The Wildkin's Curse

by Kate Forsyth

  ‘Lili!’

  ‘Zed!’

  ‘Where have you been?’ He bent and grasped her hand, and she put her boot into the stirrup and leapt lightly up behind him. ‘I’ve been worried sick . . . did you get any of the feathers?’

  ‘We got the nightingale feather.’

  ‘Oh, good work! Only one to go, and maybe Merry’s got it already.’

  ‘Merry?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’ He told her quickly what the fisher-boy had told him and then said, ‘But why aren’t you with him? What have you been doing?’

  ‘We . . . we had a fight.’

  ‘You what?’ Zed was incredulous.

  ‘He told me . . . You know how Merry’s grandfather was once music teacher here at the court? And he ran away with a starkin woman, and she jumped off the boat and tried to drown herself, and Merry’s father was born under the water . . .’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Zed replied impatiently, urging his laden horse into a faster trot.

  ‘The starkin woman was Princess Druzilla, the king’s elder sister.’

  Zed twisted round to stare at her. ‘So Merry . . . Merry is one of the Ziv? Merry is . . .’

  ‘Next in line to the throne.’ Liliana nodded her head emphatically. ‘There’s more. His grandfather Johan was of wildkin blood. That means Merry has the blood of all three races in his veins. I think he is the one, you know, “the true king of all”.’

  ‘The third in the prophecy,’ Zed said slowly.

  ‘Yes. He has starkin blood from Princess Druzilla, wildkin blood from Johan, and hearthkin from his mother Mags. He’s only small . . . doesn’t the prophecy say “the smallest and the greatest”?’

  ‘But what about me?’ Zed said rather wildly. ‘You can’t just skip one whole part of the prophecy.’

  ‘Who said the prophecy was about you, anyway? Maybe we’ve already seen that second child born, somewhere else. Maybe the second child doesn’t matter that much.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Zed said, getting huffy. ‘Why would the second child be in the prophecy at all if he wasn’t important? And Durrik said he heard that part of the prophecy in relation to me!’

  ‘You’re missing the point!’ Liliana began to get angry too. ‘It says the true king of all is a boy born between star-crowned and iron-bound, with the blood of both wise and wild, farseeing ones and starseeing ones. Merry’s the only person who fits that description. And so, if he married Rozalina, he’d be king and the two thrones would be united.’

  Colour burnt up Zed’s face. ‘What do you mean, if he married Rozalina? Does Merry want to marry her?’

  ‘It’s not about what any of us want,’ Liliana said, her face as hot as his. ‘It’s about what is right! The wildkin would never accept a starkin lord as their king. They’d accept Merry, though, because he has as much wildkin blood in him as starkin.’

  ‘What do you mean, the wildkin would accept him? This is about the starkin throne!’

  ‘It’s not! It’s about the Stormlinn! The whole reason we’re rescuing Rozalina is because she’s Queen of the Stormlinn. You think I care which tyrant sits the starkin throne? As far as I’m concerned, it should be struck asunder, and believe me, if I could find the Spear of Thunder, I’d have done so by now!’

  ‘You may not care about the starkin throne, but I do! And you’re a fool if you think it doesn’t matter. If there’s a fight over the throne, it’ll be the whole country that’ll be drowning in blood, I promise you.’

  Making an effort to get her temper under control, Liliana said, ‘I’m sorry, of course I realise it matters. That’s why it’s so important that Merry marries Rozalina, don’t you see?’

  ‘No, I don’t see! I won’t allow it! If Merry even tries to seize her, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .’ He bit his lip, swallowing hard and bitter words. ‘I won’t allow it. What proof does he have? I’m betting there’s no marriage or birth certificate.’

  ‘But there was,’ Liliana said. ‘Merry has all the proof he needs.’

  ‘I cannot believe it!’ Zed said, his voice shaking. ‘Surely Merry doesn’t want . . . you say he’s known this all along? Why, the lying, deceitful scoundrel! I’ll shake his teeth out of his head when I lay my hands on him, I’ll beat him black and blue.’

  ‘I don’t think he meant to deceive you,’ Liliana said, alarmed at his reaction.

