Bardess of Rhulon

by Verna McKinnon

  “They never do,” Meg agreed, enjoying her sandwich.

  “I’m so grateful to Zula. She is a miracle worker. After Zula’s marvelous cream, I feel so much better. My hands are almost normal. She’s so amazing and mysterious. How did you two meet?”

  Meg frowned and felt her forehead. “You’re talking awfully fast. You’re burning up too. Zula said you might develop a fever. You should rest.”

  “I’m fine. Really. Once I have the potion, I’ll be cured of this changeling poison. Then I want to hear about you and Zula. That must be quite a tale. I’m writing a story about the rangers too. You’re the hero.”

  “Rose, you’re flushed and your eyes are dilated.”

  Strange. She felt so energetic. And ravenous! “I’m fine. Zula said I might develop some symptoms.”

  “Dangerous symptoms,” Meg countered. She took the tray and put it in the dresser. “I suggest you rest until she arrives.”

  “Can I at least have my pudding?” Rose asked meekly.

  Meg handed her the bowl and a spoon.

  Suddenly, someone banged on the door so heavily that it vibrated. Rose panicked until she heard it was Skullcap’s voice on the other side, bellowing like a cranky dragon.

  “Hey, you in there Meg? What’s all the mystery about?”

  Rose shouted back, “Come on in!”

  Skullcap entered cautiously, his bulky frame taking up a good portion of the room, hand resting on his sword hilt. His crow, Owena, was perched on his broad shoulder. “Captain Nerlis said an urgent message from Prince Darius ordered that I meet you here. What the hell is going on, Meg?”

  “A lot of hell, actually,” Meg replied. “Thanks for coming so fast.”

  “Old Nerlis didn’t even blink or ply me any questions. You know how he needles on about every detail, but he just sent me on my merry way here with no explanation.”

  “Imperial intervention carries a lot of weight,” Meg explained. “Close the door and I’ll tell you what’s happened since this morning.”

  “Is that roast beef?” he sniffed, eyeing the platter of food eagerly.

  “Yes, and it’s delicious,” Meg answered. She unsheathed her dagger and demanded, “First, hold out your hand. Then we’ll share.”

  “What? You gonna cut me? Are you crazy wench?”

  “Stop being a baby. If you’re Skullcap, then there’s no worry. A changeling is on the loose.”

  “What? A changeling? In these parts?”

  “Yes, and it attacked Rose last night at the palace.”

  “What?” Skullcap roared, and looked over Meg’s shoulder at Rose. “You hurt sweetheart?” he asked, concern furrowing his brow. “I’ll rip that bloody thing to shreds”

  Rose waved her hands, “I’m fine. I was hurt, but I’m better now. We have to be careful because it escaped. That’s why we’re hiding out at the Red Boar.” She started to shiver now. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

  Meg rolled her eyes. “Don’t fuss. I just need to prick your finger.” She removed one of her gloves and pricked her own thumb. A drop of red bubbled on the tip. “See? My blood is red and I’m not whining.”

  “What other color would it be?” Skullcap asked.

  “Grey. When a changeling is in disguise that’s the one thing they cannot change,” Meg explained. “Just hold still so I don’t accidently open a vein.”

  Rose was rapidly spooning pudding into her mouth when a strange image popped into her head. Princess Lilias, blonde snooty Lilias, stalking her. When it cornered Rose, Lilias’ blue eyes darkened to black. All humanity melted away as she opened her maw, exposing sharp teeth. Rose shook her head until the hallucination dissipated. Her energy drained, she put her bowl on the table and she lay back against the pillows.

  “You stabbed a changeling?” Skullcap remarked, impressed. Then he scowled and finally held up his little pinky finger. Meg pricked it.

  Owena cawed loudly, angry Meg stabbed her human. “It’s all right girl,” Skullcap cooed, stroking her beak. “Just a simple test, that’s all.”

  “Thank you,” Meg replied smoothly. “That wasn’t so badwas it?”

  “Speak for yourself, woman,” Skullcap grumbled. “A damn steep price for a sandwich. Tell me more about this changeling running about?” He sucked his finger to stop the bleeding.

  Meg wiped the blade on her trousers and handed him a sandwich. “See, I told you we’d share.”

