RAYA'S CITY GATE loomed before them. Peter's gaze flicked over a tall cylindrical tower to the left of the gate. He frowned. “There does not seem to be anyone in the gate tower. I knew it was a mistake to trust the merchants’ guild."
Angus snorted. “Whose ever turn it is probably had a shop crisis."
"Well, do you at least think they are barred?"
Angus shrugged. “I'll check.” He dismounted, strode to the wooden gate, and pushed. The two large halves separated an inch, then swung back together. Angus faced them. “By the devil god's horns! It isn't even secured!"
Peter's jaw clenched. “Just a minute and we will help."
They dismounted and joined Angus at the gate. Kelsey helped Rourk slip from the backpack's straps, then set it on the ground and freed Maggie.
Rourk, Peter, and Angus placed their backs against the gate, while Regan and Kelsey leaned in and pressed their palms against the sun-warmed wood.
"On the count of three,” Angus said. “One ... two ... three."
They pushed and the gate inched opened.
Regan pushed in the center where the gates joined. As the gap widened, she heard the bleating of lambs and the squawking of chickens. The gate slowly reached the halfway mark and Regan saw a wide square of trampled dirt. Wagons, wooden carts with bright-striped tops and makeshift cages filled with every farm animal imaginable crowded the area. The odor of animal dung, ripe fruits, and cooking meats assailed her and she lifted one hand from the gate and pressed the back of it against her nose. Men and women stood on the seats and backs of wagons, shouting the glory of their wares to a milling throng. One woman turned her head their way and her mouth opened. Regan couldn't hear her scream, but the look of fear on her face was clear. She pointed and a crowd of faces turned in their direction.
A man standing on the wagon next to the woman saw them and smiled. He turned and shook his fist at his wailing wife. Ten or twenty men surged forward to help with the gate and separated Regan and Kelsey from the others.
Kelsey shouted into Regan's ear. “I'll get the horses."
Regan nodded. She turned, coaxed Maggie to a relatively quiet corner and knelt beside her. Stroking the basset hound's head, Regan whispered into her ear. “Everything's fine, baby.” Maggie's body started to quiver and Regan looked up to find staring women and children circling them.
"What kind of dog is that?” a little boy cried, then squatted to meet Maggie's eyes. Maggie's tail beat a rapid greeting on the packed dirt.
"Can I touch him?” a little girl with bright-blue eyes asked.
"One question at a time,” Regan said. “First, Maggie is a basset hound, and he's a she.” She raised her eyes to the women surrounding her. “And she'd loved to be petted if it's all right with your mothers."
"Mama, please?” a chorus of children's voices begged.
The women exchanged unsure glances, then a lady with blonde braids tied back with a red scarf slowly nodded. The blue-eyed little girl knelt at Maggie's head and laid a chubby hand between the dog's ears. The dog's brown gaze met hers and, quick as a wink, her tongue came out and lapped the child's cheek.
"Maggie, no!” Regan said, “I'm so sorry.” She looked up and was surprised to see each woman's mouth curved in a smile.
"It's fine, Miss,” the blonde woman said. “It's not the first doggie kiss my Anna has received. I am Caroline Witherspoon,” she added, then extended her hand. As if it was a signal of acceptance, names and hands were extended. Regan shook hand after hand, and soon gave up trying to remember names. In the circle of children Maggie turned over and presented her tummy for rubs. The children laughed with glee.
"Hey! Hey, I say. You can't just come in here.” Regan heard from behind her, and turned to see a short figure waddling her way at a fast pace.
The man jiggled to a halt in front of Regan and placed both hands on his hips. “Who are you?” he puffed. Not waiting for an answer, he wheezed on. “I'm in charge of the gate today, and I didn't okay your entrance."
Regan opened her mouth to answer just as Peter crossed to stand behind the portly man.
"Yes, Merchant Rastley,” he said. “You did not okay our entrance. That would be quite impossible, since you were not at the gate."
Merchant Rastley whipped around. “High Mage, I didn't know it was you,” he said with a quick bend from the waist.
