Should he care? When she arrived at the practice ground, all pale and trembling and complaining of a sore head, he’d just wanted to dump her into the sand until she felt as sore as he. Yet, it wasn’t her fault that her life was different from his, just as it wasn’t his fault that the plague had taken his parents. Life, Will thought, is an accident of birth and fortune. There’s no point in being bitter.
The gate creaked. N’tombe walked toward him.
“Where’s the Princess?” called Will.
“She won’t be here this morning, She’s not feeling well.”
“Is she ill?”
“She doesn’t feel up to fighting.”
Dana had everything: money, family, a nice home. She needed to stop feeling so sorry for herself. If she had some real difficulties in her life, it might be good for her. Give her a sense of how fortunate she really was. Wonder what would happen to me if I said to Cook: I don’t feel like getting up early?
N’tombe looked at him. “You’re not from here, are you? Like me, you’re a foreigner.”
“So?”
“So, you don’t know about the Guardian.”
“Everyone knows about the Guardian.” He wasn’t that foreign. There had been a book at the school called The Gift of The Guardian. The book had said that the Guardian wore a big necklace and protected the Kingdom from plague and wars and famine and stuff. There had been pictures. Most were in black and white but one image had been colored – the big stone at the base of the necklace was deep red.
“What began as custom has become tradition,” said N’tombe, cryptically.
“What?”
“The Guardian is an inherited position. Dana will be the next Guardian.”
Will couldn’t see that this changed anything. She would still get to live in the Castle and be a princess. He wished, sometimes, that she wasn’t. No matter how pretty she was, she could never be more than his pupil. And whether she lived in a tower or on a throne, he would never be more than just her friend.
“I don’t think you understand,” said N’tombe. “The necklace is more than just pretty stones. The necklace is worn by the Guardian, true, although, from another perspective the necklace wears the Guardian.”
What was she talking about?
“The Guardian ages early, dies young,” said N’tombe. “And the necklace takes her soul.”
Will shook his head. No. She must be joking.
“Every land has sacrifices. Always, someone suffers so someone else may gain.”
“You’re telling me,” Will could feel his face turning red, “the Princess will be stuck in a tower. Forever?”
N’tombe spread her hands wide. “Who can say what the future will bring? But it is a heavy load, and Dana is only just learning to carry it.”
“It’s barbaric!” Sometimes, he’d wished something might happen to the Princess; a minor inconvenience, perhaps, like a broken ankle so she’d know pain, or the death of a pet to teach her grief. But not this. Never this. Stuck in a tower, until her heart stopped working? How could her parents allow it? What sort of a country would murder a young girl?
“So, perhaps, you might feel a little sympathy.”
“And there’s no escape?”
N’tombe said nothing.
This was barbaric. What was the point in Dana learning to fight? If she was going to spend her whole life up in a tower, why should she need to know the things he was teaching her?
N’tombe. Maybe, just maybe, she had been helping Dana to learn these skills for a reason. Perhaps she wanted Dana to escape! And if the Princess ran away, then possibly, just possibly, she might take him with her.
He smiled. “What can I do?”
Chapter Twenty-One
A Copper Bead
I lay in bed for a week, staring at the roof and walls of my chamber. Nurse brought me food that I couldn’t eat, and sympathy, which made me angry. N’tombe checked in on me twice a day, brief visits, as though I was a patient in the infirmary or a prisoner in a cell.
I grew to know all the cracks in the plasterwork of my room, and I found some new animals in the carvings of my bed: a walrus, an elephant and a fantastical beast that, as far as I knew, had no name – a wingless bird with a protruding beak and great, clawed feet. I ran my fingers over them, hoping they might spell a code to an escape route. If I only had the key, I could escape.
Maybe these beasts were real creatures somewhere. But I, destined to a lonely life in a stone tower, would never see them. I was confined to the Kingdom and this Castle forever. Gradually, the self-pity faded from lacerating pain to background ache, leaving me room to think. Why had N’tombe supported my training? Why, if I were never to need them, had she encouraged me to learn the skills of fighting?
And Will. What of him? It was a puzzle, and I spent long, sleepless nights pondering it.
* * *
Finally, N’tombe dragged me from my bed by threatening to link my legs to a thread of her mind and commanding me to walk. Despite my anger – a dull anger, everything was dull – the fighting did help. Concentrating on the flash of blade forced me to live in the moment.
Someone, probably N’tombe, had told Will of my news. So, even though there was “no right mood for fighting”, he seemed unusually gentle, sparring slowly and avoiding hard throws. For once, I would have welcomed being dumped on the sand. Throwing myself hard against things appealed.
After training we sat together beside the practice ground. I blinked in the spring glare, dimly surprised by the sun; my mind was a whirl of darkness.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” Will said.
I glared at him. “Why? It’s what you need, isn’t it? A land free of plague and famine? It’s what everyone wants!”
“But what about you? What do you want?”
I turned toward his face, but didn’t see him. “I want,” I whispered, “to live my own life.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.” We sat together in silence and watched the sun lift higher. Birds sang in praise of its warmth. Stupid birds.
