Curses and Warfare

by Jeri Baird

  The day before the Twelve Day Feast was meant for reflection. The market was empty, and only a few stragglers walked the streets. She clutched her cloak against the frigid breeze, hurried south on the market road, and then skipped over to the path that ran behind the Yapi alley toward the stable.

  She slowed when Melina Odella, with her patron wolf, Sheba, and an old woman Alexa had never seen, crossed the path ahead of her. They disappeared into a deserted, ramshackle hut. Drawn to follow, Alexa couldn’t help eavesdropping from a broken window in the back.

  “Your student has potential for great power,” said the old woman.

  “She’s impatient and unwilling to learn the basics,” scoffed Melina Odella.

  “Be careful or she’ll surpass your abilities and take your council position.”

  “I’ll never allow it.”

  “Take care that you don’t. She’s already . . . ”

  Sheba growled at the window, and Alexa fled, missing the rest of the conversation. She ducked between two huts and pulled her hood up around her face. Who was that woman and how did she know about her power?

  Shaking, she wound through the alley heading toward Elder Warrin’s estate. When she reached the road leading to the stables, Alexa pushed the overheard conversation from her mind. She’d come to convince Zander her magic could help unite the tribes. She rubbed the brooch he’d given her. The garnet warmed at her touch. He couldn’t have known when he gave it to her that the stone would increase the creativity of her embroidery.

  The stable door opened as she reached for it, and Zeph stepped out. Before he saw her, Alexa noticed the worry etched across his face. He was starting to look like Zander, but with a shock of red hair instead of black.

  “Alexa! What are you doing here?” His smile chased away the worry lines.

  “Happy birthday!” She hugged him. “How’s my second favorite warrior?”

  “Better than your favorite. Helios threw him again this morning.”

  Alexa groaned. Zander would be in a bad mood.

  Her twin appeared in the doorway and leaned against the door with a smirk. “He threw me, but thanks to Zeph, I set a new record before my butt hit the ground.”

  His mood was infectious, and Alexa and Zeph laughed with him.

  “Join us for our noon meal.” Zander stepped to the side and motioned her in.

  “We’re to fast today.” She said it out of habit, aware of the cake in her basket. “And to reflect upon the past year.” It had certainly been one to remember. Alexa had learned she had a twin, survived the quest, and become apprenticed to the fortune-teller.

  Zander rolled his eyes while Zeph tried to hide his smile. “Who’s to know? And we’ll be celebrating Zeph’s birthday tonight. I’m sure Mother’s been cooking all day for it.” He took the basket and sniffed. “Is that carrot cake?”

  They sat at a small oak table in a kitchen between Zander’s and Zeph’s bedrooms. Zander brought out cold rabbit, pickled beets, and slaw. After they finished, he sliced off three large pieces of cake.

  As they finished the treat, Alexa glanced from Zander to Zeph. She sensed they shared a secret. Only six weeks ago, she’d been Zeph’s best friend. Now Zander had taken her place. She pushed down the pang of jealousy that prickled her chest. Zeph lived with Zander. It was right that they’d grown close.

  Both sweets-lovers, Zander and Zeph scraped the crumbs from their plates. Alexa hated to break the good mood, but she didn’t know when she’d next be alone with Zander. She brought her bag from the corner where she’d dropped it.

  “We need to talk.” When Zeph stood to leave, she said, “Stay? Maybe you’ll help my argument.”

  Zander groaned. “What argument will we be having today?”

  She couldn’t help but grin. “I can help unite the tribes.” She pulled out the silk ribbons Mother gave her for her birthday. “Tshilaba said these have special power.”

  “No, not your magic stitching.” Zander rubbed his thigh. “That didn’t work so well in the quest.”

  “I’ve learned to cast spells as I stitch.” She laid a cloth with doves circling the church on the table. “In the quest, I was trying to thwart Moira. There’s no reason it shouldn’t work now.”

  Zeph leaned forward and peered at the moving picture. “You stitch magic scenes?”

  She nodded. “Puck says we have to unite the tribes to save the village. If I stitch it, it will happen.”

