1346 lines
77 KiB
Plaintext
1346 lines
77 KiB
Plaintext
|
|
DDDDD ZZZZZZ //
|
|
D D AAAA RRR GGGG OOOO NN N Z I NN N EEEE ||
|
|
D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 9
|
|
-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
|
|
D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 6
|
|
DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
|
|
\\
|
|
\
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
DargonZine Distributed: 11/02/1996
|
|
Volume 9, Number 6 Circulation: 610
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Contents
|
|
|
|
Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
|
|
A Shadow of a Life Mark A. Murray Mertz 1014
|
|
Falsehoods Alan Lauderdale Melrin-Autumn, 1004
|
|
In the Garden Jim Owens Late Summer, 1015
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
|
|
collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
|
|
We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
|
|
Please address all correspondance to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
|
|
on the World Wide Web at http://www.shore.net/~dargon. Back issues
|
|
are available from ftp.etext.org in pub/Zines/DargonZine. Issues and
|
|
public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
|
|
|
|
DargonZine 9-6, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright November, 1996 by
|
|
the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>.
|
|
All rights reserved. All rights are reassigned to the individual
|
|
contributors. Stories may not be reproduced or redistributed without
|
|
the explicit permission of the author(s) involved, except in the case
|
|
of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
|
|
Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Editorial
|
|
by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
|
|
<ornoth@shore.net>
|
|
|
|
Those whose only contact with DargonZine is having issues emailed
|
|
to them might well interpret the interval between issues as evidence
|
|
that there isn't much going on in the Dargon Project. It ain't so!
|
|
Over the course of the summer, eight new writers joined the group,
|
|
and you'll begin seeing their works very shortly. And our veterans
|
|
haven't been idle either; as if writing for DargonZine wasn't enough,
|
|
Rogers Cadenhead has co-authored the newly-released "Teach Yourself
|
|
SunSoft Java WorkShop in 21 Days". One of the examples used in the book
|
|
is an interactive graphical map of Dargon, which displays callout
|
|
descriptions of certain geographical and political features when your
|
|
mouse hovers over them. You can try the example out and explore the map
|
|
online at http://spiderbyte.com/java.
|
|
Meanwhile, we've continued to enhance the Web site. The Online
|
|
Glossary now sports a new look, and includes hyperlinks to the stories
|
|
where any given Glossary entry is mentioned. Another new feature is a
|
|
street map of the city of Dargon, with credit going to Mark Murray for
|
|
doing the legwork. Other enhancements include a handful of pictures from
|
|
the 1996 Dargon Writers' Summit in Denver, some new graphs depicting
|
|
annual output of the project in the Author's Master Database section,
|
|
and updated results from the Web-based reader survey and questionnaire.
|
|
The questionnaire responses have been very valuable in telling us what
|
|
you want from the project, and I'd encourage everyone to send us your
|
|
responses, so that we know how we're doing and what we need to do better
|
|
at.
|
|
All these enhancements to the Web site are available from the
|
|
"What's New" page. That's where to go to find the most up-to-date
|
|
information about the project, the magazine, and the Web site. It's
|
|
really worth a visit, because the Web site offers a lot of services and
|
|
information beyond what is available by email.
|
|
|
|
In this issue, Mark Murray begins a new thread with Matty, a young
|
|
boy growing up in Dargon. Mark is currently working on additional
|
|
stories which feature Matty, so expect to see more of this character in
|
|
coming issues.
|
|
In "Falsehoods", Alan Lauderdale picks up the story of Mouse, his
|
|
diminutive heroine who was the protagonist in "I am my Lord's
|
|
Possession", which appearred in DargonZine 8-2. Alan, too, has already
|
|
written a followup story, so more stories about Mouse on the way!
|
|
Finally, Jim Owens, one of the writers who helped found the Dargon
|
|
Project back in 1985, returns to his Barel family and delivers a strong
|
|
commentary in his "In the Garden".
|
|
With the end of the war between Baranur and Beinison having taken
|
|
place in our last issue, we hope to return to a more balanced mix of
|
|
light and heavy stories, as your Reader Questionnaire responses told us
|
|
you prefer. I think this issue is a first small step in that direction.
|
|
|
|
And, as always, let us know how we're doing and keep spreading the
|
|
word about DargonZine, because word of mouth is our biggest source of
|
|
new readers! And look for our next issue, which should be out toward the
|
|
end of December.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
A Shadow of a Life
|
|
by Mark A. Murray
|
|
<mmurray@ionet.net>
|
|
Dargon City, Mertz 1014
|
|
|
|
He watched from his window as several boys gathered in the alley.
|
|
They always showed up in the early evening and talked for a while.
|
|
Sometimes they would laugh and he wondered what kind of jokes they were
|
|
telling. There was an older boy, much older than him, who looked like
|
|
the leader. He wished his mother would let him stay out later so he
|
|
could join them. He didn't have any friends and watching the boys
|
|
together made him long for friends even more. They looked to be real
|
|
good friends. Sighing, he moved from the window and climbed into bed.
|
|
Wishing they were his friends, too, he drifted to sleep.
|
|
|
|
"Wake up, Matthew," his mother called from the kitchen. He rolled
|
|
over and pulled the blanket above his head. Maybe she'll let me stay
|
|
home by myself today.
|
|
"Matty," She said as she shook him. "Come on. We have to go to the
|
|
market today." He felt his mother sit on the bed and draw the covers
|
|
from his head.
|
|
"Mama, can't I stay home while you go to the market?" he asked.
|
|
"No. It's not that I don't trust you by yourself, Matty, but I
|
|
don't trust this neighborhood. When I get a better job, we can move to a
|
|
better section of town and then you can stay home all you like." she
|
|
answered.
|
|
"Can I stay out as late as I want, too?"
|
|
"By the time I get a better job, you're going to be staying out as
|
|
late as you want whether I want you to or not," she answered smiling.
|
|
"Aw, mama!" he cried. "I didn't mean years from now."
|
|
"I know. Now get up and get dressed. There's some bread and soup
|
|
left on the table." He sat up and let his legs swing over the edge of
|
|
the bed. Hopping down, he went to the corner of the room where his
|
|
clothes were piled. Searching through the small stack, he pulled out a
|
|
pair of pants and a shirt. Slipping the large shirt off that he slept
|
|
in, he pulled on the pants and put on the shirt.
|
|
"Mama, I'm growin' again," he told her as he noticed that his pants
|
|
did not reach his ankles.
|
|
"You're growing all the time, Matty. Really! I just can't keep up
|
|
with you. If we can find some material cheap enough, I'll make you
|
|
another pair. Now come on." He went into the kitchen where she was.
|
|
"Here's your soup and bread," she said handing it to him. When he
|
|
was done, she took his hand and they went out the door.
|
|
|
|
They walked to the market area and his mother started shopping for
|
|
food. It was always the same. Mama would spend time looking for cheaper
|
|
prices, even though she usually bought the same thing at the same vendor
|
|
every time. Throughout all of this, she never let go of his hand. When
|
|
he tried to shake her hand loose, she would stop and ask him if anything
|
|
was wrong. One day, he even explained to her that he was a big boy now
|
|
and he would stay out of trouble. She just smiled and kissed him *in
|
|
front* of everyone. He felt his cheeks go warm when she did that. It was
|
|
the last time he explained anything to her in public.
|
|
"Quit day-dreaming, Matty. It's time to go home," she told him. "We
|
|
have to be at work in a few bells, and I want to eat before we go."
|
|
"Are we gonna work late again, mamma?"
|
|
"I don't know. It depends on how busy the inn is," she answered as
|
|
they started home.
|
|
When they got home, she started a small fire in the fireplace,
|
|
cleaned some vegetables, and poured some water into a pan. She set the
|
|
pan on top of the oven and started chopping the vegetables.
|
|
"Matty, can you go outside and get a little bit of the dried
|
|
mintleaf? It should be hanging by the window," she said. He went out the
|
|
door and turned the corner. The dried mintleaf was hanging where she
|
|
said it would be. He grabbed a few of the dried leaves and carried them
|
|
back inside.
|
|
"Here it is, mama," he said putting the mintleaf on the table.
|
|
"Mama?"
|
|
"What?"
|
|
"It's not that I don't like mintleaf, but do you think that we
|
|
could look for something different next time?" he asked.
|
|
"The next time we get a day off, Matty, we'll go outside of Dargon
|
|
City and look for some different herbs."
|
|
"Really? That would be fun! Thanks," he said as he hugged her.
|
|
"Why don't you go play. I'll call when the soup is done," she told
|
|
him. He ran outside and down the alley. It was a short alley and when he
|
|
got to the end, he stopped. He knew he wasn't allowed beyond the end of
|
|
the alley, but that didn't keep him from looking up and down the street.
|
|
"It's them," he said as he saw the boys. He just stood there and
|
|
watched them. They were playing some sort of game. There was a small
|
|
object that was being tossed in the air, only they weren't using their
|
|
hands to toss it. They were using everything else but their hands, and
|
|
some of the boys weren't playing. The object flew towards a boy's face
|
|
and he caught it with his hands. The boy said something that Matthew
|
|
didn't understand and threw the object on the ground. He stepped over to
|
|
where the other boys who weren't playing were and the game continued
|
|
without him. It went on like this until there were only two left -- an
|
|
older boy and someone Matthew had not seen before. The older boy finally
|
|
won and the rest bunched in to congratulate him. Laughing and shouting,
|
|
the boys walked up the street away from Matthew.
|
|
"Don't go," he said quietly. He thought of shouting to get their
|
|
attention, but was too afraid to do it. Wishing they would have come his
|
|
way, he watched the boys until they were out of sight. "They sure looked
|
|
like they were having a lot of fun," he thought as he picked up a stone.