  ‘I won’t let him have her,’ Zed said through his teeth. ‘Where is he now, the scoundrel? I bet he’s trying to steal a march on me. Flaming comets, he’s probably got the pelican feather and is trying to steal Rozalina now!’

  ‘I’ve got the cloak and all the feathers,’ Liliana pointed out.

  ‘That nursemaid of yours warned me,’ Zed said, his voice breaking. ‘She told me to beware the ones I loved. She was right! How could Merry deceive me so?’

  ‘When was he meant to tell you?’ Liliana demanded. ‘We’ve been spied on and eavesdropped on since we left the Perilous Forest. And he only found out at Hespera. Besides, he doesn’t really want to marry Rozalina. That was my idea.’

  Zed stared at her, twisted awkwardly about in the saddle. ‘But I thought . . . I thought you had taken a bit of a fancy to Merry yourself. He’s certainly got a shine for you. That was why . . . I thought he must’ve been pretending . . . to throw me off track . . .’

  Liliana went redder than ever. She looked away. ‘My personal feelings have nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Let me see if I’ve got this straight, because I’m all in a muddle. It’s all your idea that Merry should marry Rozalina, not his idea at all?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Liliana said, staring at the road.

  ‘And it’s your idea he should try for the throne?’

  ‘Well, yes, though if he’s the true heir . . .’

  ‘I don’t really care about the throne, but he’s not having Rozalina, is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, Zed,’ Liliana said.

  ‘Right. Now we’ve got that sorted, we’d better go and find that squirt and put him straight too. He might be back by now, he probably came back while I was down at the harbour searching for him.’

  The horse halted outside the gatehouse, and Zed and Liliana nimbly jumped down. Zed marched up to the gate and hammered on it till it was opened by a bored-looking guard, who immediately straightened and stammered, ‘Sorry, Your Highness!’

  ‘Here,’ Zed said imperiously, and thrust the reins of the exhausted horse into his gauntleted hand. ‘Have this horse taken to the stables, will you? His master will come later to pick him up.’

  He did not wait for a response, but strode forward across the outer bailey towards the grand entrance hall. Liliana followed meekly behind.

  The palace hallways were crowded with servants hanging garlands of vines and flowers, and carrying benches and trestle tables out into the inner bailey. The bells in the bell tower began to ring out, and Zed quickened his pace, muttering, ‘Blast it, the feast is about to start.’

  As they approached Merry’s room, they heard a pitiful whimpering, the frantic scratching of claws, and the occasional thump of a small body being hurled against the door. When Zed opened the door, the black ferret shot through his legs and raced away down the hall. Zed and Liliana exchanged a look of dismay, and as one, began to run after him.

  CHAPTER 27

  The Feast

  MERRY HUNG FROM CHAINS ABOUT HIS WRISTS.

  He was in a small, dark, stone room, deep within the bowels of the palace. He had no idea where, having been dragged through so many corridors and crypts that he had lost all sense of direction.

  The room stank of mould and urine and ancient blood, and it was bitterly cold. The stone beneath his bare skin was slimy. Below him, the floor sloped down to a gaping hole.

  The only light came from a strange machine which hummed and throbbed and glowed in the corner, casting an unearthly, blue radiance around it. The machine was powered by the white panther, which ran tirelessly on a wheel, a huge hunk of bloody meat dangling before it.
The wheel caused a sulphur ball on a shaft to rotate, the energy being fed into a large glass jar wrapped in silver foil. Out of the glass jar came a coil of wires which were embedded in the end of a two-pronged fork. Ambrozius held it gingerly, keeping it well away from his own body. Blue lightning zapped between its prongs.

  ‘I’ve been wanting a chance to test out my new machine. Servants tend to complain if you try it out on them, and we’ve had dreadful luck in catching ourselves any rebels lately,’ the astronomer said. His bald head glowed eerily in the blue light.

  ‘Now, we know there is some kind of plot underway to free the wildkin princess. I want details. I want dates, times, places, names, everything. I especially want to know anything you can tell me about the Hag. The king says anyone who brings him her head can marry his precious little granddaughter. I’m willing to be the one.’

  Merry shut his mouth stubbornly. The astronomer smiled thinly and applied the prongs to the tip of Merry’s smallest finger. A bolt of pure pain jolted through him. He bit his lip so hard blood sprang into his mouth.