  “That does look good,” Skullcap grinned, taking one and breaking off a piece for Owena.

  “Stop salivating and just listen,” Meg sighed.

  A gentler knock on the door alerted them. “It’s me, Meg,” Zula called. “I have the potion.”

  “Thank the gods,” Rose moaned.

  Another flash of Lilias haunted her, but this time it was a different Lilias, entombed in a snowy cocoon, like a dying butterfly.

  Zula sauntered in and smiled Skullcap’s way when she glimpsed him from the corner of her eye. “How are you these days?”

  Skullcap patted his hairless, tattooed head and answered, “Still bald, Zula.”

  “Such a pity,” Zula sighed forlornly. She tickled Owena beneath the break. “I see you’re faithful at least to one female.”

  Rose blanched and gasped, “You’re the witch that turned Skullcap bald?”

  Zula shook her head, smiling sweetly. “Not intentionally, child. Anyway, it was near twenty years ago. We had a nasty lover’s quarrel because he slept with a slutty wench who couldn’t keep her skirts down.”

  “I did not cheat on you. I was very drunk,” Skullcap added. “I was barely conscious when the wench crawled on top of me. Plus, she stole my money.”

  “I was heartbroken. I drank too much wine and got carried away with a few mild incantations.”

  “A few mild incantations? Woman, I use to have to have a thick head of black hair!”

  “You turned him bald forever?” Rose asked.

  “I honestly do not remember why I did that or if it was even my intention,” Zula confessed. “If could remember my little hex I would reverse it. Sadly, he went to a penny a spell wizard for those funny little blue tattoos. I was so young then and easily prone to passion and fury. Now I am much more temperate.”

  “Good to know,” Rose replied. Angering a witch is obviously very risky. “But then, if you were the one that cursed Skullcap, how does Meg”

  “Oh, Skullcap introduced us,” Zula explained. “And it wasn’t really a curse, more of a spell gone wild. Magic and wine do not mix.”

  “Neither does rum and cake,” Rose interjected.

  “Such wisdom often comes too late to be useful in life. But that is the past and I’m a good witch. Meg needed guidance to control her magic and he asked me to teach her. I felt I needed to make amends to Robert, for my accidental hex.”

  “You will have made amends when I need a comb again, woman.”

  Rose recalled that Skullcap’s birth name was Robert. It was so strange whenever she heard it because the Skullcap suits him so much better.

  Zula turned to Meg and held up a finger. “Now, be gentle. I don’t want scars marring my perfect complexion.”

  Despite the squabbling, Rose sensed Zula and Skullcap were not angry with each other. There was more love than hatred in their voices. The human voice holds so much, but people are unaware. Their love was not completely broken, but it was damaged. That was sad. Shaky, Rose poured a glass of water.

  After a brief nick on the finger to determine Zula was human, she removed her cloak and removed a red potion bottle from her drawstring purse. She held up the bottle triumphantly. “Fresh from my cauldron!”

  Relieved to be fully healed, Rose accepted the offered potion. “Thank you, Zula!”

  “Now, the potion will make you a little drowsy,” Zula warned. “But it will flush the demon toxins from your body.” She touched Rose’s cheek. “Goodness! You’re fevered. Drink it now.”

  Rose plucked the stopper and held the bo
ttle to her lips. She paused and squinted, “How does it taste?”

  “Just like honey, my dear. I never give my patients unpleasant potions to drink.”

  Rose drank the potion in one swallow. Zula was right. It tasted like honey. But she did not feel better. And then everything went black.

  Rose was in a dark room, staring into a mirror. But she was not Rose. She was the changeling, but she wore Rose’s face now. She sensed its sinister thoughts. Crimson, the changeling was called Crimson. It laughed at its reflection before it turned away from the mirror. On the floor at Crimson’s feet were two dead maids, their pristine white blouses stained with their own blood, their bodies shrunken and desiccated. Repelled by the changeling, Rose struggled to free herself. In the process, Rose realized Crimson did not know they were connected. Rose fought to flee from the demon’s tangled mind. She was so bombarded with bizarre memory fragments she thought she would go mad. She saw the changeling as many people, including Princess Lilias! The real Lilias was still alive, but hidden away somewhere. Lilias was dying, soon to be a meal for the vicious changeling. The amulet, with the small red stone that glimmered with enchantment bound Lilias and the changeling. It was fading now. Death would take Lilias if left unattended too long. The amulet the changeling wore was a part of it. Rose could not bear anymore and toiled to break the bond, horrified by what she saw in its mind. Death. So much death. Another unwelcome thought invaded Rose’s consciousness that she seized upon. The changeling planned to murder Culain tonight, posing as Rose. Then it was coming after her for her master, the goblin king, Morziel.

