Once upon a dreadful time ou-4 Read online

  Blaise frowned. “Why were those three amulets used in that manner? I mean, if they were so powerful, why not use them to set Orbane free?”

  Valeray shrugged. “I repeat, the Castle of Shadows is inescapable, and apparently, the seals are not powerful enough to set him loose. Besides, that would be a boon to him and not a detriment, and the seals can only be used to visit ill upon someone or something.” Laurent shook his head. “Any prison can be breached, given enough men and arms. Hence the ones held therein-be they criminals or innocents-can be set free.”

  “Not the Castle of Shadows, my boy,” said Valeray. “Those who go in do not come out.”

  . .

  “How can that be?” asked Simone, sipping her tea. “How can a mere castle be inescapable? Surely a large army could break him free, and if I understand you aright, he had a large army at his beck. . or if not him, at the beck of this Hradian creature.” Saissa shrugged, but Camille said, “Mayhap upon a time a Keltoi bard started a story: ‘In the Great Darkness beyond the Black Wall of the World there was an inescapable prison where only the most dreadful of criminals were kept.’ ” Camille paused and looked at Liaze and then said, “ ‘And there was but one key to this dreaded Castle, and it was held by a comte whose full title was Comte Amaury du Chateau Bleu dans le Lac de la Rose et Gardien de la Cle.’ ”

  “Wait a moment,” said Avelaine, and she turned to Liaze.

  “But for the name of Amaury, isn’t that your Luc’s title?” Liaze nodded and said, “It is when he is at Chateau Bleu.

  Amaury was his sire, and the first keeper of the key.”

  . .

  “What key?” asked Emile, thumbing the green fletching of an arrow.

  “This one,” said Luc, drawing an amulet on a chain about his neck up from his jerkin. The talisman was silver and set with a blue stone; the chain was silver as well. “Ere he rode off to war, my sire placed it ’round my throat when I was but a tiny babe.”

  “What has it to do with ought?” asked Laurent.

  “It is said to be the key to the Castle of Shadows,” replied Luc.

  “That’s a key to the inescapable prison?” asked Blaise.

  “If what they say is true, indeed it is.”

  “Hold on, now: what if someone, say this witch Hradian, sends her minions to steal the amulet. Wouldn’t that mean she could set Orbane free? If so, I say we hunt her down and kill her like the bitch she is.”

  Luc shook his head. “Non. Trying to steal the amulet would do no good, and in fact would probably result in the minion or minions being dead. The amulet has a powerful spell upon it, and if the witch or anyone else tried to take it without my permission or by means of duress, or if I were slain and Hradian tried to take it, the amulet would slay her too. No, it must be borne by the rightful heir, or freely given by the heir to someone of his choosing.” Luc removed the talisman and held it out to Blaise. “Here, I freely give it.”

  Blaise set a helm aside and tentatively took the amulet and looked at it carefully. As he handed it back he said, “And you say this is the only key to that prison?” Luc slipped the chain over his head. “As far as I know, it is the only key, though I ken not how it opens the door or gate or barrier or whatever it is that locks one in.”

  . .

  “Oh, my,” gasped Michelle, her cup clattering in her saucer,

  “perhaps that’s what she meant.”

  “What who meant?” asked Simone.

  “Lady Wyrd,” replied Michelle. She looked at the others and said, “Don’t you remember? It was at the ball celebrating the safe return of Celeste and Roel and Avelaine and the war bands from the Changeling land, and. .”

  . .

  At the midnight mark, King Valeray called a halt to the music, and he took stance upon the ballroom dais, and as servants passed among the gathering and doled out goblets of wine, Valeray called for quiet, for he would make a toast to the successful quest and to those who rode thereon, and he would toast the brides and grooms to be, and of course he would toast the child to be born to Alain and Camille.

  But the moment that all had a goblet in hand, including the servants, of a sudden there came the sound of shuttles and looms, and before the gathering stood three women: Maiden, Mother, and Crone; the Ladies Skuld, Verdandi, and Urd; the Fates Wyrd, Lot, and Doom: one slender, her robe limned in silver; one matronly, her robe limned in gold; and one seemingly bent with age, her robe limned in black.

