As a hurried clatter and din began growing on the deck above, Fuzz straightened his scabbard and thrust home his sword with a smack. He caught her eye and grinned in a way that reminded her of Lukus before turning aside to pick up his own gold circlet and hesitate. “I'll wear my hat until we reach the castle,” he said. “We're supposed to just be in traveling clothes until we're received and shown to our rooms, aye?”
“Yes, it's just for indoors for you...”
“I've always been a soldier when I've worn clothes, Rose. I'm not sure what I think about this thing, and I'm not royalty. I don't even have peerage.”
“Well I know, love,” she said, taking his arm. “A crown is not the usual thing, but you could certainly get away with it, and it's how I see you. I do so adore my strikingly handsome prince.”
“I'd be much more comfortable leaving it here, I'm afraid. Do you mind terribly if I'm plain?”
“Not at all. It's your choice.”
“I just hope I'm convincing enough in front of Emperor Azenor.”
“Oh, you'll do just fine,” she said as she pulled him to the door.
On deck they found Yann-Ber already waiting, lost in thought as he stared at the approaching shore.
Fuzz cleared his throat.
Yann-ber gave himself a shake and turned stiffly with a smile for them, taking them aback with his striking appearance. He was dressed as a member of the House of Dark, wearing finery equal to any Rose had ever seen in Niarg, though she pitied his disfigured condition. His pleated jerkin with dramatically slashed sleeves was bejeweled and intricately embroidered in gold. His crimson velvet gown was lined with stunning silk and gold brocade, and on his head was a black velvet hat trimmed in gold with a large white plume, busily fluttering in the breeze. His stark white hose covered the boils on his legs, but she could see spots where they were already oozing through. She could see the strained look upon his face. She knew that he was in great pain.
“Well here they come,” said Yann-Ber. “My father has sent an escort to see us to the palace.” He nodded at the quay, where a good dozen royal guards on glistening black unicorns were gathering to wait in orderly formation, as a black and gilt coach came up behind, drawn by a team of six more black unicorns.
“They must have spotted us shortly after we saw land on the horizon,” said Rose.
“And not only is this a vessel of the Niarg Royal Fleet, but it bears the regalia of the crown. So Yann-Ber, this surely won't be so difficult after all.”
“Oh, of course you're right,” he said as the ship touched the quay, making everyone take a step to keep his balance. “I'm sure it was just the waiting and not knowing. Chances are that it'll all go smoothly. I see they're running the plank down. Shall we go?”
Under the cries of circling gulls, they nodded and stepped forth arm in arm, Rose between Fuzz and Yann-Ber.
***
Lance came into the grotto which the sisters used as their parlour and quietly took a seat.
“Doest thou have the boye sounde a-slepe, thanne?” said Nacea as she looked up from her knitting.
“I think so. I read to him until he was snoring loud enough to put the hogs to shame.”
“Now that a streighted tale ybe, Lance,” said Alvita with merriment in her eyes, “but thou alwey to make thynges moore byg than lyve for thine elde moodres didist trye!”
“You deserve to be entertained, Mother Alvita...”
“A! And heere thou to inpresse us was ytryynge, we thoghten,” said Alvita as she sliced the apple she had just peeled.
“Absolutely. That's how I was entertaining you...”
“This chater lyche un-to tymes of eld ysouneth,” said Celeste, “but saven hit for lattir we shulden. Thou mayst the boye have leeft sounde a-slepe, but smal oones do withouten warnyng awaken.”
“O poupe thine horn, Celeste,” said Nacea. “Hee warded by Rodon ybe.”
“And eke we al knowen how trusti hee beth,” said Celeste.
“But if he's not to be counted on, why have him guard Abaddon at all?” said Lance.
“Hit as mochel for Rodones sake as for Abaddones ybe.” said Alvita. “Weo what wol ahead of us been do nat knowen.”
“Oh.”
“Yis,” said Celeste, “so shal we byginne anon? We konne lattir for to visite.”
Everyone seemed ready as she glanced around. “Good. Thanne Ich wol byginne by seyyng that from what we han seyn, particulerly after oure meting with Longbark, Ich wolde righte confounded ybe if weo didde nat al agre that Abaddon ceriously charmed by evyl ybe.” She flicked away a piece of lint and smoothed the tail of her shawl before looking up into Lance's gaze.
