“What for?” Magpie asked, already dreading the answer. “Why do you need willing hearts?”
Sharhava looked triumphant. “Have you not heard the rumors? The book has come to light, prince of Orontae.”
“Book? What book?”
“Why, the Great Book, you young fool. Have you not listened to me all these years? We have been receiving word that it has been seen, after centuries of being lost. We need to secure it for the Knights to protect!”
It felt like a physical blow to hear the Great Book mentioned by name, but he forced himself to remember that she had always talked about it freely, though no one else believed it really existed. It was only because he was so sensitive about carrying the knowledge he had that his nerves were jangling with every word. He summoned up the most supercilious expression he could muster.
“That book? That old myth?”
“It is not a myth, you uneducated whelp,” Sharhava declared, matching him scorn for scorn. “It is a sacred tome that contains all the secrets of existence. Don’t you see? This is a Creation-sent opportunity. We must have it.”
“To do what? Have responsive readings?”
Sharhava looked at him as if he had no brain at all. “I do not have the time to correct the deficiencies of your education, nor of the knowledge of the faith you practice. This book commands all of Mother Nature’s design. It is a tool that the knights have been seeking for centuries. It is vital that it come into our hands so that we can correct the outrages that have been perpetrated upon the human race.”
“And what would those be?” Magpie asked.
“Werewolves,” Sharhava said, with an open shudder. “Centaurs. Mermaids. These beings are not natural. We have it in the ancient writings that in the beginning there were only humans. Then a coven of wizards began mixing the species. This book was meant as a record so that right-thinking humans could one day undo the monstrosities and return the world to its pristine form, in all praise to the Mother and the Father. To
that end we study what runes we find from the ancient times, but none of them contain the words of power that are needed to accomplish our goals.”
Magpie felt faintly sick. To do away with centaurs and smallfolk with a stroke, as if they had never existed?
“Most respected abbess,” he said, with great dignity. “You must be joking.”
“Joking? Of course I am not. About what?”
“Several things. First, some of my very best friends are werewolves, and I resent the notion that you and your Scholardom entertain the notion that you can wipe them out.”
“We don’t intend to destroy them, merely return them to full humanity!”
“That will destroy them. Their culture is based upon who they are.”
“Bah!” Sharhava said. “Culture. It’s an echo of ours, that is all. Once they walk again in normal human form, they will forget about the aberration they have lived until now. All of us will be equal again, in the sight of Mother Earth and Father Sky! No more petty differences.”
Magpie shook his head with exaggerated sorrow at the notion of “petty differences.”
“Secondly, you cannot have it both ways. Either I am a useless wastrel, or I am worthy of joining the Knights of the Word. Which is it?”
The abbess goggled at him, her pasty face looking even more unappealing than usual. Behind her, Inbecca was staring at him.
“Thirdly, while I would never disagree with you upon your interpretation of our faith, you seem to find it allowable to question mine. That is …” he paused to think of the most insulting phrase he could use without resorting to bad language, “in bad taste.
“Lastly, you betray your niece.”
“Never!” Sharhava’s face turned from pale to beet-red. “I love my niece. I want only the best for her.”
“Then why go against her wishes? She asked you here today to bear witness to my proposal of matrimony, an act that would cement relations between our two kingdoms, and bring both of us a great deal of happiness. I feel that it shows a lack of consideration when you seek to break us apart so that you can recruit both of us into the Knights.”
“That is never my intention … . I have my niece’s best interests in mind … . The well-being of her soul!” Sharhava sputtered.
Magpie bowed deeply. “As do I, I promise you. Now, if you don’t
mind, honored lady, you have interrupted an honorable proposal of marriage. May I continue?”
Inbecca glided smoothly from her stand near the window and glided over to tuck her arm into his. Her triumphant expression showed that while Magpie might never have won any battles that she knew of, he had just slain a dragon on her behalf. He hid his raptures, but he felt very pleased with himself. It was the first time in his life he had ever gotten the better of Sharhava.
“What about it, my aunt?” Inbecca asked. “Will you bless our union?”
Sharhava folded her hands together in her voluminous sleeves, and her face froze in an obdurate expression. “I see that I have little to say about this matter. You know my opinion of this man. You know my wishes are for your happiness. I believe that both of you would prosper in the Scholardom where your potential would not be wasted, as it would be in an ill-considered match. You are an adult woman, and you must make your own choices.”
“Then I give her the opportunity to make one,” Magpie said. He dropped to his knees and took Inbecca’s hands in his. He looked up into her blue-green eyes.