  “Or you could make it worse.” Zander crossed his arms over his chest and tipped his chair back. “You don’t know what will happen.”

  “I can control it, I know I can.”

  “Control? Since when does Moira give control of anything to anybody?”

  Shock ran through Alexa like bolts of lightning. “You don’t believe Moira gives us choices? You had a choice after the quest. You chose to be a warrior.”

  A ragged laugh escaped him. “Moira is tricky like that. Making you think you’re choosing when she’s manipulated you into what she wants. How could I not have chosen warrior?”

  In his quiet manner, Zeph said, “She always gets her way.”

  Zander’s chair legs hit the floor. “Does she speak to you, too?”

  Zeph turned red. “In my dreams.”

  “Great stars! You and Zander both?” Tradition held that Moira spoke through the fortune-teller holding the council seat. Each villager heard from her once at the end of the quest when she gave them their apprenticeship. Now, she spoke to Zander and to Zeph. And to Alexa. “She speaks to me through magic.” She pleaded with Zander, “I have my favor for a reason. We have to use everything we can to win this war.”

  “I think she’s right,” Zeph said. “I have my role and you have yours. Let Alexa use her magic.”

  When pain twisted Zander’s face, a shiver ran down Alexa’s spine. What was Zeph’s role that made Zander look like he had sucked on a lemon?

  Zander slumped back in his chair. “Can you make my men better fighters?”

  Yes! She’d win him over one embroidery at a time. “I think I can. I’ll work on it over the feast days.”

  3

  Later that afternoon, Alexa laid aside her embroidery and brewed a cup of chamomile tea with honey. She sat cross-legged in her favorite stuffed chair under the shuttered window in her bedroom. The muscles in her shoulders relaxed as she sipped her tea. Scattered across the floor, were the results of her stitching. She regarded a scene of ten archers with bows drawn. It wasn’t pretty, but then, it didn’t need to be. It just had to hold her spell.

  She set down her cup and stitched each arrow with the silk from Tshilaba. She spoke in a clear voice, “Arrows fly true, hit the target, don’t skew.” The spell wound through each ribbon and settled invisibly onto the scene. With a fine gold thread, she stitched a line from the tip of the arrow to the center of the target. As she made the final stitch, she whispered, “As it will be done.”

  On the next cloth she quickly stitched men with swords without regard to how it looked. It only needed to carry the spell. As she needled the swords, she cast, “Sharp sword, struck deep, blood poured.” She frowned. That didn’t sound right for practice. She didn’t want the men killing each other. She’d save that spell for the war.

  Last, she cut a cloth and stitched ten men fighting hand-to-hand with knives. She sat for several minutes searching for the right words. When the spell didn’t come, she set the cloth aside.

  Then, she thought of another and grinned. She stitched a regal black horse and upon his back, Zander. She spelled, Ride the horse, cannot fall, stay the course, all for all. Her words weren’t that great, but it was the intention that made them work. Zander would see the value of her magic when she was the reason Helios allowed him to ride.

  As she stitched the final thread, a knock at her door startled her. She shoved the cloths under her coverlet a
nd opened the door. “Father?” The heavy smell of mead nearly gagged her.

  “Zander will be here soon with the tag-a-long. Your mother needs your help.”

  Zeph. “Don’t call him that.” She’d hated it when Melina Odella said it to her.

  “That’s what he is, that’s what I’ll call him.”

  She followed Father down the steps as he stumbled and grabbed at the walls to stay upright. For all the times she’d wished for a father, Alexa had never imagined he’d be a drunk.

  Chapter SIXTEEN

  New Year's Eve

  Zander

  Zander walked with Shadow to the bakery. If it wasn’t for Zeph’s birthday celebration, he would have stayed at the stable. Zeph hadn’t said another word about Puck’s message, but Zander could tell the boy was thinking on it. Alexa’s noon visit had been a nice diversion, even if she was determined to get her way in using her magic.

  He smelled the bakery before he saw it. The competing aromas of yeast bread and honey-sweetened fruit pies wound their way down the street, found his nose, and made his stomach grumble. The church decreed this to be a day of fasting, but Mother had to bake days ahead to keep up with the demand for the Twelve Day Feast. No one would notice if she happened to stuff a little rabbit meat into a pie.

