by A. M. Manay
“My name is Bluebell, Master Hatch. Come walk with me in the garden,” she called out.
He scrambled to his feet and followed her. The blind ones are the creepiest, he thought before he could stop himself. He hoped she hadn’t heard him thinking.
“I appreciate your coming to speak with me, Sister,” he told her when he caught up.
“It is our order’s pleasure to assist the king of Bryn whenever possible,” she replied. “I am to tell you that his grace need not fear Shiloh Teethborn.”
As much as Hatch appreciated her cutting to the chase, he wished to know more. “That is a relief, and I thank you. What else can you tell me, Sister?”
She stopped walking and turned to face him. “If you bring her to court, she will be a blessing to crown and country. She will wield a wand of steel. The child born of blood will risk her own to save the king’s. Three times she shall fight for him. Three times she shall protect him. The child who sprouted in dead earth shall make it bloom again. And whoever casts her out shall bring ruin upon himself.”
He nodded, swallowing his excitement and trepedation and committing her words to memory. “Thank you, Sister Bluebell. You have the gratitude of the king. Are you . . . are you saying that she is some kind of . . . chosen one of the Gods or something?”
Bluebell laughed in his face. “The Gods you don’t believe in, Master Hatch? It is a foolish thing to fancy any one person to be the savior of a people. And dangerous for both the person in question and anyone around him, or her. I would have thought your service in the war would have taught you that much.”
Chagrinned, Silas bowed again. “A fair point. Again, you have my thanks, Sister.”
“It has been my pleasure, Master Hatch,” the girl replied. “As it was my pleasure to meet the girl in question.”
“What was she like?” he asked. Was she haughty like Alissa? Ruthless like Keegan? Brilliant like Edmun? Steadfast like Poll? Silas had so many questions he could not risk asking aloud.
“She is a good girl, Master Hatch. A credit to her teacher. A credit to the one who saved her, whoever he might be.” Her lip twitched; she turned and walked swiftly away before Hatch could say anything more.
***
The wedding proper was finally over. Shiloh’s friend Penny Warwick was now Queen Penn of Bryn. The feast was in full swing, and the courtiers took turns approaching the dais and offering their gifts to the royal couple. One extravagance after another paraded by, and Shiloh grew increasingly uneasy about her choice of gift.
At last, it was her turn, and an usher beckoned her forward. She carried a flower pot of lacquered wood embossed in gold with the king’s coat of arms and decorated with a scattering of jewels. In the pot bloomed yellow poppies to match the queen’s wedding gown.
Shiloh curtsied deeply, hoping her hands wouldn’t shake enough to make her drop the pot.
Rischar looked at her in confusion. “A potted plant?” he asked.
“Your Grace,” Shiloh explained, “this plant has grown in earth from the Deadlands down south.”
“But how?” Rischar exclaimed.
“She fixed it, my lord husband. She healed the dead earth so life could grow in it again,” Penn breathed, a bright smile lighting her face.
“For you, Your Grace. I’ve only done a small patch so far, but I will heal the rest for you, if it please you,” Shiloh pledged.
She waited, trembling, for his reaction.
“Ha!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands in delight. “How cunning! Leave it to you to make a potted plant my favorite gift!”
Shiloh sagged with relief. Rischar insisted that a servant bring the pot up to the dais, where he set it next to his goblet. Shiloh curtsied once again, then got out of the way for the next courtier, who gave her a look that could almost have drawn blood.
“Well played,” Hatch bent to whisper in her ear.
She was about to protest her innocence with him, but instead gave him a wink.
“Well, my lord, I did learn from the best.”
***
“Tell me again why the court does this every summer, my lord?” Shiloh asked Hatch. They stood in the large courtyard, watching the total pandemonium that resulted when a hundred men or more were put to the task of loading every courtier’s luggage onto carts.
“The summer progress is a king’s way of connecting to his people, and of increasing his knowledge of the land and its inhabitants,” Hatch explained. “And also, the king is terrified of plague, so he prefers to get out of the City when the weather is warm.”
“Ah,” Shiloh replied with a nod, eyes still skeptical. “It seems like an awful lot of trouble.”
Hatch laughed. “Isn’t everything involving the court?”
Shiloh snorted her agreement.