|
|
He dropped the stone and hit it with his foot. The stone came straight
|
|
back up and he hit it with his elbow. It sailed higher and after coming
|
|
back down, he tried to hit it with his other foot, but missed.
|
|
"I bet they'd have let me play if I was allowed in the street," he
|
|
thought as he picked up the stone again.
|
|
"Matthew!" called his mother.
|
|
"I'm comin'," he yelled back as he ran back down the alley.
|
|
|
|
It turned out that the inn wasn't very busy and both were sent home
|
|
early. His mother wasn't very happy about it.
|
|
"Don't be mad, mama," he said as they walked home. "I was gonna
|
|
wait until we got home, but I guess I can show you now."
|
|
"What are you talking about, Matty?" she asked as they stopped.
|
|
"Old Garth gave me somethin' as I left. He said it was for both of
|
|
us," Matthew explained as he opened his coat. He beamed proudly as he
|
|
showed her the small piece of meat that the cook had given him. He had
|
|
hidden it against his side under the coat and in his waistband.
|
|
"Why, that grizzled old man. May Stevene watch over him," she
|
|
prayed. "Did you thank him for it, Matty?"
|
|
"I did, mama. He smiled and said I was a good kid."
|
|
"Let's go home and have supper then. Tonight hasn't been all bad,"
|
|
she said as they started walking home.
|
|
|
|
He looked out the window as his mother cooked the meat. It was dark
|
|
and he couldn't see very far, but he knew the boys were there. He could
|
|
hear them laughing and talking, but he couldn't hear them well enough to
|
|
understand what they were saying.
|
|
"Matty, supper is done," his mother called. He turned away from the
|
|
window and went into the other room. Standing at the table, he ate
|
|
supper.
|
|
"This meat is good, mama. I wish we could have it more often."
|
|
"I do too, Matty," she said. "I do too."
|
|
Nine days passed before he actually saw the boys again. Matthew and
|
|
his mother had the day off, and he was playing in the alley when he
|
|
heard laughter coming from the end of the alley. He ran towards the
|
|
street and stopped at the end of the alley. The boys were only a few
|
|
paces in front of him to the right and they were playing the game. He
|
|
watched them until one of the boys noticed him and the game stopped.
|
|
"What'ya want?" one of the boys asked. Fear paralyzed him.
|
|
"This is my chance," he thought.
|
|
"Well," the boy said.
|
|
"Can I play?" he mustered the courage to ask.
|
|
"He wants to play," the boy laughed. Matthew wanted to run, but
|
|
somehow he couldn't.
|
|
"What's yer name?" the oldest boy asked stepping forward towards
|
|
Matthew.
|
|
"Matthew," he answered.
|
|
"Ya got a home, Matthew?" the oldest boy asked. Matthew nodded and
|
|
pointed down the alley.
|
|
"Ya got parents?"
|
|
"My mom," Matthew said.
|
|
"Well, *we* don't have any parents, and *we* don't have a home. All
|
|
*we've* got is each other. We're shadow boys. So, go back to your mom
|
|
and your home!" the oldest boy shouted. Matthew tried to move, and
|
|
couldn't. The shadow boy stepped closer. "Go on!" he shouted and shoved
|
|
Matthew down. "Get out of here I said!"
|
|
Matthew got up, ran down the alley and into his house. He couldn't
|
|
see through his tears and ran into his mother.
|
|
"Matty? Dear Stevene, what's wrong?" she asked as she kneeled down.
|
|
"I ... uh ... they ... " was all Matthew could say between sobs.
|
|
"Shhhh. It's alright, dear. Hush," she said comforting him and
|
|
pulling him close.
|
|
"I only wanted some friends, mama. I wanted ... to play ... with
|
|
them," he sobbed.
|
|
"Who, Matty?"
|
|
"Some ... the boys ... by the street."
|
|
"Oh, Matty! Those boys aren't good boys," she said. "You don't want
|
|
to be around them. They'll get you into trouble."
|
|
"Why didn't they like me, mama?" he asked, finally getting his
|
|
breath. She only hugged him tight as an answer.
|
|
"Maybe it is time we moved. I've saved up a little money, and I
|
|
heard that there's an opening at another inn. A better inn," she said.
|
|
|
|
Matthew's mother was walking home from work. She was walking home
|
|
alone, and she wasn't worried too much about Matthew. Rachel was
|
|
watching him. It was amazing how much her life had changed so quickly.
|
|
She thought back to just a few days ago when the new inn opened. She
|
|
applied, but it was too far away from where they lived. Then she met
|
|
Rachel and Rachel opened her home to them. The inn hired her, and things
|
|
turned out well, except for Matthew. He cried when she told him they
|
|
were moving. She didn't understand his crying, but eventually she
|
|
learned that he still wanted to be friends with those boys. She told him
|
|
that he would make better friends in their new neighborhood, but he
|
|
didn't want to move. He was still upset over their moving when she had
|
|
left this morning.
|
|
She turned the corner and was at her new home. It was a much
|
|
shorter walk, and a safer one.
|
|
"I still can't believe I got the job," Matthews's mother said as
|
|
she entered the house. "Just five days ago, I was working in that rat
|
|
infested inn. I wouldn't have been able to do it if you hadn't shared
|
|
your home. Thank you, Rachel."
|
|
"It's nothing, really. You looked like you could use some help, and
|
|
since we are both new at the inn, I thought it would be alright for you
|
|
to stay with me," Rachel said.
|
|
"Mama, mama!" Matthew yelled as he came running in the house.
|
|
"Guess what!"
|
|
"I don't know," his mother said.
|
|
"I ..." Matthew started but stopped as he looked around. "He was
|
|
right behind me."
|
|
"Who was right behind you?"
|
|
"Ben! He's my new friend!"
|
|
"A new friend?" she asked smiling.
|
|
"Mama, what are you smiling at?"
|
|
"I love you, Matty," she said.
|
|
"Aw, mama, not *in front* of everyone," he said turning to go back
|
|
outside and find his new friend.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Falsehoods
|
|
by Alan Lauderdale
|
|
<lauderd@phadm1.cpmc.columbia.edu>
|
|
Melrin - Autumn, 1004
|
|
|
|
Melrin, 1004
|
|
Aardvard Factotum gazed across his desk at his visitor. He was the
|
|
leading merchant of knowledge in Dargon and apparently did quite well at
|
|
his trade. His office was opulent. His expression, however, was
|
|
oblivious of the riches surrounding him, being intent solely on sizing
|
|
up his visitor. Cahill felt appraised.
|
|
Cahill was Sir Ongis' clerk. He was visiting Dargon because Sir
|
|
Ongis had come for the Melrin festivities and brought him along.
|
|
Originally, Sir Ongis had hoped to present to the Duke during the
|
|
festival that faerie princess he'd briefly possessed. He'd even made the
|
|
mistake of sending the Duke a message he'd meant to be private. The
|
|
message had promised him a gift that he would find truly unique and a
|
|
surprise for the rest of the court. That plan was dashed when the faerie
|
|
whatsit had escaped from Sir Ongis' dungeon.
|
|
So Sir Ongis had come hoping he'd only have to explain why he
|
|
thought a two-headed trout, which had regretably died and rotted
|
|
quickly, was so unique and wonderful that it had merited boastful
|
|
advance notice. What he failed to appreciate was that no private message
|
|
to the Duke remains that way. Behind his back, he and his unpresented
|
|
gift were the subject of much speculation. And Cahill hoped to profit
|
|
from his lord's no-longer-desired notoriety.
|
|
As for Aardvard, he was well aware of the speculative ignorance
|
|
surrounding Cahill's master. When he became aware (less than a mene
|
|
after Sir Ongis' entourage entered the city) that Cahill had information
|
|
on the matter that he could be persuaded to share, Aardvard went so far
|
|
in making himself available to the servant as to provide him with mount
|
|
and discreet escort from Ongis' lodgings to Factotum's own humble
|
|
dwelling.
|
|
And now here was Cahill in Aardvard's office, having spoken to
|
|
no-one else first. It was going to be a wonderful festival this year,
|
|
Aardvard just knew it.
|
|
"So," Aardvard said, wondering how ignorant this servant might be
|
|
of the value his knowledge held for some in Dargon, "what can I do for
|
|
you?"
|
|
Cahill glanced around the office and then looked back at the
|
|
merchant. "You could set me up quite comfortably for the rest of my
|
|
life," he suggested.
|
|
"I could," Aardvard acknowledged. The way he liked to appear to be
|
|
living, it was hard to argue with the assessment. "Why would I want to?"
|
|
"You collect information, don't you?"
|
|
"Aye, but it's such a perishable commodity, you know." Aardvard
|
|
Factotum sighed. "You pass along some tidbit of knowledge to me. So then
|
|
I have it and maybe I pass along some tidbit of coinage to you. But the
|
|
exchange is hardly fair, hardly fair at all. And why not? Because, my
|
|
friend, while you've given that information to me, you've still got it
|
|
also. But the coinage I give to you is forever sundered from my grasp."
|
|
"Ah, but the information I have to share --"
|
|
"Yes, I know. It has the court buzzing. Your master sent along a
|
|
warning to his duke that his present this year would be remembered for
|
|
decades. Well, sir, if that isn't an advertisement to start the idle
|
|
tongues chattering, I don't know what is."
|
|
"So everyone wants to know what Sir Ongis' present will be?" Cahill
|
|
asked cautiously.
|
|
"Naturally."
|
|
"Including you?"
|
|
"I take a professional interest only, you understand," Aardvard
|
|
explained quickly. "There are people I know who would be very grateful
|
|
to be informed -- before the actual occasion -- what the great event
|
|
will be. They like to appear powerful by appearing knowledgeable."
|
|
"So what would you be willing to reward me with in exchange for
|
|
this information?" Cahill asked.
|
|
"Shall we say ..." Aardvard paused. The servant seemed eager, too
|
|
eager. The information could be extracted for cheap, that seemed clear.
