The Still

by David Feintuch

  I swallowed. In our concern for Elryc, I’d almost forgotten.

  “When you pry him from Margenthar’s grip, I will raise him, to finish the work your mother set me. If you are King, then here at the castle. Else, in my cottage.”

  “Hester, you’re getting on in years ...”

  “Your word, prince. Or I’ll stay to find Pytor, and let Elryc look after himself.”

  Protecting Elryc was my immediate task; I’d deal later with the complication of Pytor. I nodded. “My word.”

  “Then go about your business, you two. I’ll demand my wages, tell the Duke I’m done with the House of Caledon. We’ll leave on the morrow.”

  My lips were dry. “What of Elryc, tonight?”

  “I’ll see to him.”

  I protested, but she gave no ground. Eventually, tiring of my urging, she shooed us from the room, slammed the door in our faces.

  We walked slowly down the stairs. I asked, “Can she—”

  “Not another word about your imp-ridden housegirl!”

  I gaped, but, finally understanding, kept shut until we’d reached my chamber. No guards were posted; at least I’d been spared that humiliation. Inside, I barred the door. I led him to my oaken wardrobe, stepped inside, slid shut the curtain. We’d be hot, but if we whispered, safe.

  He asked, “Can Hester accomplish all that? Is her mind well?”

  I shrugged; realized he couldn’t see me in the dark. “I’m not sure. What choice have we?”

  “How will we get you out of Stryx?”

  I wiped my damp forehead. “I’m not sure. We’ll figure a way.”

  “And what when you return?”

  Abruptly my voice was unsteady. “I face Uncle Mar.” He asked all the wrong questions.

  Fingers felt for my shoulder, squeezed. “Have courage, my liege.”

  I knocked away his hand. “I’ll be all right.” From somewhere, a scent of cinnamon mixed with the acrid aroma of my fear. “It’s an oven in here.” I threw open the curtain, climbed out into the welcome air. Curiously, I flicked a row of cloaks. “What was that spice? Did someone put a sachet in my clothes?”

  Rustin blushed. “Chela gave me scented soap from the market. Is it too strong?”

  “No.” Just unmanly. I took some comfort in that. Rustin was older, bigger, stronger; if it weren’t for his flaws I’d loathe him.

  After the wardrobe, even my room had seemed cool, but the heat of the day rapidly asserted itself. Eventually we settled on the floor, cross-legged, and played listlessly at dice.

  It was two hours before a knock came, during which I’d managed to lose three silver pence to my supposed friend.

  Uncle Mar, with an armed henchman. “Fostrow, retire to the bench by the stairs; I’ll speak with my nephew alone.”

  “Aye, sire.” The guard gave Rustin a dubious eye, departed.

  Rust came to his feet, with courtesy. “Shall I leave you, my lord?”

  “No need.” Mar sauntered into my room, glanced about, wrinkled his nose, but said nothing. He toyed with my slate, plucked it from its hook near the window.

  I composed myself, waited.

  “This matter of Elryc.” His glance flickered to mine, back to the slate. “If he’s been taken by some foe, my proclamation will neutralize his value to them. If he’s hiding for some boyish motive beyond our ken, this will flush him out.”

  “By branding him traitor, you risk his life.”

  “My prince, consider whether in fact he is not precisely such.” He set down the slate. “You are firstborn, therefore heir. Think how that makes him feel. But for the fluke of birth, he would enjoy the fruits of office, the riches, the honors, the majesty that will be yours.”

  I shivered. Of whom was he speaking? Elryc ... or himself?

  “Remember what you said yourself. Elryc’s a calculating little soul, isn’t he? He may have left the castle entirely, to make union with an enemy, that they might secure your throne.”

  “Uncle, you could put a stop to that, by having me crowned.”

  “Which will be done. Didn’t I give you my word?” No, he had not, but he left me no time to answer. “Think you that a coronation guarantees a kingdom? The crown is more than that bauble that sits in the vault. A diadem won’t maintain a state.”

  “If it’s so worthless, then give it—”

  “Your crowning must be an affair of splendor, held when Caledon stands secure. Else it will seem—and be—a sham.” He took up the slate, licked his fingers, drew idly in the dust. “Tantroth comes.”

  “What?” My voice came hoarse.