  A gasp went up from the gathering, yet Valeray and Borel and Alain, and Luc and Roel and Chevell all bowed, the men in the gathering following suit; and Saissa and Liaze and Celeste and Camille and Michelle and Avelaine curtseyed, the gathered women doing likewise.

  “Mesdames,” murmured King Valeray upon straightening.

  “Valeray,” said Verdandi.

  “What would you have of us?” asked the king.

  Verdandi looked at Urd, and she in turn peered at Celeste among the gathering and said, “The gray arrow?”

  “It is in my quarters,” said Celeste. “Shall I fetch it? It is broken.”

  Urd cackled and said, “Broken? Nay.” And with a gesture, of a sudden the arrow appeared in her hand, and even as she held it, the shaft became whole and its leaden point keen. Then she looked at it and murmured, “Even were I to let it stay broken, still it is too deadly to remain in mortal hands.”

  “Why else have you come?” asked Borel, stepping forward.

  Slowly Urd turned her head toward him and canted it to one side. “Just as when once I met you by a stream, ever bold, I see.

  Questioning the Fates, are we?” And then she cackled in glee.

  Borel pushed out a hand in negation, and Michelle looked at him quizzically.

  “I believe what my son means,” said Valeray, “is-”

  “We know what he meant,” snapped Urd, and she turned to Skuld.

  “Yes, we came to give warning,” said Lady Wyrd, “and it is this: for a while there will be peace, yet upon a dreadful time yet to come you will all be needed, as will others. Heed me.

  Stand ready and relax not your guard, for there will be a- Ah, but I cannot directly reveal what I have seen, yet know that one among you will be the key.”

  “The key?” asked Camille.

  Skuld looked at her and smiled and said, “The key.”

  “So peril yet comes,” said Valeray, his words a statement, not a question.

  “It does,” said Skuld.

  “Be ready,” said Verdandi.

  “And on guard,” added Urd, and her gaze swept across the gathering to momentarily stop upon Luc, and then moved to Camille.

  And the sound of looms swelled and then vanished, and the Sisters Three vanished as well.

  The gathering stood stunned for a moment, but then Valeray lifted his glass and, with a rakish grin, said, “Here’s to interesting times!” To interesting times! cried they all.

  . .

  “I do not understand what you are referring to,” said Simone, peering into her now empty cup and setting it back upon the saucer.

  “Oh, Simone,” said Michelle, “Lady Wyrd said, ‘One among you will be the key,’ and Liaze’s Luc has the key, and Lady Urd’s gaze rested upon him just before the Three Fates vanished. Hence, perhaps that’s what she meant when she gave us that warning.”

  In that moment a gong sounded.

  . .

  “Ah,” said Valeray as the distant echoes died, “dinner, my lads.

  Let us hurry and fetch the ladies from the green room and get to the board, else the chef will be most upset.” As they filed out from the armory, Blaise said, “I think Laurent is right: let’s hunt down this bitch Witch Hradian and kill her outright. Then Orbane will have no acolytes at all, none to attempt to set him free.”

  As the ladies waited to be collected, Camille and Avelaine took up the cups and saucers and moved to the sideboard. “You are with child?” asked Camille softly.

  Avelaine glanced down at herself. “Oh, does it
show?”

  “Non, it’s just that I saw you place a hand across your waist when the peril of an unseen being was mentioned.”

  “Ah. You are observant, Camille, and, oui, I am with child.

  I was going to announce it at dinner tonight.” Camille gripped Avelaine’s hand and said, “Splendid.”

  “Oh, but I wish Chevell were here when I speak of it.”

  “He does not know?”

  “Non. I wasn’t positive when I set out from Port Mizon, but now I know for certain.”

  “Regardless,” said Camille, squeezing Avelaine’s fingers. “I am so happy to have Duran, and you will find a babe of your own to be a pleasure, too.”

