Dear Juniper,
Alta and Tippy made it safely back to us in Queen’s Basin, though I hope you won’t think me a mooncalf when I say that without its queen, this place is a Basin and little else. (Apologies: I have been reading too much poetry of late.)
On to practical matters: The last of the roadways are finished and all repairs done to the roof of the Beauty Chamber. We’ve done some strengthening on the handrail for the bridge so it no longer wobbles. Next, we turn our attention to moving foodstuffs and other travel necessaries up to the Cavern, and preparing to pack for our trip back. The reclaimed horses are all in good health, and saddlebag-stuffing duty begins tomorrow. Incidentally, I have discovered a fine chapter in one of my miscellanea tomes on “The Art of Saddlebag Stuffing.” Did you know it was considered a bona fide art? There is apparently a method to being able to fit a large number of items tidily in—
Ouch. Tippy has run into me from behind, jarring my thoughts. I had better stick to the point, for I am also near out of parchment.
Jessamyn and I continue to watch the skies, but there has been no sign of the returning messenger, upon which we hope so highly for word from her sister, Eglantine, and the palace. Time only knows what shall come of that venture. Meantime we work and pack and await with anxious minds the word of your portending contest.
Do keep us abreast of events as they unfold.
Unflaggingly yours,
Erick Dufrayne
By the time Juniper finished reading, her face hurt from smiling. How she missed her jovial, bookish friend—and the rest of the rowdy group, for that matter! She herself didn’t have much news to share, but she pried a sheet from the back of her journal and scratched a few words with her stylus. She explained what she had learned about the Trials (too little), her conversations with Zetta (unpleasant), and how things fared with Cyril (slightly more tolerable than usual). She told him about the Anju footwear and filled in the mystery of the tracks left around the horse enclosure. She drew a quick sketch of the shoes for his further edification. She thought about mentioning her connection with Odessa, but in the end decided to wait; it was simply too precious a fact to entrust to this bald parchment sheet. She assured him that she would be in touch and that she knew the camp would hold up splendidly in her absence.
She hoped that would be the case.
Then again, keeping her settlement’s key rabble-rouser with her was surely a productive step in that direction.
When Juniper came back outside, Tippy was where she’d left her, only curled up in a ball and snoring lightly. Juniper felt bad disturbing such peaceful sleep, but above the treetops the sky was blushing toward lavender. She didn’t have much time.
Barely prodded, Tippy leaped straight up into the air, landing in a crouch with balled fists up. “Oh, Your Reassuring Royalty!” she said, sagging in relief. “’Tis only you. I seem to have snoozed off. But I’m all a-joy of your timely return. Have you done with your lettering?”
“I have,” said Juniper, putting the rolled sheet in Tippy’s hands. “And here it is. Now, tell me about this Fleeter creature. You say he might have some way of carrying messages for our future exchange?”
“Of the very yes,” Tippy gushed. The cat in question was draped over her shoulders like a warm, purring shawl. “Just wait until you see this beauty in action!”
Juniper lifted an eyebrow. If ever a creature seemed less reliable for a delivery service, she couldn’t picture it. But Tippy pulled a burlap sack from her belt, opened it wide, and made a clicking sound. Fleeter blinked stonily at her. Then, with something like a shrug, he extended his paws and oozed into the bag.
Juniper absorbed this in silence.
“That were Jess’s instructions,” said Tippy proudly. “He travels by scent, Fleeter does. So you don’t want to confuse him with too much trekking and trucking about. What you’ll need is a proper settling point. You get him to that spot and start things off from there, as it were.” She looked up expectantly.
Juniper thought for a moment. “I know just the place. Do you remember that clearing we first reached, after crossing over the bridge—where we ran into those Anju scouts? There was a whole scattering of cut-down tree stumps there, all overgrown and weedy.”
Tippy bobbed her head eagerly. “Oh, how I do! In fact, I like to stop in a bit each time I pass there, to practice my toe-pointy dance as I leap from one to the next, you see?”