  “Uncle Cumber sent scouts to probe the high passes. Tantroth of Eiber gathers his troops, and they take boats toward the bay.”

  “He’s always holding maneuvers, of one sort or another.” I swallowed, nonetheless. The castle of Eiber stood secure in the Hadriad Mountains, but from the foothills, streams poured into the River Eibe, a wide road that chuckled its way to the sea. In a following wind, tall ships from Tantroth’s port could dash from Inlet Eibe down to Stryx in little more than a day.

  “Tantroth’s always wanted our lands, Roddy. Now, it’s pressing that we know Elryc’s whereabouts. For the sake of Caledon, will you help?”

  I shook my head. “I wish I could.”

  Rustin stirred. “You have my oath, my lord, that Roddy has no idea where Elryc is headed. We spent the morning worrying over him, and gave it up.”

  “So I see.” The Duke eyed our dice, smiled, again turned serious. “Roddy, I must ask you to stay close, until Tantroth’s intentions are known. You’re too valuable to risk, running about.”

  “Even down the hill? There’s no danger in the market, or the inn, if—”

  “Even so. Remain in the castle, where we can guard you. This must be.” To Rustin, “Help him pass the time. You’re welcome in Stryx Castle, son of Llewelyn.”

  “Why, thank you, sire.” Rustin’s courtesy was such that even I couldn’t detect a hint of irony. “If my father permits, I’ll be happy to come. Perhaps I can shop at the docks for Roddy, bring him what trifles he would buy.”

  “You see?” said Uncle Mar. “It all works out.” He crossed to the door. “You’ll know, the moment we find Elryc. In the meantime, be at ease.” A friendly nod, and he was gone.

  I paced the room, while Rustin tossed dice to no purpose. “I shouldn’t have let that old witch take care of, um, the bundle for the night. If she fails, Uncle will have an unexpected gift.”

  “The same as if you failed.”

  “At least I can trust my judgment.” He snorted; I flicked him an annoyed glance. “Besides, it’s my promise.”

  “Calm yourself.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” I paced anew.

  “Try a bath. I’m serious; it will do you good in other respects.” Languidly, he got to his feet. “Who draws your water?”

  “A footman, but I don’t have time. We have to plan.”

  “Is there a bellpull?”

  “Rustin, leave it be!” My face was hot with embarrassment. “I’m not a baby, to—”

  “But you’ve had a lot of worry, you’ve been running about under that blazing sun, and I had to climb in the closet with you.”

  To end the mortification, I let him persuade me. The water, I had to admit, was pleasantly cool. I began slowly to relax.

  “What will happen to us, Rust?”

  “We’ll settle Elr—the bundle with its, uh, keeper, and come back to Stryx.”

  “What will Uncle do?” I was sure our absence would send him into paroxysms of rage.

  “He won’t be happy.”

  A stab of fear chilled me. “I want to dress.” I climbed to my knees.

  “I’ll be with you, my prince.”

  Why did I gulp back tears? I took slow, deep breaths, willed away my panic as I groped for a robe. “Will Llewelyn beat you again, if you leave with me?”

  “I think not.” He turned me around, fastened my sash. Then, unexpectedly
, he drew my face close, kissed me softly on the forehead.

  I froze. He gave sort of an embarrassed cough, turned to the window, hands clasped behind him.

  I dressed quickly, wishing Rust would leave, answering his queries with little more than grunts, hoping he’d sense my unease. But his conversation was so casual, so natural, that slowly I began to relax.

  At any rate, we had pressing business. In low tones we planned our journey. Rustin would go home for the night, satisfy his father as to his forthcoming absence. He’d pack saddlebags with gear for the two of us, leave them at Llewelyn’s keep, come back to the castle to be with me when Hester took Elryc. I knew I could never face that spectacle alone; my nerves were already at the point of breaking.

  We’d wait, until that evening or the next day, so as not to throw suspicion on Hester by our sudden absence. Then we’d gallop after.

  On our trip I’d have to wear Rust’s hand-me-downs; I wasn’t sure whether I’d gain permission to ride a horse down the hill, or have somehow to jump the wall under the noses of the guards, and either way, I couldn’t carry about conspicuous changes of clothing.

  As evening approached I grew ever more nervous. “Must you go?”