Peter crossed his arms and looked pointedly at the gate's guard tower. Regan saw Merchant Rastley's face flush.
"There was a crisis at my shop,” he whined, then bowed again.
A disgusted snort sounded from behind the merchant, and he turned on his heels.
"See, I told you,” Angus said over his shoulder to Rourk.
Rourk said nothing, just stared at the bobbing merchant.
"Master Angus, Master Rourk,” Rastley said, with two more quick bows. “The queen will be pleased to see you. You've good news, I hope?"
Reins jingled and Kelsey walked toward them leading the horses.
"Queen's-Commander,” Merchant Rastley said, bowing low and remaining there. “I must tell the queen."
Kelsey frowned. “Yes, and while you're at it you can tell her that no one was at the gate when we arrived,” she snapped.
"Anything you say, Queen's-Commander,” he said, backing into the crowd, still bending up and down at the waist.
Kelsey watched, her face twisted with disgust as the merchant pivoted, then waddled away. “How can they be so stupid?” she said into the air, then turned and pointed to two young men. “You and you, take the horses to the Queen's stables."
Regan watched in amazement as two strapping lads jumped forward at her sister's command.
The tableau broken, the crowd began firing questions at Kelsey.
"How goes it, Queen's-Commander? Has Dirkk been routed?"
"Is this your sister, the one who's to be our deliverer?"
Kelsey lifted her arms. “All fair questions,” she said, “but the queen awaits, and it's to her I must first report."
"She's right,” a voice cried. “Let them through."
A tall giant of a man stepped forward. “I'll clear a path for you, Queen's-Commander."
"Thank you, Jake, but that won't be necessary, will it?” she asked the crowd, then smiled as it parted before them.
"Here, Miss,” the woman who had identified herself as Caroline said, handing Regan a length of braided leather. “It's for the dog. I wouldn't want you to become separated."
"Thank you,” Regan said, kneeling to place it loosely around Maggie's neck. Flanked by Rourk and Peter, she followed Kelsey toward the castle.
* * * *
At the top of a green-covered hill, the castle hovered protectively over Raya.
To the side of the first gate was a square stone structure. Towers rose from each of its four sides. As they approached, archers stepped from the tower's shadows and looked down, bows held ready. When they saw Kelsey, they relaxed their bows at their sides and bowed. “Queen's-Commander, it is good to see you,” the nearest said.
"It's good to be home, Rube,” Kelsey said.
The man smiled and turned away. When he turned back he held a square mirror instead of the bow. “I'll signal them to lower the bridge.” Three flashes crossed the moat and four returned. Regan heard the creak of chains, and the bridge lowered across the moat.
"How many walls are there?” Regan asked.
"An inner and an outer,” Kelsey said.
Regan's footsteps echoed dully on the planks as they crossed a wide moat. The unmistakable smell of fish and seaweed floated up to her from the water below. They moved through the outer gate, and into the first courtyard ... no, bailey, she remembered from her medieval history lessons.
The bailey was a village of tents, and tethered in front of each were goats and cows. Chickens and geese squawked from wooden crates.
Regan's fingers tightened on Maggie's leash as they zig-zagged around firepits. Tripods and black kettles hung over the pits, stea
m rising upward and bringing the smell of simmering meat and vegetables.
People turned and pointed as they passed. Many waved and shouted, but she couldn't hear their words over the din.
Soon the second wall loomed before them. Two more towers guarded its gate. As they approached, the gate swung open. As the six of them passed through, Kelsey nodded to the two soldiers who held it open.
The inner bailey was as crowded as the outer. Regan saw a stable as they pushed their way through, as well as a laundry and what looked to be a communal bathing room. In a small open square on the left, young men and boys lunged and parried with wooden swords.
As they climbed the area opened and Regan viewed what gave the hill its green color. Row after row of green vines, purple gourds hanging from them, as well as carrots and corn, terraced the hill. Where the planted rows ended, marble steps led up to polished wooden doors. Red-liveried soldiers stood erect at each of the doors.
Peter leaned close to Regan's ear. “Queen Tessa wishes us to freshen up in our rooms. She will first meet with Kelsey, then us.” Regan nodded and Peter led the way up the flight of steps.
