“But it was better than not doing it,” Dewberry added complacently.
“Especially when one has a pregnant wife,” Killcen chimed in.
“And of course, making the trip to the market and back required another week,” Jonson vented further.
“But now?” Kestrel questioned.
“Ah, yes,” Jonson agreed with a smile, “but now the old ways have returned, and we can travel as our god intended, so we can attend a market in the proper fashion.”
“Let us take good Kestrel home to his land, and then go to Blackfriars to hear Stillwater’s stories of his adventures and of Kestrel’s latest love interest,” Odare spoke up.
“There may not be enough time for all of that,” Dewberry said, as she floated over to Kestrel. She hugged him around the neck. “I tease you because I love you, Kestrel great heart,” she consoled him, as other imps also embraced him before they left, and then he was nearly alone in Oaktown.
He arrived in his office, which was empty, and had its door closed, three small blue bodies still with him.
“Remember, tomorrow at midday – call us for the healing spring,” Dewberry said as she floated away from him.
“And make plans for the mushrooms,” Acanthus added.
“Farewell,” Odare piped, and then the imps were gone.
Kestrel put his belongings down, then walked to the doors that led outside, to the manor’s garden. He stood in the doorway feeling a sense of profound satisfaction. Even if he never saw Lark again, even if he never met the woman who would be his wife, he had a home in Oaktown, a manor that he had truly come to think of as a place to return to for comfort.
He saw a movement in the garden, where springtime was nurturing the growth of light green, new leaves on many plants, softening the winter features of the garden. The movement was Putienne, he was glad to see. The girl was walking through the garden, plucking blossoms from the daffodils and other early blooming flowers near the path. She suddenly stopped, and raised her head alertly, then looked around sharply, until she spotted Kestrel at the doorway.
She took flight, bounding towards him with a graceful speed that he admired. He opened the door and stepped out, just in time to encounter her embrace.
“Kestrel, you’re back! You’re back! What happened to you? Are you okay?” she asked as she looked at his scars with concern.
“I was wounded in a battle a few weeks ago, but the injuries are healing, and I’ve just returned from a visit to the healing spring,” he told her. “And now I’m here; home at last, again.
“How are you? How have things been since you returned?” he asked.
“Things are wonderful. Remy is so funny and smart. I can tell Whyte likes him, but he always claims he has to keep an extra set of eyes on Remy, and that’s the job he gave to me,” she giggled as she explained.
“Why don’t you go tell cook to prepare something good for lunch, and I’ll be in the kitchen after I clean up. I want to hear all about how you keep an eye on Remy while you’re picking flowers in the garden, and I want to hear about all that everyone’s doing to fix the damages done during the occupation,” he told her, and watched her merrily skip away to inform the others that he had returned.
Chapter 27
Kestrel’s midday meal in the kitchen at his Oaktown manor turned into a long interview, one that seemed to last for hours as he alternately answered and asked questions from the staff, Putienne, Whyte, Remy, and even one of his two traveling nurse sisters, Parisse.
His scars were the subject of much crying and sympathy, causing him to explain over and over again that he was in no pain any longer, and would be at the healing spring often to treat the remnants of the wounds. He also discussed numerous matters with them all, learning of the work being done to restore the village and the manor and the other parts of the Marches that had been harmed by the invaders from Center Trunk.
“We’ll need to acquire as many mushrooms as we can for ourselves,” he told Bernie the cook. “That way you can dry them and we’ll have enough to last all year when our imp friends come to visit.
“I’ll do it for you sir, not for those flying blue rascals,” the cook grudgingly agreed.
The conversation continued on regarding re-establishing the mushroom market, given the restoration of the imps’ ability to travel so easily. And from there it segued to a discussion about trading with Hydrotaz’s humans as well. Whyte reluctantly agreed that the humans would have the materials needed for reconstructing damaged structures in the Eastern Marches more quickly. As a result, they agreed that after the first mushroom market put the imps’ gold into the pockets of the elves in Oaktown, the humans would be invited to attend the following markets, to help provide supplies that would speed up the work of the elves who were rebuilding their homes and villages.
The impromptu staff meetings ended in the early evening, and Kestrel followed it by strolling through the village with Remy, listening to the boy’s endless observations about the village and the manor and the recovery from the civil war of the elves.
Kestrel awoke the next morning, eager to return to the healing spring with the imps. After breakfast, he went about the manor collecting water skins to fill and bring back from the spring, then by mid-morning, he was ready to go.
He wondered if the imps would mind an early start to the healing spring expedition.
“Dewberry,” he started to chant his invitation, but the queen of the imps arrived instantly, holding a blue bundle of baby imp in her arms.
“Here is our son, Weaton,” she proudly announced, turning as she floated so that Kestrel could see the face of the sleeping baby. “He is beautiful, is he not?” she asked.
“Almost as beautiful as the child that you and I could have had together, if I had succumbed to your feminine wiles,” Kestrel glibly replied.
“Kestrel truth-changer!” Dewberry replied, aghast. “You know that it was you who was forlornly chasing after me!”
“Perhaps my memory is fuzzy,” he capitulated. “But your baby is very beautiful. He must make you and Jonson very happy.”