* * *
Later, I trudged up the stairs to Rosa’s tower. My tower.
The old woman looked up when I opened the door. Again, she was seated at the table, her gnarled hands resting on its smooth wood. In front of her was the leather box that housed the necklace.
“Your father told you then.” She eyed my melancholy face and added conversationally, “You know, you’ve been very lucky.”
“What?” I flopped onto a chair.
“You grew up thinking you’d have a normal life.”
I didn’t think this made me lucky. It just made me ignorant.
“I always knew that I would be the next Guardian,” said Rosa.
I was thinking about Will’s question. What did I want to do? I’d never thought about what I’d do when I was older.
“We all get older, child. Like it or not.” She opened the leather box. The glowing necklace seemed like a magnificent snake, coiled and ready to strike. I bent to look at it, but kept my hands still, my head readied to move away. The analogy of a serpent was strong; I didn’t trust this thing.
“You’re right not to. I don’t.” Rosa rubbed her chest. “But it has its uses.”
“What was it like? When you first put it on?”
She thought for a moment. “Comfortable. As though I had a little kitten around my neck. Cozy. It cuddled up to me. It whispered; it loved me, needed me. I was beautiful and wonderful and powerful. That was at first.” She sighed and reached into the box. “Then the pain started. And the voices.”
“The voices?”
“It’s powerful and very old,” said Rosa. “That’s one of the reasons I encouraged your fighting lessons. Combat teaches you to think on your feet, to keep your mind calm under pressure.”
Her fingers ran over the stones, fondling each in turn between thumb and forefinger, like a priest telling a rosary. Every one was different: blue, red, orange. Not all were multi-faceted gems. There
were glass beads, delicately embossed with intricate golden detail, semi-precious, faceted stones and, sprinkled among the bright beads, some plain, unadorned: gold, copper, wood.
She never touched the ruby.
As though hearing my thoughts, blood-red shards of light scattered from its heart, falling on the table and walls. For a brief moment the room seemed to flame.
I pointed to the stone. “This rests on your heart.”
“Yes.” Her voice was grim. I had a sudden vision of the thing against my chest. What happened to her would happen to me. Would it burn?
Rosa seemed to be searching the glowing chain. “Here he is. He always does this to me.”
“What?”
A small copper bead, as long as a fingernail, as wide as my thumb. It looked like one of the clips that N’tombe wove into her braids.
“He’s a tricky one. He changes.”
“Changes?”
“He is the oldest,” she said in everyday tones, as though she was pointing out dust in the corners of the room. “He’s playing with me. He loves to play, this one.” She touched a copper bead. The metal was so shiny it was almost pink. “The ornate ones are more recent.”
I felt, rather than heard, an answering sigh from the necklace.
“Here he is,” she handed me the bead. “Careful. He won’t like it if you drop him.”
She hadn’t even touched a clasp. So, how had she removed the bead?
Rosa held the necklace high, so it became a frame for her face and smiled at me through its circle. There was no clasp; the necklace was an unbroken circle of beads.
“It’s not just a necklace,” she said. “What you are seeing is not as it appears. Remember that, when you lie awake, fearing your future. Nothing is set; all fates lie open to you.” She patted my hand. “What I’m trying to say is, don’t worry so much. Believe me, it will all come out all right.”
“Will it? Will it really?” My voice was harsh and I didn’t care because I didn’t believe her. Nothing would ever be right.
“Well,” she shrugged. “I hope it will, anyway. There are alternatives, of course. But I prefer not to dwell on them.”
I peered at the tiny bead. Marks had been etched on it, faint black lines. A small, smiling face. A round face with no hair and slanted eyes. Maybe. Or perhaps it was just old, and had become scratched over time. It seemed to quiver in my hand. Fearful it might fall, I closed my fingers tight around it. When I opened them again, the face seemed to be winking.
“You should be able to wear it as a ring,” said Rosa. “On your little finger, maybe?”
It fitted perfectly. I tipped my hand, watching the light change against the metal. Its color matched my hair.
“It’s not about the looks, dear.” Rosa tipped the necklace back into the box. It hissed as she clicked the lid shut. “You need to wear him for the next month. Then come back to me. Tell me what you’ve learnt in the while.”
A crow cawed from the windowsill and black feathers clattered as the bird, folding its wings, landed clumsily on the table. Rosa turned to the bird. “News?”
I didn’t like the crows. Their great beaks looked able to peck out eyes and they stared at me as though I was an intruder. It wasn’t until I reached the first landing that I realized I was moving with more energy. The light from the torches glinted on the copper band. How had she managed to take it from the necklace?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Not As Easy As It Seems
Will and I began practicing with blades. Will had bound the blades with leather to blunt the edges, so we wouldn’t accidentally maim or kill one another.
I kicked at the sand. “Why do you bother?”
What was the point? Like a medieval princess, I’d one day be locked in a tower. All my skills with sticks, feet or blades would be useless.
Will put a hand on my shoulder. “Lady? Are you well?”
I would not cry, I would not cry. So why, despite these thoughts, did my eyes fill with tears?