* * * *
Regan leaned over the waist-high gray stone wall of the tower balcony and looked down. She shook her head at the closely pitched tents. The narrow alleys between them were packed with people. Women stirred kettles and ladled bowls full. Children darted underfoot, in and out of tents. How can they possibly know whose tent is whose? she wondered.
Still shaking her head, she walked the few steps it took to circle to the tower's far side. Wind whipped strands of hair across her face as she looked beyond the city's walls to the stretch of sea. She followed the blue expanse with her eyes until the sea and sky became one azure line. Filling her nose and lungs with the familiar odors, she licked salt spray from her lips. I wonder how my roses are doing, she thought fleetingly, then laughed. I'm sure they're fine. I've only been gone three days. It just seems so much longer.
She turned and glanced through the glass balcony doors into the empty room. What was taking Kelsey so long? She crossed the balcony and entered the tower room. A four poster bed dominated the room. She smiled down at the two gowns that lay on top of the ivory and pale-green quilt.
Earlier, a red-faced Kelsey had watched her personal maid, Mary-Anne, pull them from among the many hanging in a standing wardrobe. “I have to attend a lot of formal dinners,” she'd blurted to Regan. Regan, for once, had kept her mouth shut and just smiled.
The setting sun's gold rays filtered through the balcony door and across the bed. The gowns, one emerald green and the other the exact shade of blue as Kelsey's eyes, shimmered where the bands of light touched. Regan ran fingertips over the pale-blue gown. Wearing this, even I'd feel like royalty.
From across the room someone rapped on the door. “Yes?” Regan said.
"It's Mary-Anne Rastley, miss. I'm ready to prepare your bath."
"Come in."
The door opened and Mary-Anne strode into the room at the head of a troop of scarlet-liveried men. The men toted a bucket of water in each hand. The maid led the way to a freestanding screen. She pulled it toward her and displayed a small alcove and oval tub. Placing her hands on her hips, the little general tapped her foot and glared at the men. One by one, they hurried to the tub and emptied their pails. Then, with a quick glance at Mary-Anne, they scurried from the room.
Regan watched in amazement as Mary-Anne, apparently satisfied with the men's pace, crossed to examine a table full of crystal bottles. She felt her skin prickle and, looking up, caught the gaze of the last man emptying his buckets. He was young and blonde with a pair of startling blue eyes, eyes that looked at her with unconcealed awe. Regan's cheeks heated under his admiring stare.
From behind her she heard a muffled exclamation of disgust and turned to see Mary-Anne frowning at the young man's appraisal. The maid crossed to him and flapped her apron in his face. The young man jumped and drew back from the flapping apron. His face flushed scarlet and he turned and rushed from the room, the empty buckets bouncing off the sides of his legs. Mary-Anne hurried to the door and closed it behind him with a firm shove.
"They are not too bright,” she sniffed, “but they serve their purpose."
The maid returned to the dressing table lined with miniature crystal vases. The liquids inside were all colors of the rainbow.
"Mary-Anne Rastley, you said."
"Yes, Merchant Rastley is my father. Now, miss, you get out of those clothes while I scent your bath."
As Regan skimmed out of her clothes. Mary-Anne picked up each vase. Regan watched as each time she frowned and put the vase back down.
"It just isn't right. For you we need something very special.” Then Mary-Anne smiled. “Yes, this is it,” she said, pouring a pink liquid into the water. The sweet scent of roses filled the room.
"Roses,” Regan said. “My favorite."
"The essence of romance,” Mary-Anne said and winked.
"But..."
"Into the water, miss,” the maid interrupted, “it's cooling."
* * * *
Regan squeezed the sponge and sighed as scented water cascaded down over her knees. “If I died at this moment I'd die a happy woman."
The screen that Mary-Anne pushed back in place as she left pictured a meadow, the field a solid mass of yellow and blue flowers. In its center a unicorn stood, its head lifted to the sun. On a small table next to the tub, Mary-Anne had piled white fluffy towels.
"I won't need those,” Regan said, “I'm never getting out of here."