  ‘Come now. Tell me what I need to know and I’ll make your end a quick one. Tell me about the Hag. Where is her hideout?’

  Merry did not reply. The astronomer touched him with the prong again. Merry’s entire body convulsed. He screamed in agony. The panther snarled, and ran faster.

  There was a bang on the door. The astronomer muttered under his breath, and went to unlock the door, still carrying the prong, its cord trailing behind him.

  Aubin the Fair stood outside, his white hair damp with perspiration. ‘Begging your pardon, my lord, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Your servant said I’d find you down here. It’s just . . . you told me to come immediately if my young master made any attempt to send a message or note. He wrote to the captain of his ship, my lord. Here it is.’

  As the astronomer snapped out a reply, snatching the letter and breaking the seal, Aubin glanced over his shoulder into the dungeon. At the sight of Merry hanging on the wall, blood trickling down his chin, he went pale, swallowing hard. Merry met his eyes defiantly.

  ‘My lord, there must be some mistake!’ Aubin blurted. ‘That’s Master Merrik, sir. He’s one of my lord’s squires. You cannot arrest him, or . . . or torture him, sir!’

  ‘Can’t I?’ Ambrozius replied silkily. ‘I think you’ll find I can. Thank you, Aubin, that’ll be all.’

  He began to shut the door in Aubin’s face but the constable prevented him. ‘Sir, I don’t understand. You asked me for my help in preparing for a rebel attack, and to make sure my lord was not bewitched into helping. You said nothing about torturing Master Merrik!’

  ‘Such a shame you saw him,’ Ambrozius replied. He lunged forward and pressed the prong into Aubin’s throat, high under his ear where the pulse was located. Taken completely unaware, Aubin shrieked and then fell to the floor, his body convulsing. Ambrozius dragged him into the dungeon, stripped away his sword and flung it into the corner, and quickly chained him to the wall. Aubin lay unconscious, his fingers twitching lightly.

  Merry stared in shock, unable to believe the constable had been disarmed so swiftly. Ambrozius turned towards Merry, his wires glowing an unearthly blue. ‘Now, where were we?’

  Far above them, the palace bell began to toll the noon hour. The astronomer swore under his breath.

  ‘I must go, the feast is about to commence, and the king will be enraged if I am late. Do not fear, my young cockerel, I’ll be back in time to hear you crow.’

  He unhitched Merry from the wall and dragged him towards the hole in the floor. Merry struggled as best he could, but the astronomer was strong and ruthless. He tossed Merry down it, then slammed shut the grille and locked it fast, tucking the key away in his pocket.

  It was a steep fall and nothing but rock at the end of it. Merry landed hard, and felt his arm crack under him. He screamed in pain. Cradling the broken bone against his chest, he looked up. The mouth of the pit was a hazy circle far above him. He heard the rapid tap of the astronomer’s high heels as he hurried away. Then all was silent.

  Tom-Tit-Tot bounded down the stairs and along the hall, weaving in and out of legs, and under skirts, leaving people screaming and floundering in his wake. The hall was crowded with people making their way to the inner bailey, dressed in their most extravagant red clothes.

  ‘Sorry!’ Zed shouted and kept on running.

  The ferret led them out through the grand archway and into the inner bailey, where tables had been set up among the trees and fountains. Like a black streak, Tom-Tit-Tot leapt up onto a table, smashing crystal glasses and knocking over flower arrangements. Zed and Liliana followed as fast as they could, ducking and apologising as they ran through the crowd.

  ‘Zed, darling! Whatever’s the matter?’ Adora stood in his path, a dramatic figure in her red gown and veil.

  ‘The ferret . . . he’s escaped!’ Zed pointed after Tom-Tit-Tot, who was racing towards the stairs that led under the Tower of Stars.

  ‘Well, darling, tell your squire to catch him. No, don’t run off! Come sit with me. There’s Priscilla, waiting for you. You mustn’t be late, you know—the king must always be the last to arrive. Can you hear the trumpets? He comes!’