  He reached the bakery and took a deep breath before he opened the side door. It would be all he could do to keep his calm with Father’s drunken tirades. Just before he stepped in, Zeph ran up behind him.

  “I smelled bread all the way from the tavern.” Zeph’s eyes sparkled, and he opened his hand. Three bronze coins nestled in his palm. “Mother gave them to me. I’ve never had more than one coin at a time.” He stuffed them in a leather bag tied at his waist. “I’ll keep them with the tokens I earn.”

  Zander laughed at Zeph’s enthusiasm. “Good thing you don’t earn omens until tomorrow. I have a feeling you’re going to overeat tonight.”

  “I hope so.” Zeph nodded so hard his curls bounced against his shoulders.

  They entered the kitchen together and stopped short. Zander had never seen so many baked goods. Trays of cinnamon rolls and sweet biscuits lined the counters. Pies cooled on the rack. Too many kinds of bread to count filled the ceiling-high shelves. The highlight of Mother’s baking—the cakes—sat like masterpieces on every other available surface.

  Shadow’s nose quivered upward at the smells. Zander herded him from the kitchen. The coyote was generally well-behaved, but the temptation might prove hard to resist.

  He entered the dining area and found himself face-to-face with Father. An odor of a different sort assaulted Zander. The alcohol he expected, but did the man never bathe? Zander turned his head and took a step back.

  Father grumbled, “Your mother baked all day. I hope you appreciate it.”

  When he could breathe again, Zander gaped at the table. Meat pies, roasted potatoes and carrots, dried apples with walnuts, and steaming pumpkin soup surrounded a three-layer cake on the round table. At the side table, a modest pile of gifts waited for Zeph.

  Beside Zander, Zeph stood transfixed. “This is for me?” he blurted.

  Zander’s chest grew tight. Zeph was a boy who’d had nothing. He was finding a family with him and Alexa, and now, because of Puck’s damnable interference, the boy had taken on one of the most dangerous roles in war. It was one more point, driven like a thorn into Zander’s heart, that life was not fair.

  During dinner, Zander kept his head down and ate. He felt sorry for Alexa having to live with Father’s drunkenness. Zander could spend a few hours tolerating it and leave.

  When Father compared the warriors to the worthless Protectors, Alexa glanced at Zander as if expecting a reaction. He shrugged. What was the point? He’d wasted too many hours trying to convince Father the warriors would be needed. Mother winced each time Father banged his fist on the table. Only Zeph seemed unperturbed, eating two wedges of meat pie along with everything else, and thanking Mother each time she passed a bowl.

  Stars! How could the boy stay so calm? Puck had asked him to become an assassin, and he hadn’t even taken time to think it over. He just agreed in that quiet way of his and went on with life as if nothing had changed.

  At last, Father retired to his chair next to the fire, and soon snores rumbled from the room. Zander’s shoulders relaxed for the first time since the meal began. The table was cleared and the gifts transferred to sit in front of Zeph, who couldn’t stop grinning.

  The first he opened came from Alexa. An embroidery of Helios prancing around an apple tree while sparrows flitted around the branches left Zeph mesmerized. He shook his head. “It’s beautiful.” He leaned over and gave Alexa a hug.

  Mother gave him a small basket filled with dried fruit and nuts saying, “Growing boys can never have enough food.” Another package from her held a carved wooden slingshot. At his quizzical stare, she blushed. “I know you’re learning real weapons now, but every boy needs a slingshot for fun.”

  Zeph tucked it in a side pocket and reached for a folded paper. He read it slowly and looked up at Zander, eyes gleaming.

  Always impatient, his sister asked, “What is it?”

  “An hour a day alone with Helios!”

  Alexa turned to Zander, and he knew the question before she asked it.

  “Is that wise? Shouldn’t you break him first?” She leaned in and whispered, “I stitched a scene to help you.”

  To help him? Not the men? “I don’t know, Alexa.”

  “You want to ride Helios, don’t you?”