“Inbecca, you are my friend and my beloved. I have traveled this world over, but I have never met anyone I wished to marry but you. Will you do me the incomparable honor of promising to become my bride, in the presence of Mother Nature and Father Time, and your most inestimable aunt?”
Inbecca squeezed his hands. Her lips quivered, and Magpie had the overwhelming urge to kiss them, but he waited patiently. “I will, dear Eremi. You will make a worthy consort. I accept your suit.” She leaned over and gave him that kiss. Magpie closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation throughout his entire body.
Sharhava had no choice but to offer grudging congratulations. “May you be happy together,” she said curtly. She gestured to her acolytes, who opened the doors for her. She sailed out of the chamber, and the doors closed behind all of them.
Inbecca glanced up. “Good riddance.” She plucked at Magpie’s hair with her fingers. “I can’t wait until that grows out again. The stripes make you look silly.”
“It will take a little time,” Magpie said. “I no longer need the disguise. My days as a wandering minstrel are over. My last mission on my father’s behalf is done.”
“Good.” Inbecca beamed at him. “You can stay through the arts festival, and unhorse all the others in the tournament as my champion. Let’s go tell my parents right now.” She pulled on his hands and he stood up, taking her into his arms. She looked up into his face, and he gazed down, enjoying her features at that angle. “Mother and Father have been waiting all morning. My father will want to make the announcements, and Mother can’t wait to start making preparations for the betrothal.”
Magpie took the opportunity for another kiss before they left the room. He was concerned about Sharhava’s plans for the book, but it sounded as if she and the Scholardom really knew nothing about the book’s whereabouts. There was nothing more that he could do to help it be found and restored to where it came from. That part of his life was over, and his new life was beginning.
He followed his bride-to-be toward the royal audience chamber.
“I
never thought that I’d be seeing leaves fall during Blackberry Moon,” Rin said, looking down at the sparse trees below.
Days of flying had made Tildi numb even to the curiosity of an early autumn. They had been riding forever, it seemed, with the tiny dot of gold tantalizing them as it drew ever nearer. The thief was not moving as fast as they, but he was not impeded by having to help seven beings and seven horses to gallop on the air. Edynn was tiring at having to maintain the spell, all of them could see that, but no one could think of an alternative to their means of travel that would not allow the thief to escape. Their daily search was limited by how long she could maintain the spell that allowed them to tread the air. Neither Tildi nor Serafina was as adept at she, and could not take more of the burden on themselves. The dilemma was making Serafina more short-tempered than usual. It was
inflamed further as they followed the thief’s track on the map into the mountain country in between Rabantae and Levrenn.
That had all changed over the last few days, when the thief’s track on the map led into the mountain country in between Rabantae and Levrenn. The air was as crisp as late autumn in the Quarters.
“It’s a no-man’s-land, and not much of anything else,” Lakanta had explained. “Land’s too poor for farming, and there’s no grass for sheep. We peddlers avoid this stretch. No markets at all. Plenty of buyers both north and south of here.”
“Bleak,” Teryn said, as they set down in the widest valley. Her horse scrabbled to a halt on an oval of small stones, the most level surface visible. A narrow river meandered through the center of the winding gorge, surrounded by hardy scrub and a few windblown trees. Rocks had tumbled down the crevices in between the peaks, leaving heaps of ochre and tan rocks as large as houses.
“Oh, you should see it a month from now, when it really begins to get cold,” Lakanta said, her usual cheerful self again.
“I’m cold now,” Tildi said, feeling in her saddlebag for her cloak. It had been heavy to carry, but now she was glad she had gone to the trouble of carrying it with her. She spread it out as best she could to cover herself and as much of Rin’s back as she could manage. When they first landed she thought she could smell rain, but now she was certain the watery scent in the air was snow. She sought about her with the leaf in her hand. The telltale runes had sprung into prominence on the steep walls of the canyon. Tildi basked in the warmth of their glow. Feeling as if she was closer to the book seemed to lessen the bitter wind that swept over them.
“He was here, then,” Serafina acknowledged. “You can see why he chose it as a refuge. It’s far away from any kind of civilization. No chance of an inn?”
“None at all,” Lakanta said. “Our thief probably spent as uncomfortable a night as we are going to. We might be lucky enough to come upon a shepherd’s cottage, but that would be all I’d hold out for here.”
“We’ll hope for that good fortune,” said Edynn. She smiled, and Tildi was shocked by how pinched her face seemed. “We should ride for a while yet, to keep warm. It’s too early to set up camp.”
