Princess Juniper of the Hourglass

by Ammi-Joan Paquette

  Then they were swallowed up in another round of cheering, and Juniper’s confidence swelled further. The moment felt rather majestic.

  She liked it.

  At the back of the group, Cyril’s stance was tighter, his smirk replaced by a scowl. Good enough for now.

  “Citizens of Queen’s Basin!” she yelled, and waited for the buzz to die down. “It’s my honor to be here with you and to celebrate our very first day as settlers of our own proper country. Now comes the best part: We get to set things up. We’re all on our own here, and there’s only us to do all the things that need doing. I guess you can see that’s pretty much everything. But here’s the thing: Whatever it is we do—we get to decide how it’s done. This is our country, and we can build it any way we want to!”

  She had to lift her hands for quiet again.

  “But that doesn’t mean we’re going to stand for anyone loafing about.” She met Cyril’s gaze head-on. “We’re going to work harder than we’ve ever worked before. We’re going to build the very best kingdom there ever was. We’ll have fun, too, as we go. A little ‘welcome to the Basin’ party in a few nights, to start with. But once my father’s messenger arrives and we get the official word that all is well back home—then we’re going to have an enormous royal ball.”

  This time the cheering went on and on, and Juniper could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. When she refocused on the back of the group, though, all she saw was an empty spot. Cyril, Root, and Jessamyn were gone. She sighed.

  “All right, everybody. Let’s start by bringing all the belongings down from the cave. The carts will need to stay in there, and the horses won’t be able to bring much down that narrow walkway. That means most of the sacks and bundles will have to be carried down by hand—unless, Erick, you want to talk with Roddy about rigging up that pulley contraption?” Erick lit up like a torch and started digging through his book bag. “Alta, will you organize the unloading? See what can be left there for storage and what we need right off?” Alta nodded and moved to one side.

  “I think you’ve all seen the caves along the south cliff. Those will be our dwelling homes, so make sure you’ve claimed one for yourself. Or one to share, as you like. I’m setting up my base in the Great Tree, so let’s take the rest of the day for settling in, then gather again this evening to discuss the morrow. I think we can find some dried meat and fruit to pass around for a luncheon meal, and we’ll have ourselves a proper dinner tonight.”

  Leena raised her hand, an uncertain frown on her face. “Yes?” Juniper asked.

  “What will be done for the dinner, Your Highness?”

  Juniper waved a hand. “First rule of my new kingdom,” she said. “I’m to be called Juniper. It’s only”—she shrugged at the startled looks—“easier that way, don’t you think? And as to dinner—” She paused. “You’ve signed up as cook, so the provisioning is to be your domain.”

  Leena clasped her hands in delight. Clearly, this was the answer she’d been hoping for.

  “So instead of general unloading, you should focus on sorting out the food and preparing a simple meal. Alta, you’ll make sure the foodstuff is unloaded first and delivered down here, won’t you? There’s an ideal place for a kitchen. Come along, Leena, and I’ll show you.”

  The crowd quickly dispersed, most of them following Alta back toward the cliff. Leena shuffled awkwardly behind Juniper as they walked the few steps toward the riverbank. “See over here?” Juniper said, seeking to put the other girl at ease. “It’s right up alongside the clearing—which shall be our proper dining hall, by and by—and just on the banks of the river.”

  It wasn’t much to look at: a hammered-out spot that had obviously seen plenty of stamping feet. Stones were already gathered in a makeshift fire pit, the ghosts of long-dead charcoal fires faintly visible in its center. Leena stepped into the space and seemed to unfold into a stronger, clearer image of herself. “It’ll do famously, Miss Juniper. This is something I can work with. Water right nearby and all.”

  “Wonderful! I’ll leave you to it, then.” She made to turn away, but Leena spoke again.

  “Up in the Great Tree, you’re going to be planning things, projects and buildings and so on?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “I should like to be first on the list,” Leena said, and the light of ownership was in her eyes. “A country runs on its stomach—that’s what my ma always likes to say. So I think the kitchens should be seen to first. This fire pit will do to start, but we’ll need a good cookstove before too much longer. And an oven by and by. Counter space . . . storage . . .”

  “Certainly,” said Juniper, grinning and backing away slowly. “That sounds capital. It’s all on, er, the list. See you later, then?”

  Leena didn’t answer. She was bent over the ground, a sharp stick in hand, sketching menus in the dust.

  • • •

  Hours later, Juniper had tried a dozen different sitting positions on the hard wooden floor of the tree house, and was thoroughly fed up with each and every one. Not for the first time, she wished she’d thought to pack a few of the floor cushions from her lounge room back home. “Have we made any progress?” she asked hopefully.

  Erick looked up from the parchment spread open in front of him, blotting it carefully where the ink was still damp. “Basic schedule is done, and some of the job rotations. The ground map is nearly complete. We’ve designated the cooking area, bathing spots, privies, midden heap, and animal paddocks. We have enough sleeping rooms for everybody.” He flashed a wide grin. “I’d say we’re off to a smashing start.”

