The Wildkin's Curse

by Kate Forsyth

  It was a thick, oaken door, barred with iron, and marked with a black, twelve-pointed star like the ones the astronomer wore on his robe. Liliana would never have noticed the door if the ghost had not shown it to her, for it was tucked away in a corner behind great piles of boxes and barrels. She pressed her ear to it, but could hear nothing. So she examined it closely by the wavering light of her candle.

  It was an old door, and its base was cracked and broken as if someone had been kicking it. Caught in a splinter was a tuft of soft black fur. Tom-Tit-Tot’s fur.

  Liliana felt a surge of fear and excitement, so sharp it made her gasp. She struggled to lift all the heavy iron bars, then pressed her weight against the door. Slowly it groaned open, letting out a gust of freezing-cold, evil-smelling air that blew out her candle. Liliana stood stock-still, fighting all her instincts which screamed at her, Run! Run now!

  Faint light showed ahead. Liliana took a hesitant step forward, only to scream as something black and fierce and sinister exploded out of a drain hole and leapt for her face.

  Instinctively she flung up her arms to protect herself, but the creature clung to her clothes with hooked claws, screeching, ‘Merry in pain, down the drain!’

  ‘Tom-Tit-Tot!’ She lifted him so she could cradle him in her arms, and he nudged her hand with his snout. She saw he carried a long white feather in his mouth.

  ‘You have the pelican feather! But where’s Merry . . . Is he hurt? Where is he?’

  ‘Soar pen,’ Tom-Tit-Tot shrieked. ‘Soar pen.’

  ‘He’s sore? He’s . . . he’s in a pen? Why can’t you talk straight! What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s down in the pit, hurt and hit.’

  ‘Down in the pit?’ Bewildered, Liliana looked around her.

  She was in a small, dark room. The only light was low and cold and blue, and seemed to come from a square contraption in the corner that hummed like a box of bees. A figure lay slumped against the wall, his wrists manacled to the stone. Liliana approached slowly. She knew at once it was not Merry, for the figure was much too tall and broad, yet she did not expect to find Aubin lying unconscious, his white moustache all bedraggled. She gasped in surprise, then bent and tried to rouse him. He could not be roused, though, and so she looked about for the keys. Finding a key ring hung next to the door, she managed to unlock the manacles and tried to make him more comfortable on the hard stone floor, wrapping him in her cloak.

  Tom-Tit-Tot was beside himself with impatience, dancing about the drain in the floor and shrieking at her, ‘Lili, you dimwit, look in the pit!’

  It was not until she heard Merry’s faint voice calling, however, that Liliana realised the drain was actually the mouth to a deep pit.

  Liliana flung herself down on her knees and peered through the iron grille. Far below, she could see Merry’s white face staring up at her. She cried his name.

  ‘Lili! What are you doing here? It’s too dangerous. He’ll be back soon!’

  ‘Merry, I’m so sorry! Please, please forgive me! Oh, Merry! Are you hurt?’

  ‘I’ve broken my arm . . . and I’m rather bruised. It’s a long way down.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she wept incoherently, stretching her arm through the grill in a vain attempt to reach him. ‘Oh, Merry, I was so stupid. I should never have left you . . .’

  ‘If you hadn’t, we’d both be caught now,’ he said. ‘Have you got the feather?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got it.’

  ‘Did Tom-Tit-Tot tell you . . . I think I’ve solved the puzzle . . . the order in which to sew the feathers.’

  ‘We’ll get you out and then you can tell me.’ She began to fit one key after another into the padlock which held the grille closed, but they were all too big. She screamed aloud in frustration and shook it with both hands. ‘I can’t! I can’t open it!’

  ‘He’d keep the key with him,’ Merry said. ‘That’s why he doesn’t need a guard.’

  She shook the bars again with both hands, then heaved with all her strength. It did not budge.

  ‘Lili, you can’t stay. If he catches you, he’ll have the cloak and all the feathers too. Whatever you do, don’t be caught!’

  ‘Who? Who has it?’

  ‘Ambrozius . . . the astronomer . . . oh, and Lili . . . our spy was Zakary . . . he killed the swans and paid Wilhelm and Annie to spy on us . . .’