“You will enjoy it, once we get on the road,” Hatch assured her. “You’ve never seen the Vine, or the Wood, or even the Gate. There are views in the Gate that will take your breath away. And the castles where the lords host the king are quite lovely. For the young people, this is their favorite time of year. No tutorials. No matron. Very little responsibility.”
“Plenty of time to get into mischief?” Shiloh concluded for him.
Hatch cocked his head to the side in acknowledgement that she was correct. “Let’s just say that Master Jonn will pack plenty of Halli’s Draught to keep the girls out of trouble,” he replied, eyes smiling. “Speaking of such shenanigans, how is our new queen enjoying wedded bliss? I’m told his grace visits her most nights.”
“He does. And she’s happy,” Shiloh replied, unwilling to go into further detail.
“And your new apartment in the Pink Tower, near the queen?” Hatch asked.
“It is lovely, my lord,” Shiloh answered. “It’s too much, really. I’m afraid I’m going to break something.”
Hatch laughed. “You want your old room back, do you?”
“I didn’t say that,” she countered, remembering the kitchen workers accidentally stumbling into her chamber at inopportune moments. “It’s just a little more luxury than I’m accustomed to, even now.”
“Well, Queen Penn wanted you close. It is good that she has a friend. A friend everyone can trust,” Hatch stated, gazing down at her most meaningfully.
Shiloh nodded, then looked away.
I think I liked it better when we were nobodies, new quarters or not.
***
The queen’s uncle has spent a fortune, Hatch thought upon the court’s arrival at Lookout Castle in the Gate. He had never seen the place look so fine. Of course, with his niece on the throne, he ought to be able to recoup his losses.
New plaster, new shutters, new rugs, new tapestries, new furniture—Finn Warwick, Duke of Lockmore, had spared no expense in preparing to entertain his new royal nephew-in-law.
As he sat down to supper, Hatch was further impressed by the quality of the food. Of course, country air always helps the appetite. He looked up to the head table, where Rischar and Penn sat happily together. Penn’s easy smile and demure air, and her unwavering, gentle affection for her husband, presented quite a contrast to times past. Mirin and Zina both had been prone to arguing with his grace, or, alternately, turning on the charm to an offensive degree in order to get what they wanted.
Penn, on the other hand, didn’t seem to want much of anything beyond making her husband happy. Consequently, anything she did request fell upon an accommodating ear, and she was denied nothing.
The maids had told him that the queen’s courses were a week late. Hatch hoped that their math was correct. He thought, perhaps, he should ask Shiloh if she concurred, but she was fairly tight-lipped about her friend and queen.
He looked over to where Shiloh sat alongside Lord Wheatley. Young Jaym’s cheeks were flush with excitement. He’d gotten to sail on his own boat when they’d crossed the Bay that afternoon. He appeared to be regaling his tutor with tales of his prowess on the water. Shiloh, for he
r part, listened patiently.
He surveyed the room. Lord Kepler and his new wife, Lady Hana, dined at a table with her parents. Hana looked like the only one attempting to make conversation. Daved—now Lord Redwood, Hatch reminded himself—nodded at the words of Lord Mosspeak. Hatch was glad to see Mosspeak taking an interest in the boy. Mosspeak was loyal to the king, and a more than competent administrator of his own lands. Hatch thought he would be a good influence on a boy still learning how to be a lord.
Daved’s eyes often wandered over to Shiloh, Hatch noticed. I suppose it wouldn’t be surprising if he were sweet on her. She was the only one who showed him any kindness during his ordeal. Still, it could never be permitted.
I’ll have to keep my eye on that.
***
After a pleasant few days at Lord Rockmore’s favorite castle, they were off to the Vine. Shiloh was curious to see all the vineyards she’d read about. She was curious as well to see how Lord Blufeld entertained the court. The Vine was known for its dances, or so she had heard.
It was strange to her that Blufeld ignored his bastard children so utterly. He seemed to avoid looking at Hatch altogether if he could help it. You’d think he’d be glad his son made good, she said to herself.
It was much hotter on the road today, now that they were largely out of the trees. Shiloh was glad for the sun bonnet Hatch had advised her to order, as well as the summer riding dresses Lill had dug up for her somewhere.
