Once upon a Spring morn ou-2 Page 7

  They rode through a flurry of snowfall, which turned to rain, and then to hail, and they took shelter under the trees, even as the wind whipped at them. But the hail turned to a light spring shower and within a league they rode in sunshine.

  “Your demesne is full of marvel, Celeste,” said Roel,

  “caught as it is at the edge of winter on the one hand and at the verge of summer on the other; you have both the best and the worst of the season. I think it is fitting that a woman rules herein, for it is stormy and mild and cold and warm, pleasant and cruel.”

  Celeste cocked an eyebrow. “Are you saying it is fickle like a woman?”

  “Non, my love,” said Roel, grinning. “Challenging instead.”

  Celeste laughed. “Ah, Silvertongue, are you certain that you have no Keltoi ancestry?”

  Roel shook his head. “If I have such blood, I know it not. Instead all I am saying is that I love this place, with its rushing streams, wildflowers, spring berries, its plentitude of game. . as well as its wondrous tiny people.”

  “Not all are tiny, Roel, for some are great lumbering things, such as the Woodwose all covered in hair, or the Hommes Verts all covered in leaves. For the most part, they are shy, and rarely come to the manor, and then simply to show respect.”

  “When do they do this? Come to the manor, I mean.”

  “In the Springwood, usually it is on the vernal equinox, though sometimes not. In Liaze’s realm they mostly come at the autumnal equinox. In Alain’s demesne it is at the summer solstice, whereas at Borel’s it is at the winter solstice, though his Hommes Verts are covered in evergreen needles.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Roel, “each in its own season.” Celeste nodded and said, “Indeed, most of their visits are governed by the sun. Often, though, some come at other times, usually to settle a dispute, but not always.

  Some simply come at their own hest to visit their liege and swear fealty.”

  “I would be at your side next equinox,” said Roel,

  “for I am struck by the wonder of it all.” Celeste smiled and said, “And I would have you at my side on that day of balance.”

  They made camp that eve nigh a stream swollen with chill melt, and men began unlading gear. Horses were gathered in a simple rope pen, and Anton assigned several members of the warband to see to their care. A full day they had ridden, some twelve leagues in all. “At this rate,” said the princess, “we’ll be at the border shortly after the noontide two days hence.”

  Nearby, small tents were being pegged to the ground, for the erratic weather of the Springwood could just as easily send a great lot of wet snow as send a balmy night. Two men of the warband came bearing a somewhat larger tent for the princess. Roel said, “Here, I’ll pitch it.” But the warriors protested, and when Roel glanced at Celeste, with a faint shake of her head she indicated to him that he should let the men do the task.

  Swiftly ’twas done, and Celeste thanked them with a smile, and, beaming, the warriors moved on to other duties.

  When they were out of earshot, “My love,” said Celeste, “they vie among themselves to be the ones to serve me. Take not that away from them.” Roel grinned and said, “As I would vie were I among their company.”

  They walked down to the chill-running water and stood holding hands in the twilight, neither speaking.

  Behind them, men set campfires, and some began brewing tea. As Roel and Celeste dwelled in the comfort of one another, a polite cough caught their attention, and Roel turned to see Gerard standing nearby, his eyes fixed steadily on a point somewhere in the gallery of woods beyond the stream. Roel frowned. “Gerard, did I not instruct you to remain at the manor?”

  “Indeed you did, my lord,” replied Gerard, not shifting his gaze away from that distant point among the shadowed trees, “yet who would pitch your tent were I not about?”

  “I’m of a mind to send you back even as we speak, Gerard.”

  Still standing at formal attention, chin held high, eyes peering off yon, Gerard said, “My lord, would you send me through these deep and dark and perilous woods alone? I think you cannot spare a warrior to escort me.” Celeste giggled.

  Roel sighed in exasperation. “I did not see you among the company. How came you in the first place?”

  “Why, on a horse, my lord. I knew you would need your valet de chambre, though it seems you yourself did not. A candlemark or so after you rode away, I realized where my duty lay, and so I saddled a mount, and took another one in tow, one laden with needed supplies, and I followed. I just now reached the camp, or, let me say, I reached the camp a short while ago.”