  ‘I knew it!’ Liliana cried, conveniently forgetting she was the one who had laughed the idea to scorn. She slammed her hand into the floor. ‘That rotten, lying, sneaking scoundrel!’

  ‘There’s a plot to blow up Rozalina’s tower . . . it’ll be done under cover of the fireworks . . . Lili, you’ve got to get her out before the fireworks . . . get her and Zed to safety . . . the whole tower will collapse.’

  ‘But . . . but . . .’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. You can’t get me out.’

  ‘I’m not leaving you!’

  ‘You have to! Ambrozius will soon be back. I’ll . . . I’ll try to keep him occupied. You fix the cloak of feathers, give it to Zed. There’ll be no ship . . . we’ve been betrayed . . . so he will have to fly far with her, as far as he can. Lili, as soon as you’ve given him the cloak of feathers, I want you to go. Get out of here. They know . . . nearly everything . . . we’ll be the scapegoats for the plot . . .’

  As he spoke, Lili argued with him, crying, ‘No! Merry, I can’t leave you, no! Please. I love you! Merry!’

  ‘I love you too,’ he said unsteadily. ‘Too much to let you die here. Lili, if you love me, do as I say. We have to save Zed and Rozalina, don’t you see? Take the feather. You need to sew it on in this order . . .’ Quickly he explained to her his thoughts and made her repeat the anagram several times.

  ‘Soar pen, soar pen,’ she repeated obediently, though her voice was so choked with tears she could scarcely speak.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ he said, his own voice as choked. ‘I cannot bear to see you cry. Promise me you’ll keep yourself safe, that you’ll get away from here.’

  ‘No! Don’t be a fool! I’ll come back for you just as soon as I can. Don’t despair, Merry, I’ll be back.’

  She blew a kiss to him with both her hands, caught up her bow and satchel, then ran back through the door and into the blackness of the cellar. She had to feel her way forward with her hands, but this time she had Tom-Tit-Tot to guide her. He flew ahead, turning often to look at her with his glowing red eyes, hissing, ‘This way, don’t go astray!’

  ‘Now to sew the feathers to the cloak!’ she murmured to herself. ‘And then to get Merry out of that pit!’

  CHAPTER 29

  The Boar’s Head

  THE FEAST CONTINUED, COURSE FOLLOWING COURSE, EACH more strange and horrible than the last.

  There was a parade of three hundred peacocks, all roasted and then stuffed back into their skins with the tail feathers sewn back on.

  There were pots of lampreys still seething in their boiling water, and hooked out at the moment of death and served with wide-set jaws and grinning teeth upon a bed of buttered onions.

  There were whole hedgehogs roasted on a spit, dolphins served with blue jelly, and, to Zed’s distress, a pelican served with his beak driven down through his white breast, his belly carved open to show a selection of silver fish. He could not eat it, and neither, he noticed, could Rozalina. She turned her face away, white to her lips.

  The old woman who was her attendant uttered a strangled cry and lurched to her feet. Rozalina half-rose and held out one hand to her, but the old woman turned and hobbled away through the crowd, her gnarled hands over her face. Rozalina sat down again, looking distressed. The astronomer smiled his thin smile, and threw a roast dormouse to his panther.

  Everyone but Zed attacked the food with relish. He felt as if he were caught in a nightmare. He could barely eat a mouthful, though the king kept sending his squire to him with titbits that turned his stomach—enormous snails so stuffed with milk they oozed out of their shell, and a dish of pink unbo
rn rabbits, boiled and served in a sauce of livers and blood.

  ‘That is the king’s favourite dish,’ Adora whispered to him. ‘You must eat it.’

  Zed could not. He concealed the poor, limp little things in his napkin and dropped them surreptitiously under the table. Lady Vernisha’s fat pug must have smelt what he was doing, because he struggled and struggled till his mistress let him off her lap and then he dived under the table and sat at Zed’s foot, gobbling whatever was tossed down to him. His panting, foetid breath on Zed’s leg made him feel even sicker, but he was grateful for the dog’s help in concealing the food he could not eat.

  ‘Where is Priscilla?’ Adora asked at one point, and Zed smiled and said, ‘Oh, she was not feeling well, poor thing. We’re not used to so much rich food.’

  Slowly the sun slipped down behind the King’s Tower. Shadows fell across the courtyard, and the air grew chillier. Servants came out with lighted lanterns and hung them high over the courtyard.

