Feeling more prepared to face her task than she had at any point since her meeting with the Queen, Cara followed M’Gama to where the unicorns were waiting.
“What a transformation!” said Belle appreciatively. “You look much more suited for a fight.”
“Much more suited to travel and explore,” corrected Finder, earning himself a scowl from Belle.
Moonheart stepped forward. “On behalf of the Queen, I thank you for your help, M’Gama. I will report it to her when we return.”
“Assuming we do return,” said Finder, in a voice solemn enough that Cara knew he wasn’t joking.
Moonheart was clearly eager to be moving, a feeling that matched Cara’s perfectly, so the good-byes were quick. Yet despite her eagerness to be on the road, when Cara turned to leave she suddenly realized how good it had been to be inside a house, even one as odd as M’Gama’s, even if for only a day. Breaking from the group, she ran back to the Geomancer and threw her arms about her waist. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”
“You are welcome, child,” whispered M’Gama, stroking the top of her head. “For your sake, if not for the sake of the Wanderer, I wish you success on your journey.” She hesitated for a moment, then slipped her hand into her pocket. “I want you to take this,” she said, holding out a ring made of green stone that had been polished until it was smooth as glass.
“I can’t — ”
“Take it!” said M’Gama fiercely. “And may you travel in safety.”
“Thank you,” said Cara softly. She turned to Flensa, who was standing slightly behind M’Gama. Her ugly little face was set in a deep scowl, and she was clutching her spear as if ready to use it. “My thanks to you, too,” Cara said softly.
Flensa nodded but said nothing. Cara rejoined the unicorns, and they started west, away from M’Gama’s home, and toward the River Silver.
They had not been traveling for more than an hour when Belle suddenly broke away from the group and trotted back the way they had come.
“Where’s she going?” asked Cara.
“Hard to say,” replied Finder, who was walking beside her. “Belle is not one to talk. Mostly she just does. But she’ll be back.”
And indeed, in less than ten minutes she returned and said softly, “Someone is following us again.”
Moonheart looked concerned. “Do you have any idea who it is?”
Belle shook her head, causing her mane to flow like foamy water over her graceful neck. “The signs are very subtle. Whoever it is knows how to be careful.”
“We’ll have to do the same,” said Moonheart.
And with that they started moving again, faster than before.
“I don’t like this,” said Cara nervously.
“Fear not, fair lady,” said Thomas. He took out one of his watches, wound it, then returned it to a different pocket. “We travel with the best the Queen has to offer.” He took out another watch and began to fiddle with it, trying to look casual. Even so, he sounded slightly nervous himself.
* * *
The path they followed was so faint that Cara could scarcely detect it. The unicorns claimed that the signs were clear. Even so, Cara noticed that Moonheart let Finder take the lead for most of this stage of the journey.
When they camped on the first night, Cara searched until she found a smooth stick, thick as her thumb and about a foot long. Then she carved a notch at one end.
“What’s that for?” asked Thomas, who had been watching her.
“It’s a calendar,” she replied. She ran her thumb over the notch. “We have thirty days left.”
She tucked the stick into her pack.
* * *
Late in the afternoon of the third day Cara noticed a bell-like sound somewhere ahead of them. “Do you hear that?” she asked Thomas.
The Tinker set down the handles of his cart and furrowed his brow, seeming to concentrate fiercely. Suddenly a broad smile creased his face. “I do!”
“Well, what is it?”
“Either a very strange bird, or Armando.”
“Wonderful,” muttered Moonheart. “Armando. Exactly what we need!” With a snort of disgust, he trotted to the front of the group.
“Who’s Armando?” asked Cara, after Moonheart was gone.
Thomas raised one eyebrow. “Patience, my child. When it comes to a surprise, anticipation is half the fun!”