  The link finally snapped. Rose found herself sprawled on the floor, surrounded by her friends, who looked as terrified as she felt.

  “Rose, you’re back. Thank the gods. What happened? Where did the demon take you?” Zula asked softly, lifting her head as she held a glass of water to her lips.

  Rose sipped and propped herself on her elbows, gasping. “The changeling is still at the palace, but now she looks just like me! I saw many fragments of her memory. It was awful.”

  “She?” Meg asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “The changeling that attacked me! It’s a female named Crimson.” Rose tried to steady herself as Meg helped her to her feet. “The changeling was pretending to be Princess Lilias. I knew there was a reason why I didn’t like her. She works for her master, the goblin king. Now that damn changeling looks like me and she just killed two poor maids! Oh gods! She fed on them!”

  Zula’s expression became troubled and she helped steady Rose. “This is not an effect of the blood girl, but I think you have magic that has awakened.”

  “A magic I do not know what to do with. I spent my life reading about the glam rhapsodé and its power. It’s also a curse. I’m scared. I wish Belenus were here. He could help me with this.”

  “Zula, take Rose back to your shop,” Meg ordered. “Skullcap and I will go to the palace.”

  “No,” Rose refused. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Changelings are nothing to play with,” Zula warned. “You’re still fevered and should rest! Let the warriors hunt the changelings.”

  “Listen to her. You’re delirious and not thinking clearly. That potion will take time,” Meg insisted.

  “No,” Rose cried. “There isn’t time. I must go back to the palace now! Culain’s life is in danger! The changeling is going to kill Culain and use my face to do it.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Crimson did not grasp a very important fact when she eagerly transformed into Rose Greenleafthe Princess’s clothes no longer fit. Crimson whined and pulled at the now baggy dresses that hung like voluminous tents. Why didn’t she think! The dwarf was only four feet tall. She must get to Rose’s wardrobe; but she could not walk out of the chamber alone. There were not just guards posted at her door, but patrolling the halls. Crimson restrained a giggle, enjoying the notion that her evil infected the whole palace with fear.

  Crimson stripped and shifted into her natural changeling shape. She stepped over the dead bodies of the servants and retrieved the precious stands of Rose’s hair wrapped in a lacy handkerchief and tied it to her wrist. She opened the window and looked down. Guards patrolled the grounds, but the fading sunlight and the ability to shroud her presence might keep her safe from detection. She crawled out of the window and climbed up to the roof. She scuttled briskly, her clawed finger pads glands secreted a sticky fluid that allowed her to cling effortlessly.

  Crimson was above Rose Greenleaf’s window. She hoped Rose was there now. Then she could restrain the dwarf and bind her up for her master. Changeling magic may not work on her, but a hard blow to the head would knock out any human. She would relish that. Killing her would be better, but she must obey her master. She crawled down the sides of the building and glared inside. No one was there. Where was the dwarf girl? Rose should be sick in bed; she had been stained changeling blood, which made humans deathly ill. She kicked the window open and slid inside.

  The changeling heard voices approach and saw the door open. Crimson panicked. She quickly jumped into the bed and pulled the quilt over her head.

  “Miss Rose, is that you?” a young woman asked.

  Crimson plucked the slender strands of chestnut hair from the handkerchief and focused on the dwarf girl. She would not have the dwarf’s memories, but these were only servants. Rushed to attain Rose’s shape, Crimson’s body contracted and painfully shifted. It felt so squat and strange. She had marginal information for a perfect shapeshift except for the shallowest exterior. It would have to do.

  Changeling Rose threw back the covers, naked but fully shifted into Rose Greenleaf. It startled the two maids, carrying towels and standing at the foot of the bed.