|
|
But Aardvard suspected that his source still knew something about the
|
|
upcoming transaction that he didn't know. He hated that. "... five
|
|
Mint?" He placed the coins on the desk.
|
|
"Fine," Cahill barked. Violating all the customs of bargaining, he
|
|
swept the coins off the desk into his own hand without even a token
|
|
argument. "My lord will be giving the Duke a fish story."
|
|
"A what!?" Aardvard shouted.
|
|
"A *dead* fish story," Cahill clarified quietly.
|
|
"Your master will be presenting the duke -- his liege's liege --
|
|
with a dead fish? And he had the -- the temerity to proclaim that that
|
|
would be a present the court would remember for years?"
|
|
"Of course not," Cahill said calmly. "A dead fish would stink. My
|
|
Lord Ongis will merely present my Lord the Duke with a tragic accounting
|
|
of how that marvel of nature, the two-headed brook trout got away. It's
|
|
almost a passable tale, full of pathos and gnashing teeth. He's been
|
|
coached by old Bernard --"
|
|
"Never mind the damned gnashing teeth! Has your master lost his
|
|
mind?"
|
|
"No," Cahill admitted. "But he has lost the original present."
|
|
"Ah, ha!"
|
|
Cahill grinned at Aardvard. Aardvard grinned back. So what if the
|
|
story cost an extra five Mint, it promised to be an excellent festival.
|
|
"And what was that original present?" Aardvard purred. Cahill
|
|
smiled and tapped the desk. Aardvard laid out some more coins on the
|
|
surface. Cahill shook his head and tapped the table again. Aardvard
|
|
frowned. "That's as much as a gold Sovereign," he grumbled at the coins
|
|
already on the table.
|
|
"At a generous trading house, perhaps," Cahill said, "assuming any
|
|
such exist. Come now, Factotum," he urged. "This is no piece of
|
|
information that will be generally revealed in just a few days. Lord
|
|
Ongis won't be telling anybody about the one that really got away when
|
|
he gives the Duke his fish tale. This knowledge will be yours to control
|
|
exclusively for as long as you like -- provided you make it worth my
|
|
while to keep your confidence."
|
|
"Hmm ... This had better be worth my while -- and my gold,"
|
|
Aardvard muttered sourly, adding two Cues to the heap on the desk. He
|
|
was actually still a Mark or two shy of his budget so the sour
|
|
expression was mostly good acting. He still hated parting with the
|
|
coins, though.
|
|
Cahill moved the coins to his end of the desk. "Sir Ongis got
|
|
himself a faerie princess," he said.
|
|
"Oh?" The syllable was colored by twinges of doubt that Aardvard's
|
|
money was well-spent.
|
|
"His men found her in the forest. She was crawling up through a
|
|
hole in the floor of a shallow cave. They brought her to him --"
|
|
"Did you see her?" Aardvard asked impatiently.
|
|
"Yes." Cahill grinned at the merchant of tales. "Oh, she was real,
|
|
all right, and no taller than from your fingers to your elbow. She was a
|
|
pretty little one too, with her face all set in grimness. And grime. She
|
|
shouted over and over in her weak little voice that she wanted to go
|
|
home --"
|
|
"What, under a mushroom somewhere?"
|
|
"No. She said that her parents were a couple of Ongis' peasants.
|
|
She said her name was Mouse when Ongis wanted to call her something
|
|
faerie -- Melissa, I think."
|
|
"But she said her name was Mouse?"
|
|
"Right on. Can't say her parents didn't have a sense of humor."
|
|
Cahill relaxed in his chair. "And she wanted to go back to their hovel
|
|
instead of staying at the keep. Well, she was a little brat -- no
|
|
question about the 'little' -- and only ten summers old, you see."
|
|
"How do you know that? Did you talk to her?"
|
|
"Me? No." Cahill grimaced. "Ongis' little faerie was too delicate
|
|
to be bothered by the servants. He did all the bothering himself. No. I
|
|
just paid me a little visit to the Stevene house and had a look at their
|
|
Naming records."
|
|
"You can read, then."
|
|
"Of course I can read. I'm Ongis' clerk, aren't I? Why do you think
|
|
he brought me along for the Melrin? It surely isn't to be his dancing
|
|
partner. Anyway, if there's one thing that idiot Henri could do, it was
|
|
write neatly. I found it easily, noted quite clearly: 'Born the 4th day
|
|
of Yule, Mouse, daughter of Sophia and Gregor of Kervale.' Ongis' little
|
|
faerie is ten summers old."
|
|
"And where is the little peasant now?" Aardvard leaned forward,
|
|
betraying some of the eagerness he felt.
|
|
Cahill glanced at his pile of coins. "Not sure that I recall the
|
|
answer to that one," he admitted. "After all, if I knew that, old Ongis
|
|
would be wanting to know too."
|
|
"So she's missing?"
|
|
Cahill stared in a silent and rapt contemplation at his money.
|
|
Aardvard contributed a few more Mint to the display. Cahill sighed
|
|
deeply. Aardvard growled and slammed down one more Cue on his desk. He
|
|
was very close to budget. He was also certain that he knew from whom he
|
|
could recoup this investment.
|
|
"Yes," Cahill said, biting on the Cue thoughtfully. It was a
|
|
once-in-a-lifetime experience, chewing on gold. He savored it. "The poor
|
|
girl's missing. Ongis took steps to try to find her -- you can't fault
|
|
him for making an effort."
|
|
"What did he do?"
|
|
"He interviewed Gregor and Sophie, of course. They're the two that
|
|
were supposed to be the girl's parents and if a girl's parents don't
|
|
know where she is, it's pretty often bad for the girl. When they didn't
|
|
tell Ongis quickly enough where she was, he killed them."
|
|
"It doesn't sound like he's very skilled at extracting information
|
|
from people," Aardvard observed regretfully.
|
|
"Not what you'd call velvet treatment," Cahill agreed. "Still,
|
|
there are other ways of finding these things out."
|
|
"Which you know."
|
|
Cahill smiled and nodded. "I met a traveller --" he began.
|
|
"The traveller have a name?" Aardvard interrupted.
|
|
"Darcy of Magnus is what he said, though I have no way of knowing
|
|
whether he used that name often or never. He said --"
|
|
"Do you know where he was going?"
|
|
"North -- Dargon, I suppose. I'm not sure he told me --"
|
|
"And where was he coming from?"
|
|
"Well, the south, of course."
|
|
"Of course."
|
|
"Well, I saw him at the Feathered Pig. He staggered in, breathing
|
|
heavily like he'd been running --"
|
|
"Running?" Aardvard stopped the story. "A traveller running? Had he
|
|
misplaced his baggage, lost his horse?"
|
|
"I didn't say he *had* been running, just that he was panting like
|
|
he'd been. Anyway, I introduced myself and explained that as Sir Ongis'
|
|
man, I took an interest in anything untoward. So he told me that he'd
|
|
encountered something untoward on the Dargon road --"
|
|
"Between Sir Ongis' keep and Dargon?"
|
|
"No. Beyond Sir Ongis' keep from Dargon. He was walking along --"
|
|
"Walking?"
|
|
"His horse was walking and he was riding, all right?"
|
|
"Fine with me." Aardvard poured himself some wine. After Cahill
|
|
pointedly twirled a goblet that was near him, Aardvard poured some into
|
|
that goblet also.
|
|
"So Darcy was riding the road and dusk was falling," Cahill
|
|
continued. "But he saw her."
|
|
"Your faerie princess?" Aardvard asked.
|
|
"Right. And she was walking toward him --"
|
|
"Toward Dargon."
|
|
"No, damn it. Away from Ongis' keep *and* from Dargon."
|
|
"Ah."
|
|
"Well, seeing a little person like that gave him quite a fright --"
|
|
"Why?"
|
|
"Why?" Cahill repeated.
|
|
"Why would a tiny little girl no taller than my forearm frighten an
|
|
experienced traveller like this Dracy is supposed to be?"
|
|
"Well, he hadn't seen her like before, had he?"
|
|
"So he turned and ran back up the road to the inn?"
|
|
"Of course not. She noticed him, melted into the forest, and he
|
|
came on to the Pig -- which was where he'd been intending to come
|
|
anyway."
|
|
"All panicked and breathing heavily and it's your opinion, based on
|
|
this story, that the princess is heading south."
|
|
"Correct. And that ought to be worth something, I'd think." Cahill
|
|
tapped his stack of coins.
|
|
Aardvard shook his head. "I don't willingly pay for fiction," he
|
|
said.
|
|
"Are you --?"
|
|
"And now I have to decide whether what I already paid for is the
|
|
same sort of fabrication. I don't know and now I may have to waste time
|
|
getting corroboration of your story. I'm very disappointed with you,
|
|
Cahill. Very disappointed indeed. Get out."
|
|
"But --"
|
|
"And even if the princess is real," Aardvard said, dismissing his
|
|
protest, "why were you so emphatic about her direction of flight when
|
|
you couldn't even remember the name of your putative source -- Darcy or
|
|
Dracy or whatever? You're not very good at this game, so you'd best take
|
|
what you're given and clear off."
|
|
Glowering, Cahill departed. On Aardvard's spiteful orders, he was
|
|
obliged to walk back to Sir Ongis' rooms.
|
|
|
|
Yule, 1004
|
|
Mouse lay on a branch, smiled up at the sun and thanked her god
|
|
that she had found the perfect tree.
|
|
Her perfect tree had a hollow fairly high up that she could just
|
|
barely squeeze into. Since she could just barely squeeze in, the place
|
|
was unattractive to anyone or anything much bigger than her -- so this
|
|
was good. The hollow had just been vacated by its most recent prior
|
|
occupant -- at least, she hadn't had to argue with anyone about her
|
|
right to move in. How the dwelling became vacant she didn't ask.