  Roel smiled and said, “You rode all the way completely alone through the deep and dark and perilous forest?”

  “Indeed, my lord, though I believe it will be even deeper and darker and certainly much more perilous were I to have to ride back to the manor.” Roel burst into laughter; Celeste’s own giggles turned to laughter as well. Gerard didn’t blink an eye or shift his stance one hair as he let the mirth run its course. Finally, he made a slight gesture toward a newly pitched tent and said, “My lord, your shelter is ready. And would you and Princess Celeste like a good red wine to go with your evening meal?”

  Once more Roel and Celeste fell into helpless laughter.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘oui,’ my lord.” And with that, Gerard turned on his heel and strode away.

  In the silver light of dawn, Celeste rose and walked past the sentry toward a wooded area designated as a place of privacy for her.

  After she relieved herself, Celeste strode through the strip of woodland and toward the swift-running stream.

  As she neared, she heard someone weeping, and at the edge of the flow she came upon a small lad, no more than four summers old. In tattered clothes he was, and sitting on a rock and holding a trimmed branch in one hand-more of a long switch than a pole-and a length of fishing line in the other. Celeste looked ’round, but no adult did she see.

  “Child, what are you doing here so early in the morning and all alone?” Sobbing in snuck s and snub s, the small boy looked up with tear-filled eyes. “I came to catch a fish for breakfast.”

  “Where are your pere and mere?”

  “Elsewhere, my lady. Very far elsewhere.”

  “They left you alone in the world?”

  The child managed a whispered, “I have two sisters, and they will have nothing to eat,” and then he broke into wrenching sobs.

  “Two sisters? No one else?”

  “Non.”

  “Then come with me, my lad,” said Celeste. “I will gather some food for you and your sisters.”

  “Non, non,” cried the child, “I must catch a fish for them. But the string came loose from the pole, and a knot is needed.”

  Celeste sighed. “Here, let me.” He held both out to her.

  She took them and quickly she tied the twine to the end of the switch, and then cast the hook into the stream. She handed the branch back to the lad, and he looked up at her and said, “Merci, Princess.” And in that moment a shimmer came over the boy, and of a sudden before Celeste stood a slender maiden with silver hair and argent eyes, and from somewhere, nowhere, everywhere, there came the sound of battens and shuttles, as of looms weaving.

  Celeste glanced at the dawn light growing in the sky and curtseyed and said, “Lady Skuld. Lady Wyrd. She Who Sees the Future.”

  Skuld smiled and said, “We meet again.” Celeste nodded, for on the day before the wedding of Camille and Alain, Skuld and her sisters-Verdandi and Urd-suddenly appeared before her family-her pere and mere, her brothers and sister, and Camille and Michelle. Too, Hierophant Marceau had been there as well, though he had fainted dead away from shock when the three Fates abruptly materialized.

  “My lady,” said Celeste, “when last I saw you, you warned that the acolytes would seek revenge. Is that who-?”

  Skuld held up a hand palm out, stopping the flow of Celeste’s words. “Child, you know I cannot answer questions directly
. I cannot e’en give you advice unless you first perform a service for me, and then answer a riddle. Because you tied my line to my pole when I was in the form of a small child, you have met the first requirement.” Celeste sighed. “I take it that you have something to tell me, and to hear it a riddle I must answer. Yet I have never been particularly good at riddles. May I at least fetch someone to help me? Roel perhaps?” Skuld laughed and shook her head. “They are all yet asleep and will not waken-not even your truelove-

  until our business here is done.”

  Celeste groaned and glanced back at the camp. In the growing light, no one stirred, not even the sentry, who seemed locked in his stance. She looked again at Skuld and said, “In all fairness I must confess that I know the riddle of the Sphinx and the riddles you posed to Camille and Borel.”

  Skuld smiled. “I shall not ask you any of those, nor the one I posed to your sister.”

  Celeste’s eyes flew wide in startlement. “You aided Liaze in her search for Luc?”

