by T.A. Barron
“A goodly question,” muttered Shim, hugging my shin.
“Besides,” Domnu continued, all the while examining the stick, “if I send you there, then you will certainly die and I will lose my wager.”
“Won’t you please help us?”
“I am afraid not, my pet.” She twirled the stick in the palm of her hand.
I scowled. “If you’re not going to help us, then why don’t you just put us back in the Haunted Marsh and get it over with?”
Shim looked up at me with amazement.
“I may well, my pet. After all, I did promise Rhita Gawr that I would not keep you safe here all day. Rules of the wager, you understand. And I never break the rules.” She lowered her voice. “Besides, he would notice if I did.”
She inserted the stick back into the bundle, then tossed it carelessly onto the pile. “But why the hurry? We still have time for a game or two.”
“We do not have time!” I exclaimed. “Isn’t there any way we can convince you?”
“The only question,” she went on, scanning the room, “is which game to choose. Of course! Chess! Though I don’t suppose you know anything about the rules, young as you are. No matter. Just come over here and I will teach you a bit. And bring that brave warrior there. The one clinging to your leg.”
She walked back over to the rug and glanced around at the chess pieces. “Too tall, I think.”
With an expression of concentration, she placed the palm of her hand on the crown of the red queen. She muttered a phrase softly, then began to press slowly downward. To my astonishment, the red queen—as well as all the other chess pieces—grew steadily smaller, until they were only half of their original size. Now the tallest pieces were about the same height as Shim.
Proudly, Domnu waved at the chess pieces. “It really is one of my better inventions, this game. A great success wherever it goes. Even the humans, with their limited powers of concentration, have adopted it. Though it grieves me to see how they try to oversimplify the rules of the game. The only drawback is that it is best played with two people. And finding the right partner can be very difficult indeed.”
Raising her thin eyebrows, she sent waves of wrinkles across the top of her scalp. “Especially if you have as few visitors as I do. By the way, most of my visitors come by the front door. What ever possessed you to use the back door? I might never have found you, if you hadn’t knocked on the doorstep.”
“I didn’t knock.”
“Of course you did! Though I almost didn’t hear you with that awful din outside.”
“But I didn’t knock.”
“My pet, you are forgetful! You knocked with something hard. It must have been your head. Or perhaps that unattractive little pendant of yours.”
Suddenly remembering the Galator, I clutched it tightly. It was no longer glowing. Swiftly I replaced it under my tunic.
“I might have left you there, but I haven’t had any company for games in so long. Two centuries at least! Then, after I brought you in, I realized you must be the ones Rhita Gawr had wagered would not survive the day, if you should ever turn up here.” Her ancient eyes narrowed. “I only wish I had seen you before I agreed to the wager.”
Domnu started pacing around the rug, inspecting each of the chess pieces carefully. Although the wavering light made the whole room seem to vibrate, it struck me that each of the chess pieces trembled slightly as she approached. Then, when she passed in back of a gallant looking black stallion, the horse seemed to shift its hind leg ever so slightly. Instantly, Domnu whirled around.
“You wouldn’t be wanting to kick me, now, would you?” The black eyes flashed, as she ran her finger slowly down the horse’s mane. “No, your manners are better than that. Much better. You must be wanting a bit more weight on your back. Yes, I am certain that’s it.”
The barest whinny seemed to come from the stallion. Its carved muscles almost tensed.
Domnu bent over it and blew a long, gentle breath. Out of nowhere, a rough black stone, half the size of the horse itself, appeared on the middle of its back. While the stallion seemed to sag under the weight, it continued to hold its head high.
“There now,” declared Domnu. “That’s much better.”
She spun to face me. “Time for a little game of chess,” she said in a voice more threatening than inviting. “Before I return you to your, shall we say, friends waiting outside. You make the first move.”
33: THE WAGER
My heart pounded. I could not bring myself to step onto the rug with Domnu.
“Come, my pet. I don’t have all day.” She smirked, baring her uneven teeth. “Neither do you.”
