“It will remain sheathed unless danger presents,” assured Roel.
“You seem to be in some distress,” said Celeste, riding forward.
“My string, my wood,” wailed the hag, holding up the cord and gesturing at the scatter of sticks. “How can I cook my meals if I cannot gather wood? And how can I gather wood if I have no string to bind it?”
“Madam, let me help,” said Celeste, springing down from her steed.
“Cherie,” said Roel, an edge of warning in his voice.
But Celeste took the twine from the hands of the crone and quickly tied it, and then gathered the branches and woody twigs in a pile and swiftly bundled them. “Roel, would you please bear this into yon cote for the widowed goodwife?”
With the frail hag yet on her knees, Roel looked at Celeste and noted the keeper on her long-knife was loose, the weapon ready should there be a need. Sighing, he dismounted, and took up the sheaf and bore it into the cottage. Even as he passed through the door, the goody again glanced at the sun.
“By the mark of the day, I name you Verdandi, I name you Lady Lot, She Who Sees the Everlasting Now,” said Celeste.
A shimmer of light came over the hag, and of a sudden there stood a matronly woman with golden eyes and yellow hair, and there came to Celeste’s ears the sound of looms weaving.
“Clever, Celeste,” said Verdandi. “How did you know? I could just as well have been a witch.”
“When we first espied you the sun was just then entering the noontide, neither morning nor afternoon, but in the place between, the time of the Middle of the Three Sisters. And the moment you first glanced at the sun, I became suspicious, for my family somehow seems bound to you Three, and I knew I had to act.”
“Ah, no mystery, then?”
“I was not certain until you glanced at the sun a second time. And of course I now see you as you are and I hear the looms.”
Verdandi smiled and said, “Perhaps you see me as I truly am, but then again perhaps not. Regardless, I have come to aid you.”
“Say on, Lady Lot.”
“You must first answer a riddle, for that is a rule we Three live by.”
Celeste nodded and said, “Might we wait for Roel?”
“He will not be coming,” said Verdandi. “ ’Tis yours alone to answer, and to you alone will I give my rede.” Celeste sighed. “Ask the riddle, then.” The sound of looms increased, and Verdandi said:
“Without being fetched they come at night, Without being stolen they are lost by day, Without having wheels, yet they wheel, It is their name you must say.”
Celeste’s heart sank, and she despaired. Oh, no, I’ll never get- But then, without a moment of pondering, she blurted, “Stars, Lady Lot. Stars. They come at night without being fetched, and are lost by day, and they do wheel through the sky, and so ‘stars’ is the name I say.”
Verdandi laughed. “Princess, did you realize you just now made a rhyme of your own?”
Celeste frowned. “I did? Oh, I see: ‘lost by day’ and
‘the name I say.’ I did make a rhyme. -Oh, wait: I merely repeated the rhyming words in the riddle.” Verdandi glanced at the sun riding across the zenith and said, “Child, we must hurry, for I have a rede to speak and some advice to give you as well as a gift.” Unconsciously, Celeste’s hand strayed to her chest just above her left breast where a silver needle was threaded through her silk undershirt.
Verdandi nodded and said, “Yes, another gift, one to go with that given you by my elder sister, Skuld.”
“Elder? But she is youthful and-”
“Hush, child. Ask Camille; she will explain it.” Verdandi again glanced at the sun and once more the sound of looms swelled, and she said:
“Difficult tests will challenge you At places along the way;
You and your love must win them all, Else you will not save the day.
“Ask directions unto his tower
In the Changeling Lord’s domain; The answers given will be true,
Yet the givers must be slain.
“Until the sister is set free,
With runed blade wielded by hand Kill all those who therein do speak;
Question not; you’ll understand.”
Celeste’s eyes widened. “Kill all who speak?” Verdandi’s face fell grim. “You know I cannot answer, Celeste. Yet this I will tell you for nought: blunt half of your arrows, for you will need them. . both to kill and to not kill.”
“But Lady Lot, I do not understand,” said Celeste.