  “Where is the wee prince?”

  “Perhaps asleep by now. When last I saw him he was with his bonne d’enfants having a bath.”

  “He seems a happy child.”

  “Oh, he is,” replied Camille, smiling.

  In that moment, the king and princes and chevaliers arrived and swept the women out from the green room and toward one perhaps brighter.

  . .

  They sat about a long table, one of oak, and in a grand dining room. The chamber itself was all of gold, broken here and there by white: golden velvet paneled the walls, and white bellpulls dangled at each corner; upholstery of a golden fabric and patterned with a scatter of tiny white flowerets cushioned the golden-oak chairs; white sideboards trimmed in gold stood along the walls.

  White lanterns in golden sconces cast a yellow-white aura over all. The ceiling above was white, with golden crown molding all

  ’round. The dinnerware was white porcelain rimmed with gold, and the white utensils were edged with gold as well.

  The meal began with an appetizer of escargot and a small glass of pale white wine-“Ah, an Autumnwood vintage; some of Liaze’s best,” declared Valeray, hoisting his goblet on high toward her. The others followed suit, and Liaze inclined her head in response.

  As they supped upon the snails, Simone looked across the table and asked Camille, “Why is it you have a small sparrow in your pocket?”

  “Oh, Scruff, you mean,” said Camille, touching a finger lightly high on her bodice where the wee bird drowsed. “He is a trusted companion, and I wanted him with me at our meeting even though he is asleep.”

  “Is he magical in some manner?”

  “You might say so. He was loaned to me by the Lady of the Mere, to be my companion as I looked for Alain. It seems he can sense danger and deception, and he certainly proved to be of great aid.”

  “This Lady of the Mere: who might she be?”

  “Ah, the Lady of the Mere, she has many names: Lady Sorciere, Lady Wyrd, Lady Skuld, She Who Sees the Future.”

  “This is one of those Michelle spoke about, one of the Fates?”

  “Oui.” Camille gestured toward Valeray and Saissa and said,

  “It seems this family is somehow caught up in the intrigues of the Three Sisters.”

  “Ensnared is more likely,” said Valeray.

  “Granted,” said Camille. “But without them I would never have rescued Alain.”

  “Nor I Michelle,” said Borel.

  “Nor I Luc,” said Liaze.

  “Nor would Roel and I have released Avelaine and Laurent and Blaise,” added Celeste.

  “Nor would have I discovered the whereabouts of King Valeray and Queen Saissa,” added Camille last.

  “Here’s to the Fates,” cried Blaise, hoisting a glass, “else Laurent and I would be statues still.”

  “Hear, hear,” said Valeray, and he hoisted his own and downed the drink.

  Simone raised her glass as well, but tremulously added, “But who is to say that the Fates didn’t have a hand in precipitating those crises from which you all were rescued.”

  . .

  The escargot was followed by a creamy bisque of trout, along with another of Liaze’s white wines, this a vibrant gold, one that would stand up to the richness of the soup.

  The talk turned to that of the tourney, and of the games and jongleurs that would surround the gala events-an echecs tournament, lawn bowling, croquet, ladies’ archery, minstrels, jugglers, stilt walkers, and the like, and it was during this happy converse that Avelaine announced she was with child.

  “Is it true, Avi?” asked Roel.

  “Oui,” replied Avelaine. “A little new vicomte or vicomtesse is on the way.” Laurent and Blaise and Roel leapt up from their seats and rushed to Avelaine’s side and handed her up from her chair and, somewhat cautiously, embraced her. Emile, too, hugged his daughter, and Simone wiped tears of happiness from her own eyes.

  “I suppose Chevell is strutting about like a peacock,” said Roel.

  Avelaine laughed and said, “He will be when I tell him.”

  “Ah, little sister, he does not know?” asked Laurent.

  “Non, Laurent. I only became certain this past sevenday or so.”

  “Ah, then, he will be so jealous that he wasn’t here at this time,” said Blaise.