Cara made a little growl, but said nothing more. They were walking through a sun-dappled stretch of forest, still following the faint path Finder had said was the best route to the River Silver. The air was clean and sweet. The first hints of autumn were tinting the leaves with blue and silver. The occasional song of a bird — a real bird, not the strange sound she had heard earlier — drifted through the forest. When it did, Thomas would name the bird for her and tell her what Earth bird it was most like, or what made it unique to Luster.
Despite her urgent desire to reach her grandmother, she was enjoying the journey — partly because they were making good time, which eased her nervousness. But now she found that in addition to the nagging fear that was always present at the back of her mind, she was subject to a gnawing curiosity — a curiosity that continued to grow as they traveled since the sounds ahead were becoming louder and more interesting. Cara heard bursts of music, occasional laughter, shouts of delight, and — once — a cry of pain.
At last they topped a small rise and, looking down into the clearing before them, Cara saw the source of the mysterious sounds.
8
The Queen’s Players
Standing in the center of the clearing was a short, chubby man dressed in outlandish clothing. “Welcome, friends!” he cried. “The Queen’s Players salute you!”
Then he tumbled forward and stood on his head.
At the far side of the clearing were three gaily colored wagons, much like Thomas’s. Clustered between the wagons and the man standing on his head were nearly two dozen oddly assorted people.
Cara, startled by the size of the group, thought, That’s more humans than I’ve seen since I entered Luster.
The people were wearing bright, fanciful outfits, most of them ornamented with bows, ribbons, and plumes. Some of the men were clad in tight-fitting unitards, checkered with large black and yellow diamonds. Others wore flared pants and silky white shirts. One of the women was made up to look like a cat.
Without warning, one of the men in black tights came running toward the headstander, did two handsprings, then vaulted over the chubby man’s skyward-pointing feet.
“Well done!” cried Thomas, applauding. “Oh, well done!” At the same time, the Squijum scurried over to the upside-down man, leaped onto his belly, and began digging into his pockets.
“Wait, wait, wait!” giggled the man, tumbling back to the ground, where he lay shaking with laughter.
“Hotcha gotcha!” cried the Squijum, pulling a morsel of something from the man’s pocket. “Hotcha gotcha, Armando!”
“Stand up, old friend,” said Thomas. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
The little man scrambled to his feet, brushed himself off, and did his best to look dignified — not easy with the grin that kept twitching at the corners of his mouth and the merry look that sparkled in his eyes. His efforts were not aided by the Squijum, who was sitting on his neck and tickling his ear with one paw.
“All right, Thomas,” said the man. “Introduce your companion. The arrival of another two-legs in Luster is always interesting news.”
At a gesture from Thomas, Cara stepped forward. In a formal voice, the Tinker said, “Cara Diana Hunter, allow me to present you to Armando de la Quintano, head of the Queen’s Players.”
The little man looked momentarily startled when he heard her name but quickly got his face under control. “Delighted to meet you!” he cried, sweeping forward in a bow that tumbled the Squijum onto the ground before him. Ignoring the creature’s indignant squawks, Armando asked, “A
nd what brings you on this rather remote path?”
Moonheart came to stand beside Cara. “We travel on a mission from the Queen,” he said.
“What a coincidence!” cried Armando. “So do we!”
“Ours is considerably more urgent,” replied Moonheart sourly. “Which means we have little time for foolery.”
“More’s the pity, for we are little more than fools. Even so, if we are going in the same direction, perhaps we can travel together for a bit.” Reaching above him, Armando plucked a purple flower from the seemingly empty air. With a bow, he handed it to Cara.
Blushing slightly, she tucked it behind her ear.
“We are heading for the River Silver,” said Moonheart.
“Good gracious!” cried Armando. “So are we!”
This news was so exciting that three of the people behind him stood on their heads, and five others turned somersaults.
“Pack up!” bellowed Armando. “Moonheart and his friends are in a hurry, and we cannot delay them.”