"Well, then, you'd better make room for me,” Kelsey said, peeking around the screen. Regan grinned at her sister. “Kel, I didn't hear you come in."
"Of course you didn't. You were too busy talking to yourself."
"So how did it go?"
"I'm not telling you a thing until you get out and let me have my turn. I've gone longer without a real bath than you."
Regan stuck her tongue out at her sister, then stood and reached for a towel. Wrapping the towel around her, she turned and surprised a strange expression on her sister's face. “What's wrong?” she asked, glancing down at her towel-saronged body.
"Nothing,” Kelsey said. “I was just wondering why you've so much on top and I've so little."
Regan laughed as she stepped from the tub. “Yes, but you did get all that leg."
"Well, then I guess I'm lucky Rourk's a leg man,” Kelsey said, stripping off shirt and pants. Tossing them in a corner, she stepped into the tub and sighed as she sat down and settled back.
"Is it warm enough? I could go get some more hot water,” Regan said.
"Mary-Anne's on her way up with some."
"Hope you don't mind the rose scent. Mary-Anne said it was me."
Kelsey squeezed the sponge, trailing water along one arm. “It's fine."
"Okay, now tell about the meeting with the queen,” Regan said, toweling off a leg.
Kelsey grimaced. “The merchants are being a pain. They want their town back."
"What did Queen Tessa say?"
Kelsey shrugged her bare shoulders. “What can she say? She understands their frustration. She's feeling it too."
Regan bent at the waist and wrapped her long hair in another towel. “What's the next step?” she asked, straightening.
Kelsey looked up and met her sister's eyes. “You."
Regan held her sister's gaze. “What do you mean?"
"You and Peter are our next step. Isn't that why you're here?"
Regan shook her head. “You know it isn't. I came because of you."
"But you will help, won't you?"
Regan frowned. “What can I do?"
"That's what we're going to find out. Peter and Queen Tessa are waiting for us downstairs."
"Right now?” Regan squeaked.
Kelsey nodded.
"Then why are you lolling around in that tub—and what am I going to wear? That dress on the bed is a little much for a strategy mee
ting."
"Nothing, including Dirkk himself, was going to keep me from taking a bath,” Kelsey said, standing and grabbing a towel.
"Miss,” Mary-Anne called from the door. “I've brought you some more hot water."
"Sorry, Mary-Anne. I'm already out. Give it to someone else."
"As you wish, Queen's-Commander."
Regan saw Kelsey smile at the panic she knew showed on her face. “Don't worry, I've got something for you to wear,” Kelsey said, wrapping the towel around her and crossing to the wardrobe. She opened the door and pulled out a simple, straight cut, mint green gown. Regan walked to her side and took the dress from her.
"It's so light. It almost feels like cotton."
"I don't know what it's made from. I found it in the market place.” She bent and rummaged in the bottom of the wardrobe, then straightened and tossed something else Regan's way.
Regan automatically reached out and made the catch. She looked down at what Kelsey had tossed. It was a pair of satin slippers the same color as the dress.
"They're definitely in-house wear, so don't do any hiking in them,” Kelsey said.
Regan held the dress up to her body. It fell in soft folds to her ankles.
"It's not supposed to be floor length, but it wasn't made for a shrimp,” Kelsey said.
"That's okay. We both know it'll be too tight in the bust,” Regan responded wickedly. “Mary-Ann took my underwear. So what do I wear underneath?"
Kelsey smiled. “Now that's a good question. They don't have bras here. They've never even heard of one. It hasn't been a problem for me, but you..."
"I've gone braless before..."
"Name one time."
"Stinson Beach, summer of seventy-three."
Kelsey laughed. “I remember that. You were doing tequila shots."
Regan smiled wryly. “The first and last time I did tequila shots.” She dropped her towel. “Well, let's try it on."
"Hey, just a minute. We have some type of underclothing."
"If you hand me a corset I'm outta here."
"Not even close.” Kelsey walked to a large chest that sat against the far wall. She opened it and pulled out a white garment.
The Blue Flame [Book 1 of the Daradawn Series] Page 18
