Princess Juniper of the Anju

by Ammi-Joan Paquette

  “He was just . . . stuffed in the saddlebag?”

  “Fie, no! The pouch was specially made, extra wide and reinforced. We put a spiffy nest in there for him, with food and water aplenty. But it’s days now they’ve been gone—even longer! Oh, Juniper, I’ve been positively frantic. Every moment you’ve seen me lounging around, I’ve actually been running over the whole knot in my mind, trying and trying to figure what to do. My father made me swear an oath never to reveal his trade. And how could I reveal myself without betraying him as well? I didn’t know what to do.”

  “So when we spoke of tracking down the horses . . .”

  Jess swallowed hard. “My Fleeter’s gone, and my father’s been taken—I know he must be captive, or he’d have found a way to contact me. I’ve got to find out if he’s all right. I’ve got to do something. And—then there’s my sister, Eglantine. Egg. She’s there, too.” Jess’s head dropped to her chest, and her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

  “All right, all right,” said Juniper. “I’m glad you told me all this, Jess. There are times when an oath forsworn brings the truest honor of all. We’ll figure this out—we will, all right?”

  She leaned in and wrapped Jess in a tight hug, but all the while, her mind whirled with hopes and plans and possibilities. “Listen. You were asking about sending messages, before. I could get a messenger back to the palace, if there was cause to. Is there anything that—”

  Jess’s face lit up. “That’s truly an option?”

  “Why, yes—what you’ve heard me call the messenger is the most wily winged creature alive: a ghost bat, one of a small fleet that was trained up by my father’s own hands. Our messenger can fly between two fixed spots, bearing its miniature message capsule, following a sound outside of our own hearing but loud and clear to those tiny bat ears. Our Beacon—that’s what produces the sound—has been set up here, and the other is back at the palace. But what good is a messenger with no one left free to receive its missive?”

  “If your messenger can get to the palace, that may be the saving of us all. For Egg is there, and she will know what to do.”

  “Your sister? Why should she not be held captive along with your father?”

  Jess waved that away. “Egg is a special bird, to be sure. She may be the smartest person alive today, never mind her age. For who would ever think to imprison a skinny runt of a girl, not yet fifteen years old and deaf as a doorknocker?”

  “She can’t hear?”

  “Not a boom nor a whisper.” All trace of tears was now gone from Jess’s face. “It’s one of Egg’s greatest strengths. She has yet to meet a soul who suspects an inkling of her true worth. She’ll be free and gadding about the castle, or I’m no Ceward. And by now she’ll know every last cranny and hiding-hole better than the palace’s own builders. If you’ve got a communication setup, I guarantee you she has discovered it. Only get me to your messenger, and I will get you a spyhole into the castle.”

  5

  JUNIPER DID NOT NEED TO HEAR THIS TWICE; she sprang into action lickety-split. In no time at all, Jess had written up a note to Egg—one which would make their needs plain, yet also not betray them should it fall into the wrong hands.

  There was no guarantee, after all.

  Jess and Juniper and Erick then gathered on the promontory to see the ghost bat off, launching it on the wing just as the sun was setting. Juniper had no idea how long it would take the creature to fly to the palace, all those leagues away, but starting the journey under the cover of darkness seemed prudent. The creatures were trained for stealth, so she could only hope it would stay safe through the whole long journey.

  “That’s that,” said Jess, once the pale dot faded into the horizon. “And you are setting out tomorrow morning?”

  Juniper nodded. “We’ll find your cat—that’ll be at the top of our list, you have my word. Erick, you should keep a watch on the skies while we’re away. I can’t imagine our messenger will make it back before we return, but if some chance intervenes, you should be ready to gather in his reply.”

  Erick nodded and, their mission accomplished, the three clambered back down the cliff toward the sleeping caves. As Jess walked off to her apartment, Erick pulled Juniper aside and pressed a book into her hands. “Take this with you tomorrow,” he said. “I was scanning my shelves earlier, because I knew I had something with good information about this area.”