Moonheart’s handsome face was twisted by a scowl. Finder moved close to him and spoke gently, words that Cara could not hear. Moonheart nodded and seemed to relax a little. Belle stood aloof from the Players. Finder, on the other hand, plunged in among them as soon as he left Moonheart’s side. From the sounds of their greetings to the big gentle unicorn he was both well known and well loved.
Soon enough they were traveling again, though nowhere near as silently as usual. That was all right with Cara. She didn’t mind the extra noise as long as the Players didn’t slow them down.
She found herself walking between two of the black-clad men. After a few minutes they glanced at each other over her head, nodded, then shouted, “Hup!” Before she could say a word of protest, they had hoisted her onto their shoulders, where they carried her for the next fifteen minutes.
The Players sang as they traveled, sometimes the whole company belting out a marching song that made Cara’s feet want to move at a faster pace, other times a single voice offering a song. Some of these solos were so sad that Cara’s eyes brimmed with tears, making Luster go blurry around her. Others were so funny that she found herself laughing out loud.
The sound of her own laugh startled her at first. When she tried to figure out why, she realized it was because she had not laughed since that heartbreaking meeting with her father in Firethroat’s cave. She felt a little guilty about the laugh, wondered if it was all right for her to do so when she still carried such sorrow. But the bumptious humor of the songs was proof against such reasoning, and forced her to laugh again and again, whether she wanted to or not.
By the time they stopped to make camp Cara had had a chance to meet several members of the troupe. They were the oddest assortment she had ever come across: people who had come to Luster from all corners of Earth, and from a variety of times. Yet for all their differences, they had a number of things in common — including a deep love of what they did and an obvious joy in the world around them.
From one of them, a petite woman named Li Yun, Cara learned more of how the Players operated.
“The Queen herself has charged us to wander Luster, fooling, tumbling, and singing for both humans and unicorns,” the woman told her. “We put on plays and shows of all sorts, everything from dramas, where we act out important stories from the Unicorn Chronicles, to evenings that consist of nothing but singing, juggling, and general foolery.”
“What do you do?” asked Cara.
Li Yun smiled. “I am an acrobat,” she said — then did a series of flips to prove it.
Later, Cara walked beside an older man named Jacques, who had sunken eyes and a deeply seamed face. Despite his melancholy look, he told her a non-stop stream of jokes that sometimes had her doubled over with laughter. He always seemed surprised when she laughed, and never displayed the least hint of smile himself. The more solemn he remained, the funnier his jokes seemed.
* * *
The second night, the Players put on a show for Cara, Thomas, and the unicorns. Cara sat enthralled as the Players juggled flaming torches, hurled themselves about the clearing like living cannonballs, and clowned with such hilarious abandon that even Moonheart could be heard to laugh on occasion — usually nothing but a low nicker, though once he startled everyone with a loud bray of amusement.
One of the wagons had a side that folded down to make a theater for puppetry. They used this for a comic story about a bandit and a unicorn, and again later for a strange and unexpectedly moving piece about a rock and a river arguing over whether it was better to roam the world or stay in one place.
To close the show, the old man called Jacques stood alone in front of a fading campfire and sang a haunting song that pierced Cara’s heart. She recognized the melody at once; she had recently heard bits of it from M’Gama and Thomas. But it was the words of the chorus that made her shiver.
My heart seeks the hearth,
My feet seek the road.
A soul so divided
Is a terrible load.
She had heard them before — not here in Luster, but back on Earth, and always late at night. They had been sung by her grandmother when she’d thought Cara was sleeping. Now Cara was a wanderer, too — wandering in search of her grandmother. And what else? she asked herself.
Answers, she decided. I want answers.
And deeper in her heart, in a place so sore she was not willing to look at it, a voice whispered, I want to know who loves me.
She felt a tear trickling down her cheek and lifted her hand to wipe it away.
To her astonishment, the ring M’Gama had given her was glowing. Forgetting her sorrow, she stared at it. But even as she watched, the glow faded, and the ring went dark again.