“Don’t goes near her,” whispered Shim frantically.
“I am waiting,” growled Domnu.
Perspiration beaded on my brow. What was I to do? Maybe, if I humored her, I could still find some way to win her help. Yet no sooner had I formed this thought than I knew it was impossible. Domnu would never send us to the castle, for she believed that to do so would guarantee that we would lose our lives—and she her wager. And, I admitted grimly to myself, she was probably right.
Even so, dragging a whimpering Shim with me, I moved toward the edge of the rug. I had no idea what to do next, either about Domnu’s game or my own quest to help Rhia. I only knew that we had traveled too far, survived too much, to give up before trying every possibility.
When I reached the edge of the rug, Domnu pointed to the black horse weighed down by the stone. “Make your move,” she commanded.
“But—but,” I stammered, “I don’t know the rules.”
“That has not stopped you before, I’ll wager.”
Unsure of her meaning, I tried again. “Can you tell me the rules?”
“The way I play, you can make up your own rules. Until you break one of mine, that is.”
I faltered. “I don’t know how to begin.”
“In the game of chess, unlike the game of life, you get to choose how you begin.”
“But what if I choose poorly?”
“Ah,” she said, wrinkling her scalp. “In that way the two games are quite alike. One way or another, your choice will make all the difference.”
Drawing a deep breath, I stepped onto the rug of red and black squares. Hesitantly, I laid down my staff. Then, with effort, I lifted the black stallion and carried it all the way over to the other side of the rug. I placed it on a square directly in front of the red king.
“Hmmm,” observed Domnu. “You chose a very risky move, my pet.” She eyed me curiously. “Though no more risky than storming the Shrouded Castle without an army.”
She shoved the red king to a square where he could hide behind a pair of goblins. “You must have some sort of reason.”
“I do. It is—”
“A terrible shame you are so eager to die. Especially when you are just learning how to play the game. Normally, I would be quite happy to help you die sooner. But a wager is a wager.”
“What if I made you a wager myself?”
Domnu scratched her hairless head. “What kind of wager?”
“Well,” I replied, my mind racing, “If you can get me to the castle—”
“Us,” corrected Shim. Although his whole body was quaking, he let go of my leg and stood on his own beside me. “We goes together. I is still feeling the same old madness.”
I nodded at him, then turned back to Domnu. “If you can get us to the castle, then I will wager you that . . . that we will still survive this day. Even with Stangmar and all his goblins and ghouliants there to greet us. You could wager the opposite, that we won’t succeed.”
Domnu pulled thoughtfully on one of her ears. “Ah, so you are raising the stakes, are you?”
“That’s right.”
“And what happens if you don’t survive the day?”
“Well, then you would have lost one wager, against Rhita Gawr, but you will have won another, against me. So at the end of the day, you will be no worse off. Whereas if you don’t wager
me, you will finish the day merely having lost.”
She frowned. “Not a chance! What sort of a novice wagerer do you take me for, boy? I am giving you something of value by sending you to the castle. Whether or not you win, you get that much. And what do I get? Nothing.”
My face fell. “But I have nothing to give you.”
“Too bad.” Her head wrinkled. “Time for your next move.”
“Wait.” I pulled out the dagger from Honn. “You could take this.”
Domnu frowned again, waving it away. “A weapon? Why would I ever need that?”
“Then what about this?” I removed the satchel that Branwen had given to me. “These herbs are good for healing.”
Domnu hissed. “What use would I have for such a thing?”
As I picked up my staff, she declared, “I have no need of that, either.”
I knew well that my one truly valuable possession was the Galator. I suspected that Domnu knew it also. Yet . . . if I parted with that, my quest would be ruined.
“Here,” said Shim, starting to peel off his baggy shirt of woven bark. “You can keeps this. Made by my own mother, when I is a babesy.” He sighed. “A shame I never outgrows it.”