“Heed me, you will,” said Verdandi. Again she glanced at the sun, and the thud of batten and the clack of shuttle swelled, and Verdandi said, “Here, you will need these,” and she stretched out her hand, something gleaming held in her fingers.
Celeste reached forth, and Verdandi dropped the gift into her palm, and in that moment the trailing limb of the sun left the zenith, and the sound of weaving looms vanished, as did Lady Lot and the sod-roofed cottage as well.
“What th-?” Roel stood in the middle of the grassy clearing, his arms curled as if holding a bundle of branches, but he embraced only empty air.
Celeste frowned down at the gift she held: a pair of golden tweezers, their tips so rounded they would be hard-pressed to grasp anything.
20
Qualms
“Lady Lot? The crone was Lady Lot?”
“Oui, though she changed from a crone to a matron.”
Roel looked back at the place where the sod-roofed cottage had stood, where now was nought but the glade.
Sighing, he said, “First Lady Wyrd and now Lady Lot. I suppose next it will be Lady Doom.” He shook his head.
“My love, it is as you say: you and your family are somehow involved in the intrigues of the Three Sisters.”
“All mankind is caught up their weavings, though in my case-hence, yours as well, Roel-it seems they take a more direct hand.”
“And this was Verdandi,” said Roel, his words not a question.
“Oui,” said Celeste, “and she gave me these.” The princess handed over the golden tweezers.
Roel took the Fate-given gift and clicked together the smooth, rounded ends. Perplexity filled his eyes. “Skuld gave you a silver needle, and now Verdandi, golden pincers; whatever for? I wonder.” He handed them back to the princess.
“She gave me a rede as well, along with some advice.”
“Advice?”
“Oui. She told me to blunt half my arrows so as to kill and to not kill.”
“To kill and to not kill? What kind of advice is that?” Celeste shrugged. “I know not, cheri, yet I will follow it. Surely it will come clear.”
“And the rede. .?”
“Ah, that. It seems quite straightforward in places and totally horrifying in others.”
“Say it, love, and we will puzzle it out together.” Celeste smiled. “Just as we puzzled out the first rede, eh?”
Roel laughed. “Perhaps we can do better with this one.”
Celeste nodded and said, “Oh, unlike the first rede, I believe there is not much mystery as to just what we must do. Yet it is, as I say, quite horrifying.”
“Horrifying?”
“Oui. List:
“Difficult tests will challenge you At places along the way;
You and your love must win them all, Else you will not save the day.
“Ask directions unto his tower
In the Changeling Lord’s domain; The answers given will be true,
Yet the givers must be slain.
“Until the sister is set free,
With runed blade wielded by hand Kill all those who therein do speak; Question not; you’ll understand.” Roel’s eyes widened in shock. “Kill all who speak?”
“Oui. That’s what Lady Lot said.”
“And slay those who give us guidance?”
“Oui.”
Roel shook his head. “In war I left slaughter in my wake. I do not relish doing so again.”
“Nevertheless, it s
eems we must,” said Celeste.
“Nay, love, ’tis not we who must do so, but only I instead, for Lady Lot’s words say it must be done with a runed blade, and that means Coeur d’Acier.” Celeste turned up her hands and asked, “Then why did she tell me that I should blunt my arrows?”
“Did she not say ‘half your arrows’?”
“Half, all, still the question is why.” Roel shrugged.
They stood without speaking for a moment, and then Roel said, “At least the first stanza seems clear. We will face many tests along the way, and those we must overcome.”
“Roel, she said that we must win them all. We cannot lose even one. Else we will not save the day, and by that I think she means we will not save your sister and brothers.”
Roel touched the hilt of his sword and said, “With my blade and shield and spear and horse, I have bested many a challenger.”
“Oui, Roel, you have. Yet what if the test is not one of combat, but a test of another kind: riddles, games, puzzles, foot races, feats of strength, of skill, and the like?”
“Oh,” said Roel, illumination filling his face. “I see.” He shook his head in rue. “Ah, me. Ever the knight.