  He leaned his head back and cracked his neck. Tempting. “Tomorrow? The stables will be deserted.”

  Her smile almost chased away his doubt.

  He looked back at Zeph. “Maybe after Zeph spends time with Helios, that horse will be calm enough to try.”

  At Zeph’s shy smile, Zander said, “Open your last gift.”

  Mother sat forward, intent, as Zeph picked up the gift. Soft and bulky, a piece of yellow cloth wrapped it. When he untied the hemp twine, Zeph gasped. He tried to speak and couldn’t.

  A new set of quester’s clothes sat folded in front of Zeph—soft hemp pants dyed green from the roots of sorrel, a yellow undershirt, and a brown tunic with a braided belt. Zander had seen the set Zeph had in his bedroom. They’d been used countless times and were threadbare and faded. He glanced at Mother’s shining face. Gratitude filled Zander for her kindness. Zeph could go to the Welcoming Ceremony and not feel like a kid from the shacks.

  3

  Zander watched Mother punch down the yeast bread she’d bake later that night for tomorrow’s Welcoming Ceremony. Shadow stood alert at the open kitchen door, sniffing at the nighttime smells.

  Zeph stood next to the cage holding Mother’s patron, peering at the yellow canary. Zander laughed as Zeph tried to whistle. It came out as a whoosh.

  “I never did learn to whistle.” Zeph stuck his hand in the cage and the bird hopped onto his finger. “I wonder what patron Moira will give me?”

  “Probably something big and bad,” Zander teased. “You’ll know soon enough. I got Shadow on New Year’s Eve day. That’d be a great birthday gift for you.”

  “She’d better hurry.” Zeph’s eyes shone. “I hope it’s a coyote like Shadow.” Gently, Zeph put the canary back in her cage. She tucked her head under her wing and went back to the sleep he’d interrupted.

  A movement caught Zander’s attention. Alexa stood inside the door. A shadow crossed her face as she stared at the cage. She’d given up her patron after the quest to save Shadow, and Zander could never repay her for that sacrifice. She crossed the room and tucked a cloth in his hand. When he unfolded it, he saw a stitching of himself on Helios’s back. This was going to help him ride?

  “Carry this when you ride. He won’t buck you off.”

  He folded the cloth and placed it in his jacket poc
ket. “Thanks. Time for me to get back to the stables.”

  Mother covered the last bowl of dough. “Won’t you stay the night?”

  Zander glanced at Zeph’s cocked head and hope-filled eyes. Stars knew Zeph could use some mothering.

  “I promised Fulk I’d stay at the stables with the horses.” He hid his smile at Zeph’s crestfallen face. “But there’s no reason Zeph can’t stay.”

  When Zeph looked uncertain, Mother put her hand on his shoulder. “Yes, stay, Zeph. We’ll have sausages and sugar biscuits for breakfast.”

  “Sugar biscuits?” Zeph turned to Alexa. “Like the ones you brought to the shacks last spring?”

  “Even better. They’ll be hot from the oven.” Alexa’s eyes sparkled. “Then we’ll go to the stables and watch Zander ride Helios before the Welcoming Ceremony.”

  His sister was as single-minded as she was stubborn. “Only if you bring me some of those biscuits.” He snapped his fingers at Shadow. “Come, boy.”

  After leaving, Zander sauntered through the deserted market and behind the quiet row houses. The crisp winter air and nearly full moon cleared Zander’s head. He didn’t remember the last time he’d been out alone at night. He wound past the bare fields until he picked up the north path.

  Within sight of the stables, Shadow’s ears pricked forward. The hair on his back bristled.

  “What is it, boy?” Zander peered through the dark. As they drew closer, Shadow growled low in his throat. Zander stopped and held out his hand, palm down, the signal for quiet.

  Together, they crept forward. Suddenly, the stable doors flew open and Helios charged out. “Hoy!” Zander yelled.

  Alerted to a noise behind him, Zander turned in time to see a wooden practice blade swing toward him. It caught him on the side of the head, and he hit the ground.

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  Zander

  Zander woke, face down on the ground, confused, with a mouthful of dirt. His thigh ached and his head throbbed.