Lance nodded uneasily.
“Abaddon ybe as fer doun the path of evyl as Ich hadde yfered, Lance,” she said as she studied his face. “Hit daungerous wolde ybe, for to trye to tourne hym arounde.”
“I had hoped it would be otherwise, Mother Celeste,” said Lance with a sigh, as he looked at the floor, “but I must admit, knowing what I do about the boy, I also feared that he was unredeemable. What then is your judgment for him?”
“Thou beoth hasty, Lance. Lat an elde Ffairye hir thoghtes for to fenysch, if thou woldest, byforn to conclusiounes thou spryngest.”
Properly chastised, Lance sat back in his chair.
“Now,” she said after a moment more of studying him, “als Ich was aboute to seyn, Abaddon a righte evyl litel boye ybe, and though hit wol excedynge difficult to been, Ich feele that hit evene daungerous coude ybe, not to tryen for to tourne hym asyde from hise derke pathe...”
“You do?”
“Certeynly, if thou to been not too hasty for to heere hit from me,” she said with sudden frown and a nod. “But, as thou schuldest eke yknowest, hit my choys a-lone nat ybe. Alvita and Nacea must agreen or ther nis no thyng Ich konne done for the child. Ich have nat ynogh power on myn owene for to torn hym.”
Lance nodded and looked at Alvita and Nacea. Alvita ignored him and went on peeling apples. Nacea dropped a stitch and kept knitting.
“Ther nis no goode in the boye lyft for to telle, Lance,” said Nacea, pulling free a length of yarn from under the ball in her lap before settling first one elbow then the other.
“Holpyn hym wolde lyche unto a fooles erande ybe. The child pleiyng for the favore of the verray Pitmaister hymselve with blood magyk has yben.” She shuddered, sharing a look of distaste with Celeste.
“Thanne thou refusist for to tryen?” said Celeste tartly.
Nacea jerked up her head and met Lance's eyes as she dropped her knitting into her lap. “No, alacke the day! Ich wolde lyche for to refus, but we moore to losen may han by doynge no thyng. If Alvita agre, thanne so do Ich.”
“Thank you, Nacea,” said Lance.
“Hit was oure refus to seen that Rodon daungerous yben that us prisounneres heere in this ketil ymaad and the Forest in-to the Chokewoodes yturned,” said Alvita as she quartered another apple. “Abaddon al redy heere ybe, so we fast yben. Tornyn hym awey with-oute for to tryen wolde the same as faylynge to savyn hym ybe. Quyte beyonde holpe hee semeth, but if weo weren for to torn hym awey, the queen and Demonica atte oure dore weo wol have. Longbark hirselve bileveth that weo sholden trye. And what if we yfayled?” She put down her paring knife and looked at Celeste.
“We symply moste nat,” said Celeste with a whisper, “ootherwise the boye konnen nat never leve heere a-lyve.”
***
Spitemorta tramped step by step, up first one set of stairs then the next, from the dungeon to her suite of rooms. Something she could not quite put her finger on had seized her and sent her directly to have a look about in Abaddon's nursery. She had only gotten the one peek which had sent her into a panic, the night she returned with Demonica. Soon she was pausing to catch her breath. “Damn this pregnancy!” she said with a huff, as she steadied herself against the banister. “I wanted my heir and a spare, but the way things have turned out, I don't have time to be in this kind of shape.”
Presently she came to the end of the hallway that ran the length of her apartment. She paused to consider sitting in the chair which stood by Abaddon's door, but turned the latch and went in instead. The drapes stood only half drawn, allowing the morning sunlight to warm the room in spite of the chill throughout the castle. The rocking horse stood as if frozen. The bed was neatly made. It smelt closed up of course, but she immediately noticed a singed smell. She squatted heavily on the hearth, rolling forward onto her knees. “Who on earth would have burnt the cat?” she said as she prodded at the ashes in the fireplace. She sat back onto her heels and gasped at the sight of a low marble topped pedestal, smeared with dried blood, to one side of the mantle which she had overlooked at first. Three figurines of the Fates, impaled with spikes, dangled upside down about it. “No, it can't be,” she croaked with a whisper that quickly grew to a shout as she sprang to her feet. “There's no way Abaddon could possibly know how to do that! Samuel! Samuel was teaching Abaddon to worship the Pitmaster behind my back! You stinker! You impudent skulker!” she shrieked, echoing down the hallways as she yanked free a figurine with a snap of its twine.