  Valeray made a toast, and all echoed his words: “Vive le nourrisson a venir!”

  . .

  Amid joyous talk, the bisque was followed by venison in a light splash of a white cream sauce, with a sauteed medley of green beans and small onions and peas, all accompanied by a hearty red wine well aged in a cool cellar.

  In addition, the servers brought out a wide platter of baked pheasants basted in honey, and still another of the white wines, this one light saffron in color. Accompanying the entree was a bowl of sauteed mushrooms and a sauteed medley of carrots and parsnips and red beets.

  “Ah, my favorite,” said Borel, as the venison was brought to the board. “Merci, Maman,” he added, looking down the long table to where his mother sat at the far end.

  Saissa smiled and signaled that she would have pheasant instead.

  Yet even as they settled into the main meal, eventually the talk took a more serious turn as once again they spoke of the mysterious and malignant intrusion of something or someone upon their daily activities:

  “And you think this acolyte, this Hradian, is at the root of it?” asked Emile.

  “Oui,” replied Borel. “After all, my sire and his get are the ones she would hold responsible for the downfall of their plans: imprisonment of Orbane, the ruination of her schemes against my sire and dam and her plans for the Summerwood, and the deaths of her three sisters-Rhensibe, Iniqui, and Nefasi, in that order.”

  “First was Rhensibe,” said Michelle. “Torn to shreds by Borel’s Wolves.”

  “Then came Iniqui,” said Liaze, “kicked into everlasting fire by Deadly Nightshade, Luc’s warhorse.”

  “Finally, Nefasi,” said Celeste, “slain by a god-made arrow.”

  “And you three are responsible?” asked Simone.

  “No more so than those three acolytes,” said Borel.

  “In each case, Simone,” said Saissa, “the witches themselves had done terrible deeds and were about to do more: Hradian had changed one of my sons into a Bear and would mate him with a Troll; Rhensibe was about to slay Michelle and Borel with her very own poisonous claws; Iniqui would have drawn Celeste into the fire and would have let Luc die of exposure on a dark mountain afar; likewise was Nefasi set to kill your son Roel and would have slain Celeste, and the Lord of the Changelings would have left Laurent and Blaise as statues and used Avelaine as a brood mare. It was only because of these brave souls sitting here that none of that came to pass. It was Valeray’s deed that led to Orbane’s downfall, and it was Camille who upset Hradian’s schemes. And as far as the three slain acolytes, it was Borel who had called his Wolves, and Liaze who commanded Deadly Nightshade to attack, and Celeste who loosed the gray arrow, and these things spelled the end of Rhensibe and Iniqui and Nefasi. So is it any wonder that Hradian would seek vengeance?”

  “Oh, non, Lady Saissa, that I understand,” said Simone. “It’s just that I wish none of it had come to pass, especially now that Avelaine is expecting.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, Maman,” said Avelaine, “had it not come to pass, then I would never have met Chevell, and you would not have a grandchild on the way. And of course, we could not let that happen, now, could we?”

  “Ah, young love and young mothers to be,” said Valeray, beaming at Avelaine, and then at Alain and Camille, at Borel and Michelle, at Liaze and Luc, at Celeste and Roel, and finally at his own Saissa. But then he sobered and raised his glass to them all and grimly said, “As declared apast by the Three Sisters, dreadful events lie ahead. Perhaps these ominous sensings the women feel are signs that those events are nigh upon us. Regardless and as I said once before, here’s to interesting times.”

  To interesting times, said they all, though tears stood in Simone’s eyes and those of Saissa as well.

  Glamours

  “Now, where is that other gown?” snapped Hradian, searching among the musty clothes in the meager loft. “No, no, not that one, nor this one. Ah, here is the one. The same as I wore to Summerwood Manor five and some years agone. Such pretty danglers and lace, like smoke streaming. But it won’t do to wear it again as it is. No, I’ll have to cast a glamour over it, something to match-”

  A deep-throated plaintive croak sounded.

  Hradian turned and looked down at the doorway. “What is it, Crapaud?”