Black Kath's Daughter

by Richard Parks

  "My garden..." the queen said, and that was all. Her head fell back on the pillow and her eyes closed. Lady Dolwyn's face turned almost as white as the queen's and she started to throw herself on the still form, but Kath grabbed her firmly by the shoulders.

  "Stop that! She's only sleeping. See?"

  In a moment Marta, too, could see the slow rise and fall of the queen's chest even as her grip lessened. Marta lowered the queen's hand carefully. Lady Dolwyn was weeping and Kath shook her gently. "The bleeding has already stopped. She'll need to be bathed and her nightclothes changed. Do it gently and she'll sleep through all."

  Marta and Kath followed Mistress Thornap out, and again Marta heard the bolt being slid, but she took it as nothing amiss this time. Kath spoke to Mistress Thornap for a little while, but Marta and her mother left the castle as soon as they could politely do so. They joined Treedle and Bone Tapper at the Apple Branch Tavern that evening. Master Lokan the almost insufferably jolly innkeeper had their rooms prepared and supper ready.

  "My, how your little girl has grown!" he said, beaming at Marta, who found herself blushing at the attention.

  "Like a weed," Kath said dryly. "Is it well with you, Master Lokan?"

  "Quite passable. And yourself?" He asked the question as if he really did want to know. Marta had the strange feeling that he was more interested than perhaps he should have been, but couldn't say why. Kath, for her part, just shrugged.

  "I yet live."

  Master Lokan nodded, his smile never wavering all the time they were there. Marta couldn't say why, but she was a little relieved when they left the inn early the next morning for the trip home.

  Treedle was a little surprised. "No visit to the archives this time, Mistress? Brother Akaen will be disappointed."

  CHAPTER 3

  "Hard as it may be, try not to be afraid. Frightened people do stupid things."

  — Black Kath's Tally Book

  By the end of March word had come that the queen was with child again. Marta would have said a prayer for her, but somehow the idea of praying to Amaet or any other Power made Marta extremely uneasy. She settled for wishing the queen well.

  The months made their slow, stately progression through spring and into summer and then into fall. Marta, despite the Arrow Path, wouldn't have said that this summer and fall was any different from the last, nor the spring. Nothing happened. After her brush with a Law of Power at Karsan, Marta fully expected something—anything—to happen. That 'something' stubbornly refused, and continued to refuse until the summer days ended and the nights were getting colder again. Marta, frustrated, asked her mother about it as Kath made an entry in her ledger which, as usual, was spread out on the kitchen table. Kath just shrugged.

  "That's all? Nothing to say?"

  "What would you have me say, Marta?"

  Marta thought about it. "I don't know... I've been on the Arrow Path for almost a year! I mean, well, how long did it take you to find the Laws?"

  "Years," Kath said. "It never occurred to me to count them."

  "But was it years until you found the First Law?"

  "Oh, that. Don't fret, Marta, because it's not worth fretting about. Even those on the same path don't necessarily take the same steps. You'll find what you're seeking; there's no avoiding it. But if you think it'll help, I will tell you where I found the First Law."

  Kath described a cave less than a mile from her home. Marta was a little surprised. She knew that hill where the cave was and she knew the cave, too. She had never dared to go too deeply inside it, but she had played near the entrance and just inside the cave many times.

  "The First Law is there?" Marta asked eagerly.

  "I said I found it there, which isn't the same thing at all. You may find it somewhere else. In fact, I wish you would. It's a dangerous place."

  It seemed a strange thing to tell Marta about the possibility and then as quickly warn her away. Marta started to question her mother further about, but Treedle interrupted. "A messenger from the king, Mistress."

  Marta knew who had come. She knew it the instant Treedle announced his presence. She didn't know if that was important. Maybe she was merely quick to expect what she did not want, and this time the fears were justified. Treedle brought the messenger in as Kath directed, and Marta nodded.

  It's him.