* * *
Shortly after noon of the next day they reached the River Silver, a broad strip of water that did indeed look like a band of silver in the bright sunshine. Cara stared at it in wonder, realizing she had never seen a river this clear back on Earth.
Here the Players and the unicorns had to part company. Before they made their final farewells, Cara sought out Jacques and said, “Would you sing that song for me again — the one you sang last night.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. ‘The Song of the Wanderer’ is for — ”
“Is that the name of the song?” interrupted Cara eagerly.
Jacques looked surprised. “Of course. Didn’t I mention that when I sang it? No, maybe I didn’t. Everyone in the troupe knows it so well, it didn’t even occur to me to say what it was. Anyway, it’s not a song I sing very often. Reminds me too much of the one I learned it from. I don’t know why I sang it for you. Maybe because you’re on a journey yourself it seemed appropriate somehow.”
“Who taught it to you?” asked Cara.
The lines that etched Jacques’ face seemed to grow even deeper. “I learned it from the Wanderer herself. Her name was Ivy Morris.”
Moving close, looking into his dark eyes, Cara whispered, “Ivy Morris is my grandmother.”
Jacques stared at Cara in astonishment. Then, narrowing his eyes, he said softly, “Yes. Yes, I can see it! Wait here a moment. I’ll be right back.”
He hurried to Armando and whispered in his ear. The ringmaster’s usually merry face darkened to a scowl. Jacques whispered again, his face urgent. Finally Armando’s shoulders slumped, and he spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. Then he stepped forward and embraced Jacques tightly.
When Jacques finally disentangled himself from Armando, he went to Moonheart. At the old clown’s first words, the unicorn shook his head from side to side. Jacques continued to speak, the urgency of his words showing in his face. Soon Finder joined them; after a minute or so the big unicorn began to speak himself, addressing his words to Moonheart.
Finally Moonheart nodded his agreement. But he didn’t look happy.
Jacques, on the other hand, was ecstatic. With an unusual smile creasing his lined face,
he hurried to Cara and said happily, “I’m coming with you!”
“Why? I mean . . . I’m sorry. I don’t mean to —” She felt herself blush at the rudeness of her question
Jacques lifted a hand to silence her. Then he knelt, took both her hands in his, and looked directly into her eyes. “I’m coming because I want to help you on your journey.”
“But why?” asked Cara again.
His gaze grew more intense. “I have many reasons. But one among them should be enough.”
“What is it?” she asked, starting to feel nervous.
Though the old man was still smiling, Cara could see tears welling up in his eyes. Squeezing her hands, he said softly, “I want to come along because I’m your grandfather.”
9
Fight in the Forest
Cara blinked and stepped backward, too startled to reply at first. When she did catch her breath, she said, “What are you talking about?”
Jacques rose to his feet, a hurt look in his eyes. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
Cara didn’t know what to say. A thousand questions were tumbling through her head, each clamoring to be answered. Was it possible this was true? If not, why would Jacques tell such a story? But if it was, why had her grandmother never mentioned this man? Cara realized, with shock and a little sadness, how little she really knew of her grandmother’s past life. She felt a twinge of guilt for not having taken the time to ask more about it.
Jacques was still looking at her. In her confusion, she blurted, “But I’ve never even heard of you!”
The sorrow in his eyes made her wish she could take back the words. After a moment, he said softly, “The wedding of the Wanderer to Jacques the Tumbler is recorded in the Chronicles.” He paused again, then added, “Do you know about the Unicorn Chronicles?”
Cara nodded. “I’ve been to Grimwold’s cavern. But I thought he only kept track of stories.”
“Our wedding was a story,” replied Jacques, somewhat ruefully. “A day of celebration and catastrophe. However, even if that were not true, it would have been recorded in Grimwold’s cave, for he keeps lists of marriages, births, and deaths for all the humans in Luster.”
Song of the Wanderer Page 6
