Voice for Princess (v1.1)

by John Morressy

  And so will I, if this goes on much longer, thought the wizard. For politeness’ sake, he tried to look interested.

  “So Lottie never looked behind the green door, and they lived happily ever after. They had their little quarrels now and then, you understand, but nothing serious,” Red concluded, turning to Kedrigern with a satisfied smile.

  “Is that the end?”

  “It is.”

  “What about the green door?”

  Red looked hurt and puzzled. “How am I supposed to know about that? I was never in the bloody castle! And if I had been there, do you think I am silly? If everyone says, ‘You must never look behind the green door at the end of the hall,’ you will not catch this fellow taking a peek. Do you think I am not as smart as a milkmaid?”

  “But people might want to know what’s behind the green door.”

  “Well, I cannot help them there, and I would not even if I could. This is a tale of mystery, and if I tell everyone what is behind the green door, the mystery is all spoiled.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way. So that’s the story you told Llewellyn Da, and he threw you out.”

  “Look you, sir, he barely gave me time to tell the ending where they get to live happily ever after.”

  Kedrigern was pensive for a time, rubbing his chin and looking off into the distance. Finaly, he asked, “How did you get to be a household bard in the first place, Red?”

  “It was not easy,” said the youth. He sounded uncomfortable.

  “I’m sure it must have been very challenging, but how does one go about it? Are there auditions?”

  Red looked around cautiously, then leaned closer to Kedrigern and in a soft voice asked, “Do you believe in charms and spells, now?”

  “I’ve known such things to be very effective.”

  “They are indeed. My brother Ivor and I studied all sorts of spells and charms as part of our training, and one of our favorites was the charm for getting ahead. Ivor was very good at it, look you, but he could never get it to work for himself. He could get jobs for his brothers and cousins and even for total strangers, but not for himself.”

  “Rather embarrassing for Ivor, I should think.”

  “He did well enough on commissions that it did not bother him overmuch. It was Ivor who worked the charm that got me the place with Llewelyn Da. There was a young fellow who looked to have it all sewed up—a nasty surly type he was, too, named Rhys ap Gwalter, but with a voice ten times better than mine and more good spells and charms at his command than our whole family together—and Ivor worked a charm on Llewellyn Da that made the young man’s voice sound in his ear like the creaking of an outhouse door, while I was made to sound like a nightingale. So I was made bardd teutu, and Rhys ap Gwalter went off to work the roads as a minstrel.”

  “He must have been angry.”

  “He uttered threats that would shrivel the guts of a stone troll,” Red Gruffydd said darkly.

  Rhys had been very close about his plans, and left the cottage on Silent Thunder Mountain without giving any indication of his destination. Kedrigern was certain that he was seeing evidence of Rhys’s handiwork, and thought it best to keep his surmises to himself. He did not like to get involved in artistic controversies.

  “Well, now that you’re at liberty, Red, what will you do?” he asked.

  “I will starve for a while, and eventually I will die a miserable death,” the youth said gloomily.

  “Not much to look forward to. Is there no alternative?”

  “Look you, sir, I am a trained and practiced bard, and it has dawned on me that without the help of powerful charms I am not a very good one. That limits my options.”

  “Listen, Red… there’s been a big change here at Castle Grodzik. New management, new ideas. It could mean opportunity for a bright young man. You look for Alf, and tell him Kedrigern sent you. He may have something for you,” said the wizard.

  “A good meal, do you think?” Red asked, his eyes lighting up.

  “A job, maybe.”

  Red’s face fell. He sighed and hauled himself to his feet. “Afraid I was that it might come to this. Tell me, good sir, does this Alf like stories?”

  “I think he prefers good work.”

  Shaking his head fatalistically, Red walked off, toward the castle. Kedrigern watched him go, then dusted himself off and went to his chambers to complete the packing. Tomorrow was the day of departure.