  “It would be best.” His calm licked me like a mother cat her kitten.

  “What if your father doesn’t let you return?”

  “He will. I’ll explain in private, and humor his needs.”

  Reluctantly, I let him leave. As an afterthought, I gave him my purse, with most of the year’s stipend Willem had given me. Best Rust should have it, lest I lose it to Mar’s guards.

  “You trust me with your coin?”

  I grimaced. “You already have the key—” He clapped his hand over my mouth. I gulped, nodded. Instead of releasing me, he squeezed my lips into a fish’s gawp. “Do demons have your mind? Think before you speak!”

  I pushed his hand away, without rancor. “Yes, Father.” It was an odd thing to say. My father, Josip, had died when I was nine, and I’d been raised without. Until now, I’d not felt the lack.

  “Hah. Were I your father, I’d set you across ...” He shook his head. “Until tomorrow, my prince.” Impulsively, I squeezed his hand, brought it to my cheek. To my astonishment, his eyes teared, but he turned away before I could ask the matter.

  Chapter 7

  DURING THE NIGHT IT STORMED. what with thunder, worry about Elryc, and an odd discomfort whenever I thought about Rustin, I barely slept. At first light I stumbled groggy out of bed, splashed water on my face, climbed into the nearest clothes. The day had a chill, welcome relief from the oppressive heat just past. I flung open my door.

  On the bench a few steps down the corridor, a soldier dozed; I hurried past.

  “Hold. Where go you, my lord?” Bleary, but alert, he got to his feet.

  I frowned. It was Fostrow, the man who’d barred my way to Council, and later to my uncle’s chamber. “Breakfast. Upstairs. About the castle.” Who was he to question me?

  Fostrow shook his head. “Let them bring your meal.”

  “And seal my door, while they’re about it! Have you tested the bars on my window?” My voice seethed.

  “Easy, my lord; I but do the Duke’s bidding.”

  “Did he tell you to hold me within?” The man had heft, but I knew I could outrun him. Yet it would burn a bridge that later I might have need to cross.

  “No, but I must come with you, where you go.” He took his shield from its resting place.

  “Oh, for—nonsense. Look, I’ll run to the kitchen and visit Hester. It won’t take—”

  “I can’t let you, alone. Particularly outside.”

  I sighed, blinked away the last remnants of sleep. It was important to hold back my ire. “I’m the heir, and I depend on my Power. You’ve heard of the True? Good. I tell you True, I’ll go only about the castle. Breakfast first, and then upstairs; my old nurse is leaving service, and I would say good-bye. You have my word I won’t go out, until I’ve come back to get you. My True word.”

  He hesitated.

  “Fostrow, weren’t you ever young? Don’t make me go to breakfast with a nanny.”

  As I’d hoped, it brought a smile. “My lord, I’ll trust you in this. Please, don’t do us both a wrong.” Gratefully, he sat, laid aside his shield.

  “I’ll bring you fresh bread.” Before he could change his mind I loped down the stairs, wondering how I would manage a trip to the stables, to see what had become of Elryc. Obviously, I couldn’t visit with Uncle’s watcher in tow. At least I’d freed myself to find what Hester was up to. The Still had its uses, I realized, even before having the wield of it. Even a simpleton like Fostrow realized I wouldn’t risk its loss by being untrue.

  Light rain beat a tattoo on the roof of the kitchen, and occasional drops sizzled in the hearth. I wolfed down a breakfast, hardly aware of its nature. What if Hester had already slipped out, telling no one her destination? The High Road through the mountains to Cumber had bypasses and trails aplenty; what if we lost her in its windings?

  What if she meant to take Elryc for her own ends, or even meant him harm? Without Elryc, I’d have to face Uncle Mar alone, except for what little help Rust could provide.

  A knot congealing in my stomach, I dashed up flight after flight to the nursery.

  A housemaid slopped water in the corridor, mop in hand. “Watch your step, my lord!” Her tone was irked.

  “Where’s Nurse gone?”

  She rested her palm atop the mop handle. “No, it’s ‘When’s Nurse finally going?’ if you ask me. ‘Magret, bring me this. Have footmen bring my trunks from the second storeroom. Watch how you fold that robe, it’s older than you are.’ Fah!” An angry wipe. “She can’t be gone soon enough for me.”

