A few days more passed, and by then Clovermead was almost fully healed. Lady Cindertallow’s spies confirmed that Lord Ursus’ army was inside Queensmart, and the farmers left Chandlefort for their fields again. They would be safe at least until the next spring. Soon the sound of hammering filled Chandlefort as the farmers began to put up new barns and houses to replace the ones the bear-priests had burned.
When the full moon rose in the sky once more, Clovermead went out into the fields. She took broken Firefly and walked along a road at night. She didn’t exactly think her father’s sword would protect her from any danger, but it was still comforting to have it with her.
She smelled the sharp scent of bear-musk as she walked beneath an apple tree. She smiled and turned from the road. In a few minutes she came to a canal. Brookwade was swimming in it.
Hello. Clovermead sat down by the side of the canal. How are you doing?
I killed two bear-priests, said Brookwade happily. I’m still free of Lord Ursus. Your farmers haven’t all come back to their barns yet, and I’ve been gorging myself on the cattle feed they left in the troughs. All in all, Our Lady smiles on me.
Clovermead laughed. And the other bears?
Those who lived? Gone to their old haunts. Brookwade grew more sober. Many of us died attacking the bear-priests. It was worth it, but most have had their fill of bloodshed for a long time. And they are afraid Lord Ursus will come looking for revenge. He rumbled puzzledly. I confess I find it strange that he has not sent his blood-net back into us. Your sword has more power than I thought.
I’m surprised too, said Clovermead. She brought it out from the scabbard. It’s broken. I went looking for the tip outside the walls, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I don’t think I’ll be able to free any more bears.
I’m glad you freed as many as you did, said Brookwade. He grinned. I’m glad you freed me! He paused a moment. I will be going from Chandlefort soon. It’s no place for an honest bear. But you can call on me if you need me. We bears have trouble thinking of wars and battles, but I know there’s more fighting needed against Lord Ursus. Come to the Reliquaries, come back to Kite Hall. I’ll be there when you need me.
Thank you, said Clovermead. Brookwade came over to her and she hugged him.
Maybe we can have another bout? said Brookwade wistfully. You didn’t beat me fairly the last time. Best two out of three, Haybrawler?
I beat you fair and square! said Clovermead, laughing. I’m not quite up to strength yet, but I’ll be glad to fight again the next time I see you. She grinned. If I bring friends, don’t call them snacks!
I won’t, said Brookwade. He rubbed Clovermead’s nose with his. It’s late and I should get to sleep. I think I’ll be gone tomorrow. Farewell, Clovermead.
Good-bye, said Clovermead. Lady keep you. Then Brookwade was jumping down the canal, splashing Clovermead as he went, and trotting out of sight.
Clovermead sat down by the edge of the canal and took off her shoes and socks. She lowered her feet into the cool water and let it trickle through her toes. It was a relief to know she was warmer inside than the water on her skin. She sighed happily and sleepily. It was a nice, warm summer night. A cool breeze trickling through the air brought a hint of autumn on the way, but it would be warm for a long time to come.
Clovermead glanced at the sword lying by her side, and she shook her head in puzzlement. “Where does that light in you come from, Firefly? I never heard that Ambrosius was any sort of magician. Are those medallions he carved what make you so powerful? Or is it something else?”
“Something else,” she heard. A low, laughing voice was behind her, and a friendly hand touched her shoulder. In the moonlit water of the canal Clovermead saw an old woman’s reflection. Clovermead looked up. Now the woman was young—and now she was middle-aged. Her appearance shimmered as much when Clovermead looked directly at her as it did in the water. Clovermead scrambled to kneel before her, but the woman laughed. “Don’t bother yourself! Here, I’ll join you.” She sat down by Clovermead’s side. She was barefoot too, and she let her feet fall comfortably into the canal and hang in the water by Clovermead’s. “Isn’t it a lovely night? I shouldn’t confess to liking one season more than another, but I am fond of summer evenings. The first time I came walking through Linstock, fireflies glowed everywhere in the dusk. The way they lit up the darkness was lovely! I’m happy to see that you’ve named your sword Firefly. I was afraid you’d think it should be named Diamondflame or Bearbiter or something like that. Firefly is much nicer.”