  “Good!” said Juniper, letting herself topple backward and shuffling her arms and legs outward, as though to make an invisible dust angel on the bare floor. “Because if I stay sitting here another minute longer—”

  “Begging pardon?” came a voice below them, and Juniper jumped. She and Erick scrambled to the edge and peered over the side. Perched halfway up the branch staircase was Alta. Her hair was even more disheveled than usual, and grime streaked the bridge of her nose. Her general air told of a long afternoon productively spent. Her look, though, was one of puzzlement.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Juniper. “Come on up and tell us about it.”

  “I’d rather you come down and see for yourself,” said Alta, adding quickly, “There’s nothing wrong, mind. Only rather— peculiar.”

  Needing no further persuasion, Juniper and Erick followed Alta down the tree, across the clearing, and through the graveled expanse to the base of the cliff. They scaled the winding trail and reached the entry cave only slightly out of breath. The inside seemed larger now, lit up by an array of torches placed in recesses along the near walls. One empty wagon was parked on the far side of the room, and a second stood half unloaded to the side, gaping out sacks and boxes and assorted packages. But Alta led the way to the third cart, the one that had come with Cyril’s gang. The tarp had been pulled off and several large containers removed, but for the most part, it was still fully loaded.

  “What’s the problem?” Juniper asked.

  Alta hopped nimbly up to the driver’s seat, from where she leaned over toward the cart bed. “Those nobles already came and took out everything that was theirs. That’s what they said, anyhap—so I thought, what’s all this stuff left, then? Well, look at what I found!” She shifted the containers and reached in with both hands. Heaving, she drew out a large sack, tossing it to the ground at Juniper’s feet. It landed with a jangling metallic thud, a sound Juniper recognized immediately.

  “What?” she whispered.

  She peered inside. The bag was full of gold coins, gleaming reddish in the flickering firelight. Locking eyes with Alta, Juniper grabbed the nearest torch and scrambled up into the cart’s bed, where she dug into the rest of the bundles. There was a large bag full of carefully packed jewelry, gemstones, and ornate family heirlooms that Juniper
had never seen outside the Treasury. One very small, elaborately carved marble coffer held the Argentine Circlet, an ancient crown that had adorned the first kings of Torr, until it grew too old and fragile for everyday wearing and was saved for ceremonial events. Several flat, bulky packages contained well-wrapped oil paintings, some of which Juniper had seen hanging in the Great Hall just last week. One giant trunk was packed with centuries-old historical volumes, and another with cedarwood sawdust, in which nestled an array of fine porcelain figures, delicate sculptures, and ancient clay pots.

  They were looking at the cultural heart of Torr.

  Alongside those items were other, rougher cases, packed into the mystery cart like eggs in a well-filled nest. Oversized bags of flour, millet, and cornmeal. Bundles of vegetable seeds. Two barrels of dried beans and another of salt pork. Boxes of preserved fruits and several massive jugs of cordial. Bolts of cloth in thick wool and fine cotton weave, and piles of quilts and blankets and cushions.

  “None of this has to do with Cyril and his gang?” she asked Alta.

  “Definitely not. They made it clear they’d given their bags to a servant to load and expected a servant to deliver them direct to their rooms.”

  Juniper raised her eyebrows.

  “I gave their bags the quick trip down,” Alta confessed. “Tipped them right over the ledge into the valley. It’s all gone now from below, so I suppose they managed to collect them. In any case, I’m sure they would have said so if anything in here belonged to them.”

  Deep in thought, Juniper jumped down from the wagon and brushed off her skirts. Valuables aside, the foodstuff largely consisted of things she’d already packed in the first wagons, just . . . a whole lot more of it. The rest were items she’d planned to stock up on when they made their trip back in a few weeks. After all, her father was going to send his all-is-well messenger any day now.

  Wasn’t he?

  She opened her mouth to explore her worries further. Then she saw Erick’s and Alta’s faces—a complicated mix of confusion and alarm and . . . trust?

  They thought she had a plan. She was in charge, after all.

  Well. She had absolutely no idea what was going on. But one thing she did know: She didn’t want to look too closely at the reason this wagon had been sent. She had a feeling she may not like what she found.

  All she could do right now was take each day as it came. If there was more news to come, they would learn it soon enough.

  Erick gave a low whistle. “So nobody knows what’s in this cart but us.”

  “And that’s the way it needs to stay,” said Juniper. The others looked unsure, so she went on quickly. “All those treasures? The gold? Civilization’s not so far off, and that’s temptation if ever I saw it. There’s a good reason why these things were sent with us. We need to stow everything away safely until it all becomes clear.”

  By that time, surely, any bad news would have turned to good.

  • • •

  In the end, all the valuables—gold and treasure and historical objects alike—were stashed in a tiny alcove that Tippy found off the main room. For of course the three of them hadn’t been alone long before the little girl bounded into their midst, brimming with questions and crackling with mischief. Any number of passages led out of the giant entry cave, but the one they chose had a wide, low access point, and would appear impassable to someone of normal size. In reality, though, it overhung a stone lip; the bags and boxes were turned sideways and lowered easily through the hole, then dragged farther in around a bend. In this dry, dark spot, they would be safe for the foreseeable future.

