Rootsby stared at Pooter and smiled. ‘Reason plays no part in this,’ he said gently. ‘It is not a sum of logic that leads me down the pathways of which I speak. All I know is what must be done, something I have known for a very long time. You must find and keep safe this young girl, for the sake of all our futures. Now, and for evermore.’
‘But, who is she?’ asked Pooter. ‘And where will I find her?’
‘Her name has never been for me to know,’ replied Rootsby. ‘But take heart, Mr Pooter,’ he added, his eyes twinkling once more with distant rainbows, ‘for I have something for you’. He reached into a deep pocket and bought forth a small glass jar containing a large honeybee, the lid pierced like a salt pot to enable air to enter the receptacle. Rootsby placed the jar on the table between them and Pooter recognised at once the shape of the King Bee that he had found in the Grand Library.
‘He is, still alive?’ Pooter asked.
‘Full of life,’ answered Rootsby. ‘And just as with a compass, it is in his nature to move towards that force which overrides all others. The rightful scent riding in the air, can never be denied.’
Rootsby reached out a hand and revolved the jar slowly in a clockwise direction, the King Bee crawling as he did so to keep facing the same corner of the office. He revolved it in an anticlockwise direction, and the insect moved again to find the same position.
‘Take it,’ said Rootsby sitting back, ‘and it will lead you to person of which I have spoken.’
Pooter reached out his hands and lifted the jar into the air, the compulsion to try the experiment for himself impossible to resist. Rootsby watched him as he did so, smiled, and then sat back and closed his eyes as if to sleep, seeming now to Pooter even more aged than just a moment before.
Pooter placed the jar on the table and stared at the old man before him, his mind in turmoil at the prospect of yet another hazardous undertaking, and one that seemed even more certain of failure than the first. But then he reflected upon his fears when his task had been to enter the Palace, and yet he had found the King Bee. Would this mission not also lead to a successful conclusion? Surely, he reasoned, Lord Rootsby knew that what he was asking him to do, could be achieved? An image of his family flashed before him. ‘I must first tell my wife, Glarious,’ he said softly. ‘I would not have my family believe some awful fate has befallen me a second time.’
‘Have no fear, Mr Pooter,’ Rootsby said opening his eyes. ‘I will get word to them that you have been called to the Palace once more. That will satisfy their fears. For you have not a moment to lose.’
‘But how shall I leave the City? With fighting in the streets and the howls of vulfbears to be heard beyond the high walls, the gates are sure to be guarded.’
Rootsby’s face cracked into a smile, his eyes once more sparkling with colours. ‘No one will pay you any heed, Mr Pooter. At dangerous times like these, proletaire accounters are simply not seen.’
Chapter 22
Allessia lay within a smooth wooden tub, several of Luy-Kawn’s maidservants running to fetch fresh pitchers of water warming next to a large open fire. From the far side of the gloomy interior of her dwelling, Luy-Kawn sat upon a curved log and watched. At length, she stood and walked around the bath, as if to view her captive from all angles. Seemingly satisfied that the work had been done, Luy-Kawn instructed her servants to help Allessia into a deep woolen towel, several hands setting to work to dry her.
Allessia studied Luy-Kawn, a woman quite unlike any she had ever seen before. Her straight long black hair, olive skin, almond shaped brown eyes, tiny nose and small even mouth, gave her a doll like appearance that was quite at odds with her muscled limbs. And when she walked it reminded Allessia of a cat, her steps barely brushing the dust of the floor and leaving hardly an imprint. Her voice had a certain feline quality too, the words she spoke, though few, purring through her lips. But whilst the accent was strange, Allessia had no trouble in understanding her guardian. She wished that she could speak to her, but her mouth was still gagged to prevent any such possibility.
Luy-Kawn gave instructions for Allessia to be dressed. A beautiful flame-coloured silk fabric, the red, yellow and orange dyes scorching across it like sun-bursts, was wrapped around her body in a complex series of loops and turns, until at last Allessia was free to move, whilst feeling safely cocooned within its fragrant grip. Luy-Kawn looked her up and down several times, occasionally moving in to pull gently at one of the folds. Satisfied, she clapped her hands and dismissed her servants.