|
|
Her perfect tree was fairly close to a little river, so she had
|
|
convenient fresh water. It was also in the forest on the edge of a
|
|
village named Riverside. The inhabitants valued their stream too. Mouse
|
|
liked having the people and the village nearby, though she hadn't
|
|
introduced herself to any of them. She missed her family and was tempted
|
|
to try to make new friends. But she had no idea whether Sir Ongis' reach
|
|
extended this far and Sir Ongis aside, she didn't know whether she might
|
|
make the mistake of introducing herself to someone too much like him.
|
|
But she had her perfect tree, her perfect old olt tree with its
|
|
many large leaves to hide within, and every afternoon in fair weather,
|
|
Master Pfevver, the nearest the village offered to a sage, gathered the
|
|
young under the tree and taught them about life, the great wide world as
|
|
he understood it, history, and so on.
|
|
So, of course, the perfect tree offered Mouse a perfect branch upon
|
|
which to audit the lectures.
|
|
(And other conversations, such as the one she was half-listening to
|
|
now. The trunk of the old olt tree was a frequent site for people of
|
|
Riverside to gather together and talk. Sometimes, the conversations were
|
|
animated and sometimes they were just lazy exchanges of slight
|
|
insights.)
|
|
The only thing wrong with her perfect tree, Mouse knew, was that it
|
|
probably wouldn't be warm enough to get her through winter. At home, she
|
|
had spent the winter months shuttling between the fireplace and sunny
|
|
spots on the lee side of things. And a fireplace simply wasn't practical
|
|
in a tree. At the moment, she was considering the possibility of finding
|
|
perfect rafters atop one of the houses in the village or giving this
|
|
area up and continuing the long arduous journey to wondrous Dargon. But
|
|
she was so loath to leave her perfect tree until she had to. And
|
|
besides, it wasn't even midsummer yet.
|
|
"... really great," Tonuil Greno was saying, down by the trunk. He
|
|
and a boy named Kraen Barbar were talking about Kraen's father. "It
|
|
must've been fun, having him tell you all those stories."
|
|
"Yeah," Kraen agreed. "I miss him and Mom both."
|
|
"Why'd you leave them?"
|
|
"I couldn't stand Mom's baked yams!" There was a yell and a
|
|
scuffle, the sounds of wrestling and then a pause.
|
|
"No, really --" Tonuil began.
|
|
"Really, it was the sweet potatoes," Kraen told him.
|
|
"Kraen, nobody runs away from home over sweet potatoes."
|
|
"Well, the beans were sometimes a little undercooked, too."
|
|
"Come on, Kraen, why'd you leave?"
|
|
There was a sigh and another pause. "Dad had a brother named
|
|
Tirian," Kraen said at last. "Younger brother and a little crazy. When
|
|
Mom and Dad were getting married, at the wedding feast, Tirian was there
|
|
drinking the wine and celebrating and dancing and everything. But at one
|
|
point, just as the headman of the town had gathered everyone's attention
|
|
so he could formally congratulate Mom and Dad, Tirian stood up with
|
|
another full goblet of wine and started prophesying."
|
|
"What'd he say?"
|
|
"He said there'd be a lot of headaches the next day!"
|
|
"Kraen!" There was another round of wrestling, ending finally with
|
|
Kraen's pinning Tonuil.
|
|
"What did your uncle prophesy?" Tonuil asked again.
|
|
"He said," Kraen replied slowly, "that Mom's first child would be a
|
|
boy who would grow up to be a brave and famous hero, going on many
|
|
perilous adventures."
|
|
"Wow! Really?"
|
|
"Uh huh. And then, I was born. And Mom and Dad celebrated that. And
|
|
again there was wine and dancing and the headman getting everyone's
|
|
attention in order to congratulate Mom formally. And Uncle Tirian did it
|
|
again."
|
|
"The prophesying?"
|
|
"Yeah."
|
|
"So you're going to be a brave and famous hero?"
|
|
"That's what Uncle Tirian said -- twice."
|
|
"Wow. When're you going to start -- and can I come with you?"
|
|
"I don't know. I mean, I'm not really sure how to go about it. And
|
|
I haven't noticed any dragons flying around that needed slaying."
|
|
"Nope, me neither."
|
|
"And, besides. I don't think I want to start off with a dragon.
|
|
Maybe work my way up to one."
|
|
"So what're you going to start with, an earthworm? That'll be real
|
|
heroic: Brave Sir Kraen, Slayer of Fishbait!"
|
|
"I'll fishbait you --!"
|
|
There was another interlude of wrestling. Mouse sighed, feeling
|
|
homesick suddenly. They were just like Cedric and Con, including the
|
|
wrestling. But she knew the home she longed for no longer existed. Her
|
|
parents were dead and her brothers likely had no time for wrestling.
|
|
"Give!" Tonuil gasped. Almost immediately after, he asked "Did you
|
|
leave home on an adventure?"
|
|
"Sort of. See, everyone at home knew what Uncle Tirian had said, so
|
|
they all kept watching me to see what fantastic things I'd do. Always I
|
|
was expected to be best -- and heroic."
|
|
"Neat!"
|
|
"Not neat. Heroes are supposed to behave themselves -- always. Dawn
|
|
to dusk and all through the night. Every day. And any time I was less
|
|
than excellent, they were disappointed. 'Kraen, I'm very disappointed in
|
|
you.' I kept hearing that til I'd cringe simply in anticipation. Yuck!
|
|
It was awful."
|
|
"Yeah, I guess -- so what was the adventure, the one you left home
|
|
on?"
|
|
"I decided to find a place where people would be less disappointed
|
|
in me."
|
|
"Huh? What kind of adventure is that?"
|
|
"The one that brought me here. Look Tonuil, do me a favor and don't
|
|
tell people here about Uncle Tirian's prophecy. Mom and Dad never talked
|
|
about it and I kind of understand now what they were doing. After I've
|
|
had some adventures and become a famous hero -- well, then you can tell
|
|
people you knew about it way back when. But right now, it's kind of
|
|
silly. So keep it a secret, all right?"
|
|
"All right -- but I get to come along when you get started."
|
|
"Well, I don't know. Adventures can be pretty dangerous."
|
|
"Oh come on! How dangerous can it be killing a bunch of
|
|
earthworms?"
|
|
There was a growl and a shriek and the two ran off, repeated cries
|
|
of "Fishbait!" trailing back after them.
|
|
|
|
"... If that's all, then," the Collector said, "I will take my
|
|
leave."
|
|
"That is not all," Lord Edward Coranabo corrected him. "And you
|
|
will take your leave when I give it to you."
|
|
Keeping his expression unchanged, Wolf sighed inwardly. The list of
|
|
desired trinkets this Baron had already given him to look for was
|
|
disappointing, to say the least. At least half of it was of legends,
|
|
another quarter was of known frauds, and the remainder was a miscellany
|
|
of insignificance and sketchy descriptions. After all, what was he to
|
|
make of a request for "the Rat of Saint Michel-on-the-Hill, stuffed"? If
|
|
he managed to turn up anything at all on that list and sell it to this
|
|
customer, he would consider himself lucky.
|
|
The Baron eventually composed himself and explained.
|
|
"I want you to look for a faerie princess," he said.
|
|
The Collector arched an eyebrow.
|
|
"I have been advised," the Baron continued, "by an extremely
|
|
reliable source that Sir Ongis -- he is in Barony Connall -- recently
|
|
came into possession of a faerie princess."
|
|
"A faerie princess?" Doubt coated the Collector's question.
|
|
"She may be genuine or she may simply be a midget peasant," the
|
|
Baron said. "In fact, I care not which. She is said to be only as tall
|
|
as my forearm. If she proves no less human than you or me (except for
|
|
her size) then I expect I'll give her to Danza to play with. But if
|
|
she's genuine .... "
|
|
"My Lord," Wolf said, "you said that a Sir Ongis possessed this --
|
|
this creature --"
|
|
"I did," Lord Edward agreed. "He did. But he lost her again soon
|
|
after. She's missing and I want you to find her."
|
|
"But being in the Barony Connall, isn't she Lord Fionn's?"
|
|
"Perhaps she would be -- if he knew of her. But right now, the only
|
|
significant people who know of her are Sir Ongis, myself and you -- and
|
|
my reliable source, of course."
|
|
"I should like to know who this reliable source is," the Collector
|
|
remarked.
|
|
Lord Edward frowned, but could see no reason to withold the
|
|
information. "Aardvard Factotum," he said.
|
|
The Collector's eyebrow rose again. The likelihood of the
|
|
information's being true had just increased from insignificant to high.
|
|
More interesting, though, was the fact that Lord Edward had to have paid
|
|
-- and paid significantly -- to get information from that source.
|
|
Aardvard never divulged anything -- not even the first name of the Duke
|
|
of Dargon -- gratis. Wolf wondered what it might be about a faerie
|
|
princess that would interest Lord Edward especially.
|
|
"Well," the Collector said, completely persuaded, "methinks it will
|
|
be worth the trip."
|
|
"You'll be discreet in Connall," Lord Edward warned.
|
|
"My passing will be as unnoticeable as a soft, gentle breeze," the
|
|
Collector assured him. "How long ago did Sir Ongis lose her?"
|
|
"It's getting close to two months now."
|
|
"That's a pretty cold trail."
|
|
"You're good at cold trails. Besides, her legs are awfully short
|
|
and she'd be worried about being noticed on the roads. I doubt she'd've
|
|
gone far."
|
|
"Hmmmm. Any guesses which way she might've gone?"
|
|
"Aardvard guessed that she'd make for Dargon, but made it clear to
|
|
me that he was only guessing."
|
|
"Well, a guess from Aardvard is better than any diviner's quivering
|
|
rod, I say. Anything else, my Lord?"
