The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (29 page)

“Sire, how far away can you go and still maintain your shield?” asked Danton.

Tarkyn shrugged, “I’m not sure. I would have to stay in sight though.”

“So, why don’t you and I retreat to the edge of the clearing and leave all the woodfolk to sort it out among themselves? You can keep the shield up around the mountainfolk to protect our woodfolk and us. When our woodfolk feel safe enough, you can remove your shield and I’ll place mine around us.”

Tarkyn turned to Autumn Leaves and Waterstone, “Did you hear that idea? What do you think? That will give you free rein to say whatever you think to your fellow woodfolk.”

“May I suggest one change?” asked Waterstone, “Could you take the kids over with you? I think they’ve heard enough disturbing information for one day and they’re starting to get bored.”

So Tarkyn sat against a tree at the edge of the clearing and watched Danton playing marbles with the children of the homeguard, while the woodfolk conferred through Tarkyn’s barrier. The last of the autumn sunlight faded and still there was no change. Sparrow and her friends snuggled down against the two sorcerers and gradually fell asleep. Tarkyn had stiffened up and was struggling to maintain his shield after long hours of concentration by the time Waterstone walked over to join them.

He squatted down in front of them. “You can release your shield now. You won’t need one over yourselves either… ” He smiled and nodded at the sleeping children. “even without the children as a safeguard for you.”

Tarkyn frowned but before he could speak, Waterstone answered, “And no, I didn’t send them with you to protect you. I wouldn’t do that. You have your shields. You can protect yourselves.”

Tarkyn extracted his arm from beneath Rain-on-Water, Thunder Storm’s quiet five-year-old son, and waved his hand to dissipate the shield. As the child stirred, Tarkyn stroked his back and murmured quietly to him to settle him down again. He looked up quizzically at Waterstone, “If anyone wants to talk to either of us, they will have to come over here. I don’t want to disturb the kids until they are transferred to bed.”

“No. I don’t think we’re quite up to that yet.” Waterstone nodded at the children, “Do you want us to organise them into bed now or are you happy to wait?”

Tarkyn glanced a query at Danton before replying, “We’re happy enough. They could maybe use a blanket or two and we could use a drink. Hmm. Perhaps just a cup of water would do – straight from a stream.” He waved a hand, “No, on second thoughts, it will cause too much controversy. Skip the drink. We’ll do without for now.”

Once Waterstone had provided them with blankets and returned to the other woodfolk, Tarkyn asked Danton, “Are you all right?” When the sorcerer nodded, Tarkyn  smiled at him, “I bet this wasn’t the type of work you were expecting to do when you signed on as a palace guard.”

Danton smiled briefly in return, “No, not really.”

Tarkyn could hear the reserve in Danton’s voice and remembered their earlier conversation. “Danton, I am sorry for what I said. I should not have dismissed everyone at court, and everything that was said to me, so sweepingly. I may have been unsure of your loyalties but I have never thought you were sycophantic.” He gave a slight smile. “In fact, I always found that at those times when you did not feel free to be openly critical, your speaking silences were remarkably eloquent.”

This drew a reluctant, answering smile from Danton but he did not unbend enough to speak.

The prince heaved a mental sigh and, wondering at his own perseverance, tried again, “Danton you, more than anyone, should know that I have never been good at differentiating between people like you and people who prevaricate for their own ends… So I have always held everyone at bay to keep safe. I have not wanted to appear foolish by responding eagerly to a compliment that wasn’t really meant. So I have treated compliments with courtesy but, I suppose, scepticism.”

Danton looked at his liege, “Tarkyn, what did Waterstone do that I have been unable to do for all these years that inspired your faith  in him?”

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows in surprise, “I thought you knew. Where were you before you set fire to the infected trees?”

“Guarding Rushwind, Sire.”

Tarkyn’s brow cleared, “Oh, I see. So you missed it when I inadvertently told everyone what Waterstone had done?”

“Which was?” asked Danton patiently.