Ready with arms and armor, ready to enter the lists; yet these might be lists of another sort.” Celeste smiled. “Indeed, yet recall, in the rede Verdandi said ‘You and your love must win them all,’ which means the two of us together will have a chance to prevail.”
“Or each of us separately,” said Roel.
“There is that,” said Celeste, nodding.
“The second stanza in the rede seems clear as well,” said Roel. “We must ask directions to the Changeling Lord’s tower, and then slay those who respond.”
“But only in the Changeling Lord’s domain,” cautioned Celeste.
Roel frowned, “Why say you that?”
“Because, Roel, I think if we get guidance from someone outside his domain, then we do not have to slay that person. Hear me: does not the third stanza of the rede say ‘Kill all therein who speak’? And I deem that means all within the Changeling Lord’s domain, as is stated in the second stanza. I do not believe the rede intends for us to kill all who give guidance if they are not in that realm. I mean, if that were so, then we should have killed Florien, and I would have refused to do so.” Roel frowned and said, “It is not clear, Celeste, for the second stanza tells us to ‘Ask directions unto his tower in the Changeling Lord’s domain,’ and that might mean we need ask directions whether or not we are in his domain, and to slay those who answer. But on the other hand, it might also tell us to ask directions when we are in his domain, and only then to kill those who answer.” Celeste nodded and said, “As usual, the redes of the Three Sisters are ambiguous.”
Roel pondered for long moments and finally said, “I ween you are right, Celeste, for to interpret it as I did at first meant we would have had to slay Florien, for he certainly aided us.”
Celeste sighed and said, “Yet, Roel, we did not ask Florien for directions to the Changeling Lord’s tower, but only to the lord’s domain.”
Roel slammed a fist into a palm. “Ah, Mithras! Why cannot the Fates speak plainly?”
Celeste turned up a hand and grinned. “But then what would be the challenge in that?” Agape, Roel looked at her, and then he broke into laughter, his frustration evaporating. He stepped forward, took her in his embrace, and kissed her forehead-“I love you”-and eyes-“I love you”-
and nose and finally her lips. “Oh, yes, my cherie, I do love you dearly.”
They stood for a time holding one another and savoring the moment, but at last Celeste said, “Come, my handsome, let us find the arc of oaks.” As they mounted up, Roel said, “Mayhap one day I will get to meet one of the Three Sisters, and then I will ask why they do not speak clearly so that there is no question as to just what they mean.” Celeste laughed and said, “I think any answer you get will be a riddle itself.”
Smiling, a half point sunup of sunwise, they rode onward toward the twilight bound.
“Well, here is the marge,” said Roel, “but no arc of oaks.”
Celeste shrugged and said, “We’ve come a long way; hence it is no surprise to me that we might have veered a bit off course. In fact, I would have been shocked had we ridden straightaway to the very point of crossing.” Roel nodded and said, “As would I.”
Celeste raised her trump and said, “I have my horn; you have yours. I’ll ride this way; you that. Three sharp calls upon finding the arc. Oui?”
“Oui,” replied Roel. “Yet should you find foe instead and cannot slip away unseen, then sound repeated calls as you flee.”
“Ah, oui,” said Celeste, stringing her bow and nocking an arrow. “I assume you will do the same should you meet foe instead of charging in. Remember, cheri, I am rather good with this thing.”
Roel laughed and cocked his crossbow and set a quarrel in the groove, and then he turned his horse rightward and rode away along the twilight wall.
Turning to the left, Celeste rode sunupward, her tethered pack animal following.
She wended among trees of oak and evergreen, of maple and elm, and of other varieties, and the fragrance of cedar and yew and pine wafted on the breeze. She splashed across streams flowing into the twilight, and as usual she wondered where they went when they crossed the border, for it seemed they never continued past the bound, or if they did, it was at some other bound they emerged. It was as if Faery was once a whole world, with no twilight boundaries at all, and streams and oceans and lands were the same as in the mortal realm. But then the gods interfered and placed the shadowlight walls where they would, and when folk stepped across, they did not go unto the very next place, but were whisked somewhere else altogether, or so Celeste and her brothers and sister had always speculated. Borel as a child had once suggested that they put red dye in a stream flowing into a bound and see where it came out, but that would call for knowing where the stream would emerge, and if they knew that, then the mystery would have already been resolved. So, the question remained: without being aware of it, did one get instantly borne to another place when crossing a marge, or instead was there a wholly different realm lying directly beyond?