|
|
"No. That's all," Lord Edward dismissed the Collector with his
|
|
usual civility. "Get out."
|
|
|
|
Yuli, 1004.
|
|
Again, Mouse lay on the branch, smiled up at the sun and thanked
|
|
her god for another lovely day and for her perfect tree.
|
|
But it was time for Pfevver, and on as glorious a day as today,
|
|
there would surely be a gathering. Mouse got up from her sunning branch
|
|
and made her way down, wondering what the subject of the day would be
|
|
for the sage's disquisition.
|
|
She reached the auditing branch and settled in, listening to people
|
|
beginning to arrive. She dared not peer over the side too much since if
|
|
she could see, she could be seen and one never knew where a briefly
|
|
bored listener might be looking. But she liked to hear the voices. They
|
|
were comforting voices --
|
|
(That was Rupi. He was always first and usually loudest.)
|
|
-- They reminded Mouse of Sophie and Gregor and her brothers. Rupi
|
|
reminded her of Dorian. Mat and Winz she thought of as more like Con. It
|
|
wasn't so much the tones of voice that reminded Mouse of home, it was
|
|
the things they chose to talk about and the way they spoke. These, the
|
|
villagers under the old olt tree, unlike that Sir Ongis and his lot,
|
|
were real and worried about real things like weeds instead of silly
|
|
ideas like melisandes.
|
|
And they worried about each other, like the way Sophie worried
|
|
about Gregor and Gregor worried about Sophie -- or maybe even better.
|
|
Mouse broke her reverie to pay attention to the arrivals on the
|
|
ground below. This was at least as interesting to her as Pfevver's
|
|
actual lecture. For example, Lerin and Daelia were arriving together
|
|
again -- only not really. Mouse gazed through the leaves at the pair,
|
|
who had paused together at a distance from the tree before coming into
|
|
the gathering separately. At least once, they had both "happened" to
|
|
stay at the tree after the session broke up, so Mouse knew that Lerin
|
|
and Daelia had parents who disliked one another as much as was possible
|
|
in a small, close community. The fondness Lerin and Daelia had for each
|
|
other was therefore a secret -- a poorly kept secret, perhaps, but they
|
|
did observe the routines clandestine. Ignorant though she might be of
|
|
almost everything about Lerin Potterson and Daelia Greno, Mouse thought
|
|
their love very sweet and decided that she liked them very much.
|
|
Last, came old Pfevver himself. It was more dramatic that way. He
|
|
was accompanied by Tonuil Greno and by the sage's assistant, Kraen
|
|
Barbar.
|
|
Kraen followed Pfevver into the gathered circle bearing with great
|
|
care, and a little ostentation, Pfevver's book. A sage couldn't be a
|
|
sage without at least one book and that was what Pfevver had -- one
|
|
book. It was a large book. (If you're going to have only one, you might
|
|
as well make it a big one.) Pfevver frequently accepted -- or created --
|
|
the opportunity to consult his book and to read to the gathering a
|
|
vaguely relevent passage or two from that tome. Mouse loved to listen to
|
|
Pfevver read because -- and this was the truly marvelous trick --
|
|
whenever he read a passage on the same subject, the words came out
|
|
exactly the same way. Mouse thought it very impressive.
|
|
As always, Rupi bellowed the meeting to order and Pfevver commenced
|
|
another explication. All might yet be right with the world. Mouse
|
|
listened and was edified.
|
|
|
|
Sy, 1004
|
|
This day, Mouse made sure that she was up very early and her
|
|
ablutions completed promptly. This day was special. This day, unless the
|
|
plans she'd listened to the two making had gone awry, Lerin Potterson
|
|
and Daelia Greno were going to meet before dawn at the old olt tree and
|
|
then leave Riverside together, fleeing to a new life in Dargon. Mouse
|
|
wasn't thinking about going with them; she was still putting off the
|
|
decision about how to survive the coming winter and besides, they knew
|
|
absolutely nothing about her -- not even about her mere existence. For
|
|
her to try to go with them would likely disrupt irreparably their plans.
|
|
No. She only wanted to see them off because the drama of their departure
|
|
was taking place right under her perfect tree. So she went down to her
|
|
auditing branch and watched in the predawn stilldark for the lovers.
|
|
Lerin appeared first. There was gloom and then, suddenly, there was
|
|
a man leading a well-behaved horse. He led the horse into the gathering
|
|
circle, walking all the way up to the trunk of the tree as if checking
|
|
to make sure it was the tree and not a magically transformed Daelia.
|
|
Having satisfied himself that the wood only appeared magical, he stood
|
|
irresolutely in the cool gray and then, unable to remain still, began to
|
|
pace. His horse, much more at peace with the situation, remained still,
|
|
absorbed in equine contemplation.
|
|
Before Lerin could damage any grass irreparably, Daelia finally
|
|
joined him. She was actually only a short while later, but Lerin had
|
|
managed to make the wait appear to be several bells long. The pair
|
|
embraced and then, showing the firmness of their resolution to depart,
|
|
broke the embrace again. Lerin helped Daelia up onto his horse and then
|
|
the horse and lovers went off on the Dargon Road. Mouse sighed as she
|
|
watched them out of sight, which happened soon enough, wishing them well
|
|
in the great city.
|
|
Such a future, however, became very unlikely. Far too soon, the
|
|
sound of several voices and the light of several lanterns came toward
|
|
the old olt tree from the houses of Riverside. Mouse, concerned for
|
|
Lerin and Daelia, watched and listened to the approaching group.
|
|
The villagers came to the trunk of the tree. The one in the lead
|
|
knelt and examined briefly the grass. Then he turned to the trio who
|
|
were on horseback.
|
|
"Yes, Theris," he said to Daelia's father. "The horse stopped here
|
|
for a bit. Then it looks like they went off toward --" He started to
|
|
point the way.
|
|
This was bad, Mouse thought. This was terrible. Lerin and Daelia
|
|
had gotten almost no distance at all. Daelia's father would catch up
|
|
with them easily and they would never get to Dargon, would never get to
|
|
be happy. Not unless Mouse did something about it. And there was not
|
|
really time to deliberate. Mouse acted.
|
|
"They went that way!" Mouse shouted. She jumped to her feet on her
|
|
tree branch and pointed in the other direction. "I saw them. They went
|
|
that way!"
|
|
Theris looked up at her. The whole group of some half-dozen, their
|
|
jaws slack, stared up at her.
|
|
"Who are you?" Theris demanded. "*What* are you?" he added as an
|
|
afterthought.
|
|
"I'm -- uh --" Mouse looked down at all those eyes. They'd been
|
|
*supposed* to thank her and go hurrying off in that wrong direction. It
|
|
was very annoying when people failed to do what they were supposed to.
|
|
It forced you to think very quickly of creative answers to tricky
|
|
questions. "You can call me Melisande," Mouse decided.
|
|
"I see," Theris said. "And, Melisande, could you please tell me
|
|
*what* you are?"
|
|
"Hurry!" Mouse suggested, pointing again the wrong way. "They're
|
|
getting away."
|
|
"Of course," Theris answered, glancing at his own tracker. The
|
|
latter shook his head and pointed in the correct direction. "But if they
|
|
*are* going that way, I think Morain will catch up with them soon
|
|
enough."
|
|
"Morain?" Mouse repeated. "Lerin's father?"
|
|
"Of course," Theris replied. "I may be risking the loss of a
|
|
daughter in this escapade, but he's looking at losing his son.
|
|
Naturally, we're working together to cover the two roads out of our
|
|
village. Melisande, just how much do you know about this business?"
|
|
"Uh, they want to get married," Mouse said.
|
|
"I'm glad to hear it," Theris said dryly. "I should be more upset
|
|
if they'd run off together and *didn't* want to get married. Anything
|
|
else I should know?"
|
|
"Um, you're not going to stop them are you?"
|
|
"Only from leaving the village this morning this secretly. Morain
|
|
and I need to talk to them, you see, before they do something as wild as
|
|
running away to Dargon --"
|
|
"Running away to Dargon is wild?" Mouse asked.
|
|
"It --" Theris frowned. "Melisande," he asked, "what *are* you? No,
|
|
let me get my house in order and then perhaps I can come back to
|
|
converse with forest spirits. Come on, men: The Dargon Road."
|
|
"But --"
|
|
Theris clicked to his horse and guided it away after the runaways.
|
|
Mouse, puzzled about what he'd said (as opposed to what Lerin and Daelia
|
|
had said about him) stood on the tree branch, hands on her hips, staring
|
|
at the pursuit party as it disappeared into the fog. After the sound and
|
|
sight were both enveloped in the mist, she looked down again. Tonuil,
|
|
Daelia's younger brother and the assistant sage's disciple, was still
|
|
gazing up at her.
|
|
"Oh," Mouse said. "Hi."
|
|
Tonuil said nothing. Unnerved and upset about the unraveled
|
|
romance, Mouse ran away into the upper branches of the tree.
|
|
|
|
Seber, 1004
|
|
"You're sure you saw her here?" Kraen Barbar whispered to Tonuil.
|
|
Tonuil nodded.
|
|
It was more than a fortnight after the Great Elope. Much of
|
|
Riverside was occupied with preparing for a wedding that had almost
|
|
slipped out of town. But for those who still had a spare moment to
|
|
gossip even with all of that going on, the matter of the tree spirit
|
|
Melisande, with whom Theris had briefly -- and perhaps impertinently --
|
|
spoken, was the next most popular topic of conversation.