  One of the maids gasped. “Miss Rose, I didn’t know you were abed? And you’re naked!”

  “I was so fevered and weak. I just needed to rest.” Crimson Rose grabbed a robe on the edge of the bed and wrapped herself in it. She went to the enormous wardrobe and rummaged through the rich clothes. “I think I feel better now. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “Well, of course dear, after last night’s horror, I don’t blame you,” the older maid exclaimed. “You’re just seemed so modest before, it stunned me that’s all. Of course, Prince Culain told us not to speak of last night to anyone, but we know what you suffered. Let old Agatha help you get dressed.”

  “Thank you,” Changeling Rose agreed. Agatha handed her silk underwear and a lacy petticoat. Changeling Rose picked a green muslin gown with sheer white puffed sleeves. It was revolting. They dressed her quickly.

  Changeling Rose turned to the younger girl with bouncy ringlets peeking from her lace cap. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I forgot your name. I just feel so unwell today and I’m still so new here. I tend to forget things.”

  “I’m Sally.”

  “Of course! It’s Sally! How mindless of me,” Changeling Rose giggled. “Forgive me, Sally.”

  “Let me fetch you a cold pitcher of water,” Sally offered.

  The maids departed, giving Crimson time to adjust to her new surroundings. She contrived many interesting forms of torture for Rose as she waited. Master may want her alive, but Crimson wanted to inflict pain on Rose. She looked through the lavish wardrobe. The dwarf must be wealthy indeed to have so many fine things! Even Lilias did not possess such an elaborate wardrobe. Silk, velvets, satin! Even the shoes were finely crafted of velvet or satin, with shiny buckles or ribbons. Human fondness for clothing was something Crimson could never fathom. It was so itchy. Perhaps Rose was concubine to the Ironheart? So the ugly dwarf was a whore! That would make it easy for Crimson to get close enough to kill an Ironheart.

  Sally returned with a fresh pitcher of water. Her eyes were so kind. Crimson wanted to eat them. Changeling Rose leaned against the wardrobe, genuinely weak. She splashed her face and accepted the hand towel from Sally.

  “Why is the door kept open?” Changeling Rose asked.

  �
�It’s one of the orders Prince Culain gave this morning,” Agatha replied.

  “I must see Prince Culain. I need my lute with me,” she fumbled, searching the room for it. Bards use instruments, so she must take it. Sadly, she had no knowledge of how to play it. But she should keep it at hand. She could also use it as a weapon.

  Anger at her failings simmered in Crimson’s mind. If she had been able to cocoon Rose as she planned, she would have had all of her knowledge and memories. She would not be here dealing with nosy servants. She finally spied the lute in the corner and grabbed it. “A bard cannot be without their lute. It’s such a comfort to me. I’m so silly, but I need an escort to Culain’s room now that I am rested. Do you mind taking me back to his room? I don’t want to get into trouble? I know we are under orders.”

  “Of course we’ll go with you, my dear,” Sally answered brightly. “Prince Culain will be happy to see you.”

  Changeling Rose was ecstatic. As Bardess to Culain’s household, she would not need to figure out a crafty way to get close to him so she could kill him. Rose Greenleaf may even be his lover! If only she had her memories! Then it would be easy, so easy to snuff out his life. She almost laughed as she walked down the hall with her escorts, but refrained, fearing it would be inappropriate considering the atmosphere of anxiety.

  So much spying and death was demanded these past months, but the Dark Lord honored the changeling clan with these commands and they had to obey. No, not only obey but succeed! The Dark Lord will inflict great punishment should she fail.

  They moved through the palace corridors at a quick pace. Crimson sensed the unspoken dread of those they passed. It smelled sweet, like nectar. When they reached Lilias’ suite, many Imperial guards were gathered there. Changeling Rose’s gut knotted in fear and that was not so sweet. They must have found the bodies. Soon she would be gone from this palaceafter she assassinated Culain Ironheart.

  “What is happening over there,” Changeling Rose stammered.

  “I don’t know, Miss Rose. Best we do not interfere. Poor thing, you were so brave the way you fought it off.” Agatha leaned in and whispered, “And you stabbed it, clever girl.”