At that moment, the upstairs chamber maid stumped to a wide-eyed halt in the doorway. “Is something wrong, Your Majesty?” she croaked as she tottered with the beginnings of a curtsey.
“Get out, you stinking crone!” shouted Spitemorta as she hurled the figurine at the old woman with all her might, striking her on the head and knocking her flat on her back.
“Aah! Aah!” cried the maid as she managed to get up onto an elbow.
“How dare you intrude, you old sow!” barked Spitemorta as she ran at the maid to kick her, missing entirely.
“Aaah! Aaagh!” wailed the maid as she lurched upright, choking in apoplectic desperation before collapsing to the side in a swoon.
“Get up!” shouted Spitemorta as he kicked the old woman. She paused. “Now look what you've done! I don't have time for this! I have all this and now you make me waste time having them remove your stinking carcass!” With an exasperated huff and a fling of her arms, she wheeled away and began searching Abaddon's room for other things that Samuel might have put him up to.
“Well,” she said resolutely as she turned to the trunk at the foot of the bed, “Let's have a look in that,” she struggled briefly with the lid and then went to rummaging about.
“Ugh! Toy soldiers from James,” she said, taking a double handful and flinging them out across the floor. “And what's all this...? A frog's skin, looks like...several locks of hair, none of them his...somebody's torn up old dolly. I wonder whose? A dried up dog's foot...looks like either Dasher's or Thumper's. They both disappeared some time ago, and...Wow! What's this?” She undid the strings of a red velvet bag, as an odd sinking feeling gathered in her stomach, and rolled out a skinweler into her lap. “I bet this is the very one I left in the courtyard. I wondered... Would Samuel have given it to Abaddon? Here I wanted to talk to Abaddon so badly, and he actually had one. So why didn't he try to contact me with it?”
She rolled the skinweler onto the bed as she stood and paced once about the room before sitting down beside it and staring into its depths. “Show me where
Abaddon is,” she said. Colors gathered and swirled within the orb and at once gave her a look at Abaddon. She squealed and bounced with glee, and then realized that she was not going to be able to see any more than just glimpses of his sullen little face. “Abaddon!
...Abaddon!” she cried. It was plain that there would indeed be no response at all, and to make matters worse, his face was growing harder and harder to make out amongst the misty swirls. With a sigh, she gave up trying and scooped the skinweler into its bag and stepped across the maid. “Oh, fie on her!” she muttered as she hurried down the hall to her bower. “They'll find the old ci hithau before she stinks.”
She gently bowled the skinweler, bag and all, onto the middle of her bed. She turned and sat with a grunt and a sigh, as the ropes under her mattresses creaked and popped. She knitted her brow, smoothing her skirts over her knees as she considered the things which she had seen in Abaddon's room. “It was Samuel. I know it!” she said with a hiss between clenched teeth. “Blood sacrifices to the Pitmaster. He was doing it with the pets he grabbed when we were kids. Pushy bumbler.”
She fell silent rubbing her belly. As she sat back further, the skinweler rolled forth and smacked her on the hip bone. She angrily shoved it aside and then thought better of it and rolled it into her lap. “So if the skinweler didn't reveal Abaddon's whereabouts, he must've been using it, in fact quite a lot, since I was using it before him. And he had to have deliberately set up blocks to outsiders. Like me? Fie! Maybe James was telling the truth after all. Maybe Abaddon did betray me to him. Maybe I've gone off and left him too often. No! Abaddon did not betray me!” she screeched, furiously heaving the skinweler across the room to hit the wall, fall to the floor and roll away into the cobwebs missed by the maids.
“But if he did,” she said as she got under the covers and slammed her head back into her pillow, “the little shit will pay for it.”