|
|
The subject was fast drying up, though. Since Theris' conversation
|
|
with the creature, which was witnessed by the five men who were with him
|
|
and was therefore undoubtable, no certain encounter had occurred. Pathys
|
|
the Cobbler had claimed to have met her one evening by the well and said
|
|
that she tried to tempt him into falling down the shaft. But his word
|
|
was unsupported, and had been found to be unreliable before. Several of
|
|
the boys had climbed up the tree, looking for Melisande's palace -- or
|
|
any kind of dwelling -- but they found naught but the usual birds' and
|
|
squirrels' nests. And after young Enris fell out of the tree and injured
|
|
his shoulder badly, such expeditions were discouraged. Pfevver decided
|
|
to move his class to a less haunted location, though.
|
|
But Tonuil had come to Kraen and quietly told him that he'd seen
|
|
the faerie again. And he'd been at the tree when Theris was there, so he
|
|
knew what she looked like. His second sighting was on the bank of the
|
|
Curlane early one morning -- so early that the sun had scarcely cleared
|
|
the hills and the light was still pink and mist-shrouded. Tonuil had
|
|
been sent to check the nets. (Daelia had decided that pickled fry should
|
|
be fed to the guests at her wedding. It takes all kinds of brides to
|
|
make a world ...) Anyway, Tonuil had been down to the river in the dawn
|
|
silence and he saw Melisande there. She was crouched down right at the
|
|
edge of the water, having a drink and a splash of the water on her face.
|
|
Tonuil froze. He stared. He didn't move again until she'd finished and
|
|
disappeared again into the mist and rushes.
|
|
And then he'd told Kraen -- but only Kraen.
|
|
Now the two of them were back at the same location, trying not to
|
|
disturb the same dawn stillness as they waited for the faerie to
|
|
reappear. Silently, Tonuil pointed out the precise spot on the bank
|
|
where he'd seen her before.
|
|
Kraen sighed -- softly. This was it, he hoped. This was the sort of
|
|
thing his uncle must've had in mind when he had that vision -- that
|
|
sending, that whatever -- at Kraen's parents' wedding feast. When Uncle
|
|
Tirian had rolled his eyes into his skull and declared that the first
|
|
child of Bran and Nurnia Barbar would perform great deeds that would
|
|
make the minstrels weep, it had certainly made for a memorable dinner.
|
|
And it had created a burden that Kraen had been forced to carry since
|
|
birth. But here, finding a faerie named Melisande -- not that he was
|
|
sure what he should do about her -- might prove to be a good
|
|
semi-glorious deed. A warm-up exploit, Kraen imagined.
|
|
Now all he needed was for this Melisande to show up and -- and he
|
|
still wasn't sure what. Capturing her didn't sound quite right -- unless
|
|
she was the sort of faerie who granted wishes in return for letting her
|
|
go. That didn't seem likely, considering how Tonuil said she'd acted
|
|
with Theris. She seemed a little bit too mixed up and easily confused to
|
|
be allowed to grant wishes -- but you never knew with those faeries.
|
|
Now, if Kraen had a wish right now, what would he ask for first? An
|
|
enchanted sword, probably, so he could get on with some seriously
|
|
glorious deeds, like --
|
|
Tonuil tugged his arm and pointed. At the place where Melisande was
|
|
supposed to come, the calm surface of the slow river was broken with
|
|
ripples. "She's gone swimming," he whispered. At that moment, a tiny
|
|
head broke the water's surface again. A small hand joined it and pushed
|
|
the faerie's hair out of her eyes.
|
|
"Do faeries do that?" Tonuil whispered. "Go swimming?"
|
|
Kraen shrugged slightly -- only as much as was necessary to
|
|
communicate his belief that the question was entirely irrelevent. His
|
|
gaze -- his attention -- was fixed on the magical sight before him. The
|
|
pink, horizontal light and the long low shadows; the wisps of mist
|
|
hanging here and there over the river and its banks; the stillness and
|
|
the swimmer -- who was returning to shore.
|
|
"Are we going to do anything?" Tonuil whispered again. "Net her or
|
|
--"
|
|
"Shh!" Kraen ordered. He watched the faerie wade ashore and start
|
|
to climb up the bank to where her gossamer clothing presumably lay --
|
|
though Tonuil had never mentioned anything about her clothing being
|
|
particularly fey. Indeed, the descriptions from Theris' men had been of
|
|
a homespun dress and chemise -- though small, of course.
|
|
"What was she wearing yes --?" Kraen started to ask, but broke off
|
|
with a bark of surprised, proprietary anger. Some man broke out of the
|
|
rushes immediately in front of Melisande and grabbed her. Her scream was
|
|
just barely audible as he straightened up, still holding her.
|
|
"Hey!" Kraen jumped up from his own hiding place. "What're you
|
|
doing?" he demanded. Tonuil immediately popped up next to him. But the
|
|
man holding the faerie scarcely glanced at the two boys before
|
|
disappearing again through the rushes. The boys chased after him,
|
|
splashing across the stream and crashing through the rushes and finding
|
|
that the man had had a horse and was already riding off.
|
|
Quickly, Kraen and Tonuil raced back to the village. Kraen strapped
|
|
on his best -- his only -- sword.
|
|
"I'm going after them," he told Tonuil. "I'll need to borrow a
|
|
horse."
|
|
"We'll need two," Tonuil replied.
|
|
Kraen sighed. "Just one," he insisted.
|
|
"I'm coming too."
|
|
"I need you to tell Pfevver where I've gone for me. And explain
|
|
about the borrowed horse. And --"
|
|
"We could wake Lerin for that," Tonuil told him.
|
|
"There's a lot of people we could wake for that," Kraen agreed.
|
|
"Look, Tonuil, this could be dangerous. That man who abducted Melisande
|
|
-- he's probably desperate. I don't think I'll be able to get her back
|
|
without a fight --"
|
|
"So you need me along to help."
|
|
"No. There's only one of him. It wouldn't be heroic."
|
|
"And you've got to be heroic, don't you?"
|
|
"I told you --"
|
|
"Yeah, all right," Tonuil conceded. "Let's get you a horse. And you
|
|
tell me all about it first when you get back."
|
|
"Sure."
|
|
So Kraen, Slayer of Fishbait, rode out from Riverside in solitary
|
|
pursuit of the foul abductor of the fair faerie Melisande. His most
|
|
loyal friend Tonuil Greno remained behind to explain courteously to
|
|
Willem Chandler where his second-best horse had disappeared to. Many
|
|
days the Slayer of Fishbait was obliged to continue his pursuit. Many
|
|
were the small incidents and minor obstacles Kraen Barbar encountered
|
|
during this journey, but they were scarcely unusual enough to be noted
|
|
by any bard spinning a tale of manageable length. And, though his quarry
|
|
traveled quickly and purposefully, Kraen's failure to overtake him was
|
|
mostly due to the fact that his tracking skills were rudimentary at
|
|
best. He guessed wrong at several crossroads and then had to double back
|
|
after asking people if they'd seen the miscreant and receiving several
|
|
negative answers. Finally, though, Kraen caught up with Melisande's
|
|
abductor:
|
|
|
|
Wolf, the Collector, was fairly pleased with his trip, all things
|
|
considered. It had been fairly successful in terms of trinkets acquired
|
|
and very satisfactory in terms of injuries avoided. And most surprising
|
|
of all had been the last item: The faerie princess actually existed and
|
|
he had succeeded in acquiring her. She hadn't been happy about being
|
|
taken, but he'd been firm and had refused to take any nonsense from her.
|
|
Now, she lay in the rucksack he was carrying at his hip. Her small form
|
|
secured against his side warmed his heart with thoughts of the treasure
|
|
he would be able to extract from that Lord Edward in exchange for her.
|
|
He had only to stop at his favorite hiding place outside Dargon to pick
|
|
up the other, previously acquired curios. Then, after one more short
|
|
day's ride, he would be in the city and his fortune would be made.
|
|
Perfunctorily, he tied his horse to the convenient tree outside the
|
|
ruined chapel. Some lord with a fondness for gods and hunting had
|
|
erected the building, along with a lodge a long time ago. Now, the lord
|
|
was long gone and only a few foundations of the lodge lingered. The
|
|
chapel, suffering perhaps from more divine favor than the lord or lodge
|
|
did, was relatively more intact. Much of the roof was gone, as were any
|
|
windows, of course. And portions of the walls were now lacking. But much
|
|
remained, enough for an interior still to be clearly defined. And the
|
|
interior still boasted a white, stone altar, though the altar was the
|
|
only furnishing remaining. And the altar covered a secret compartment
|
|
which was still quite secure against the elements.
|
|
Wolf stepped through a gap in the chapel walls and walked to the
|
|
altar. Reaching down behind the white table, he found and released the
|
|
catch. The altar pivoted away from the secret chamber below. With
|
|
pleasure, Wolf contemplated the fruits of his season of scavenging: With
|
|
the right words (unfortunately unknown), for example, that greenish
|
|
stole might render its wearer unseen, like the infamous thief Pelleas.
|
|
And here was a chalice said to be used by the legendary wizard K'am to
|
|
brew his many exquisite potions. There was an amber oak branch
|
|
"acquired" from that forest cult to the west. Whether or not it
|
|
contained any power in its golden leaves, it was a beautiful piece of
|
|
art. And that necklace of glittering stones had once adorned Queen
|
|
Earnfled -- or so an old man had claimed. Of course, Queen Earnfled was
|
|
supposed to have once adorned the legendary Fretheod Empire, which made
|
|
the story's truth all the more unlikely --
|
|
"Varlet!" a young voice broke his pleasant reverie. "Come out of
|
|
there, you scoundrel!"
|
|
"Who's there?" Wolf called out. Quickly, he took off the rucksack
|
|
containing the faerie and dropped it into the chamber.
|
|
"It is I, Kraen Barbar," the voice outside the chapel replied. "You
|
|
have taken a faerie princess captive and I intend to free her."
|
|
"Oh?" Wolf pushed the altar back in place and secured the latch.
|
|
"Come out of there! I'll not be killing you on holy ground."