A solid wall of clouds had been visible while they were in the air. Tildi thought they looked like rain clouds, but she wasn’t sure. There was little protection from the wind. Tildi pulled her hood down over her
forehead. Rin shivered in her thin blouse. She took a pair of blankets out of the packhorse’s bags and made herself a thick cloak.
“It is never like this in Balierenn,” she said, from within her makeshift, dull-green hood. “If I had known I would be wandering glaciers in the month of Blackberries, I would have brought a much warmer cape. Alas, there goes the sun!”
The gray clouds arrived, covering the last of the blue sky. They brought with them an icy chill. The horses clustered close to one another for warmth.
“This is unnatural,” Edynn said, worried. Her breath was white upon the cold air. “He knew we would have to come this way, and he has changed the weather. He has brought winter to this place, months ahead of time. The fool! There will be trouble. He’ll cause a reaction the likes of which I cannot imagine.”
If
I
had the book,
Tildi thought,
I’d never change the seasons. Never.
She had been enjoying the sensation of being near the glowing runes again, but the link to the book was receding fast. She felt impatient. Why could they not go flying onward, forever, until we find its keeper?
Because the spell takes a lot of energy,
her sensible inner voice scolded her.
You’re tired, and you are responsible for only two of the steeds! And you don’t even like flying.
Edynn rode up beside her and placed a hand on her arm. She always seemed to know when thoughts of the book were overwhelming her. “Fight it, Tildi.” A lessening of the longing came over her. She felt forlorn and resentful for a moment, then she realized she felt more like herself. She gave Edynn a rueful little smile.
Rin’s flank twitched violently as they ascended the loose stone road that wound further into the mountains. At times they were cut off from sight of the sky altogether. The walls of the canyon were pitted with cracks and caverns, all of which looked to Tildi like hooded eyes full of malign purpose. She leaned close to Rin’s back.
“I dislike being away from the sunshine,” the centaur said, gazing unhappily at the looming towers silhouetted against the clouds. “I mistrust this land of stone.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Lakanta said, glancing around her. She wore a purple and blue cloak with a fringed hood that would have looked amusing on anyone else, but suited her. “Secure. Strong. We’ll be glad enough of the caves if the skies open up, and I think that they will very soon. I only hope it’s rain.”
Tildi’s cheeks and nose grew stiff with cold. She had wrapped her hands in her cloak to keep them warm. Serafina had fastened a fold of her pure white robe up across her lower face. Her long, dark eyes were restless, keeping an eye on the skies, and on the slanting shadows all around them. The cold was so terrible that Tildi began to drowse. She remembered fireside tales of maidens who wandered away into the snow, only to be found frozen and peaceful in the spring, as if they had only just fallen asleep. She fought with herself not to drop off. The dimming of the light didn’t help. Evening was fast approaching.
“Shall we stop for a while?” Serafina asked, gauging her mother’s strength. “We should eat something now, and make camp in a while. Is there any bread?”
“Honorable,” Teryn said carefully, “we last purchased supplies three days ago, at that small guest house on the border of Levrenn. They did not have much, and what we had is gone. If you will take shelter here, Morag and I will hunt for some meat.”
Serafina looked shocked. “Is there nothing left?”
“Nothing, honorable,” Teryn said. She took their bows and quivers of arrows from the long pouch on the packhorse’s side. “I apologize. I will make you a fire before we go.”
“No, go,” Edynn said graciously. “We are perfectly capable of that small task, and leave you to the greater one.”
“Give me leave, little one,” Rin said, lifting Tildi down. “This at least I can assist with.”
She and the soldiers disappeared into the growing gloom. Tildi helped Lakanta lead the horses into the nearest stone mouth, a shallow cave formed by blocks of stone fallen off the mountain so long ago that moss grew on the rough surface. A thin shaft of light lanced down from a point over their heads where two of the blocks did not quite meet. The two of them left Serafina to look after her mother and went looking for wood.
As soon as they set foot outside their makeshift shelter, snow began to float down from the iron skies.
“Wouldn’t you know it?” Lakanta said, shaking her head. A few crisp, white flakes fell off her hood. “We’re to have no luck today.” She and Tildi scoured the valley for a few hundred yards in either direction, but were able to find only an armload or so of thin, tough twigs and rough, dried grass. “And they’re wet, too,” she complained, setting the mass down in the stone circle Serafina had arranged. The two of them stood in the opening to brush the accumulation of snow off their shoulders.