Domnu scowled. “Keep it yourself.” The black eyes probed me. “If you have nothing more to offer, then we have nothing more to discuss. Except, of course, the game of chess.”
My head was whirling. While I knew almost nothing about the Galator’s powers, they were clearly extraordinary. Vast beyond knowing, Cairpré had said. I could not possibly part with this, the last Treasure! It had already saved our lives once. It might well do so again. Besides, if Stangmar wanted it so badly, I might somehow be able to use it to bargain for Rhia’s life. Though I had no way of knowing if she was still alive, I could be sure that, without the Galator, I could never save her. Moreover, this jeweled pendant had been worn by my own mother. She had given it to me to keep, to protect. To give it away would also be to give away some of her love for me.
And yet . . . if I did not offer it to Domnu, she would never help me. And I could not possibly reach the castle without her help! So I, in turn, could not help Rhia. Then again, what good was it to reach the castle without the Galator?
“Your move.” She nudged me impatiently. “Make your move.”
“All right, I will.” Slowly, I removed the Galator from my neck. “You know this pendant, don’t you?”
Domnu yawned, showing all her unruly teeth. “I have seen it a few times over the ages, yes. What about it?”
“Then you also know its value.”
The hag remained dispassionate. “I have heard rumors.”
Shim tugged hard on my tunic. “Don’t do this! This is foolishly!”
Ignoring him, I declared, “I will wager you . . . with the Galator. If you can get us to the castle of Stangmar, I will . . .” I choked on the words. “I will give it to you.”
The black eyes swelled.
“No!” cried Shim. “We needs it!”
I took a step toward her. “But if either Shim or I should ever return to you alive, no matter how much time has passed, then you must give the Galator back.” Grasping the leather cord, I held up the pendant. Its jewels gleamed darkly in the shifting light. “Those are the terms of my wager.”
Domnu clucked, as if she were about to swallow something tasty. “And if you should ever return—which I doubt, my pet—you would trust me to give it back to you?”
“No!” protested Shim.
I regarded her sternly. “You said you never break the rules.”
“That is true.” Then she added in passing, “With minor exceptions here and there, of course.” All of a sudden her hand shot out and snatched the pendant. “You have a wager.”
My heart sank. The Galator was gone.
Domnu gazed briefly into the Galator, her eyes reflecting its green hue. She plunged it into one of the sagging pockets in her robe. Then she smiled the smile of someone who has just won a grand wager.
For my part, I felt sure that I had just given away my last, best hope. “You wanted that all the time,” I said bitterly.
“I suppose that is true, my pet.”
“Why didn’t you just take it from me, then? Why did you drag it out like this?”
Domnu looked offended. “Me? Take something that does not belong to me? Never!” She patted the pocket with the Galator. “Besides, the Galator must be given freely. Not stolen. Or else its powers are useless. Did no one ever tell you that?”
I shook my head.
“Too bad.” She released an extended yawn. “Definitely too bad.”
“Let’s get on with your part,” I said grimly. “How are you going to get us to the castle?”
“You wouldn’t mind a slight delay, would you?” she asked. “I am feeling quite tired at the moment.”
“Delay!”
“Yes.” She yawned again. “Just until tomorrow sometime.”
“No! You promised!”
“That’s dishonestly!”
She scrutinized us for a moment. “Well, all right. I suppose I can get you there today. But you should be ashamed for denying a poor old woman her much needed rest.” Her bald head wrinkled in thought. “The only question is how to do it.”
She patted the top of her head, her dark eyes roaming around the room. “Ah, that’s it. Wings. You will need wings. Perhaps even a pair you are accustomed to.”
My heart leaped, as I wondered whether she might be referring to the legendary wings that Cairpré had told me about. Was Domnu about to restore to me what all Fincayrans had lost long ago? I flexed my shoulders in anticipation.
Her feet slapped across the floor to the doorway. She opened the heavy door, reached into the darkness, and pulled out a compact iron cage. It contained a small, tattered hawk. A merlin.
“Trouble!”