‘You are without doubt a Pretty One,’ she said, when they were alone. ‘I can see these things, and see them well within you. But there is something more that puzzles me.’ She walked back to face Allessia, staring into her eyes. ‘You have strange eyes. Truly, most strange.’ She moved even closer. ‘I have never seen such eyes before,’ she whispered, and Allessia felt her breath upon her cheek.
As Luy-Kawn continued to stare into her eyes, a feeling of lightness began to grow deep within Allessia. She offered no resistance, but allowed the sensation to come to her, her heartbeat growing stronger by the second. And the feeling grew, until quite suddenly a bright light began to shine from her eyes and onto the face before her. Luy-Kawn gasped but continued to stare, as if trapped within the glow. Just as suddenly, the light faded in the stillness between them. Luy-Kawn moved away, her face now ashen and her hands trembling at what she had seen. Allessia closed her eyes and caught the last ray of light as it faded into her mind. Despite her uncertainty as to what had just happened, she felt at one with the source of light that dwelt within her.
The Shufflers that arrived to take Allessia to the examination smiled approvingly at Luy-Kawn when they saw her captive emerge into the daylight. Now as clean as a diamond, her long auburn hair radiant in the morning sun, and the beautiful silk that covered her rippling like a flame in the gentle breeze, she was truly a sight to behold.
The walk to Ramuth-Pro’s took Allessia past many mounds, and she was as intrigued to see the ragbag collection of Shufflers that emerged into the light to watch her pass, as they clearly were to see her. The path was rough and several times she winced with pain when she stood upon a stone, but the young shuffler ahead of her quickly noticed her discomfort and took to clearing her path, kicking the stones away with care, and even once bending down to pick up a thorn covered twig that had fallen from a tree. His companions teased him and his face reddened, but he suffered their jibes and continued to clear her way. Luy-Kawn, meanwhile, walked beside her, her steps still graceful but her face now lost in thought.
The clearing in front of Central Mound was crowded with eager faces. Allessia could see Thum-Print sat on his raised stool, his sharp eyes the first to catch sight of the small procession. A shrill call from his mouth brought all faces to bear on Allessia; the tide of voices swelled as neighbour exchanged banter with neighbour. Ramuth-Pro stood with his arms folded, watching Allessia closely as she was led into the centre of the open space. Beside him sat several wizened white-haired figures, their eyes also fixed upon her. When a short rope tied to a metal stake driven into the centre of the open space had been tied to one of her ankles, Ramuth-Pro held up his hand and silence descended.
‘My brothers, sisters, and children,’ he called. ‘You revered Elders,’ he added, bowing to the aged persons sitting beside him. ‘And your Eminences, who have travelled so far to be here,’ he said finally, acknowledging several strangely dressed figures Allessia saw within the crowd. ‘You are all most welcome!’
He looked slowly around the entire circle of people, as if to be sure he had not missed anyone, and then turned to face Allessia.
‘We see before us a proposed Pretty One,’ he said, ‘rightfully and properly, and in accordance with the ancient and irrefutable permissions and rights granted to the Order of Shufflers, found in and taken from the City. This most valuable property was brought before me yesterday, and in the sight of Them that look over us, all rights to her were acquired in full b
y the house of Pro.’ He fixed a steely eye at the crowd. ‘Are there any amongst us here today who would question the right and properness of this acquisition?’ A murmur from the crowd, but no one spoke. ‘Then let the sale begin!’ he added at last.
Ramuth-Pro nodded at the Elders to indicate they could proceed, and then sat down on a large wooden chair that had been carved from a barrel.
Allessia watched as the Elders approached, her heartbeat rising within her. When their slow steps finally brought them before her they began their examination. Her toes were measured, her nails studied, her ears pulled, her hair rubbed and her skin stroked, but to her relief it was all quite painless. As the aged group, comprising three men and three women, worked away, Allessia saw several further oddly dressed figures joining the gathering, their faces exhausted. They looked at Ramuth-Pro for welcome, received a gracious nod in return, and then also turned their eyes upon her.