  “Now we certainly have enough food for our stay,” said Alta, eyeing the mountains of provisions.

  “We should leave these up in here, too,” said Juniper. “Though in a more accessible spot, away from the treasure. It’ll be our storeroom, and we can bring what we need down in batches.”

  “Leena’s all piled up in boxes and bundles as it is,” said Tippy, with a wicked gleam in her eye. “I helped her stack some of them myself.”

  “Tippy!” said Alta, groaning. “Tell me you didn’t—”

  A distant thud rang from the valley below, followed by a rolling series of clangs and a stream of curses. Tippy shook her head sorrowfully. “Those cook pots! They do stack up so tipsy-like . . .”

  The interruption brought a welcome laugh, and the four moved quickly to fill the newly christened storeroom with the extra provisions. But as the last of the bags and barrels were stored carefully away and they headed back out into the late-afternoon sunshine, Juniper couldn’t help glancing back at the narrow opening to the treasure room. Why had her father—for it could only have been him—packed the cart with all those extras?

  What was really going on back at the palace?

  Princess Juniper’s Daily Schedule:

  Queen’s Basin

  7:00

  Rise, Personal Grooming

  7:30

  Breakfast

  8:30

  Task Assignments, Answering Questions, General Organization

  9:00

  Perform Various Odious Tasks (whatever’s left un-done from yesterday)

  11:00

  Roving to Ensure All Is Well / Help Out as Needed

  12:30

  Luncheon

  2:00

  Personal Leisure and Quiet Time

  4:00

  Roving to Ensure All Is Well / Help Out as Needed

  5:00

  Planning for Tomorrow (and long-term)

  7:00

  Dinner

  8:00

  Questions, Assorted Tasks That Need Doing

  9:00

  Evening Leisure

  10:00

  Pre-Bed Grooming

  10:30

  Worry about Papa and the Fate of Torr

  11:00

  Sleep

  THE NEWLY MINTED CITIZENS TOOK TO Queen’s Basin like water bugs to a pond. They spent the rest of their day unpacking, setting up their personal caves, and generally getting ready for the following day. The slower pace came as a relief after the long, hard trip.

  Dinner that night was a festive affair. Paul and Filbert had dragged a bunch of flat boulders into a loose circle by the spot they’d designated as a dining area. Leena had finished with her cave in twenty minutes flat and spent the rest of the day in her brand-new kitchen, embracing her role with a speed and skill that surprised almost everyone. But Juniper had seen that look of ownership and knew it well: the look of someone finding that thing she adores, and taking it, and making it her own. And so as the sun sank behind the canyon walls, the fourteen settlers gathered to enjoy potatoes roasted in the coals, fresh sage griddle cakes topped with sweet butter and honey syrup, and a mix of shredded carrots, celeriac, and radish greens. Sitting on her flat stone, holding her pewter dish and sipping every so often from her mug of mulled cider, Juniper thought this might be the best meal of her life. From the contented munching all around, it seemed the group agreed. Not even Jessamyn raised any complaints, though she and Cyril and Root sat on the circle’s outer edge, angled away from the others, exchanging scornful glances from time to time.

  Juniper put them completely out of her mind.

  Before long, it was full night. Slipping the last bite of salad into her mouth, Juniper set down her plate and looked up. The
sky was big and black and studded with bright hot stars, which, from here, so high up in the mountains, looked like clever cutouts in the shadowy curtain of night. Sitting outside in the dark was not something Juniper had done often; that “had no part in a princess’s lifestyle,” as her Comportment Master was so fond of saying. She wasn’t too old to remember, though, how much her mother had loved the night. The Anju were a notoriously secretive tribe, and Queen Alaina had never told her young daughter many specifics about the customs or rituals or traditions of her own youth. She did, however, fill Juniper’s head with lore and legend and fascinating tales of everyday life in the wild. Her mother’s favorite bedtime stories were set under a blackened moon, with the starry sky draped like a thick, warm shawl across Juniper’s sleepy shoulders.

  Stars like these, she thought now. It was like slipping into one of those stories, and she could have hung in this moment for a good long time. Instead, she was jarred from her thoughts by a sudden flash. In the sky above the cliff where they had entered the Basin, the white stars suddenly flared red, followed moments later by a low rumble.

  “What was that?” Juniper asked, and others turned to follow the direction of her gaze.

  “A storm?” suggested Oona timidly. She’d come late to dinner, and the sitting stone next to Juniper’s had been the only one left free. Erick sat on Juniper’s other side, but everyone else seemed to be keeping a slight distance, as though they didn’t know quite how to act around someone who was ruler, peer, and fellow settler all at once. Juniper could well understand; she scarcely knew how to act around herself.

  Now she gave Oona an encouraging shrug. “It could be. Strange, though, to see the sky turn that color.”

  “I’ve heard tell,” came Cyril’s haughty voice, “that the Monsians of the far west have dark and fearsome weapons, such as would make our swords and cannons no more dangerous than waving tree branches.”