  Much of that evening and a good part of the following morning was given over to hearty embraces, warm hand-clasps, protestations of undying friendship, and promises to get together for dinner very soon. Princess had a dozen offers of assistance in mounting her horse. When she was safely astride, Kedrigern mounted his great black steed, for which he still had not settled on a name. Alf, Dan, and Fred gathered around him for a last leave-taking.

  “That’s a fine horse, Master Kedrigern. I’ve never seen the like of him,” Alf said.

  Kedrigern patted the beast’s shaggy neck. “He used to belong to a giant barbarian swordsman. A chap named Buroc.”

  Fred said, “I thought so. It looks like the kind of horse a giant barbarian swordsman would ride.”

  “Those giant barbarian swordsmen, they be hard men,” Dan observed solemnly.

  Kedrigern smiled. “Buroc is harder than most. Before I go, I’d like to ask you something.”

  “Anything you want, Master Kedrigern,” Alf said, and the others nodded in agreement.

  “You mentioned a wizard—the one who turned you into rats, and was later flung down into the pit. Do you recall his name? It’s not really important, just professional curiosity, but I’d appreciate it if you could tell me.”

  “Funny name, it were,” Dan said. “Like ‘Chatterax,’ I think.”

  Fred, grimacing with the effort to remember, said, “It was something like that. Maybe ‘Spatterax.’ That sounds right to me.”

  “No, ‘Scadderall.’ That was it,” said Alf confidently.

  “Could it have been ‘Jaderal’?” Kedrigern suggested. They looked at one another and then at him, their expressions showing great uncertainty.

  “We only had dealings with him twice, you see. The first time we were confused, suddenly finding ourselves rats, and the second time we were angry and starving,” Alf explained, looking rather embarrassed.

  “He weren’t much of a wizard, Master Kedrigern,” Dan volunteered. “Down in pit, he tried to work a spell against us, but he mixed it all up.”

  “He wasn’t much of a meal, either. Tasted like dogmeat,” said Fred with a wry face.

  “That sounds like Jaderal.”

  “Not a friend of yours, I hope, Master Kedrigern,” Alf said.

  “A bitter enemy, Alf. Jaderal got exactly what was coming to him. And speaking of just deserts, did a young minstrel with red hair come to see you yesterday?”

  “He did. I agreed to give him food and lodging for a week while he composes a ballad about the liberation of Castle Grodzik, with special verses about your lovely wife and yourself, if it pleases you.”

  “It likes us well,” said Princess, smiling radiantly upon them all.

  “If he makes us a good ballad, we can keep him on as our bard. If he does not…” Alf shrugged, and concluded, “There’s always room for another hand in the scullery.”

  “Couldn’t ask for fairer treatment,” said the wizard.

  Princess and Kedrigern rode out the gateway of Castle Grodzik waving to well-wishers on all sides, clasping the eager hands thrust up at them by the liberated subjects of Prince Grodz, smiling and nodding and feeling very much the celebrities of the moment. Again and again on the long straight road to the mountain pass they were stopped by litle knots of cheering peasants who gathered around to press gifts of food upon them and wish them well. Whenever they looked back, they saw diminutive figures eagerly waving, and heard distant voices raised in tribute. It was all very pleasant.

  A short way beyond the pass they stopped to eat and rest. Kedr
igern spread a blanket on a knoll overlooking a pleasant pond, and they reclined in comfort to a lunch of fresh fruit and cheese. At intervals during their lunch, Kedrigern noticed Princess gazing gloomily into the water. Her good mood had passed, and she seemed preoccupied.

  She frowned, and several times she turned to him as if she were about to speak, but it was only as they were rising and making ready to go on that she blurted, “Keddie, I wish I hadn’t done it!”

  “My dear, whatever do you mean? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

  “I turned Grodz into a toad! What a terrible thing to do! Even Grodz doesn’t deserve to be a toad.”

  “There are a lot of people around Castle Grodzik who’d say he deserves something much worse.”