  Juniper looked down at the volume. Mountain Ranges of the Lower Continent. What she thought was, Oh, filch—more weight for my travel pack. What she said was, “Many thanks, Erick. I warrant this may come in . . . useful.”

  “It should,” he said seriously. “It’s not terribly up-to-date—printed more than ten years ago—but how much will have changed out here in that time? The city maps and roadways are hopelessly behind, but I skimmed the Hourglass sections, and they look solid. At least you won’t be traveling blind.” He looked at the ground. “Oh—make sure to bring warm cloaks. It’s a lot colder on that peak than this one.”

  “I do wish you were coming along,” said Juniper. What was a queen to do without her chief adviser?

  Erick shrugged. “Wishes are for fishes, as the saying goes. I’ll keep Queen’s Basin running at a tiptop clip, Juniper. You can count on me.”

  “I know I can,” she said.

  The Basin would be safe and well cared for until she could return for it. And she would be back within the day, just as planned.

  So why was she so worried?

  • • •

  The next morning’s sunrise found Juniper, Alta, and a yawning Cyril toting their day-sacks as they stood on the windy ridge, ready to venture into the dark unknown. On Erick’s advice, they’d dressed for cold weather—impossible as it seemed in this sun-drenched summer valley. Juniper had on her forest-green gown of triple-spun sheep’s wool, which had a pleasing pattern of hand-sewn peonies dotted down the bodice and splashed across the skirts. Best of all, the full skirt was split clear down the middle into a breezy set of pantaloons that were both stylish and practical. If they were to ride the reclaimed horses back—and Juniper resolved that they would—she intended to do so in maximum comfort. Currently her comfort level was hampered by several sets of underclothes and her thickest cloak. She felt rather like a stuffed and basted turkey dinner, truth be told. Alta, too, had paired her customary leather cap with a thick, mustard-yellow wool cloak. Even Cyril was puffy and rounded in a startlingly orange wool coat she’d never seen before. But if Erick was right—and when had he not been?—they would be glad of these extra layers before long.

  Over the past few weeks, Juniper had seen more than her fair share of caves: passing through the twisty-windy rockway that had first led them up the Hourglass Mountains; going in and out of the huge Cavern, where they’d left their supplies and wagons before descending the cliff to the Basin; and, of course, there was her time in Cyril’s prison cave with Alta and Erick. So it wasn’t exactly a new experience, that held-breath moment of passing from light to dark, from summer-dawn warmth into the crisp, subterranean cool of the stones’ embrace.

  Not a new experience, but not one she could ever take for granted, either.

  As Juniper parted the bluevine drapes obscuring the opening, she felt again that prickle down her back that she’d noticed the night before. This time, though, it felt curiously like excitement. Where would this pathway take them? What—or who—would they find? She knew she’d put her first skidding footstep on the path to a brand-new adventure.

  She couldn’t wait to discover where it would lead.

  • • •

  Where it led, at least at first, was down. Down and then up, to one side and then the other, as though the tunnel was a bucking horse trying to throw them off with its unexpected twists and turns. At least there were no splits in the way, so Juniper knew they hadn’t lost the trail.

  She walked in front, wi
th Cyril behind her and Alta bringing up the rear. They each held a blazing torch high, but these were little more than puddles of light in the near-solid darkness. After some time, though, a flicker beyond their flames caught Juniper’s eye.

  It came from the wall beside her, and when she stopped and tilted her light a certain way, she saw it again. Something seemed to . . . glimmer.

  “Hold on a moment,” Juniper said. Putting a hand on the nearest wall to steady herself, she moved her torch up and down. Could it be?

  She leaned a tentative finger to prod a strip of wall—yes, it was ever-so-slightly tacky. She brought her torch the rest of the way in, edged it right up to that dully glinting surface.

  The wall caught fire. Or a strip of it did, anyway.

  “Well, gobsmack me!” Alta yelped. “It’s another flaming guidepost.”