I rushed at the cage. The bird flapped and whistled enthusiastically, ripping at the iron bars with his talons.
“Let him out,” I pleaded, my fingers stroking the warm feathers through the bars.
“Careful,” warned Domnu. “He is feisty, this one. A real fighter. Small in body, large in spirit. He could rip you to shreds if he chose.”
“Not me he won’t.”
She shrugged. “If you insist.”
She tapped the cage lightly and it instantly disappeared. Trouble found himself falling, but caught himself just before he hit the floor. With two flaps and a whistle, he landed on the top of my staff, before hopping down to my left shoulder. With his feathered neck, he nuzzled my ear. Then he turned to Domnu and raked the air angrily with his talons.
“How did you find him?” I asked.
She scratched the wart on her forehead. “He found me, though I have no idea how. He looked, well, rather feeble when he arrived. Like someone had tried to make him into mincemeat. How the little wretch could fly at all is a miracle. I fixed him up a bit, hoping I might be able to teach him to play dice. But the ungrateful savage refused to cooperate.”
At this, Trouble whistled sharply and clawed the air again.
“Yes, yes, I threw him in the cage against his will. But it was for his own good.”
Trouble whistled another reprimand.
“And for my own protection! When I told him I had no interest in finding his friend, he flew at me. Tried to attack me! I could have turned him into a worm right then and there, but I decided to keep him around in case his manners improved. At any rate, he should prove useful to us now.”
Puzzled, Trouble and I cocked our heads in unison.
“I should warn you,” Domnu continued, “that while I can get you to the castle, I cannot get you into the castle. That much you will have to do on your own. Not to mention getting out again.”
She peeked inside the pocket holding the Galator. “Since I will not be seeing you again, allow me to thank you for giving me this.”
I sighed, but the familiar weight on my shoulder tempered my sadness. I indicated the bird. “An
d thank you for giving me this.”
Domnu slid toward us. As Trouble eyed her warily, she placed her hands on both my head and Shim’s. With the same look of concentration she had shown when shrinking the chess pieces, she started muttering.
All at once, I felt myself growing smaller. Beyond Shim’s shriek, I heard Domnu calling some sort of instructions to Trouble. In a flash, the hawk was no longer riding on my shoulder. Instead, it was I who was riding on Trouble’s feathery shoulder, flying high above the Dark Hills.
34: FLIGHT
Flying through the darkness, I wrapped my arms tightly around Trouble’s neck. By the angle of the bird’s back, I could tell that we were steadily gaining altitude. In one hand I held my staff, now almost as small as myself. I wondered where Shim might be at this moment, hoping that he was at least safe.
Chilled air flowed over us, so strongly that my sightless eyes began to water, sending thin streams of tears across my cheeks and over my ears. Neck feathers quivered with every gust, brushing against my face and hands. Being no larger than Trouble’s own head, I realized that the hawk’s feathers were much more than the soft, fluffy plumage they had once seemed. Each quill combined the flexibility of a branch with the sturdiness of a bone.
Gradually, the motions of the body bearing me became my own. With every upstroke of the powerful wings, I inhaled. With every downstroke, I exhaled. I could feel Trouble’s shoulder and back muscles tense before each beat, then spring into action with startling strength.
As we flew, I listened with all my concentration to hear whatever I could in the blackness. I felt surprised to realize how little sound the beating wings themselves made. Only a quiet whooph of air accompanied every downstroke, the barest creak of shoulder bones every upstroke.
For the first time in my life, I tasted the freedom of flight. The surrounding darkness only enhanced my sensation of soaring without limits, without boundaries. Wind in my face, I caught at least a hint of the sublime experience that the people of Fincayra had once known, then lost—an experience that I recalled not in my mind, but in my bones.
The wind shifted, and I heard a faint whimpering coming from below the talons. I realized that Trouble was also carrying another passenger, just as on a different day the hawk might carry a field mouse. And I knew that Shim, now littler than little, must be just as distraught as a mouse about to be eaten.