“Perhaps too happy,” Dewberry admitted. “Jonson wants to have many more now. I have told him that we will have them less often than his mother did – he has many, many brothers and sisters!”
“Now, I will take Weaton back to his nursery, if you are ready to go to the spring?” she asked.
“I am ready,” he affirmed.
Dewberry disappeared, and within moments, other imps began to appear, including many that Kestrel did not recognize.
“We were not told there was a visit to the magical waters during yesterday!” one exclaimed indignantly. “Will you allow us to join today’s trip to the spring?”
“If you carry me there, you will be placed in the water,” Kestrel told them, and was promptly swarmed by the eager imps as he picked up his supply of empty water skins, and then was carried to the bank of the spring by a dozen imps, along with a dozen others who swarmed along with them. As Kestrel started depositing them in the water, Dewberry and his usual cast of familiar imps arrived and chastised him.
“Kestrel unfaithful!” Dewberry scolded. “Will you come to the spring with just anyone?”
“I did today,” he said. “And now I will put everyone in the water who is ready.”
The scolding ended as the dry imps hurried to prepare to be placed in the water, and minutes later, Kestrel was the one person awake at the spring, as a carpet of imps lay across the shallow parts of the watery body. He paddled over to his own usual spot and began to soak in the water, hopeful that his scars would quickly start to heal from the effects of the spring’s powers.
He lay back in the water and thought about all that had happened in the Eastern Forest before he left. The people of Oaktown and the Marches had proven to be resilient, able to overcome the troubles caused by the Princess’s lust for power. Kestrel hoped that Hampus was doing well in Center Trunk, and he vowed to go up to the capitol city soon to visit h
is friend.
And then he thought about Lark, even though he had tried hard to not think about her. If he had been in her place, would he have made the same decision she had made? He told himself firmly that he would not. But he also told himself that he wasn’t in as precarious a position as she was, trying to help her father secure the throne peacefully. He hoped that Gail would console the girl, and he hoped that Lark would help console Gail as well – together, Lark and Lucius, who he presumed would marry Gail, could give her friendship and family that she lacked.
As his thoughts lazily coursed through his mind, the day passed, and by mid-afternoon he decided that it was time to awaken the imps and return home; he filled the numerous water skins he had brought to the spring, then crossed the pool to the imps’ location. He woke Jonson first.
“What lovely dreams,” the king of the imps said. “I was just dreaming of Dewberry with a dozen babies all around her!”
“I don’t think you should share that with her,” Kestrel cautioned. “I do want to let you know that in ten days we will have our first mushroom market, and I hope all the imps will bring their appetites.”
“We will, of course,” Jonson said merrily. “All except Stillwater, that is. He’s a villain!” the king added darkly.
“Stillwater? A villain? Absolutely not!” Kestrel replied stoutly, defending his reliable companion. He was shocked by the allegation.
“You do not know how disloyal he has been,” Jonson told Kestrel, who was so absorbed by the claim that he had unconsciously ceased lifting the other imps from the water. “Stillwater eats from his own private mushroom patch, and he will not tell us where it is. But many of our people have smelled mushrooms on his breath.”
“Ah,” Kestrel smothered a smile, for he instantly knew where Stillwater was likely to have gone to find mushrooms. The imp had spotted an unusual, non-seasonal patch of the fabled gray plate mushrooms in the mountains south of Uniontown. He had been so distracted by his amazing good fortune that he had lost track of Kestrel at the time.
“He might know of some scattered mushrooms, but you will have the last laugh when you have bushels of mushrooms all at once from the market,” Kestrel tried to console the monarch.
“That’s true,” the king replied sagely. “Now revive the rest of our friends so that we can go back to Blackfriars. I should recall the prison sentence I pronounced upon Stillwater for his treachery.”
Kestrel resumed his work lifting the scores of other imps from the spring waters, and several minutes later, after he strapped the water skins of healing water over his shoulders, he was transported back to Oaktown.
Over the next week, Kestrel held to a similar daily routine of visiting the spring with some company of imps for part of the day, filling water skins, and also spending time discussing the reconstruction of his domain, learning what was needed and useful. He noted with surprise one day that as he sat with Putienne and talked with her, he had no reminders of Moorin, no thoughts of the lovely elven noblewoman who he had been infatuated with. Even Putienne’s identical resemblance to Moorin no longer triggered any memories of the romance that had not been fulfilled.
He smiled a wistful smile, glad that the association had at last receded to the back of his thoughts.
“What are you smiling about?” Putienne asked, as he stared off into space, paying no attention to her comments about what plants he should grow in his garden.
“I was just daydreaming, sorry,” he gently excused himself, and they went on with their plans for his garden.
By the morning of the first mushroom market, Kestrel’s scars had virtually disappeared. Only a single, circular mark the size of an apple remained on his shoulder, the spot where the Triplet’s sorcery energy had directly struck him. The other scars had turned to fresh and supple skin, indistinguishable from the rest of his appearance, and the remaining spot was a bright pink circle, but a circle without any pain, other than the emotional pain of knowing that Lark had rejected him because of the appearance of his scars.