“Right you are. I think that would make a fine settling point, don’t you? I’m sure to find a cranny in one of those stumps that’s big enough to stow Fleeter and his message besides. But . . . you think he will be able to journey out from there? How does he, er, work? Did Jess explain?”
“It could not be easier. Only take him to that hidey-spot and tuck this food morsel inside. He will recognize that as his homing place.” Tippy pressed a moist wad of dough into Juniper’s hand. Recoiling slightly, Juniper stuffed it into her waist pouch. Tippy went on, “When you have your message ready to send back, simply attach it to him and let him go upon his way. He traveled with me from the Basin, so he shall return thence to QB and his message along with. And bearing our reply, he shall return to his hidey in the clearing.”
Juniper shook her head. The whole idea seemed to be stitched in wishes and hopes and very little else. “You really think this little spy cat can manage that?”
“I am sure of it,” said Tippy heartily. “Jess has described the process in much detail—none of which, mournfully, do I actually recall. Nevertheless, Fleeter shall not fail in this task, of that I’m certain. I will take this letter you’ve written now, and if you’d like to put kitty to the test, send him our way at your next chance. Jess and I shall be waiting to greet him at home base. With goodsy treats aplenty for my little pet,” she crooned, with one last reach into the bag to ruffle the unfortunate animal’s patchy fur.
“Very well, then,” said Juniper, stifling a laugh. “But you should probably get going now—I need to head back inside, for the sun is not three blinks from rising.”
“Wait!” cried Tippy. Leaping up, she shot her arms around Juniper’s shoulders and squeezed tight. “Be well, my own queen. Come on back to us safe and soon, and wearing that Anju crown.”
• • •
Back inside the common area, Juniper nudged open the mouth of the sack and peered at the mangy cat inside. The bagged beast felt warm and mushy in her arms. From within the small dark cave, its red eyes blinked owlishly.
Juniper heard footsteps behind her and looked up to see Cyril approaching, tousle-haired and bleary with sleep. Outside, a piercing horn’s call broke the silence, sending a flock of birds lifting into the air with a flurry of beating wings that echoed the roiling in Juniper’s stomach.
Juniper pulled the drawstrings shut and hooked the bag over her shoulder.
It was time for the Trials to begin.
14
“WE ARE GATHERED ON THIS MIDSEASON morning to bear witness to the history of our people, as it is forged before our very eyes,” intoned Odessa, looking exceptionally majestic as she addressed the gathered group. Juniper pictured her mother as she used to sit next to her father in the great throne room in the palace, and couldn’t hold back her smile. They were two of a piece for sure!
The four candidates were lined up with their backs to the crowd, facing Odessa with arms stiff at their sides, legs straight, heads high. The three Anju girls had adopted this pose immediately, and Juniper, alert to all she didn’t know about the nuance of Anju culture, had moved quickly to copy them. The ramrod posture soon took its toll, though. Her muscles felt stiff and pinched, her shoulders heavy with the weight of Fleeter’s bag and her own carry-sack, and her head aching from the sleepless night. Her mind might be well prepared, but her body had seen better days. Odessa’s speech began to seem less majestic and more plain long.
Still: The Trials were about to begin!<
br />
“There will be three tests,” Odessa went on. “Each must be accomplished within the span of time from sunrise to sunrise. The first shall be a Test of Might—judging your physical strength and fortitude, which is imperative in governing a body such as ours. The second shall be a Test of Mind—measuring your sharpness, quickness, and stores of intelligent memory. And the third shall be a Test of Mettle—determining what you are made of, what lies at the core of you, testing who you are as a leader and what you would bring to the position.”
The gathered group was so quiet, Juniper could hear the wind ruffling the leaves. She swallowed around a lump in her throat.
“Any candidate who fails to be present here, at sunrise on the day following the appointed test, with the task completed as designed, will forfeit her place as candidate. Of course, to return early is perfectly acceptable, allowing you a time of rest before the next day’s task.