“I’m glad you like it, Lady,” said Clovermead. She slid it from her scabbard and looked sadly at its broken tip. “I’m afraid it won’t be much good anymore.”
“Nonsense! This sort of thing is easily mended.” Clovermead gasped, because the woman had the missing fragment of Firefly in her hand. The woman smiled. “I went to comfort the bears and men as they lay dying, and I saw this. I thought you’d want it. May I?” She reached out a hand, and Clovermead nodded. The woman fit the fragment into the broken blade, there was a shimmer of light, and then the blade was whole. Clovermead cried out in wonder and touched its smooth surface. The faintest crack bore witness that the two parts had ever been separated. “It will strike well,” said the woman. “The line is so you remember it was broken. Wounds can heal, but they shouldn’t be forgotten.”
“Thank you,” said Clovermead. She bowed her head to the woman. She hesitated a moment. “Will the bears stay free?”
“Yes,” said the woman. The affirmation rang through the night air and echoed sweetly into the distance.
“I’m glad,” said Clovermead. She paused a moment. “How did they get to be free, Lady?”
“It isn’t a magic sword,” said the woman, and Clovermead couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The woman laughed. “It’s your father’s sword and a good remembrance of him, but it has no special powers. The light in the sword came from you.”
“I’ve never given off sparks before,” said Clovermead. “Why did the light come then?”
“Your powers are greatest in my service,” said the woman.
“Where do they come from, Lady?” asked Clovermead. “I still don’t know.”
“From Ambrosius,” said the woman, and Clovermead’s heart leaped with joy. “Let me show you,” said the woman. She pointed across the canal. “Look.” A white bear came into view. She strolled along the edge of the canal, sniffing for fish.
“Boulderbash!” Clovermead cried, as she recognized Lord Ursus’ enormous enslaved mother. “What are you doing here?”
“She can’t hear you,” said the woman softly. “This happened many years ago.” And Clovermead realized that the land across the canal had changed. It was still summer, but there were pine trees everywhere, and Boulderbash was by the side of a lake, not a canal. Boulderbash herself was younger than she had been when Clovermead last saw her. Clovermead could see Lord Ursus’ blood-net fixed in her mind, but it was slack. This summer he had let his mother wander free.
Boulderbash speared a trout with her paws, gulped it down, then scooped up a dozen minnows. The edge of her hunger dulled and she went in search of dessert. She bounded into the underbrush—and howled as something bit into her front paw. She reared up, and a steel trap came up from the concealing leaves, biting deep into her fur and flesh. I hurt! she cried in surprise and shock and anger. She tried to shake off the trap, but it was thick and strong. She pulled at it with all her strength and a length of chain came loose from the dirt, but she could not rid herself of the metal jaws. She bashed it against a tree, deeply scarring the trunk with her thrashings, but the iron didn’t even bend. I’ll have to chew my paw off, she roared angrily, fearfully. Lady’s curse on those two-legs who laid this trap.
There was an indrawn breath above Boulderbash. She looked up and she saw a small boy crouched high on a tree branch. He looked down at her with fascination but no fear. He was towheaded, with twinkling blue eyes and a calm expression that overlaid a
look of mischief on his face. He was terribly familiar, and it came to Clovermead that she was looking at her own father as a boy. It was Ambrosius Beechsplitter, half herself, up in the tree. He was no older than she was now.
Ambrosius said something, but all Boulderbash understood was the friendly tone of his voice. He gestured to her, but it didn’t mean anything either. Boulderbash fell back from the tree, and she roared her sorrow and her pain again. Blood trickled from where the points of the trap dug into her paw.
Very cautiously Ambrosius crawled out of the tree. He said more words to Boulderbash, but they were still so much gibberish. He started to walk toward her. I should bite him, thought Boulderbash. Then they’ll know how much their trap hurt me. But she was curious, too. Most big humans aren’t bold enough to come near me. How daring this small one is! She looked at him curiously, but she didn’t see any of the human knives on him. She sniffed, but there was no bad odor to him. She let him come closer.