“Come here.” He pulled me into his arms. Even while I sobbed I could feel how strong he was, how calm. And kind. So kind. I sniffed and looked up at him. He smiled down, the dimples in his cheeks deepening to creases that lifted along his mouth.
I wanted to lift up, touch his mouth with mine. His eyes widened, the pupils enlarging, darkening. He sighed, a tiny puff of soft air. Then, carefully, Will took his arms away and stepped backwards. I stood alone.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” he turned away. “I didn’t mean ...”
Didn’t mean what?
* * *
Another day, another early morning. Wrapped in thick wool, I shivered beside the practice area. N’tombe had pulled me out of bed with the sunrise bell. The days were lengthening, so the bell was ringing ever earlier.
I grumbled to her. “I’ll never use this anyway.”
“Can you see the future?” N’tombe asked.
I shook my head.
“Then wise are you to know what you will and will not need.” She cocked her head to one side. “Here he comes.”
Will emerged from the early morning gloom. He seemed to have a hunchback.
“You done much archery, Princess?” He threw the hump down. Quivers.
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“I have,” N’tombe said. Will and I looked at each other in amazement. She was usually so quiet that sometimes I felt she’d made a statue of herself and placed it beside the practice ground.
“Did you like it?” Will asked.
“It was not a question of like or dislike. It was simply something one did.” N’tombe smiled. “My cousins taught me. They lived in the jungle. In the jungle, every boy carries a bow and arrow. Because I am so tall my cousins said I was a boy and I could have a bow. So I learnt to shoot.”
Maybe she had been tall once, but now I could look down into her eyes. If I dared. She had a way of intimidating people; one forgot she was short.
As usual, she knew what I was thinking. “To my cousins, I am very tall. But then, my cousins are very, very small people. How I would tease them for that! And they would tease me back, call me “elephant foot” and “rhinoceros”.”
“She’s fae!” muttered Will.
I nodded. That would explain her magic powers. Although, no one really believed the fae were real. Even so, the superstitions persisted. Nurse left saucers of milk out, even though I told her that the cats drank it.
“Oh no,” N’tombe laughed. “My cousins are human. Just tiny.”
Diminutive forest folk sounded fae to me.
“Now,” said N’tombe, briskly. “What about the archery?”
Will shook his head. “Yes. Archery. Princess, have you used a bow and arrow?”
“Sometimes.”
“I thought we should practice.”
“Why?”
He looked down at his feet, speaking fast. “I was thinking; what’s the point of learning hand-to-hand fighting if your opponent has a bow and arrow? You’ll never get close enough. He’ll always have the advantage.”
He looked up and saw me staring at him. “What?”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
He flushed. “You’ll laugh.”
“Tell her,” said N’tombe.
“I had a dream,” he rubbed his forehead, looked embarrassed. “There were horsemen. Galloping across flat, grassy plains. A city burned. The horsemen killed everyone.” He stopped, shook his head. “It doesn’t sound like much, does it? But it felt so real, as though I was there. A man ran toward me. He had a forked beard. A soldier shot him. The arrow stuck out of his back. I could even see the fletching on the arrow. It was black and gray.”
“Last year,” I whispered, “I had a dream like that.”
“I know,” he said. “You told me.”
He told me how he and the Sergeant had been considering my dream. Like tacticians, they’d been inspecting it from all angles; the characters, the weapons. Especially th
e weapons.
“We’ve been practicing our archery. The problem is the bow.” Will looked excited. “But what if your enemy moves fast? The traditional longbow is too cumbersome for horseback. Well, Sergeant and me, we’ve been talking with the Master Bowmaker. And now, look! We’ve got some different types of bows here. For practice.”
I didn’t care about the bows, although Will plainly did. He looked up at me, his face flushed, his eyes bright. But all I could think was – two dreams! Could it have been the same army?
“Did you do this?” I asked N’tombe.
Her face was blank. “What makes you think that?”
I huffed at her and picked up a bow.
* * *
I turned out to be good at archery. I liked the sense of freedom, the controlled tension, the release of the arrow, the way it sped silently into the target. Finally, I had some power in my life, even if it was only over the poor practice dummy. By the end of the morning it appeared fatally damaged, straw leeching through the leather covering.
“I think you’ve killed it,” said Will.
My forearm stung. “I forgot the arm guard.”
Will took my arm, rubbed his hand along the red welt. His callused fingers seemed to trail fire down the soft skin of my inner arm.
“What’s this?” he pointed to the copper ring on my little finger. His soft touch made me shiver.
“It’s a ring.”
“You’ve not worn it before.”
I shrugged, lost in wonder at his gentle hands. “Just something I picked up.” I rubbed the copper, making it shine.
We played with our archery for a fortnight. In the pleasure wood we shot at knotholes on the trees and at small birds. I didn’t like doing that, but Will insisted. And we tried different bow sizes. I favored a flatter bow, with tips that curved back. With this, I could still puncture the dummy, but the bow was lighter, easier to draw. N’tombe joined in, too. She too preferred the smaller bow; it was what she was used to, she said, and good in a forest.
The SoulNecklace Stories Page 17