  Zakary sauntered over, saying, ‘What a tedious affair. Care to dance, coz?’

  ‘Oh, but I wanted this dance,’ Zed said, jumping to his feet.

  ‘Zed, your manners! It would be the height of rudeness for you to monopolise Lady Adora’s company all evening. Come, my dear.’

  Zakary led Adora down to the courtyard, and at once the two fair heads were together, whispering urgently.

  Zed wondered if he could slip away himself, now that the tables were dismantled and people were mingling freely. He was itching for action. He would have gladly fought the whole King’s Guard, if only to have an enemy to face and his sword in his hand. This long, false charade was simply unbearable.

  He glanced at the astronomer. Ambrozius was still waiting upon the king, acting as his mouthpiece as various lords and ladies brought him gifts, but he too was looking restless and impatient.

  A fanfare of trumpets rang out, and the steward ceremoniously brought out a boar’s head on a silver platter. It had been garlanded with rosemary and bay leaves and fragrant spring flowers, its jaws propped open with an apple, and its ears pinned back on with skewers. Behind it came a long procession of serving-men carrying platters of steaming roast boar with apples and onions and black truffles, all of which was presented to the king with another flourish of trumpets.

  King Zabrak waved one thin, liver-spotted hand and all the court fell silent, the dancers returning hurriedly to the sidelines. Zakary and Adora both quickly returned to their seats, their cheeks flushed, eyes bright with what Zed hoped was not malice.

  ‘Soon, I hope, it will be the Hag’s head I see on a platter before me,’ the king croaked. ‘And then it will give me much pleasure to give the hand of my granddaughter to the Count of Estelliana, the next male heir to the throne.’

  Zed felt the blood drain from his face. He glanced at Rozalina and saw that she was gripping her hands together till the knuckles were white, and that her lip was caught between her teeth.

  The whole courtyard was silent, ready for his response. Slowly Zed got to his feet, and bowed to the king. ‘I thank you, Your Majesty. It is indeed my ardent wish to marry Princess Rozalina, and I hope with all my heart that she looks upon my suit with favour.’

  A stir ran over the crowd, and he heard Adora take a sudden sharp breath beside him. Rozalina stared at him, frowning.

  ‘However, Your Majesty, I cannot accept the charge you have placed upon me.’

  The king hissed in a breath, and the crowd stirred and muttered, suddenly fearful. Rozalina smiled.

  Zed went on stubbornly, blood mounting to his face. ‘Today is indeed a day of new beginnings, and I cannot think that the death of one of your subjects is the best way to celebrate a betrothal.’

  Zakary giggled and said, ‘Oh, my heavens! Such earnestness. It could almost be amusing were it not so stupid.’

  Zed flushed crimson. The king leant forward, his jaw working with rage. ‘Do you refuse me?’

  ‘Please, Your Majesty, I mean no offence . . . but I am not an assassin. I cannot go and hunt someone down as though they were some kind of animal.’

  ‘If a flea bites you, do you not crush it between your fingernails?’ the king said contemptuously. ‘Do you not smash a cockroach beneath your heel? What kind of soft-headed talk is this?’

  ‘Not soft-headed, soft-hearted,’ Rozalina said, rising to her feet. ‘And I wish that there was more that saw as clearly as Lord Zedrin.’

  Zakary tittered. ‘I do believe it’s a love match. How touching!’ he said behind his fan to Lady Vernisha, who was watching the byplay with narrowed eyes.

  The king’s face flushed a strange purplish colour and spittle flew from his thin lips as he cried hoarsely, ‘What is this, a conspiracy? You will do as I tell you, both of you! Lord Zedrin, you will bring me the head of the Hag or lose your own, and you, Rozalina, will lay such a curse upon that treacherous Hag that she shall suffer in agony till she dies, in revenge for the death of your father!’

  ‘No,’ Rozalina said, standing straight and slim in her simple white gown, her feet bare, her black hair hanging to her knees.

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You dare defy me?’ The king’s voice shook.

  ‘I am done with curses. I look to a new beginning for us all.’ Rozalina’s voice was low but clear, and she fixed her blue eyes upon the king’s livid face with no sign of fear or defiance. He stared back at her. For a moment Zed thought that Rozalina had won him over, with her beauty and her strength and her words.