|
|
"That's nice of you," Wolf replied, walking to the chapel entrance
|
|
that he customarily used. "What makes you think you'll be killing me
|
|
anywhere?"
|
|
"Will you release the princess otherwise?" the boy asked.
|
|
Wolf looked -- and laughed. It *was* a boy. It was the boy who'd
|
|
seen him scooping up the princess at the river when he'd taken her
|
|
coming ashore from a swim. Now, he was standing beside two horses,
|
|
Wolf's and presumably his own. His stance attempted to project casual
|
|
confidence, but he brandished the drawn sword with an awkward
|
|
inexperience. The picture might have been cute except that the sword
|
|
looked sharp.
|
|
"No, I think not," Wolf answered the boy's question. "At least, not
|
|
to you. I doubt you could meet my price."
|
|
"I'm not offering you money," the boy said bravely. "Instead, I'll
|
|
give you justice. Release Melisande now, else my justice will be sharp."
|
|
He waved the sword meaningfully.
|
|
"I quake," Wolf said dryly. "I tremble. Verily do I fear thee." He
|
|
drew his own sword. "Now go away."
|
|
The boy sighed. "I didn't expect you to give her up without a
|
|
fight. Come out then."
|
|
"Boy, I don't think you understand me," Wolf said. "I don't hand
|
|
that little bitch over to anyone except in exchange for a lot of money.
|
|
This is serious. This is about my livelihood. If you force me to use my
|
|
sword against you, I will use it to kill you. Is that what you want?"
|
|
"If you will not surrender the princess otherwise," the boy said
|
|
grimly.
|
|
Wolf sighed, and shrugged. He'd dealt often enough before with
|
|
fools who refused to part with treasures they valued overmuch. His sword
|
|
had taken more than a few lives. He was used to it. He walked out of the
|
|
chapel toward the boy and, with an economy of preparation, attacked him.
|
|
First blood proved easy to draw. Despite the lad's brave words, he
|
|
hadn't truly realized that he would be fighting for his own life as well
|
|
as Wolf's. After a few casual passes, Wolf clarified the situation for
|
|
him.
|
|
And the boy's comprehension was naked. He yowled as Wolf's sword
|
|
bit into the young flesh on his arm. He jumped back, eyes wide.
|
|
"Had enough?" Wolf asked, implicitly offering him an out that would
|
|
leave him his life.
|
|
For an answer, the boy almost leapt forward in an absurd, frenzied
|
|
attack that would no doubt have been quickly suicidal. But then he
|
|
stopped, quivering. His eyes narrowed and he merely shook his head very
|
|
slightly. Matching Wolf's own economy of action, he closed again. They
|
|
resumed and Wolf now found him a much more interesting opponent. The
|
|
injury made him a little more cautious, more considered. But he wasn't
|
|
tentative. He was concentrated. He was challenging.
|
|
But Wolf didn't want challenging. Wolf was a professional, who
|
|
fought for other purposes than the pleasure of striving with a stupid
|
|
sword. Wolf ground his teeth and set himself to getting this witless
|
|
exercise over and done with.
|
|
"You fight well, boy," he panted, stepping back for a moment. "Have
|
|
you a name?"
|
|
"I am Kraen Barbar."
|
|
"Really?" Wolf's eyes flashed. Here was something he could probably
|
|
use to bring this ridiculous waste of time to a quick conclusion.
|
|
"And who are you?" the boy asked.
|
|
"You can call me Wolf," the Collector allowed. "Do you know a
|
|
Tirian Barbar?"
|
|
"Yes," Kraen said. "My uncle. Left home years ago," he added around
|
|
swordstrokes.
|
|
"Your uncle?" Wolf said. "I met him. Some years back. Good
|
|
fighter." He paused, exchanging another flurry of thrusts and parries
|
|
with the boy, and letting Kraen Barbar start to wonder what in
|
|
particular the older man might know about his missing uncle.
|
|
"I killed him two years ago."
|
|
Quickly, Wolf feinted and thrust. The sword broke through the boy's
|
|
chest and into his heart. Kraen's eyes widened. Even after the long
|
|
struggle and blood, the boy was surprised to find that he'd lost.
|
|
"But I was going --" Kraen gasped before sagging forward and
|
|
falling.
|
|
Wolf released the sword, forgetting about it and the dying boy. The
|
|
Collector was preoccupied with other vexing matters. Most vexing was the
|
|
fact that Kraen had ignored Wolf's feint. The boy had apparently ignored
|
|
everything. He'd stood stock still at Wolf's last remark and Wolf, with
|
|
his own devious footwork, had impaled himself on the boy's motionless
|
|
sword. The sword was still in Wolf's gut; the boy had let go when he
|
|
fell. And it hurt. It hurt horribly. Wolf staggered toward his horse. In
|
|
his pack he had some bandages and a few medicines -- dried herbs,
|
|
nothing more. But they might be better than nothing.
|
|
"This," he wondered to himself, "this was *winning* a battle?"
|
|
He looked at his bleeding gut, looked at his miserable collection
|
|
of rotten herbs, and decided that he needed to look for help. He dragged
|
|
himself up onto his horse, realized that the animal was still tied to
|
|
the tree, tried to lean forward to untie it, and fell off. Dazed, he
|
|
stared up from the ground as he continued to bleed. His horse whinnied
|
|
in panic. He tried to crawl to his feet again and found himself staring
|
|
at a pair of eyes.
|
|
It was a wolf. A real one.
|
|
|
|
Tonuil took responsibility for the failure of Willem's second-best
|
|
horse ever to return. It took him several years, but eventually he did
|
|
reimburse the chandler. Baron Edward scarcely noticed the failure of the
|
|
Collector ever to report back about the faerie princess. Baron Edward
|
|
had a lot of other things to think about. And beneath the altar in the
|
|
ruined chapel outside Dargon, Mouse, the faerie princess Melisande,
|
|
slept under the magical glow of an amber oak branch.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
In the Garden
|
|
by Jim Owens
|
|
<gym@ncweb.com>
|
|
Late Summer, 1015
|
|
|
|
Sarah walked steadily into the village square, two baskets of
|
|
apples suspended from a long pole across her shoulders. In a sling
|
|
around her neck was suspended a more precious weight -- her new
|
|
daughter, Taffy, just two months old. She smiled down at the tiny
|
|
bundle, swaying gently with her mother's every step. She was a sweet
|
|
baby, mild-mannered and quiet -- not like the last two. It made trips
|
|
such as this possible.
|
|
She crossed the well-trodden grass to a tumble-down hut on the far
|
|
side. As she walked she surveyed the small town. The war had left its
|
|
toll here -- several huts were little more than rubble, and few still
|
|
had roofs. The raiding party that had struck had been in a hurry,
|
|
though, and had not had time to do a more thorough job of destruction,
|
|
for which all were grateful.
|
|
"Good morning, Sarah," called a thin voice from the hut ahead. From
|
|
inside a gaping window hole a wrinkled, old woman, in her late sixties,
|
|
leaned out. "Come to visit today?"
|
|
"Not today, Hanna," replied Sarah, setting both buckets on the dry
|
|
ground, then carefully selecting a few apples from one. "I've been
|
|
gathering, and decided to bring you some of what I got."
|
|
The old woman took the gift with unsteady hands. From the inner
|
|
gloom another head appeared, this of a woman in her thirties.
|
|
"Hello, Sarah." The new woman peered through the hole where the
|
|
window had been. "What have we here?"
|
|
"Apples, Jenna," Sarah replied. "Want one? We have plenty."
|
|
"As would others," came a growl from inside, followed by a man's
|
|
sneering face, "except they went when their lord called!" He leaned out,
|
|
the tops of crutches showing under his armpits.
|
|
The younger woman inside turned on the apparition. "Hush, Josha!
|
|
Perhaps some have better sense than others!" She gave him a light push,
|
|
and the man staggered back into the dark. "Perhaps we wouldn't be
|
|
missing so much if others had as much sense as Levy Barel." The look on
|
|
Jenna's face was sober, almost angry.
|
|
"I, I'd best be going," Sarah said softly, turning back for her
|
|
apples.
|
|
"Pay him no mind, Sarah," Jenna replied as Sarah was packing up.
|
|
"He and his like will cool off." Sarah nodded silently, then headed onto
|
|
the remainder of her rounds.
|
|
The warm sun seemed cooler as she returned to her house outside
|
|
town, her apple baskets empty. As she approached the house and the
|
|
accompanying buildings, Levy appeared from his workshop, a small smithy
|
|
he had made.
|
|
"How is the town faring?" he called as she approached, but she
|
|
merely glanced at him, then ducked her chin and continued on.
|
|
He caught up with her in the house.
|
|
"What have they said this time?" he asked softly.
|
|
"Oh, nothing," she began, but continued. "Josha made a comment
|
|
about us not losing as much as they did, and Tremen didn't say anything,
|
|
but just looked hard at me."
|
|
Levy held her a moment. "I can understand their anger. I would miss
|
|
a leg, if I had lost one like Josha, or an eye, like Tremen." He looked
|
|
long into Sarah's face. "But that doesn't mean I feel any different
|
|
about that war."
|
|
"I know." Sarah again held him close. "I ... I still have dreams
|
|
that you ... you had been taken away to fight, and didn't ... all ...
|
|
come back." She held on a moment longer, then the baby started to fuss.
|
|
"Mattan will be coming with a wagon," Levy remarked as they pulled
|
|
apart. "I've promised a third of a sack of barley and a basket of
|
|
potatoes to the commons."
|
|
"We give them so much and still they hate us," Sarah remarked
|
|
bitterly, rewrapping Taffy.
|
|
"Let us not hate them back," Levy replied. Sarah sighed and nodded
|
|
as he left to return to work.