  Zed cast an agonised look at Liliana who nodded and ran on. He then leapt up onto the high table and made it to his place just as the double doors from the king’s tower were flung open and the king was carried out on his throne by four burly men, the canopy of state swaying with every step. Zed remembered then that the king was said to never have set foot on the ground. He had been carried about every day of his life, to save him the humiliation of treading the same ground as his subjects. Zed shuddered, and felt again that same mixture of dread and pity.

  King Zabrak looked more like a shrivelled-up spider than ever. His eyes were bright and malicious under his hooded eyelids as he scanned the crowd, all bowing and curtseying to the very ground.

  Zed bowed too, touching the ground with his hat. Once again he was sitting at the king’s table, raised on a platform and facing the rest of the court, who ate at long tables set at right angles to the high table and running the whole length of the vast courtyard. It was impossible to escape without drawing the notice of everyone in the crowd.

  The king was set down in his place, and then the herald clapped his hand and everyone was permitted to sit. Rozalina was sitting at the king’s left hand, and Zed at his right, a great honour that made Zed feel very uncomfortable. Beside Zed sat Adora, with Priscilla beside her. On the far side of Rozalina sat Zakary, with Lady Vernisha and her obese pug beside him, and Ambrozius on the far side. Zed noticed the astronomer had barely made it to his seat on time, and that his bald head was shining with sweat in the sunshine.

  The other counts of Ziva sat at the other long trestle tables with their families and retinues. The Count of Hespera was elderly, with a thin, rapacious face that stared greedily at Rozalina. Zed remembered his wife had died years ago, and that he was distantly related to the ziv Zitaraz family, making him a contender for the throne.

  Then there was the Count of Danika, a fat man with a full paunch and bright red cheeks, and eleven children by three different wives, all of whom were now dead. He bowed and bowed to Rozalina, smiling broadly, waving his handkerchief at her, the buttons of his crimson waistcoat almost popping under the strain.

  The Count of Zaltaira was an immensely old fellow with white wispy hair, and an enormous ram’s horn crammed into his ear in an attempt to hear. ‘Go on, boy, smile at her!’ he shouted to his cringing grandson, a thin, fair boy with sticking-out teeth and the expression of a terrified rabbit. ‘She won’t want any of those old fogeys. Smile at her, I say!’

  The Count of Ardian was a tall, saturnine man whose red velvet cloak was so dark it was almost black. Although he had a wife, a fair, frail creature who cringed every time he moved, he stared at Rozalina with hungry eyes, and Zed remembered rumours that he had once tried to poison the king in a thwarted plot to
seize the throne. He had protested his innocence and nothing had ever been proved, but this was his first visit to the capital city in many long years.

  The Count of Zavaria was an elderly man with ice-blue eyes and a walking-stick set with a diamond as large as a hen’s egg. Two enormous hound dogs lounged at his booted feet, and he fed them from his plate and murmured to them, caressing their ears, all the while ignoring his beautiful young wife. She sat with her head held high, her pale hair twisted up into a cornet of iron filigree, the tallest of the whole court. Her face was powdered the whitest of all the ladies, and her bodice was stiff with rubies, her skirt so wide it took up most of the bench seat.

  The Count of Mistrala was only thirteen, a long-legged, dark-haired boy in a tunic who kept crying, ‘Mama, leave me alone! She won’t want to marry me! Besides, I don’t want to get married.’

  The Count of Somerlad was much the same age as Zed, and dressed in a pale pink satin jacket with immense shoulders and a tight, wasp waist. He had a red rose in his hat, and kept wandering past the high table, waving his scented handkerchief and sighing as he cast Rozalina languishing glances. Zed wished there was a pig trough handy to throw him into.

  Only the Count of Deneba did not seem to wish to attract Rozalina’s attention, eating and drinking with noisy pleasure, his plump and pretty wife smiling beside him.

  The first course was brought, a cold green soup and a salad of wild flowers and herbs mixed with hard-boiled egg, in honour of the equinox. Hot-faced squires were kept running to keep their lords’ and ladies’ goblets full.

  ‘There’s a rumour going around that the Hag intends to attack the palace tonight,’ Adora said, after some minutes of polite and general conversation. ‘We are all deliciously terrified. Whatever shall we do if she does?’

  ‘Oh, but she wouldn’t!’ Priscilla blurted out. ‘She’d never do anything to hurt Merry, or Zed, or any of our family.’