He stayed away from her jaws, spoke reassuringly to her again, then bent down by the trap. What’s he doing? Boulderbash cried out—and then she could feel the teeth coming loose from her leg. She roared with delight as she realized that he was freeing her. He trembled before her roar, but kept pulling open the jaws. It was an agonizingly long and wonderfully short time until he had pulled the trap enough apart for Boulderbash to withdraw her paw. Then he let it close with a snap that almost snipped his fingers away. He fell to the earth, breathing hard, and Boulderbash could tell he had tired himself out to free her.
How marvelous of you! growled Boulderbash. How kind of you. I never knew a human to do such a thing. Then, more sadly, she thought of Lord Ursus, and she told herself, My own son doesn’t care if I live or die. She shook her paw, then padded over to Ambrosius and looked him in the face. Solemnly she licked his cheeks. His eyes went wide, but he stayed very still. So brave! Boulderbash marveled. Lady, I wish you would reward him. I can’t thank him properly for what he’s done.
What would you give him? The voice was terribly loud, marvelously beautiful, and the world shimmered in light.
Give him my tongue, said Boulderbash to Our Lady. Give him my strength and my endurance. Give him—she thought of Ursus when he had been a little cub and of everything she had tried to teach him. She thought of how much he had ignored and how much he had forgotten. She loved her child so much, she could see him bounding playfully through the forests, tiny and laughing. She saw him grown, with blood on his jaws, and she knew he had done such evil. Give him what my own cub has rejected, Lady, she said, with a sorrowful roar. Make him what a bear should be.
He will be a proper bear, said Our Lady, and it was a roaring in the wood. He and his children, and their children, for so long as they wish to keep your gift. And they will put to rights what your son has twisted. The world was full of flaring light—and then the world was as it had been.
Thank you, little one, said Boulderbash, and Ambrosius’ eyes went wide.
You’re welcome, he thought, and then, Did you speak to me?
I did, said Boulderbash. She licked his cheeks again. You’ve been kind to me. Don’t ever stop, little one. She thought of Ursus again and how the kindness had left him as he grew. She wanted to cry, but she blinked back her tears. I’m grateful to you. Then she turned from him.
Wait, she heard Ambrosius cry as she went into the woods. Don’t go away. Tell me how I can hear you speak! But Boulderbash could not think of anything but Ursus, and she wanted to weep in privacy. She roared her misery to the world as she ran on her wounded paw.
The scene vanished, and there was only the summer evening in Chandlefort. Clovermead’s mind whirled. “That’s why I can turn into a bear? And speak to them and free them? It’s a gift from you, Lady?” She smiled with wonder and joy. “I knew the power didn’t come from Lord Ursus, but I’m so glad to know it comes from you and Father, to know the reason why I have it.”
The woman looked soberly at Clovermead. “It is a gift and a charge. You have it because Ambrosius freed one bear. You have it so that you may free all bears from their captivity to Ursus.” She paused a moment and said softly, “It’s a great burden, Clovermead. You may renounce it if ever you find it too heavy.”
Clovermead thought about the vivid joy of turning into a bear. She thought of the sharp need of all the enslaved thousands of bears whom Lord Ursus held captive in the Lands of Lady Moon. The joy and the responsibility were both overwhelming.
“Did Ambrosius ever turn into a bear?” she asked.
The woman nodded. “Sometimes, before he came to Chandlefort. After that he stayed in human form so as not to frighten people. Not even your mother knew what he could do.”
“I guess that makes sense. I sure have alarmed people by being a bear! Though it must have been awfully lonely, if he couldn’t even talk about it with Mother.” She thought a bit longer. “Can I just free all the bears now if I put my mind to it?”
The woman laughed. “You’re still growing and learning, Clovermead. You couldn’t shape-shift, either, until you were old enough to use that power properly. You’ll have strength enough in good time.”
“And the need for it too, I’ll bet.”
The woman nodded. “Soon enough everyone who stands against Ursus will have to fight with all their strength.”