  The young man from before. The same intent stare, the arrogant manner, the way he looked at her and, Marta realized, at her mother, were all just as she remembered. Marta had an impulse to step between her mother and the messenger and strike the young man, preferably with something heavy. Kath, for her part, didn't seem disturbed in the least.

  "The queen?" she asked, and the young man nodded.

  "Mistress Thornap believes her confinement is near," he said. "I was told you would understand."

  "Indeed I do. Are you to return with me or shall I follow?"

  "You may follow as quickly as possible," he said. "I'll take word that you are coming."

  She may? How sodding considerate, Marta thought, but if Kath was offended by the man's tone she didn't show it.

  "Well then. Be it so."

  The news of the Queen's new pregnancy hadn't been a surprise when it had come, but Marta had known the silence that followed since would not last. The messenger—any messenger—had been expected. Marta felt a chill, nonetheless. She was very relieved that this particular one would not be accompanying them. She watched him leave.

  "I don't like him," she said. "No matter, he's gone. We leave in the morning?"

  Kath shook her head. "No. Treedle, Bone Tapper, and I will be leaving in the morning. You're staying home."

  Marta argued, of course, but didn't get very far. The next morning she was out in the chill helping her mother get ready to leave.

  "The babe is impatient, unless I've miscounted the days," Kath said. She looked thoughtful. "Not that I blame him. Too much to be done and life is short. Best he gets to it."

  "So the king's child will be a boy, then?" Marta asked, as she helped Treedle pull her mother's travel cart out of its shed.

  "If it lives. Few things are certain and that one thing almost least of all."

  Marta saw to the harness while Treedle, patient as stone, went to fetch the horse. He came back leading a very unhappy beast, with its ears flattened and eyes rolling. Steam blew from its nostrils, despite the fact that the morning was fairly warm.

  "Yssara doesn't appear to be in a good mood," Marta said.

  "He never is," Treedle muttered darkly, "though I'll admit he's worse than usual."

  "It's not time yet," Kath said. “No matter what you think.”

  Marta frowned. "Time? Time for what?"

  Her mother didn't answer, and after a moment Marta realized that she hadn't been speaking to either of them. She was talking to the horse, who apparently understood. It immediately subsided, looking sullen but resigned. Marta slipped the harness over its head and down on its shoulders while Treedle quickly fastened the buckles.

  Black Kath frowned. "I forgot to make a note about that..."

  This time Marta didn't ask; since her mother was clearly speaking to herself and no one else. Kath got off the stump she'd been resting on and made her way back to the house. When Kath returned, Bone Tapper was riding her shoulder. Treedle helped her climb up onto the bench before he went to the other side and clambered up to the driver's side.

  "I should go with you," Marta said.

  "Yes," Kath agreed. "In fact, I'd prefer it if you were going. But you can't. I've left a list of things to be done while I'm gone and, since you're the only one who can do them, I don't see a good alternative, do you?"

  Marta started to suggest leaving those things, whatever they might be, undone until they returned, that they could not be so very important as this. She saw the expression on her mother's face and decided against it.

  She's just waiting for that one.

  "Yes, Mother," was all she said.

  Treedle shook the re
ins, once, and Yssara started off instantly at a brisk walk. Marta wasn't sure, but as the cart pulled away she thought she saw her mother smile. Marta sighed and went back into the house, looking for the chores list. She found that list on the table, pinned to the top of her mother's big old accounts ledger by a small plate of bread and cheese.

  "’Eat something now and then. Pick the apples if you want cider this winter. Read this book,’" was all her mother's note said.

  That afternoon in the orchard a cool breeze was blowing, chilling the sweat on Marta's brow as she reached up into the branches. She shivered. Funny how, with great mysteries to be solved, and important matters to attend, the apples still have to be picked.

  She reached for another apple, perfectly ripe by the look of it, and hesitated. A thought came unbidden, as they almost always do, but this one told Marta something she hadn't known before. It's about to fall.

  Marta blinked, and in that space of time the apple did, indeed, fall. She had enough presence of mind to open her hand and grab it before it could hit the ground and bruise itself. She held it in her hands for several long moments, wondering. "How did I know that?" she said aloud.

