halo of black curls. She beckoned them with a smile that both mocked and welcomed them. Her flame orange woven skirt was girdled with broad striped sash that showed off her slim waist and the ruffled white blouse was garnished with colorful beads. Her face was strong, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw that gently tapered into a delicate chin.

  “Good afternoon, Meg,” she smiled broadly. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. Have you finally decided to go into business with me and make proper use of your magic?”

  “Sorry. I’ve been busy. Zula Rutu, these are my friends, Rose and Darius.”

  “Welcome to my humble shop,” Zula replied, her almond shaped eyes bright as she examined them.

  “Did you teach Meg about magic?” Rose asked.

  “Yes I did, little one, at least when she had time for me,” Zula answered. “Meg, who is your rich friend? Have finally brought me a wealthy patron to soften my path in this cruel world?”

  “Oh, I’m not rich,” Rose protested. “Even my clothes belonged to another.”

  Zula shook her head, triggering her silver hoop earrings to jiggle. “Ah, little one, you may not be blessed by gold, but he is,” Zula purred, circling Darius like a falcon hunting its prey. “Your plain clothes do not fool me, Prince. The Rhulonese girl wears fine velvet, but her origins are humble. Your clothes are simple, but they do not disguise your true self. Do not try to fool, Zula.”

  “No one is trying to fool you. We just need your help,” Meg insisted.

  Zula shrugged, “If you say so, Meg. It’s not like I am greedy. We’ve been friends for over ten years. I never even charged you for magic lessons. I was just hoping for a handsome benefactor to support my mystical endeavors.”

  Exasperated, Meg’s temper flared, “This is serious! Stop playing with the prince and listen. Rose was attacked by a changeling. She’s suffering. I don’t know what to do.”

  The mocking ceased and Zula’s brown eyes became serious. “Are you sure it was a changeling?”

  “Yes,” Rose replied. She exposed her hands, inflamed with black blotches. “Its blood stained my skin. And along with this hideous rash, I think our minds have become linked together. I’ve had ghastly visions.”

  Zula’s nonchalant attitude shifted immediately. “Follow me,” Zula ordered. “Tell me everything.”

  They followed Zula to the back room; crammed with stacks of wicker baskets and old wooden chests stuffed with the various sundries of her magic shop. Tapestries of wild designs hung along faded, chipped walls like beautiful masks, and others were images of exotic animals that Rose had only seen in book drawings.

  Zula guided Rose to a stool. “Sit. You must not leave out a single detail. Talk while I look for my ingredients.”

  Rose babbled the details of her raven dream, the dreadful attack, what the creature looked like, stabbing the monster, and the episode at the library. The whole bloody incident of horror.

  “Poor child, that is a terrifying tale,” Zula remarked sincerely as she lit a lamp and rummaged through a teak chest until she found a yellowed scroll tied with green ribbons.

  “I’m a bard, so tales are my livelihood. This is one I don’t want to relive in any song.”

  “Are you sure the beast didn’t bite you, Rose?” Zula asked pointedly.

  “I’m positive.” Another frantic bout of itching forced both Darius and Meg to grab her hands.

  “Can you help her?” Meg interjected, patience running thin. “She’s suffering!”

  Zula’s serious expression unsettled Rose. The witch leaned in close and examined her poor hands. “Of course I can help her. Was it a male or female changeling?”

  “I have no idea,” Rose replied, confused.

  “I’m thinking it was female,” Zula decided. “Changelings are nasty thieves, but the marks on your hands indicate that it may be so. Their breath smells like bad fruit.”

  Rose nodded, wiggling with agony. “I thought it
was like rotten oranges.”

  “Definitely a female changeling,” Zula confirmed.

  “Charming,” Rose remarked dryly, gritting her teeth.

  “I’m amazed that you woke up when it was there! How could you wake?” Zula muttered, inspecting her ravaged hands. “Changelings use their breath of sleep to keep victims unconscious, especially if they are going to take you.”

  “Take me!” Rose cried. “What do you mean take me?”

  “You’re lucky to fight off a demon so strong. You’re so tiny,” Zula commended her.

  “I may be diminutive in size among tall folk, but among my people I will have you know I am unfashionably tall for a girl. And I stabbed it too. I stabbed it many times. I made it run,” Rose boasted. “Please explain the ‘take me’ part. It makes me nervous.”

  Zula let go of her hands and went to work. She untied the scroll and spread it on the table, securing the ends with unlit candles and stray crystals. It looked brittle with age and written in a language that Rose did not recognize.

  Darius put his arm protectively around Rose. “If you care about gold, I can pay handsomely for your information.”

  “Your Prince is so protective, Rose,” Zula remarked coolly as she scrutinized the scroll, “I always heal, even if you are poor. Why do you think I live in this hovel? I will tell you what you need to know, but this is precise work. My father was a demon slayer in the old country. My knowledge comes from his teaching. And I know that changelings are filthy creatures.”

  “What can you tell us?” Darius asked.

  “Changelings can masquerade as humans in two ways. For a short time they can pretend to be someone. For that, all they need is to steal the essence of your body, which can be a drop of blood, a strand of hair, or a fingernail; they can wear the image of another for a few hours or perhaps a day or two. If they plan to impersonate the victim for long time, that is more complicated and deadly. It’s a terrible fate for its victim. They use their breath put you into a deathlike sleep.” Zula rolled up the scroll and quickly gathered potion bottles, clay pots, and packets of powder and arranged them on the table as she continued to talk. “They cocoon the person in a web and use divinations and charmed gems to keep them bound in mystical slumber, dreamless and dark. This impious creature forges a bond that enables it be anyone for days, weeks even, as long as they have that poor soul hexed and trapped in the magical stasis. That malignant enchantment forms a connection between their minds,” Zula answered. “The creature can draw on memories, language, and personality, so it can fool anyone.”