“Then I shan’t give up your gift just yet.” Clovermead shook her head. “Oh, Lady, I’m awfully scared.”
“I’m always here for you, Clovermead,” said the woman. She leaned close to Clovermead and kissed her on the cheek. “Now be of good cheer! There’s time yet before the final battle. Enjoy yourself for now.” Suddenly smiling, she kicked a spray of water from the canal to spatter at Clovermead. Clovermead giggled, leaned down to scoop a handful of water back at the woman—
Her eyes flew open as her hands scooped at air. She had fallen asleep with her feet in the canal, but now she woke and there was no one by her side. There was only laughter in the air and the shimmer of moonlight.
“I must have dreamed it all,” Clovermead said to herself. She sighed. “Was that a true dream, Lady? Did Ambrosius really free Boulderbash that way?”
Moonlight glinted on her father’s sword beside her. Clovermead looked at it—and gasped. The blade was whole again. She ran a trembling finger along the barely perceptible scar in its metal.
“Thank you, Lady!” Clovermead cried out joyfully to the darkness. “And don’t you worry. I’ll be brave for you, no matter what happens.” Then she let herself relax as the water of the canal wrinkled the flesh on her toes. The stars twinkled above, and the fireflies twinkled in the fields below.
Her toes were definitely cold. She drew her feet out of the water and let them dry a moment on the grass. “Brr! Time to get home and under covers, Clovermead.” She picked up her shoes and sword and started to walk. “Home,” she said to herself reflectively as she ambled along the canal. “I guess it is by now.”
And whistling cheerfully, she made her way toward Chandlefort.
THE END
Book Three: Sorrel
Dedication
To my wife,
Laura Helen Congleton,
always my love
Title Page
SORREL
IN THE SHADOW OF THE BEAR
by David Randall
Acknowledgments
As always, my editors, friends, and family have read, commented upon, and improved this novel; I am grateful to Lisa Cheng, Emma Dryden, Simon Lipskar, David Rosen, Sarah Sevier, Ariane Randall, Francis Randall, Laura Randall, and, always and especially, my wife, Laura Congleton. This book is dedicated to her, but she has been essential to all of them.
Chapter One
The Emissary from the Steppes
“I don’t know who he is, but he’s come about something important,” said Clovermead. She squeezed Auroche with her knees, and her horse moved forward a few inches. “He’s a Tansyard, so he looks a little like you, Sorrel. I saw him ride up to the Castle
yesterday afternoon, and he’s six and a half feet if he’s an inch, with a face like a marble statue. The guards at the Castle door whisked him up to Mother’s study, and I haven’t seen either of them since. I tiptoed to her doorway toward midnight, in case she’d left the door open, so I could peek in. She hadn’t, but I saw light under the door and heard them talking. He had a low voice like a bull—Auroche, what are you doing? Don’t stop now.” Auroche neighed nervously and refused to budge.
“He thinks you are not paying attention to your riding or to him,” said Sorrel. He trod softly through the mud to Auroche, patted him a moment, then stepped away again. “He thinks your jaw is so busy moving that you will send him galloping into the water before you notice anything is wrong. I agree with his suspicions. Stop thinking about this stranger, Clovermead. You can be scatterbrained when you have a saddle and reins to help you, but not when you ride bareback. Keep your back straight and help Auroche to reach dry land.”
“Why? He’s thrown me three times today.” Clovermead glowered at her horse, but she followed Sorrel’s instructions. Auroche whinnied apprehensively as he took another step on the plank laid over the pool of water that filled up half the back courtyard after the latest spring rains. “Shh, Auroche,” she whispered. “That puddle’s only a few inches deep. Please don’t send me into the mud again. It’s cold and it squelches.” Auroche took another step forward, then stopped. Clovermead pressed his flanks again. “Aren’t you curious to see him, Sorrel? I don’t think I’ve seen another Tansyard besides you in all the time I’ve been in Chandlefort. And he is such a sight! He doesn’t just sound like a bull, he’s as big as one too.”
In the Shadow of the Bear Page 46