  “Is that a question you would have me answer?” Celeste threw out a hand of negation. “Non. Non. If you posed a riddle to her, one she correctly answered, then you aided her.”

  Again Skuld smiled.

  Celeste took a deep breath and said, “As for a riddle you would have me answer, say away,” and then she braced herself as if for a blow.

  Of a sudden the sound of looms weaving swelled, and Skuld said:

  “Trees on my back, dwelling below, I fare when a wind does flow.

  Name me. . ”

  Even as the clack of shuttle and thud of batten diminished, Celeste’s heart sank and tears sprang into her eyes. I will never get the answer, never.

  “Wipe away your tears,” said Skuld, “and think.”

  With the heels of her hands, Celeste dried her cheeks, and she looked at Skuld and then away. In that moment a small piece of wood caught in the flow went racing downstream. Watching it, Celeste recalled a happier time long past in her childhood, when she and her brothers stood by a brook and-

  “A ship!” she cried. “Lady Wyrd, ’tis a ship, for the trees on its back are the masts, the dwelling below houses the crew, and a ship does fare when a wind flows.” With hope in her eyes, she looked at Skuld.

  Skuld now smiled and said, “Correct. And now I have something to tell you, and a gift for you as well.”

  “This something you are going to tell me, is it in the form of a rede?”

  Skuld nodded, and again Celeste groaned. “Lady Wyrd, I am not good with puzzles and redes, can you not say it straight out?”

  “No, Princess, I cannot, for my sisters and I must follow the rules.”

  “Rules,” mused Celeste. “I wonder just whose they are.”

  “That I will not say,” replied Skuld. “Instead, this is what I’ve come to tell you.” And again as the thud and clack of weaving intensified, Skuld said:

  “Seek the map, it is the key,

  For Changelings dwell beyond the sea.

  Yet beware, for there are those

  Who bar the way: dreadful foes.

  “A moon and a day, there is no more For the lost sister you would restore.

  Seven years all told have nearly passed; A moment beyond and the die is cast.

  “What might seem fair is sometimes foul And holds not a beautiful soul.

  Hesitate not or all is lost;

  Do what seems a terrible cost.”

  Skuld fell silent, and Celeste said, “I understand some of it but not all. Lady Wyrd, would you please-?” Again, with an upraised hand, Skuld stopped the flow of Celeste’s words. “I cannot, Celeste. But this I can tell you: along the way you will face terrible trials, but you will also find aid as well.”

  Skuld glanced at the sky, the dawn bright, the sun yet below the horizon, but barely. “I must now go, Princess, yet remember all I have said. -Oh, and here, you will need this.” Between thumb and forefinger, Skuld held out the gift she had promised. As Celeste took it, the sound of batten and shuttle swelled and then vanished altogether, as did Lady Wyrd.

  In the distance, of a sudden the camp came awake.

  Men began stirring even as the limb of the sun rose above the rim of the world. Yet Celeste paid them no heed and instead peered at what Skuld had given her:

  ’twas nought but a small silver needle.

  9

  Dangerous Crossing

  “And this is what she gave me.” Celeste held out her hand; the silver needle rested in her palm.

  Both Roel and Anton looked, and Roel said, “I don’t see how that is going to help us.”

  “Well,” said Anton, “needles are made for sewing.

  Perhaps it’s to patch up something.”

  “Such as. .?” asked Roel.

  Anton frowned. “The map?”

  “The map needs patching?”

  “Perhaps it’s cloth rather than vellum,” said Anton, shrugging. “I mean, if it’s a magic needle, and if the way to the Changeling realm is somehow obscured by a rip or a tear or a hole, then maybe if this needle is used to stitch the fabric, well, then the way will come clear.”

  Both Roel and Anton looked to Celeste for the answer. She merely shrugged and said, “Who knows the way of the Fates? Not I.” They stood a moment in silence, but then Celeste added, “It seems neither my brothers nor my sister nor I can be involved in any kind of a quest without the Fates intervening.” Roel frowned. “Your family is somehow caught up in the entanglements of the Three Sisters?”