|
|
That evening Levy and Sarah, along with their children, were back
|
|
in the village. Levy's father, Eli, was in his seat as the village
|
|
Elder. The gold and copper of the family seal, a grant from the Duke of
|
|
a century before, gleamed in the light of a dying fire. All around were
|
|
silent, listening to him. Their faces were content, the remains of the
|
|
commons meal lying about on plates and bowls.
|
|
"... three bags to the relief of Stamma, two miles north," Eli was
|
|
saying, reading from a list. "I am also sending Stamma a basket of
|
|
Levy's apples, for their children and them."
|
|
"Apples?" grunted a voice from the dim outer circle. Sarah thought
|
|
it might be Josha's but she wasn't sure. "Isn't barley and potatoes
|
|
enough? We can't send all our food away! We must save enough for
|
|
ourselves!"
|
|
"We have more than anyone else," Eli replied. "We have been blessed
|
|
with an abundant harvest this year. It would incur the wrath of both
|
|
heaven and earth not to share it." He looked out around the circle.
|
|
"Here we sit, having fed on the commons. How can we eat the food others
|
|
freely bring us, and yet deny that same food to others?"
|
|
"Father is right," replied Mattan, reclining before the seat with
|
|
his wife and child. His voice was a large as his frame, and all
|
|
listened. "We receive so that we can give, especially in these hard
|
|
times."
|
|
"Besides," replied Young Eli, the Elder's oldest son and heir, "it
|
|
is better to give your food up freely, than to have the Duke's men come
|
|
and force you to give it up. At least then you have the choice of how
|
|
much to give."
|
|
There were mutters round the fire. Not all who had fought had gone
|
|
willingly.
|
|
"What is ours is ours, to give or not to give," continued Mattan.
|
|
"We choose, because of God and our own desires, to give it to others.
|
|
That is both our right, and our duty."
|
|
"Then it's settled," Eli concluded. "Eli and Mattan will be about
|
|
for the donation," he emphasized the word slightly, "tomorrow at dawn.
|
|
Please come down to my warehouse and help them load it up."
|
|
There were a few scattered mutters, then all rose with Eli's
|
|
gesture of dismissal. As the others left, Levy, Mattan, and Eli joined
|
|
their father at the council seat, while Sarah moved to where her
|
|
sister-in-law, Greta, stood.
|
|
"I heard you've been having a hard time in the village lately."
|
|
Greta matter-of-factly stated as Sarah approached.
|
|
"Yes." Sarah doubted Greta had. Greta seldom had trouble with
|
|
anyone -- anyone with any sense enough to leave her be, that is. "They
|
|
are envious, because Levy stayed behind, while the other men went to
|
|
fight."
|
|
"Perhaps we should remind them whose grain they're eating," Greta
|
|
remarked. "While the others were off fighting that fool war, you and
|
|
Levy were feeding their families."
|
|
"Still, many of them had no choice."
|
|
"Nonsense," Greta replied. "There's always a choice. You may like
|
|
one road more than the other, but you still have to choose it."
|
|
The next day Sarah and Levy stood in front of the Barel family
|
|
barn, watching as Mattan and Eli pulled the grain cart away up the road,
|
|
toward Stamma. There were oxen to pull the cart, but it was decided
|
|
that, as many people in Stamma had lost all their cattle, it would
|
|
appear better to draw the cart by hand. She looked at Levy, watching his
|
|
brothers on wend on their way.
|
|
"Levy, is it wrong for us to have more?"
|
|
Levy looked at her, startled. "What?"
|
|
"Is it wrong for us to have more than the others?"
|
|
He considered the question as they turned and headed back to their
|
|
house and fields. "If we work harder, we will have more. If heaven or
|
|
luck smiles on us, we will have more. It's inevitable."
|
|
"But is it right?"
|
|
He thought about it as he walked. "The old proverb says that the
|
|
cook ought to taste the stew. We have the right to enjoy the taste of
|
|
our hard work, so long as others are not going hungry."
|
|
"I feel guilty because I have enough food to feed my children. I
|
|
feel guilty because I have a roof over my head." She took his arm. "I
|
|
feel guilty because I have a husband who is not hurt, who walks straight
|
|
and tall, and who can still look another man in the eyes. Yet how could
|
|
that have been otherwise?"
|
|
"How could it have been otherwise?" he agreed. "What I did was the
|
|
right thing."
|
|
"And it was not the easy thing," she replied quietly.
|
|
"You are carrying a large part of that burden now," he added.
|
|
She lifted her shoulders and squared them off. "Then I too have the
|
|
right to taste of the stew."
|
|
Sarah and Levy sat on the step of their house in the evening dusk,
|
|
the day's work done. Inside the children slept, and the couple was
|
|
enjoying a well-deserved peace. While Levy surveyed the sweeping fields
|
|
and hills that were his domain, Sarah ran her arm across her man's
|
|
shoulder. She was lost in thought, thought about him. She had been
|
|
thinking a lot lately, especially today, after what she and Levy had
|
|
discussed that morning.
|
|
For so long she had waited as a maiden, alone in the world. Now
|
|
that she had her man, her Levy, she wanted to hold onto him forever. She
|
|
was not going to let anything take him away from her. Nor did she need
|
|
anyone to tell her that was wrong. This was one possession she would
|
|
never share. Spontaneously, she wrapped her arms tight around him. He
|
|
was somewhat startled, but returned the warm embrace. She put her lips
|
|
to his ear.
|
|
"Let's go down to my special garden," she whispered. "I want to
|
|
taste the fruit of my hard work."
|
|
He kissed her earlobe and together they arose. Leaving the quiet
|
|
house, they moved off into the evening light as the sun lowered itself
|
|
toward the horizon. They left the house behind, with their sleeping
|
|
children, and passed the barn, which Levy had lent to a family from the
|
|
town, whose house had been burnt. They waded through the tall grass and
|
|
over the crest of the next small crest, out of view of the homestead.
|
|
Finally they were alone, clothed in the soft, warm, moist, evening
|
|
air. Sarah watched Levy's eyes as he took in what spread before him, the
|
|
sight of its gentle hills and valleys captivating. She knew what he was
|
|
feeling, for she was feeling it as well. This was something that they
|
|
possessed together, or perhaps that possessed them together. With
|
|
Sarah's hand atop Levy's, the two moved like the young lovers they still
|
|
were. Moving together up gentle slopes, they headed for but never
|
|
reached the summits, turning to race across the smooth valleys, then,
|
|
whimsically, up the other side. Down the smooth, flowing slope Levy led,
|
|
Sarah's eyes locked onto him in the fading light. The natural line of
|
|
the plain led the two of them gently down to where her secret garden
|
|
lay.
|
|
They slowed now, savoring the moment. Sarah travelled with her
|
|
husband, one hand softly caressing his broad, strong shoulder. She lay
|
|
her head on it, breathing deeply the fragrance of his hair. Thoughts of
|
|
the day's work, the trouble in the village, the war and its horror, all
|
|
were behind her. The time had come for them, and they deserved it,
|
|
regardless of what others thought or said. Together, carefully, they
|
|
passed through the bush, up over the mound before the garden, then down
|
|
into the secret darkness. Together they paused, and kissed some more.
|
|
Sarah closed her eyes, and listened to the sounds around her, smelled
|
|
the fragrance of their fruit, felt the soft breeze stirring her hair.
|
|
She felt alive and whole. When she was finally ready, Sarah turned her
|
|
attention to the tree in the garden, the one with the stones at the
|
|
base.
|
|
"Help me. I'm going up," she said to her mate. Levy placed his
|
|
hands firmly on her hips. Without a hint of weakness he lifted her high,
|
|
holding her firmly and comfortingly, until she could grasp the tree. She
|
|
took it tightly between her legs, as if to crush it. She tossed her
|
|
hair, exhilarated by the feeling that came every time she made this
|
|
climb. Her arms held her aloft while her thighs clamped down, propelling
|
|
her toward her goal. The rough texture beneath her skin always felt
|
|
foreign, but after days and weeks of the commonplace, something
|
|
different was welcome. Climbing in the orchard never felt like this did.
|
|
Levy was following, with her on every movement, his powerful touch
|
|
guiding and helping her. She revelled in this exertion, one more effort
|
|
in a lifetime of work. It was a long, slow climb, her breath growing
|
|
ragged, but she drove on, harder and harder. Levy followed slowly,
|
|
pacing her. Soon she was feeling Levy's heated breathing close to her
|
|
skin, and could feel him tremble with the effort. Still they continued,
|
|
working off each other, pushing each one on. Finally, her muscles
|
|
trembling, Sarah was in reach of her goal. She placed her fingers among
|
|
the soft foliage to feel the hard, smooth roundness of what she desired.
|
|
She made that last final push, and then finally she was tasting it,
|
|
sweet and satisfying, her skin wet with juice.
|
|
Having gotten what she came for, Sarah let Levy ease her back down
|
|
to the grass, where she fell laughing to lie flat, breathing heavily.
|
|
She pulled her husband to her, kissing him hard and long. Together they
|
|
lay there, their fingers entwined with the grass in the garden.
|
|
"If only we could never leave the garden," she whispered to him.
|
|
"I would be the happiest man in Dargon," he replied.
|
|
They giggled softly in the dark.
|
|
"Do you feel guilty now?" he asked.
|
|
"No, not any more. You were right. We have the right to what we
|
|
have worked hard for. And there are some things that you never, ever
|
|
give up."
|
|
|
|
The next morning was again clear and sunny. Sarah stepped outside.
|
|
Levy was again up to the village, this time to help someone with
|
|
planting the fall grain. She looked over to the potato patch, where the
|
|
two oldest children were working. Her eye fell on a sack, lying near the
|
|
workshop. Levy must have forgotten to take it when he left that morning.
|
|
She walked over and opened it. A familiar smell emerged.
|
|
"Apples," she said to herself. She took one. Remembering, she
|
|
smiled, and took a big bite before continuing on with her day's work.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|