“He shared all his memories with me. Well, not all of them, but he gave me free rein to choose what I wanted to see.”

Danton looked down at Trickling Stream’s head resting on his thigh and stroked her hair gently. After a few moments he raised his vibrant purple eyes and glanced at Tarkyn. “He is such a strong man, isn’t he? So sure of himself, to be able to do that. And to do it for a stranger in his land who had ultimate power over him.” Danton shook his head in wonder, “You were very lucky to find him, Tarkyn. I don’t know that I could have done that, even if I knew how to.”

“No, very few people would be willing to lay themselves open like that.” Tarkyn smiled, “So with that level of self-assurance, it is less surprising, isn’t it, that he sets little store by titles and didn’t bother to mention to you that he is my blood brother.”

Danton heaved a sigh, “At least now I can understand what he offered you that I haven’t been able to. Sorcerers can’t open their minds up like that – except for you.” He gave a slight smile, “You’re a hard nut to crack, aren’t you?  I never realised how little you trusted anybody.”

Tarkyn smiled wryly, “But in the end, trusting nobody is just as pointless as trusting everybody. I still didn’t have the discernment to know where the danger would come from.”

“And do you now?”

Tarkyn shook his head, “Not always, but I have had Waterstone to guide me so that the circle of people I trust has widened. If Waterstone trusts them, then so can I. And now if anyone in that circle trusts someone, then so can I.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I just needed one sure point of reference to start from.”

“So it was really Waterstone and not you who decided that I could be trusted, after you dragged me back from the encampment?” Danton almost succeeded in sounding objective.

Tarkyn thought about it then shook his head and smiled, “No. You convinced me. I suppose I would have listened if Waterstone had had any serious misgivings but as he said to you, he was always fairly sure he could trust you.”

“He didn’t get it right with the mountainfolk, did he?”

“I think he was out cold before he even had time to think about it. But you’re right. All of us were much too casual in that instance.”

Movements over by the fire distracted them at this point and they both tensed as two figures approached them through the gloom. The shadows resolved themselves into Creaking Bough and Thunder Storm and two others who each picked up a child and carried them off to bed.

“You might like to join them at the fire now,” said Thunder Storm over his shoulder, as he left carrying Rain on Water. “Up to you, of course,” came his rumbling voice trailing back out of the gloom as he disappeared towards the shelters.

Tarkyn smiled ruefully at Danton as he stood up carefully and began to walk towards the fire, “I’m never going to live down telling him off for ordering me around.”

With difficulty, Danton repressed his reaction and held his peace, realising that he could think of nothing to say that the prince would agree with.

Tarkyn’s voice came out of the darkness ahead of him, “Well done, Danton. You are so disciplined.”

“Thanks,” replied the sorcerer dryly.

As they approached the firesite, each was given a beautiful, hand -blown glass filled with golden wine. With rigid control, Tarkyn repressed the urge to glance in alarm at Danton. Instead, he graciously accepted the wine and took a good-sized sip.

“This is an excellent wine,” he said urbanely, scanning within himself for any ill effects. “I believe I have tasted it just once before, on the occasion of the King’s twenty-fifth birthday. I believe it is one of your rarer, older wines. Is that correct?”

A thin middle-aged man with tatty hair and a long nose came forward and spoke, “Indeed it is, Your Highness. We have very few bottles of it left and we treasure them. My name is Sighing Wind.”

The prince gave a slight bow, “I am honoured that you consider my palate worthy of the sacrifice of such a fine wine.”

The thin woodman indicated a comfortable position near the fire, in a mossy position against an oak tree. “Would you like to sit down and make yourselves comfortable? I believe you have particular preference for oaks. They are very grand trees, aren’t they?”

Tarkyn contained a private smile and sat down awkwardly, taking care not to spill his wine. “Thank you. That is very thoughtful of you.”

Once the sorcerers were seated, all the woodfolk arranged themselves around the fire. With a slight twinge of trepidation, Tarkyn noticed that Waterstone and most of his home guard were on the other side  of the fire from him. He drew a deep breath to steady himself and awaited events.