  But then Adora’s voice rang out, shrill with hatred. ‘Done with curses? When you cursed all my children to die, and cursed your own father?’

  Liliana was not very adept at sewing, since she had always had Stiga to mend the many tears she made in her clothes, climbing about the ruins of Stormlinn Castle and the mountains behind. Yet she wished to be sure that each of the feathers was sewn securely to the cloak. It would take her some time, she knew. She had to find somewhere safe and quiet where she could sit and sew without being interrupted.

  So, with Tom-Tit-Tot bounding ahead of her, she hurried back along the underground passageway towards the Tower of Stars, and came at last to the steps that led up to the courtyard where the feast was taking place. She could hear the loud hum of conversation over the sound of flutes and lyres and drums. She did not climb the steps but went on, looking for a doorway that would lead her to the wildkin zoo. That was, she thought, the one place she could hide where no-one would think to look for her. To the starkin, their captives were dangerous and wild. For Liliana, they were her friends and comrades.

  It was easy enough to find the keys to the wildkin pens—they were on a hook in the room behind, which was hung with dried haunches of ham and bacon, and filled with barrels of corn and seed and beans. Whips and prods and chains were hung all over the wall.

  First Liliana found the key to the omen-imps’ pen. She paused to address Tom-Tit-Tot who was jumping up and down in his impatience.

  ‘Wait here till you hear my call,’ she whispered. ‘Keep your brothers and sisters quiet for me, and I promise you a chance to shriek and shout all you want.’

  ‘Shriek and shout, when you let us out,’ Tom-Tit-Tot replied and flew into the pen to have a joyous and hideous dance in the air with the other omen-imps. Liliana left the door to the pen closed but unlocked, so he could escape if anything happened to her, then found the cage she wanted, the last in the row. She quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside.

  It was dim and shadowy in the pen, for the sun was sinking low in the sky outside. There was a faint chime of bells as Lord Grim turned to her.

  She pressed her two hands together and bowed low. ‘I am Liliana Vendavala, daughter of Ladonna, daughter of Avannia, once Erlqueen of the Stormlinn. In the name of the Truth, it fills me with sorrow to see you in this place, my lord.’ She spoke in the secret language, the Dark Tongue of the wildkin.

  ‘I have been here a very long time,’ Lord Grim whispered in the sa
me language. His voice was very deep and hoarse. ‘Have you come to free me, child?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Then it shall be my pleasure to serve you. How may I be of assistance?’

  ‘I need to hide from sight for a while.’

  ‘Shadows I can bring,’ Lord Grim replied. ‘First, though, you must remove my chains.’

  Liliana came towards him slowly. Despite herself, she was afraid. He turned so his hunched back was to the window, concealing her beneath the shadow of his cloaked and hooded form. Coldness seemed to seep from him, and his clothes smelt of the grave. He held out his black-skinned hands with a faint jingle of bells that made him wince and suck in his breath. Gently Liliana touched his hands. They were icy cold. She examined the bells that bound his wrists together. They were strung on a red ribbon, wound and knotted about so tightly it was embedded deep around his skin. She withdrew her dagger and very carefully sawed away at the ribbon until it parted and fell into her hands with a loud jangle.

  At once Lord Grim seemed to grow taller, his black cloak spreading like the hem of night. She stepped away, holding the bells tightly so they would not chime. He spread his fingers and flexed his hands, then moved his shoulders under the dark cloth. ‘Silence,’ he said wonderingly. ‘It is good. Thank you.’

  She moved away, saying a little breathlessly, ‘I am glad that I could free you, my lord. Will you guard me and keep me hidden while I work? I have a task to complete.’

  ‘I will.’

  Liliana sat cross-legged on the floor, and pulled the cloak of feathers from her pack. Lord Grim sighed in surprise, and moved a silent step closer. He watched as she laid out the seven feathers and, slowly and laboriously, sewed them one by one, to the ragged edge of the cloak.

  As she worked, a tipsy couple came stumbling past the window, rapping at the glass, trying to make Lord Grim react. He ignored them, shielding Liliana from their eyes with his tall, hunched figure. They called and hooted and giggled, and at last swayed on, while darkness slowly seeped from the hem of Lord Grim’s cloak and crept forward across the floor, as if seeking to embrace her.