“No matter,” Edynn said, holding her hands over their offering. A flicker of light crept along the bottommost sticks, and spread slowly to the others. Tildi sighed at the welcome warmth. She pushed her cloak back over her shoulders, and held her hands out to enjoy the modest blaze. She was pleased that Edynn seemed to relax as well. Serafina, ever vigilant, kept jumping up to make sure the cloak covered her mother’s shoulders, and that Edynn was as far away as she could be from the gusts that passed the cave entrance. None of them made conversation. Tildi was tired, and she was concerned about Edynn’s state of health.
“It’s this one,” Rin’s voice said irritably. “It is the only one with smoke coming from it.”
The three hunters appeared in the doorway. Tildi looked up at them expectantly, but they held nothing in their hands.
“I apologize, honorables,” Teryn said, almost shamefaced. “We have not been successful. Any beast with sense has fled from this unnatural weather. We need to get to better shelter, and soon.” As if to emphasize her point, a gout of water poured out of the gap in the roof, and fell onto their campfire, extinguishing it. Morag jumped back, swearing, then muttered an embarrassed apology to the wizardesses.
“Well, that tells us it’s time to leave,” Edynn said, bringing her hands down onto her thighs and standing up. Her movements were stiff and hesitant. Serafina leaped to help her with her cloak and staff. “There will be a deeper cave farther on, and more wood. Come along, then.”
They took to their horses again. Tildi sat on Rin’s back, watching the snow mound up on the centaur’s broad shoulders. It was falling even more heavily than before. Even if she had not known the source she would have realized it was not a natural snow. The group passed summer flowers that had frozen solid. Those were soon covered by thick flakes. As Teryn had said, the animals had fled from this place. They found tracks, outward bound from the valley. Those, too, filled quickly in and disappeared. The group kept together in a knot near the northern wall of the canyon, with Teryn in front and Morag bringing up the rear. They rode onward, feeling their way, unable to see anything against the onslaught of sharp-edged flakes. Tildi kept her head bowed. The chill invaded even her warm travel cloak, until she felt as if she had been turned to stone. Rin stumbled now and again as her hoofs slipped into the stream hidden below the snow.
“We can’t see where we are going,” Serafina shouted, over the hissing of the wind. “We have to get to shelter or we will die in this weather.”
“Tell us a story to keep us going,” Lakanta said. “Anyone. Anything!”
“I recall a battle we fought for my lord Halcot,” Teryn began stoutly, trotting along with her back as straight as the polearm she held in spite of the heaps of snow mounting on her helm and her horse’s rump. “A band of werewolves had made their way upriver from the south lands. There is a city just north of the seaport of Tillerton. They held it at bay, terrorizing the inhabitants. These carried silver amulets that prevent the spell that binds them from wearing off, so they were ravening animals all of the time. The villagers found half their cattle disemboweled and—”
“That’s not a very soothing story,” Lakanta said, interrupting her. “I’d almost rather fall asleep and die of the cold than hear it.”
“Perhaps you know a better one?” the captain said indignantly.
“Perhaps I do!”
“We’re out of food,” Serafina shouted peevishly. “What about my mother? This weather is terrible for her. Do you know how many spells she is maintaining to preserve our safety? We must stop soon.”
“To do what? There is no forage here.” The captain turned to Edynn. “I am sorry, honored one, for the inconvenience. It will be remedied as soon as is possible. At present,” she said, with a sharp look at Serafina, “there is no convenient inn to stop in and say, may we please have a bed for the night? And what’s in the pot for supper?”
“I smell food,” Tildi said drowsily, cuddled up against the cloth that rested over the pad of thick hair that ran down the middle of Rin’s spine. It was more comfortable than any pillow she had ever used. “I smell roast beef and potatoes, and berry pie …”
“Nonsense,” said Serafina. “Your nose is beginning to go to sleep. I will try to bring a spell about us and make it warmer.”
“No, she’s right,” Rin said, flaring her nostrils expressively. “I am not hallucinating, and I smell it, too.”
“It’s a trap,” Teryn said. “Another of our quarry’s ruses to lure us to our deaths!”
“Perhaps not,” Edynn said, essaying out of the folds of her cloak with her staff. “I do not sense enchantment here.”
“It’s probably dwarves, you know,” Lakanta announced. “Dwarf burrows can be found in nearly every mountain range in the world.”
“We could ask them for help,” Tildi said hopefully. She was certain now that she smelled baking potatoes, and possibly roast chicken.
“Dwarves are,” Lakanta said firmly and very loudly, “the stubbornest folk in the world. Almost all of them are bad-tempered, humorless
gumps who would cut off their noses to spite their faces, who would eat a bag of sweets
right
in front of you and
never offer
you a one.” Her voice echoed against the stone walls, but was soon swallowed up by the gale.