  “They’ve never been toads. I have. I should have shown compassion and sympathy, but instead…” She covered her face with her hands, and in a muffled voice, said, “Sitting in a bog, or a swamp, or a pond day after day… losing all track of time… forgetting one’s past… one’s own family… It’s awful, Keddie,” she said, looking up at him and shuddering.

  “For a man like Grodz to forget his past and his family might be all to the good, my dear,” Kedrigern said, putting his arm around Princess’s shoulders to comfort her. “You mustn’t dwell on Grodz. It will only upset you.”

  “It already has. Oh, Keddie, I do so wish I could remember who my parents are, and where I come from—can’t you do something?”

  Kedrigern scratched his head thoughtfully. “Amos is no longer available… and it’s difficult to work an effective spell with so little basic information to go on…” He lapsed into silence, and spoke no more until he had helped Princess onto her horse and was himself mounted, then he drew up beside her and said in a reluctant, tentative way, avoiding her eyes as he spoke, “There’s a chance… a remote chance… very remote…”

  “There is!?” she cried.

  “About a day’s ride to the north is the valley of the Harkeners to the Unseen Enlightened Ones.”

  “I’ve never heard you speak of them. Who are they?”

  “A bunch of lunatics. There’s nothing to fear from them; they’re completely harmless. Very kind and gentle people, actually. They listen for voices in the air.”

  She looked at him narrowly. “There are no voices in the air.”

  “You know that, my dear, and I know it. I daresay a great many people know it. But the Harkeners to the Unseen Enlightened Ones listen for voices in the air.”

  “Do they ever hear them?” she asked, fascinated.

  “Not so far. But they’re firmly convinced that somewhere out there, on another plane of existence, are Enlightened Ones who are trying their best to get through to us with good advice and consoling messages. The trouble is, we don’t know how to listen properly. So they’ve taken it upon themselves to listen in every possible way.”

  Princess shook her head. “They sound very odd.”

  “They are. On the other hand, nobody else has been able to tell us anything about your family. I know it’s unlikely, but it’s the only chance left.”

  They rode on for a time, both thinking over the possibilities, and at last Princess turned to the wizard and said, “A day’s ride?”

  “An easy day’s ride. A leisurely side trip, no more.”

  She nodded and said nothing. After a while, she said, “And they’re really kind and gentle people?”

  “They are kindness itself, my dear. If they’ve heard anything that might help you, they’ll feel bound to tell you That’s the whole point of their listening.”

  “Only a day each way? We could spare that.”

  “We certainly could,” Kedrigern agreed.

  And so they went north, to the valley of the Harkeners to the Unseen Enlightened Ones. Kedrigern’s loathing for travel, and his reluctance to be away from his work for more than a few hours, was offset somewhat by his curiosity and by the infinitesimally tiny and utterly irrational possibility that this band of eccentrics might actually be on to something. If one could discover the proper way to listen, and listened long enough and hard enough, perhaps there was something to be heard. It seemed worth a slight detour to find out. At best, it could make Princess very happy; at worst, it would cost them two days’ additional travel; and even then, it would provide a subject for conversation in years to come.

  The Harkeners had set up no signs or markers, built no barriers, posted no guards or watchmen. Kedrigern and Princess had no indication that they were among them until they came upon a man in a very dirty greenish robe clasping a birch tree, his ear pressed against the trunk. Kedrigern waved to him. The man smiled back at him vacantly, but did not move.

  “Do you hear anything?” the wizard asked.

  “Not yet,” the man replied.

  “We’re here,” Kedrigern said to Princess. “Where will I find the other Harkeners?” he called to the man at the tree.