Chapter 110
Hubba Hubba slowly ran his beak along the length of the back of a chair in the empty parlour and turned square about to run it all the way back. “All right, all right,” he said, pausing to give his feathers a shake before strutting on. “I said I would, I said I would. I did, I did. But now that it comes to it, I don't know what I think about being a crow again. And what if something goes wrong? What if Razzmorten is so weak that he can't handle the spell and turns me into a roach or a maggot? What if his spell gives out just as I fly in to spy on Spitemorta and Demonica? They'll kill me, is what. Pull out my feathers and wring my neck.”
Without warning a long blade sliced the air near his head.
“Help!” he quacked as he tumbled into a gasping heap of feathers on the floor. “Hey Queen! What is this, a test of my mortality or what? As you can see, I can handle apoplexy but my head would come right off with that thing.”
“Hubba Hubba!” she cried, stopping amidst her next swing. “I didn't see you!”
Hubba Hubba quacked again and backed under the chair.
“I'm so sorry! I just had Hebraun's claymore and...!”
“Minuet, what is all of this?” said Razzmorten, appearing as much without warning as she had.
“Why must these big missions always threaten to take off my head?” said Hubba Hubba, bristling and panting from the shadows.
“I'll learn this now, Father,” said Minuet. “When Niarg goes to battle, they'll still have the crown to lead them forth.”
“No!” said Razzmorten with a look of shock “Niarg needs you here. It can't afford to lose both Hebraun and you. If Spitemorta...”
“Ha!” barked Minuet bitterly, echoing in the arches of the ceiling. “Spitemorta! Yes! Let her come! When she does, I will cut out her black heart and feed it to the hogs. She took the light of my life and she'll meet her doom if she dares come at me.”
“I will not cooperate with sweet and sour parrot. Traumatized, yes. Compliant? No. I refuse, I refuse. Queen, you and your awful sister...”
“What?” said Minuet as she stopped short to peer under the chair.
“I'll have you know that I'm not being dilatory,” said Hubba Hubba with his tail fanned wide as he marched out from under the chair, running his beak along the floor as he came. “I'm right ready to set out on this mission without hesitation. I will not be threatened further...”
“Minuet please,” said Razzmorten. “Hebraun would never have you do such a thing. For the love of the Fates, daughter, it's the very thing that got him killed.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, turning to face him, “and she did it. And that's exactly why I have to do this. You love me and don't want to lose me, so you want to stop me. Please know that I would never cause you grief. I own that I'm being vengeful, but you can rest assured that I'm not being rash. I'm set! You could ease my burden enormously by supporting
my decision. If you can't, I'll not be resentful, but I'll not stray from my path.”
“I'm going, I'm going!” said Hubba Hubba, pushing his beak around in circles on the floor. “You don't have to threaten me...”
“Hubba Hubba,” said Minuet, “What makes you think I'm threatening you?”
“Right. Ugleeuh wasn't threatening me either. She was merely distraught. And you're just what, vengeful did you say?”
“Hubba Hubba! Here I've gone and had a grand packet of food made up for you...”
“What? With all my favorite treats?”
“Well yes...”
“See? Runs in the family. Put away your blade. I'm ready! I'm ready!”
“And what are you doing down there?” said Pebbles as she and the chicks alighted on the back of the chair.
“Here's Herio,” said Minuet as she scooped up Hubba Hubba and gave him a scratch before letting him step off onto the chair. “Looks like he's ready.”
“Well, so am I,” said Hubba Hubba with a confused look as Pebbles rattled her beak through his cheek feathers.
“Ready enough for me to change you into a crow?” said Razzmorten.
“Just give me a flash Wiz, and I'll be right as rain.”
“You've prepared your family?”
“Yea. Go ahead...uh, I mean if there's no problem with maggots...”
“What?”
“Well, with lesser stuff like roaches. Hey Wiz, how's the strength o' your magic these days, anyway?”
“Does this help?” said Razzmorten as he held up a hand mirror.
Hubba Hubba gasped at the reflection of himself as a sleek ebony black crow.
“Well that's only an illusion. You're still a parrot. Go have a moment with your family before I change you.”
“Sure, but you once told me that I am what I am no matter what I look like on the outside.”
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 121