Firstly small bowls of nuts were handed around. Then plates of sweet little doughy rolls and dried fruits were brought in and placed around the fire where everyone could reach them and a large pot of water was hung over the flames.

“Might I suggest,” said Sighing Wind diffidently, “that you only eat nuts with this wine. The sweetness of the rolls would detract from  its flavour.”

“I am sure you are right,” replied the prince, taking another sip, “I would not dream of desecrating this wine by eating anything but savoury fare with it.”

Slowly, as the excruciating minutes ticked by, small pockets of conversation sprang up around the fire. Tarkyn and Danton, although seated together, ignored each other and spoke only to their neighbours on the other side of them. Despite their years at court, neither of them had ever experienced any occasion more formal. The level of courtesy was almost paralysing.

When the precious wine was finished, Sighing Wind removed their glasses and offered them sweet rolls and fruit to be eaten in accompaniment with cups of locally grown tea. Both accepted graciously. Occasionally, Tarkyn would throw a glance over the fire to Waterstone or Autumn Leaves but they assiduously avoided his gaze. Tarkyn felt that his trust in them was being tested to the limit by the situation in which he found himself, surrounded by uncertain woodfolk and with no protection in place. Over time, he let his gaze travel slowly and inconspicuously around the firesite, checking where Blizzard and Dry Berry were seated and looking for any signs of tension or subterfuge. He took a deep breath and released it, giving himself into the hands of his woodfolk.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, returning his attention to Sighing Wind who was standing before him handing him a steaming cup of tea. “I missed what you said. Thank you.” He produced a smile and accepted the tea.

And finally, when everyone had a cup of tea in their hands, the business of the evening began. Dripping Rock stood up and cleared his throat. He waved his hand around to encompass everyone seated at the firesite. “I have been asked to speak to Prince Tarkyn on behalf of the woodfolk of the mountains, commonly known as the mountainfolk. We have talked long and hard with the prince’s band of woodfolk, as he may have noticed, over several hours. After the provision of a great deal of information previously unknown to many of us and after fierce debate, we have reached the following conclusions.”

Tarkyn’s stomach tensed up until he again reminded himself to trust his woodfolk.

“We absolve Lord Danton of any responsibility for the deaths of our fellow woodfolk.”

Danton who had been unconscious for the previous discussion, frowned in confusion but wisely kept quiet.

“We also acknowledge that Lord Danton has proved himself to be a friend of the woodfolk and thank him for his part in the rescue of woodfolk from the encampment.” There was a slight pause as he went briefly out of focus to receive a prompt from someone. “And for helping to save the forest from the infection.”

Danton nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“We accept our community’s responsibility for the degree of harm suffered by Prince Tarkyn and after much debate, acknowledge his right to inflict the death penalty, partly because of the unprecedented savagery of the attack and partly because the laws of the outside world have come to reside in the forest, whether we like it or not.”

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows but did not make any acknowledgement, making it clear that from his point of view, there was no debate.

Dripping Rock took a swig of tea with a hand that shook a little. “We also apologise for our own breach of etiquette in not welcoming Prince Tarkyn properly to our firesite.”

There is euphemism for heckling and jeering, if ever I heard on
e
, thought Tarkyn.

“We appreciate Prince Tarkyn’s concern that there should be no rift among the wood folk and we thank him for allowing all of us to come to an agreement ourselves without the use of force and without imposing his views on any of us.”

Waterstone must be hating this par
t
, reflected Tarkyn, thinking of the woodman’s loathing of the oath.

Dripping Rock took a deep breath, “And finally, we come to the question of swearing fealty. Before he arrived, news of the prince’s efforts to support the woodfolk had preceded him. We had decided that, in the best interests of woodfolk unity, we should join in swearing the oath, both to support our forest guardian and to support our fellow woodfolk who have carried the responsibility ever since the prince arrived in the forest. However, we were curious to see whether, in fact, we had already become bound by the oath.”