“Dewberry, Dewberry, Dewberry!” Kestrel called, and within moments, the queen of the imps hovered beside him, standing in the open center of the Oaktown public square, where hordes of elves stood and sat with their carefully collected harvests of mushrooms.
“Kestrel provider of deliciousness, are your wonderful elves ready for us to arrive?” the queen asked anxiously.
“All are ready,” Kestrel theatrically waved his hands in the air. “Bring your people to the market.”
There was a two second pause, and then there were dozens of imps chattering loudly as they hovered in the air above the square. And then there was chaos, as the bargaining and sales began.
Kestrel quickly retreated to the sidelines, and stood where Whyte was sitting at a table, ready to collect the fees from the successful sellers as they finished their trading and left the square.
“We’ll be well-served to have the new money we’ll raise today,” Whyte told Kestrel. “After the theft by the Center Trunk forces, and then all that you spent in the battle against them, the treasury has grown quite slim.”
“Don’t count on holding on to too much of these funds. I’ll need to take some to Hydrotaz to buy some items and invite their merchants to come to the next few markets as well,” Kestrel counseled.
“Well, I suppose we don’t have to have a lot in the treasury, I just feel better when we do,” Whyte said philosophically.
They watched as the sales unfolded for the next hour, the supply of mushrooms greater than it had been at previous markets. Because the season was early, the fungi were growing plentifully, and the elves more clearly understood how voracious the imps’ appetites were. But at the end of the hour, when the trays and tables of mushrooms were emptied, there were still a few, unlucky imps left in the air overhead who had failed to procure the quantities of mushrooms they wanted.
A line of vendors waited at the table to pay their fees to Whyte, who benignly smiled upon them all, as they deposited gold and silver coins, and piles of pearls that rolled wildly around the table top until Whyte swept them into a leather sack.
“There you are, my lord,” Whyte said complacently when the last of the sellers left the table. He motioned to the three heavy bags that sat on the tabletop, full of the new wealth collected from the market.
The next morning, Kestrel left the Oaktown manor early in the morning, carrying small bags of wealth in his pack, and he began running towards Hydrotaz.
He ran through the forest and then through the human-inhabited lands of Hydrotaz for two days, staying in his usual inn, where he was recognized and accepted after his many visits to the location.
When he reached the city of Hydrotaz though, he kept his hood pulled up and his head bowed while he tried to remain inconspicuous on his way to see Lucretia at the elven embassy.
Not there. Come see me first, a voice spoke in his head, and Kestrel stopped in his tracks in the middle of the street, touched by the contact.
Kai had spoken to him, called him to come see her. She meant at her temple, he knew instinctively. The human goddess who had directed his steps so dramatically over the course of his adventures was speaking to him for the first time since the end of the Rishiare Estelle, and he felt a joy in his heart at the contact.
He started to turn, as another pedestrian bumped into him, a result of his sudden stop in the flow of traffic, with a series of quick apologies he maneuvered his way onto a different street and headed towards the temple of Kai.
He knew that was where she expected him to go. It was where he expected to go to see her, to experience her in the closest manner possible. He wove among the people and he slipped into the doors of the temple, then lowered his hood in a token of respect.
“My lord,” a priest immediately recognized the elven features that had entered the temple. Kestrel was a highly honored guest because of his role as the celebrated creator of the famous sculpture in the temple.
“Welcome, my lord,” t
he priest said. “I didn’t know we were expecting you to visit.”
“The goddess called me,” Kestrel said casually. He knew it was boasting, but the look of worshipful rapture on the priest’s face made it worthwhile. He smiled at the man, then passed by him, into the inner sanctum of the temple, where a few lanterns and candles created a dim, otherworldly atmosphere.
There were other worshippers in the temple, scattered around. Most were kneeling around the railing that surrounded the sculpture.
Over here Kestrel, in the alcove, the voice sounded within him again. He looked around and saw a woman wearing a white cape and hood, beckoning to him, then walked towards her.
She stood and pulled her hood back when he arrived, and he instinctively bowed to her, then looked up at her from his knees. She was stunningly beautiful, a face that conveyed love and hope and confidence. She looked exactly to him as the statute in the temple portrayed her. His magic had created a statute that beautifully appeared to every worshipper as they imagined her to be. He fleetingly wondered if there was a real, true appearance to the goddess, or if mortals could only see what she wanted them to see.
“I am all images,” she spoke aloud, then motioned for him to arise.
“Here,” she motioned to a bench that was pressed against the dim wall of the alcove. “Sit with me and talk.”
They sat together, and Kestrel again felt an astonished sense of unreal privilege, that he was allowed to sit with a goddess. Even though he had spent many moments together with her, had been rescued by her and had fought on her behalf, he still found her to be an overwhelming presence.
“You have done so well, Kestrel,” she told him. “It is astonishing to see what you have become, in such a short period of time.
“You’ve succeeded in the most difficult tasks. Thank you, my son,” she told him.
“It’s been, an honor,” he grasped for words. His trials had been tests and challenges, but he wanted to say something polite.
A Marriage of Friends (The Inner Seas Kingdoms Book 8) Page 32