  Without speaking or moving his head, the Harkener indicated by a gesture of his thumb where his fellows were to be seen. The travelers rode in the direction given. In a very short time they came to a clearing where about a score of people sat, stood, or lay about listening, in various postures, to various objects. One man reclined on his side with his ear in a bowl of cold oatmeal. A woman listened attentively to a large glove. Others had their ears pressed to items of furniture, food, and clothing, or stones of assorted sizes; several were clustered around a large pile of sand. They all appeared to be quite absorbed in their work. A young lady who had been listening to a thick slice of buttered rye bread approached the travelers and greeted them cheerfully.

  “Good listening, strangers! Have you heard enlightenment?”

  “No. We were hoping you had,” Kedrigern replied.

  “’It is better to hope than to fall down the well,’ as Versel has heard,” she replied cheerfully.

  “Very true. Would it be possible to get a drink of water?”

  “Of course it is. As Versel hears, ‘Fire is only fire, but water is wet,’” she said.

  Princess and Kedrigern silently exchanged a glance. Dismounting, they followed the girl to a well. It was roofed over, providing cool shade from the afternoon sun. Kedrigern drew up water for them and their horses, and as he drank, he looked out at the unmoving Harkeners.

  “Has anyone heard anything at all from the Unseen Enlightened Ones?” he asked the girl with the rye bread.

  “Only Versel has achieved momentary contact with them. He has been told many things, but the messages are couched in a mysterious language, difficult to decipher. Even when deciphered, their meaning is obscure.”

  “Would it be possible to speak to Versel? I don’t want to disturb him if he’s busy listening, but I might be able to help in some way. I’m Kedrigern of Silent Thunder Mountain. I’m a wizard. And my wife, Princess, is Grand Enchantress and Deliverer of the People of Castle Grodzik.”

  “Would you like to see my scroll?” Princess asked.

  “That will not be necessary,” the girl assured her. “Versel is always glad to hear visitors. You will find him in the building just behind those trees. Forgive me if I do not take you there personally. I must get back to my duties,” she said, clapping the slice of bread to her ear.

  When they were a safe distance away, Princess asked, “What can that poor girl hope to hear with a piece of buttered bread stuck to her ear?”

  Kedrigern shrugged. “Flies?”

  “Not much else. I can hardly wait to see what Versel is listening to.”

  “I hope you’re not too disappointed, my dear.”

  “I didn’t expect much, Keddie. And there’s always a chance that Versel is hearing something helpful,” said Princess, smiling hopefully.

  As it turned out, Versel was not listening to anything at the moment. He had a basket of fresh blackberries before him, and a big bowl of clotted cream, and he was dipping the blackberries, one by one, into the cream and eating them, with obvious delight. At sight of Princess and Kedrigern,
he waved and gestured to a pair of empty stools standing near his.

  “You’re eating those berries. I thought you’d be listening to them,” Princess said when they were seated.

  “I don’t listen to fruit anymore. I listen to the gleam,” Versel said. “Help yourselves, please. They’re delicious,” he added, holding out basket and bowl.

  They were. When he had consumed his tenth sweet fat juicy berry, Kedrigern wiped his lips and said, “Thank you very much, Versel. What gleam?”

  “It isn’t here yet. Every evening, when the sun reaches that crack on the floor,” Versel said, pointing, “it reflects off a piece of glass stuck in there and sends up a gleam of light. That’s what I listen to. It will be coming soon, and you’re welcome to listen, if you’d like.”

  “Can anyone hear it?” Princess asked.

  “Oh, yes. It doesn’t last long, and it doesn’t make much sense, but at least we’re finally hearing something. It’s a real breakthrough for us. And I found it completely by accident one evening when I was listening to some raisins,” Versel said, beaming at them.

  “You must be very pleased. And proud,” Princess said, patting his hand in a fond maternal gesture. Kedrigern studied the crack in the floor and said nothing. He looked somber.

  “Just lucky, I guess,” said Versel, blushing.

  “It comes from the gleam of light, you say? And only when the sun strikes it at a certain angle?” Kedrigern asked.

  “That’s right. It will be along soon, and you can hear it for yourselves. There’s just time to finish these blackberries and settle down for a good listen.”