  “Magret!” The voice inside the door held a sharp edge. “Where’s the packet of dried foods Cook was to make ready?” The door whipped open. “Leave that confounded mopping and see to it! What do you want, you lout?” A glare, in my direction.

  I peered past her shoulder. “Are you alone? Have you packed—”

  “Get away from us!” She snatched the mop from the startled Magret, slapped water over my breeks. “Leave me be!”

  A sympathetic eye from the housemaid was hardly of help. “I just came to say good-bye.” Now I sounded a supplicant.

  “Good-bye, then. Think you I have time for such folderol, if I’m to be at Whiecliff Hamlet tonight, and past Seawatch Rock by morrow? Take your foolishness elsewhere!”

  “Imps take your uncivil tongue, and addled head!” I stalked away, wet breeches swishing. “The sooner you’re gone, the happier we’ll all be.”

  Her grating voice chased me to the steps. “I’ll miss my Pytor, and Elryc. Proper children were they!”

  I stomped down the stairs, startling a houseman with my muttered curses. To think I’d trusted Elryc’s safety to that demented old crone. As soon as Rustin returned, we’d wrest my brother from her clutches.

  I hadn’t even been allowed entry to her chambers, to say nothing of private speech. Did she expect me to ask our arrangements while a sullen servant girl took in every word?

  I flung open the corridor gate, rousing the guard Fostrow. She’d booted me out like a child, with no hint where she’d concealed my brother, and worse, without agreement on where we were to meet, after. All I knew was that she would leave during light, and ... I stopped dead in my tracks.

  “Is something amiss, Lord Rodrigo?”

  “No. Sorry, I forgot the bread.” I fumbled for my chamber door, barred it behind me.

  All I knew was that Hester would spend the night at Whiecliff Hamlet, and the morrow night at Seawatch Rock. Before the housemaid’s very ears she’d given me our meet, making it seem of no consequence, and bustling me away before I could make a hash of it.

  “Damn you, Nurse,” I said to the empty room. “Clever, but why make me a fool in the process?” I’d long known that Hester never cared a whit for me. Her parting dart, that Elryc and Pytor w
ere her favorites, had the ring of truth.

  I peeled off my wet breeches, fell on my bed. Within a moment I bounded to my feet. If Hester wouldn’t hint at Elryc’s hiding place, perhaps the stableboy knew. I thrust on fresh breeks, grabbed a cloak against the rising wind, threw open my door. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

  Fostrow looked sorrowful. “Then so will I.” He stood.

  “Again, I give you my word—”

  “Margenthar will clap me in gaol if he sees you larking outside without a keeper. You seem a nice laddie, would you want that?”

  “Gladly.”

  He seemed unaware of my sullenness while we strode down the steps. I managed to look busy as we traversed the entry hall; Lord willing, no one would notice I was leashed to a watchguard like a toddler on his first outing.

  Outside, I blinked in the unexpected wind, threw the hood of my cloak over my hair. The soldiers on guard at the doors wore hemp raincovers over their gear; those at the closed entry gates had a rude lean-to under which they lolled, but Fostrow, I was pleased to note, had no protection from the weather.

  “Where do you go, my lord?”

  “To take air.”

  The front steps ended in a sort of flagstone terrace, one side of which gave way to the clay courtyard I would have to cross, to the stables. On the terrace the ceremonial guard of the door chatted idly with Lanford, chief officer of the gate sentinels.

  A scarred, grimy wagon barred our way, parked almost on the flagstone itself.

  “What’s that?”

  Lanford snickered. “That shrew from the nursery had it hauled here last night. Said she’d claw the eyes out of any man who moved it.”

  I eyed the conveyance with doubt. High flat sides of rough-cut timbers; thick wheels on aged axles that cried for grease. The wagon itself was so heavy that once loaded, a team of eight oxen would barely manage to pull it. Worst, the high closed box seat was set gracelessly athwart the frame, and no padding at all; the rump that sat on it would ache almost from the start. And that only if the driver weren’t knocked off his high perch by overhanging branches.

  “Where’d she get that monstrosity?”

  “It was abandoned behind the stable. I’d feel sorry for her if ...” His words trailed off.