  It was. Just like the one in the tunnel they’d followed to reach the Basin, this narrow patch of wall lit up and took off blazing. It was like a freshly wakened guide, rested after a long sleep and eager to be about his task of showing the way.

  “Come on,” said Juniper. She set off at a quick pace, the other two trucking right behind her.

  They followed the flickering guidepost easily through the winding corridors. They’d found it just in time, too, for quickly they came to a fork, then another, then four more in short succession. Without this flare, they could have ended up anywhere at all—for the way was far too dark and rocky to see any horses’ prints, even if they were there.

  Then, quite suddenly and unceremoniously, the tunnel ended in a high-ceilinged cave. The lighted strip sputtered into its bowl-like ending point, sent up a hot bright blaze, then died out a few minutes later. In the waning pitchlight, a bluevine curtain was clearly visible along the far wall. Juniper pushed through it and out into eye-popping brightness.

  The tunnel had led them straight through the mountain and out the other side.

  In just this few hours’ distance, the surrounding landscape had changed completely. They seemed to be a good deal higher up, and the air was sharper than they’d gotten used to in the Basin. Extinguishing her torch, Juniper pulled her cloak tighter around her neck (inwardly thanking Erick for his good advice) and climbed out onto the black stone cliffside. Here there was none of the Basin’s silvery-gray rock that gave out so much light and heat. It was far from summer on this mountain. But that wasn’t the main thing that caught the group’s attention.

  Barely fifty steps beyond them, a bridge yawned out into space.

  Well, not space, exactly.

  “Would you look at this?” Alta’s voice was awed as the three moved closer to inspect the structure. The bridge was made of wide wooden planks and suspended by arm-thick ropes woven together in a complex pattern. The whole contraption looked solid enough, if it hadn’t been slung precariously out over the gorge in a way clearly meant for human passage. As it was, it looked rather like a silk ribbon bridging two battlements.

  “We’re going to walk over on that, then?” Cyril said, clearly trying for bluster but achieving a sort of bleat.

  Juniper didn’t love the idea herself, but the bushy, overgrown mountain face made it clear that this was the only way to go. “We’ve come this far,” she said, swallowing a lump in her throat.

  She didn’t move, though. Neither did the others.

  Suddenly, from behind them came a scudder and squeal, then a round, brownish ball of moving cloth came hurtling out of the cave’s opening. It catapulted pell-mell down the rough trail and came to a quivering stop at Juniper’s feet. The ball unrolled itself into . . .

  “Tippy?” said Juniper, aghast.

  The little girl sprang to her feet, seeming none the worse for her tumble down the bank. She dusted off her cloak, shook out her arms and legs, and flashed her hands in a pose. “Here I be! Didja miss me?”

  “Why, you rugheaded bug!” Alta exclaimed. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

  Tippy looked from Alta to Juniper, then her cool, impish look melted into something softer and more pleading. “Your Merciful Royalty!” she cried, throwing herself down to clasp Juniper’s ankles. “I couldn’t be left behind, I simply couldn’t! Not even the glorious prospect of another game of barley-break could tempt me, that’s how devoted I am to you. Tear me limb from limb, Your Mountain Majesty, but never tear me from your side!”

  There were actual tiny teardrops starting in the girl’s eyes, so caught up was she in her own drama. Juniper groaned. “Oh, pish! Get to your feet, you sneaky weasel. What are we going to do with you now? That’s what I want to know.”

  “Well, send her back home, obviously,” said Cyril.

  The look on Alta’s face suggested she had been about to say something very similar, but at Cyril’s suggestion she bristled. “And how’s that going to work, do you think? Send this slip of a thing to trek back through hours of tunnels, all by her lonesome?”

  “’Tis ever so dark in there . . .” Tippy quavered.

  Cyril laughed. “You know, this whippet went to such trouble to soft-foot it behind us all this way—I’m not actually sure she could be persuaded to give up and head back.”

  Despite her misgivings, Juniper had to agree. “Very well. I suppose you’re coming with us, then—oh, no you don’t!” She grabbed wildly at the scruff of Tippy’s cloak, for no sooner had the words left her mouth than Tippy was skittering off toward the rope bridge.