“During these three days, you may use only the items you can carry on your person, with the exception of any tasks which require external elements, and also the gathering of such additional food and drink as might be desired or necessary for survival. You may not receive assistance from anyone outside of the Trials. You may not venture outside of the boundaries appointed—that is to say, this mountain. Know that you shall be under observation at all times, for we shall have silent watchers assigned to you, to ensure that all the rules are kept and the bylaws followed.” Odessa shifted, scouring the candidates with her eyes.
“Upon the sound of the horn, you shall venture out from this point. You shall travel each in your assigned direction: to the north and the south and the east and the west.” Odessa pointed to each candidate in turn, and Juniper saw that her direction was north. She grimaced; the exact opposite of the clearing where she needed to deposit Fleeter. Oh, well.
“Above all things, an Anju chieftain must comport herself with dignity and integrity, acting always in support of her people, down to the smallest member. Honor first; honor above all else. This is the primary rule, and the one that shall be paramount to all others. And now the Trials begin. May the best prevail!”
“May the best prevail!” roared the gathered onlookers.
Juniper couldn’t manage more than a feeble squeak.
The Chieftain Trials: Test of Might
Candidates shall journey in their appointed directions for no less than a league.
From there, they shall locate an active sweet crystal mine.
Using only such tools as they may hold on their person or gather in their immediate surroundings, they shall extract from the mine enough sweetcrystal to provide the tribe with a year’s supply.
They shall return bearing this material in full before the morrow’s sunrise.
May the best prevail!
• • •
Juniper looked down at the parchment sheet, now sweaty and crumpled from her tight grip, and frowned. She and Cyril had quickly covered the required league’s distance from the camp, then had turned to head for the clearing, the meeting spot she’d agreed upon with Tippy.
Which meant pretty much going back the way they’d come.
Cyril voiced loud complaints, but Juniper was adamant. “We have a full day and night to complete this task. And over three days have now passed since we launched that messenger back to Torr. We need to establish contact with Queen’s Basin as quickly as possible. What if word has already returned from the palace?”
“But to go so far out of our way,” Cyril grumbled.
“It must be done,” she said. “Gladly, there is nothing on this parchment to say we must select a sweetcrystal mine in the direction we are first sent. I have read my infernal mountain volume from cover to cover in the past few days, and thus I can tell you there is a mine quite near to where we shall dispose of Fleeter. Two birds with the same berry, don’t you see? Anyway, what’s an extra league,” she taunted, “for a big strong roustabout like you?”
Cyril growled and stomped on ahead of her. It was galling to retread the very ground they’d walked that morning: hours of rough trekking in vain as they passed the same landmarks on their way back. If there had been any other option—if the need to be in touch with Queen’s Basin had been any less pressing—Juniper might have abandoned this plan altogether. But there was nothing for it. She just hoped that once the cat was settled, it would perform as Tippy and Jess had predicted. How could you beat such a quick and reliable means of information exchange?
If it worked.
As they walked, Juniper leafed through Erick’s Mountain Ranges of the Lower Continent, trying to take in more of the massive amount of information: diagrams of edible plants; lists of wildlife and their habitats; detailed maps and etchings of each mountain in the Hourglass range, including Mount Rahze, across which they now wearily trudged. Then she turned to see Cyril looking at her disapprovingly, and burst out laughing.
“Lands,” she said. “I’ve become Erick Dufrayne, haven’t I? Bookwalker extraordinaire.”
But she didn’t stop her reading.
When the sun was high overhead, they reached the clearing at last. In the frosty morning glare, it looked less inviting than ever. Still, Juniper scanned all the stumps until she found one with a hollowed-out crater at its base. Into this she poured the little spy cat, which turned twice in place and started licking its haunches. On Fleeter’s neck hung a small pouch. Juniper pulled out her stylus and scratched a few words of greeting, keeping it short and sweet until she could be sure this method would function as promised. Next she reached into her waist pouch and extracted the moist treat Tippy had given her. She placed it gingerly in next to the cat, who sniffed archly, licked his chops, then swallowed it in one bite.