  She hadn't guessed the apple was about to fall; anyone who knew a ripe apple from a green one could have said as much. No, this was different. She knew. But how?

  Marta froze in place, listening. There was a jingling sound on the breeze, something out of place in the normal background of creaking branches and rustling leaves that marked the apple orchard. Marta kept very still, wondering for a moment and then rejecting the notion that she'd made the sound herself. She wasn't wearing any jewelry except for the pendant her mother gave her back when she first joined the Arrow Path, and that was safely tucked under her jerkin. After a moment Marta heard the sound again, closer, but with a definite direction attached to it.

  I can't let him see me.

  Another certainty, and just as unbidden. In one corner of her mind Marta realized that what was happening to her now was important in ways she couldn't even begin to understand, but mostly she was thinking about the best place to hide. From whom? She didn't know, but that didn't seem important just then.

  Marta very carefully set her bag of apples near the base of the tree where they would be less conspicuous, then jumped up to catch the lowest branch and pull herself up. The tree wasn't especially large, but the leaves were thick and would make good cover, especially if whoever was nearby didn't think to look up. Marta moved quickly and carefully as high up as she thought prudent, and then kept very still.

  The jingling sound, closer now, was easily identifiable as a horse's bridle. She could hear the clopping sound of the beast's hooves just at the edge of the orchard, but she still couldn't see who it was. Marta tried to peer around a clump of leaves and reached for a branch to steady herself. Three things happened in quick and precise order: The first was that instant flash of knowing, or rather of recognition, that the branch Marta reached for was not sound. The second thing that happened was that the branch broke. The third thing was Marta fell out of the tree.

  Yet even as she fell, Marta was thinking primarily of the first happening. It was important. She didn't know why, but she didn't question her certainty in the least. Then Marta hit the ground, and for a while didn't think about or question much of anything.

  When Marta's vision slowly passed from darkness to glaring light again she found herself lying on her back on the ground under the apple tree, staring up into the face of the handsome young messenger from the day before. At least, Marta thought he was handsome. She didn't have much to compare him to, so she wasn't entirely sure. She did know that she had detested him at both first and second sight and her present situation hadn't done much to endear him.

  "I suppose you meant to do that?" he asked.

  Marta glared. "Of course I didn't mean to, you fool!"

  He grinned. It was an extremely unpleasant expression, to Marta's way of thinking. "I'm a fool? I'm not the one tumbling out of trees like a drunken squirrel."

  Marta started to get up, felt dizzy, sat back down. The 'drunken squirrel' remark cut a little closer to home than she would have liked to admit. She managed to glare at him. "What are you doing here? You delivered your message and my mother obeyed."

  "She forgot something. She sent me back to fetch it."

  Marta wasn't impressed. It wasn't even a very convincing lie, as lies went. Perhaps if she hadn't still been a little woozy from her fall Marta might have made more of an effort to pretend otherwise, but just then it was too much trouble. "No she didn't. She'd have sent her own messenger."

  She tried to sit up again and this time she made it, with the man's hand on her shoulder to steady her. She tried to brush it away but he merely tightened his grip, making Marta wince. "You're hurting me!"

  "That was your choice, since your honesty has left me no other. Get up." He didn't wait for an answer; he just grabbed her by the arm and pulled her upright. Marta was so dizzy she almost fell down again, but she was determined not to let that happen. She didn't fight his grip; she used it to steady herself until the world stopped spinning quite so much.

  "Where are they?" he asked.

  Marta blinked. "What are you talking about? What do you want?"

  He sighed, affecting a slight air of affront. "What indeed? If your mother was a jeweler, I would be asking about jewels and gold, would I not? For a brewer, ale and beer. Your mother is a witch. I suppose you are too. So what am I asking for? Think carefully and the mystery will be revealed."

  "I have, and it isn't. You've been rude and I no more care for that than my mother will when she finds out. Speak plainly."