  “But—but—’tis all ropy and dangly out there! So much of a party bridge! Now that I’m one of the scouting team—I am, amn’t I?—I simply must go and give it a dance!”

  It took all of Juniper’s strength to hold the girl still. “You’re not—going to—dance—on that thing!” she gasped.

  Finally Tippy went limp. She tilted her head toward Juniper. “But we have to cross it, don’t we? I can be your scout. Testing the way, as it were.” She puffed out her little chest. “I’m ever so stealthy—remember?”

  Laughing out loud, Alta moved past them both. “Haven’t we all been shown up by this divvy, then? You can head out shortly, Mistress Tippy, only let us levelheaded types give it a gander first. We couldn’t bear to end up with your toppling-over death on our hands if there’s not the necessary support!”

  For all her bold words, Alta’s arms shook visibly as she set them on the rope rests. For the first time, Juniper took in just how high up they really were, how steep and deep the chasm’s drop was between the two mountain peaks. From way down below, fog billowed up thick and frosty, cushioning the bridge and weaving under and around its every beam.

  Juniper watched Alta’s slow steps with a hitch in her chest, until the other girl turned and crooked an arm. “It’s stiff as roads, Milady Juniper—not even a wobble.” The bridge did wobble, then—groaned clear to one side and then the other. But even from where she stood, Juniper could see it was the whole structure shifting in the chilly cross-mountain winds. Through this, the boards stayed steady and the handrail taut. The overhead ropes barely moved at all.

  The bridge was solid. It would hold them.

  “Let’s go on out, then,” Juniper called, a thrill running through her. “We cross!”

  6

  EVEN SEEING HOW SOLID IT LOOKED, EVEN with Alta waving them to come, Juniper had to steel herself for her first step onto the rope bridge. The fog didn’t help, either: It swirled in colder and thicker, shrouding them above and below so they almost seemed to be stepping out onto the clouds. Still, there was no way but forward, and Cyril and Tippy were right behind her. So Juniper rolled her shoulders, set her hands firmly on the rope guards . . .

  And strode into the void.

  The first step was awful: like putting her feet on a mass of quivering jelly. Maybe you couldn’t see much swaying, but, boy, could you feel it! Could the thieves really have persuaded the horses to cross this way? It seemed hard to imagine. Yet where else could
they have gone? There was no sign of any outlying trails. So Juniper kept placing one foot after the next after the next, until before she knew it, she found herself in the very middle of the sky. Alta had nearly reached the far peak by now, and Juniper could feel the others’ cautious steps behind her. But for this magic moment, she felt entirely alone, just a girl in the fog in a slow, chilly dance: finger by foot by step by stride, as she moved toward that gradually nearing peak.

  Then a gust of wind blew past.

  Juniper’s hands tightened on the handrest as the bridge shivered from side to side. In the next step, the puffy surrounding clouds gusted away completely. A glance behind showed the mountain they’d left, still shrouded in mist—with a determined Tippy inching out of it—but the up-ahead was clear and sharp as a mountain stream. And down below them . . .

  Juniper allowed herself one quick look. That was enough.

  Far beneath her swinging feet, the mountain face dropped off altogether, cascading down a hundred-hundred leagues to fade into a filmy blur. Something soft nudged her arm, and Juniper turned to find Tippy slithering up next to her. The little girl slung her arms around Juniper’s waist and held on tight.

  Juniper slid her hands along the guardrail and kept walking. “See how near we are,” she said brightly. “Not two dozen more steps, I’d say. Wouldn’t you think so, too?”

  Tippy didn’t reply, but her grip on Juniper’s waist tightened.

  “Tosh, you goose,” Juniper teased. “Only see how safe we are on this finely crafted structure! We shall be to that peak in no time. And what would your big sister say to see you here, venturing out all the brave explorer?”

  Tippy’s chin went up at this. “Elly would be as proud as a peahen, she would!”