Celeste did not know. Ah, me, but these twilight bounds are truly Faery struck.
She was musing thus when from a distance there came three sharp clarion calls. Ah, my handsome knight has found the arc.
Celeste turned her steed about, the packhorse following, and sundownward she rode. A league or so in this direction she found Roel waiting within an arc of oak trees, and she wondered if the circle completed itself in some distant domain.
As Celeste rode to his side, “Should we tie a rope to me and let me cross over and see if the way is safe?” asked Roel.
“ ’Twould be best if I went,” said Celeste, “for I am lighter and you are stronger. Even so, I think the map would not show this as a crossing if it were unsafe.”
“Nevertheless. .?” said Roel.
In moments they had a line cinched about Celeste’s waist, a good length in Roel’s hand. Celeste then kissed Roel and said, “Let us give it a try,” and into the twilight they strode, Celeste with her bow strung, an arrow nocked, and a quiver at her hip.
Dimmer it got the farther they went until finally they could see nought, so utter was the dark. Celeste paused and said, “Wait here and pay out the line.” Roel found her face in the blackness and kissed her again, and then he stepped back and arranged the line and finally said, “Ready?”
“Ready,” she replied.
“Then go, cherie, but be careful.”
Now Celeste stepped cautiously forward, and Roel, from the coil lying on the ground behind and with the rope over one shoulder and ’round the opposite leg as if he were rappelling, slipped the line and gave her slack and then added slack as she moved away. More he fed and more, as into the ebon wall she stepped. And of a sudden, the rope jerked taut, yanking Roel from his feet and dragging him after.
&nbs
p; 21
Memorial
Benumbed with grief, Borel and Michelle, Alain and Camille, Liaze and Luc, and King Valeray and Queen Saissa all sat in a drawing room in Springwood Manor, waiting for the mark when the service would begin.
Hierophant Georges would preside, a tall and somber man. But for the nonce they sat alone, shielded from the sorrow of all others who had come-the retinues of the Winterwood, Autumnwood, and Summerwood, and that of the king-as well as from the heartache of the Springwood staff.
They sat for long moments without speaking, each wrapped in thoughts unshared.
Finally Camille said, “Alain and I think I might be with child.”
Even this news brought nought more than a slight glimmer of gladness to the gathering.
“When will you know?” asked the queen.
“By the next full moon, I should think,” replied Camille.
But then silence fell and the glumness had returned.
The king sat with his foot propped up and in a tight wrap from toes to knee. “Damned horse,” he said, peering at it.
“How?” asked Liaze.
“Eh?”
“How did you hurt your ankle?”
“He broke it, dear,” said Saissa.
“Not I,” said Valeray. “ ’Twas the horse that fell on me, not I on him.”
“Still, how?” asked Liaze, seeking anything to take her mind from the matter at hand.
“He was trying to jump a rock wall,” said Saissa.
“Well, that’s where the stag went,” said Valeray, huffing.
“Ah,” said Liaze.
There came a light tap on the door, and tall, spare, silver-haired Vidal stepped in. “They are ready,” he said quietly.
Alain sighed and stood, offering an arm to Camille.
And so they all stood, Valeray using crutches to aid him along the way.
Out to the lawn they went, out to an arbor. And gathered in the garden before the vine-laden latticework were all retinues and staff.
When the kindred were seated, and after a short opening prayer to Mithras by Hierophant Georges, Prince Borel, eldest of the siblings, took stance behind a small lectern. And even before he began to speak, a soft weeping filled the air.
Once upon a Spring morn ou-2 Page 16