  He stepped back a bit as if to get a better look at her, though he was careful not loosen his grip. "Oh, I'm sorry, I clearly didn't understand. You're simple, aren't you?"

  Marta just stared at him, stunned into silence. He apparently took that silence for assent. "Well then, I will speak plainly. First, what your mother discovers or doesn't is of no concern to me... or rather, soon won't be. Second, since it's not obvious what I want, I shall tell you: I want your mother's books."

  Marta frowned. "Books? You mean the one she uses for accounts? There's nothing else but a few histories." It was true that her mother loved to read and used her trips to Karsan to visit the Royal Archives whenever time allowed—not often—but she had few books of her own. Besides the expense and the space they took up, they were too distracting, her mother said. For all that, she had made certain Marta had her letters and numbers, and could even read old Lyrsan, with difficulty.

  "Accounts....!" the man looked to heaven. "I mean her books of magic, you dolt!"

  Marta blinked. "There aren't any."

  Now it was the would be thief who was speechless, but only for a moment. "Girl, don't lie to me!"

  "But...It's the truth. Why would I lie about it?"

  "You'd lie to keep me from finding the books, of course. Good thing I'm not so simple as you are, so I don't believe you."

  Marta found her anger again. "I'm not simple, and what you believe is between you and the Powers. I've told you..."

  The man sighed and pulled a dagger from his belt. This he held to Marta's throat. "Do not trifle with me. I'm taking a considerable risk here, I know what I want, and you're going to give it to me. Now, then: Do we understand one other?"

  Marta took a deep breath, let it out. "I understand perfectly. Yet I can't give you what doesn't exist."

  He looked grim. "Shall we see now just what does exist? Take me to your mother's rooms."

  The thought of being alone inside the house with this lunatic wasn't especially appealing to Marta, but she couldn't think it would be much worse than being in the orchard with him now. Besides, the point of his dagger, now pressed to the small of her back, was very persuasive.

  Marta knew her life was in danger, but that wasn't the worst. She also knew beyond question that the young man was even more afraid than she was. This did not make her feel any bet
ter. Quite the opposite. Black Kath had taught her long ago that people who are afraid are capable of nearly any stupidity. Marta barely needed the lesson; she had seen as much in herself.

  If he's so afraid, why is he doing this?

  She hoped she could get at the answer before his fear caused him to do something horrid. She knew it was only a matter of time before that happened.

  "I'll take you there," she said and the man nodded, for the moment, content.

  His name was Laras. He got around to telling her that somewhere during the search. "Not that it matters, you understand, but you probably should know. You have the right, I think."

  There was so much there, said and unsaid, that made Marta's fear grow like a strangling vine. It was only a matter of time, she realized, before she did something crazy and stupid herself.

  If that happens, I'm lost, she thought to herself, knowing it for simple truth. Marta tried to think. She couldn't give Laras what he wanted because it didn't exist. Could he be made to understand? A man with so much invested in an idea would be loathe to give it up, yet she had to try. "Why do you think the source of my mother's power is a book?"

  He just looked at her, in that condescending way he had when he clearly thought she was being simple. "The priests of Amatok recite their liturgies from a book. The King's household accounts are in books. All the wisdom of the ages is contained in books, or so the clerks say. Your mother knows spells, incantations, charms...she can turn people into animals! You can't tell me that such things don't take great care and preparation and formulas impossible to remember." Laras stopped riffling in her mother's linen chest and pulled Marta closer. "There has to be a book. Where is it?"

  Marta finally understood. Maybe I'm as simple as he thinks. "Oh. You want my mother's power."

  "Of course."

  Marta blinked. "But why?"

  He just stared at her for several long moments, and Marta couldn't help but blush. She knew what she'd said sounded foolish, but with what she had seen of the burden her mother bore it was hard to imagine anyone not driven, as she herself was, to take the Arrow Path to choose it blindly. She was certain that this was exactly what Laras was doing. "I mean, you can't understand what you are asking!"