The investigation gradually became more and more intrusive until at last Allessia tried to resist their probing hands, but this proved hopeless and only brought a rustle of laughter from the crowd. She noticed that Ramuth-Pro was watching her examination with growing agitation, and as her discomfort grew and the babble became ever more excited, he suddenly leapt to his feet.
‘Enough!’ he shouted.
A gasp flew from the crowd, the Elders turning their heads to look at him.
‘Did you say…enough?’ said one of their number, an elderly woman with her hand still fixed high upon Allessia’s thigh.
‘Truly,’ he cried, ‘she is a Pretty One. There can be no doubt. Pronounce it so and let us proceed with the sale!’
The crowd stared in shock, Allessia sensing their surprise at such an interruption. Then Luy-Kawn stepped forward and spoke.
‘She is a Pretty One. I have seen it for myself. Your reverences have seen enough too, and can already say it is so?’
Another pause, and then the Elders huddled together in a group close to Allessia and began to whisper to each other. She had no difficulty overhearing them. They were angry that their examination had been halted, but also unsure as to what to do, Ramuth-Pro being such a powerful man. Ramuth-Pro meanwhile stared at them, his cloak now pulled to one side to reveal a dazzling curved selenite blade. The Elders heads went together in a closer huddle, their voices now unintelligible, until at length they turned and faced Ramuth-Pro once more. One of their number, the oldest and most wizened of the group, her face as wrinkled as dried mud and her hair as white as an ice owl, took a small step forward.
‘If she be a Pretty One,’ she cried, ‘then let her speak it so. For a Pretty One cannot disguise her voice. That is well known and attested to. If she be true, then it will be heard, and can be pronounced so. But not before!’
This brought a shout of agreement from the crowd, their excitement growing by the second. All present turned to Ramuth-Pro to see what he would do.
Ramuth-Pro’s eyes narrowed. ‘Let it be so!’ he shouted angrily at last, returning to his seat; the crowd gave a chorus of approval.
The young shuffler walked forward and began to fumble with the knot holding Allessia’s gag in place, then with a smile of encouragement he removed it completely and walked back to his place. The Elders moved away from Allessia to rejoin the crowd. Everyone stared and waited.
Allessia stretched her jaw, the stiffness causing her to grimace with pain, and then she stared back at the gathering. Her situation was intolerable. If she spoke and her voice did indeed betray her in some way, she would be delivered to who knows what fate; that much was clear. But if she did not speak, how then could she tell them who she was and demand her release?
‘They shall not hear me speak,’ she whispered finally, under her breath. And so she turned her face to the sky and began to sing the wordless tune from her dreams of the mountaintop, the notes falling over the watching crowd like a sparkling waterfall.
It did not take long for the first honeybee to arrive, its tiny shadow scorching through the air and landing gently on her cheek. Then came another, then another, and then a steady stream from a fast-approaching swarm, each one landing upon her and buzzing their wings as they danced in exaltation. And quickly the swarm grew, the crowd steeping back in awe as Allessia began to disappear into the mass of honeybees now covering her.
Allessia saw that Ramuth-Pro alone did not step back, his face a picture of astonishment. She felt a powerful burst of energy grow within the huge ball of life that now totally engulfed her in its midst. The sound of millions of wings deafened her, and as the swarm lifted her into the air, she sensed the rope and silk cloth fall away from her body. Wave upon wave of pleasure fell over her as countless tiny gifts were deposited upon her skin. She looked down upon Ramuth-Pro already far below her. He was looking up as the silk cloth fell like a dagger towards him. As if in a dream, Allessia saw the tree tops rush beneath her as she was taken up into the sky.
Allessia watched rolling green hills drift slowly by beneath her. At length, the open countryside gave way to the Red Oak Forest, an overgrown and forbidding place that only the foolhardiest or most brave would dare to enter. Beyond the forest the terrain became roughly hewn. Jagged lumps of granite pushed through the tough grasses to provide homes to millions of threshers; their rasping calls filled the air. Allessia saw hunting skylarks keeping a watchful eye for any bird that strayed too far from the safety of numbers.