  Celeste sighed and said, “Oui. First it was Camille in her search for Alain. Then it was Borel and his quest for Michelle. And just moments ago I discovered from Skuld that Liaze dealt with the Fates when she sought Luc. And now, it seems, it is my turn.”

  “At least there is one good, my lady,” said Anton,

  “and that is, from what we know, the Ladies Wyrd and Lot and Doom aid rather than hinder. Even so, I do not care for the fact that Lady Skuld cast some sort of a spell over this camp of ours. Why, Goblins or Trolls could have attacked, or even the acolyte witches, and we would have been helpless.”

  Celeste shook her head. “Anton, I think Lady Wyrd would not allow that to happen. As you say, she came to help rather than hinder.”

  Roel shrugged and said, “I still don’t see how a needle can aid.”

  “Neither do I,” said Celeste. She turned her back and opened her leathers from collar to breastbone, and high on the bodice of her silk undershirt she stitched the needle into the fabric for safekeeping. Refastening her leathers, once again she turned to Roel and Anton.

  Nearby, Gerard cleared his throat and said, “My lady, my lord, and Captain Anton, breakfast awaits.”

  “Well,” said Anton, “needle or no, parts of the rede she gave to you seem clear enough, the first quatrain, in particular.”

  “How does it go again?” asked Roel.

  Celeste frowned and said:

  “Seek the map, it is the key,

  For Changelings dwell beyond the sea.

  Yet beware, for there are those

  Who bar the way: dreadful foes.” Anton said, “From that, it seems the map will show that we will have to voyage beyond the sea, and since the map is in Port Mizon, most likely that’s where we’ll set sail from.”

  Celeste nodded and said, “I am glad the warband is with us, for the last two lines of that quatrain speak of dreadful foes.”

  “Foes we can handle,” said Roel, touching the hilt of Coeur d’Acier. “It is the second quatrain that has me most worried.” He took another bite of bread.

  Celeste set aside her cup of tea and said:

  “A moon and a day, there is no more For the lost sister you would restore.

  Seven years all told have nearly passed; A moment beyond and the die is cast.”

  “Oui,” said Anton. “I agree it is worrisome, for if we do not reach your sister a moon and a day from now, it seems she will somehow be lost forever.” Gerard, who had been standing at hand, refreshed Roel’s cu
p of tea and said, “I believe that will be at the dark of the moon, my lord.”

  Celeste frowned and glanced at the moon, now but a thin crescent racing barely ahead of the just-risen sun.

  “You are right, Gerard, for morrow night will be the dark of the moon, and we have but another moon beyond in which to find Avelaine.”

  “What of your brothers, Roel?” asked Anton.

  Roel washed his bite down with tea and said, “Laurent started out a day after Avelaine was taken.We know he was well when he reached Sage Geron. Beyond Geron’s cottage, he fared to the city of Rulon, or so his steel dagger would indicate, the one he traded for bronze. The ride from my sire’s manor to Rulon takes at least a moon and a fortnight.And so, even if he somehow immediately fell into the clutches of the Lord of the Changelings, perhaps we will have that much time after finding Avelaine to locate Laurent. As for Blaise, he set out nearly four years later.” Celeste said, “I know not how long it will take us to get to the Changeling realm, but the sooner started, the sooner arrived. And for me, the rede seems to tell us we have perilously little time to do so.” Agreed, said Roel and Anton together, and Roel stood and said, “Then I suggest we ride.”

  “ ’Tis the third quatrain most puzzling,” said Roel.

  Celeste, riding alongside, nodded and intoned:

  “What might seem fair is sometimes foul And holds not a beautiful soul.

  Hesitate not or all is lost;

  Do what seems a terrible cost.”

  “Beyond the obvious,” said Roel, “I have no understanding of what that might mean.”

  “The obvious?” said Celeste.

  “Well, clearly it refers to someone or something that will seem fair to us, but instead is foul.”

  “Mayhap it is the Lord of the Changelings,” said Celeste. “Did he seem fair?”