Juniper waited expectantly, but Fleeter seemed to have no other immediate plans.
After a moment, Cyril said, “Isn’t the beast supposed to go somewhere? Back toward the Basin, ideally?”
“That’s the way I understood it,” Juniper said wanly.
Cyril nudged the toe of his boot into the hollow, prodding the little cat. Fleeter yawned, turned his back rudely, and appeared to fall sound asleep.
“Maybe we should pry it back out?” Juniper asked.
“I’ve never trusted cats,” said Cyril. “All those quivery whiskers . . .” He shuddered. “This mongrel has caused us hours of extra travel, and now it looks to be good for nothing more than a leisurely nap.”
“It will work, it will,” Juniper muttered. But her reassurances rang hollow in her ears. What if it didn’t work? What then? Anything might happen at Queen’s Basin, and she would be none the wiser.
“We can’t wait here any longer, Juniper,” Cyril said. “If this beast is broken, then so be it. We’ve got to get moving. Once we finish this test, we can come back for another check, and decide then what to do.”
Juniper glared at the cat for a few more minutes, seeing no difference except louder and louder snoring. Finally she turned away. “All right,” she said. “Let’s have a quick bite to eat and head for the mine.”
• • •
Thankfully, the mine Juniper remembered was nearby, and they got within sight of it by the time the sun had just crested its midday peak. By now, Juniper ached from head to toe. Her gown was crusted with dried mud, and her underdress felt damp and sticky on her back. Thankfully, Cyril looked even worse than she felt—scarlet-cheeked, panting, with a dark stripe running down his once-fine orange coat—which brightened Juniper up a great deal.
“There we are,” she said, pointing to the mine’s shadowy opening up ahead. Less than a hundred paces on, the cliffside fell away in a sharp drop. Far to their left, they could just make out the rope bridge over which they’d crossed into this particular adventure, and which Juniper now regarded with a nostalgic sort of fondness.
Next to her, Cyril collapsed onto a boulder. “High time for a break, wouldn’t you
say?”
He sounded like such a pitiful, wrung-out version of himself that Juniper was unnerved. She had to get things back on track. Yawning extravagantly, she fanned herself with her book. “I didn’t take you for a sluggard, Cyril Lefarge. I myself find that this casual stroll has quite restored my equilibrium!”
She tottered past his rock, though it was all she could do to lift her legs from one step to the next. But her ruse worked. There was a loud snort from behind her, then Cyril barreled past her like a boar after berries. “Is that your mineshaft up there, then, Missy Moribund? I’ll reach it before you do, I wager.”
Juniper let him have at it. Truth be told, at that moment she couldn’t have blocked a croquet ball from a wicket. She could barely keep herself upright. Reaching the mine’s entrance, too, meant that their actual task would have only just begun. Cyril’s idea of stopping to rest seemed, in hindsight, a beautifully wise one.
But she couldn’t admit that aloud now, could she?
They trudged the last distance in silence. When they reached the little dell overlooking the entry, they both plopped down to catch their breath.
“We should plan,” said Juniper.
“Yes,” agreed Cyril. “Figure out exactly what we’re doing before venturing in.”
Juniper’s legs felt taken over by a swarm of tingling bees. “Five minutes,” she gasped. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
• • •
Juniper awoke with a start. From the sun’s position, she thought an hour might have passed. “Cyril!” she yelped, and he shot upright.
“Bother,” he said, then yawned. “I guess we needed that rest.”
Juniper jumped up, instantly wide awake. She collected her things and began to move. “No, no, no! Come on—we’ve no idea how long it will take us to find and collect the sweetcrystal.”
“Look, we can’t do our best if we’re falling-over asleep. I’m not the one who chose to stay awake and gad about last night, after all.”
Princess Juniper of the Anju Page 12