The honeybees carried her higher still, way above the birds now far below, their faint red-tinged shadows like tiny specks of pepper swishing listlessly across the landscape. Then at last the walls of a beautiful flower-covered Castell drifted beneath her, and slowly the bees carried her down to an open courtyard and released her. The honeybees did not return to the City, but took to the sky above Castell Florret.
Allessia felt eyes upon her and voices around her, but made no move to cover her nakedness; the deepest sense of belonging and calm suffused her senses. Quite suddenly a beautiful lady with glorious long black hair stood before her. For a moment, she just stared at Allessia with bright green eyes, her face filled with wonder, and then Allessia felt herself wrapped gently in a soft robe the lady took from her own back.
Allessia was taken to a large room with a clear view of the wooded hills that surrounded the Castell, and there she was dressed by several ladies who, much to her surprise, she knew from her books to be femones. When she was ready the lady reappeared. She studied Allessia for a moment and then dismissed everyone from the room. The space fell silent, but for a gentle hum of bees through the window and the shouts of guards on the Castell’s battlements.
‘Who are you, My Lady?’ asked Allessia at last, keen to establish the heritage of the wonderful person before her.
The lady smiled and then replied in a soft voice, ‘Had you asked me that question but days ago, I would have answered as Queen Camellia.’
‘But, Your Lightness,’ said Allessia aghast. ‘What are you doing here, so far from the City?’
‘That is a question I ask myself too, but I cannot find an answer.’
There was a pause, Allessia taking time to see if she could recognise the face before her from the images she had seen of Queen Camellia in her studies, but none did her justice.
‘And what is your name?’ Lady Camellia asked.
‘My name is Allessia.’
‘And where have you come from, my child, for we have not met before?’
‘I come from the noble Rumball family.’
‘The Rumballs? I think not,’ said Camellia bluntly, and Allessia found herself blushing.
Camellia stared into Allessia’s eyes and for a single moment the two were joined by the infinity of space and time bound within them. Camellia’s face relaxed into a radiant smile and she moved to an open window. ‘The Royal Honeybees honour you,’ she said, looking at the sky. ‘Even now, they stay away from the Hivedom to watch over you.’
‘They rescued me,’ said Allessia. ‘I had been taken from the City and was about
to be sold. At least, that is what it seemed like.’
‘The Shufflers,’ said Camellia. ‘Yes, there is no doubt they would have recognised you for what you are, and sought to make profit from so rare a find.’
There was a further pause, Allessia unsure of what she should say or do, and then Camellia spoke again. ‘And truly, you do not know how you came to be with the family Rumball?’
Allessia stared at Camellia, a confusion of emotions rising within her. ‘They are my parents,’ she heard herself say defensively. ‘And I cannot remember being anywhere else.’ As she spoke these words, all the uncertainties of her strange life fell over her once more. She saw her bedroom, but that was all she saw, her memories seeming to start and end within the confines of the Seventy-Third Wing of the Palace.
‘They are not your parents, Allessia,’ said Camellia with a gentle touch. ‘Such a notion is beyond possibility. And there is something familiar about you. It fleets in and out of my perception like sparkles upon dew. But it will come to me, with time.’
The Commander of the Castell, an aged and warm-hearted soldier by the name of Sir Horace Underworth, his bones creaking and his breath short, entered the room in haste.
‘Your Ladyship,’ he panted, bowing his head, ‘Dangerous news. A vast horde of Vulfkings have made camp not five miles distant on the Oak Tree Plain. The howls of their beasts have been heard on the battlements.’
‘Vulfkings!’ exclaimed Camellia, amazed. ‘But what could compel them to enter our Kingdom?’
‘As yet we have no notion, My Lady, but no good can come of it. They are a fractured people, cursed by tribal hatreds that are never far from exploding into action.’
‘We must reach safety at once,’ said Camellia, with a glance at Allessia. ‘Prepare for our immediate departure to the Winter Castell.’
With a bow of acknowledgment, Underworth left the room.
The Lords of Blood and Honey (The Kingdom of Honey) Page 19