Most of the ladies rode in carriages, but Shiloh preferred to be on horseback with the men. She had a better view of the scenery that way, and there was more of a breeze. Besides, the eavesdropping was more interesting. There was only so long she could stand hearing about Lady Hana’s new shoemaker.
Daved came up next to her. He’d put some weight back on over the course of the spring, but then he’d shot up another five fingers in height, so he looked as skinny as ever. He was smiling more these days, as Shiloh was relieved to see.
“Good morning, my lady,” he greeted her with a bow of his head.
“Good morning, my lord,” she replied, trying unsuccessfully to stifle her own smile at his formality.
“It’s my name day,” he told her.
“Happy name day, my lord!” she replied.
“What did you get me?” he asked, winking.
“Um . . . I’ll have to get back to you on that, my lord,” she laughed. “In my defense, I had absolutely no idea it was your name day.”
“You wound me,” Daved claimed, hand theatrically pressed to his chest.
“Right,” Shiloh replied. “Nobody remembered my name day, either, my lord. It was back in winter. Speaking of gifts, how did his grace like yours?”
Daved smirked. “He was very pleased. That letter you helped me write went over quite well. Tears in his eyes, my lady. Actual tears.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, he seems to be treating me like he used to, before, when he liked me . . . and the other young bucks have stopped looking right through me. So, I thank you.”
“My pleasure to be of help, my lord.”
“Look,” Daved told her, pointing. “The first vineyard. We must have crossed the border into the Vine.”
“Oh, how lovely,” Shiloh sighed. The neat, well-kept vines marched in formation across the side of a hill. As they got closer, she could see how the twisting, gnarled plants had been trained and tamed, tied to stakes and wires. Somehow, they made her think of Brother Edmun and his years of labor with her.
Hatch came up beside them. “Good afternoon, my lord and my lady,” he offered. “See that monastery down there? That’s where I went to school before I was sent to the Academy.”
“You want to go visit?” Shiloh asked, grinning.
“Heavens, no,” he laughed. “I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I do send them money, though, for having put up with me,” he admitted, before riding ahead of them to catch up with Lord Mosspeak.
Shiloh watched Daved’s eyes on Hatch’s back. “Are you all right, my lord?” she asked.
Daved nodded. “I was just thinking that he isn’t really as terrible as I thought,” he confessed. “I hated him, for my family, for taking half my land. But if it hadn’t been him, it would have just been someone else. And he didn’t have to try as hard as he did to protect me. A lot of people would have just let me hang.”
“He is a strange mix of good and terrible,” Shiloh concurred. “Sort of like Edmun was, I guess, so I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.”
“What was Brother Edmun like? I mean, all the stories about the war, even about when he was headmaster . . . it’s hard to believe he and Headmaster Markas are even related,” Daved said.
“I know! How two men could look so alike and be such opposites, I do not understand! Now, I haven’t heard how people talk about Master Edmun’s war days. Whenever he spoke of the war, it was always with sorrow and guilt, sometimes anger. He loved the Usurper, but he hated what she became, hated what he had done for her,” Shiloh explained.
“He was so full of regret. Sometimes, toward the end, he would drink and talk about all his men who had died, all the friends he’d lost, the people he’d killed. He’d tell me stories of the old days. He was so sad, and so brilliant. Grouchy. Loyal. An amazing teacher, and very demanding.”
“He must have been, with all the stuff you know,” Daved replied.
“Anyway,” she shrugged. “It’s hard to believe it’s been a whole year since he died.”
“Does it get easier?” Daved asked softly.
Shiloh nodded, reaching out to pat his arm. “Yes. It does. It’s hard never talking about him, though. Like he never existed. You’re the only one who has ever brought him up with me, except the Headmaster the first day I was at court. I imagine no one wants to talk to you about your family, either.”
Daved shook his head and looked away.
“Well, if you ever need to talk about them, my lord, I know a very good spell to block eavesdroppers,” Shiloh offered.
“You’re a good friend,” Daved replied, looking up to meet her eyes with a sad smile.
“I try.”
***
They stopped for a mid-day meal at the Convent of St. Corla, then pressed onward to make Blufeld Castle by dusk. Silas Hatch rode next to the king and Lord Mosspeak. Ahead of them rode Lord Kepler and a few other lordlings, and ahead of them, the Castellan and the front guard. Behind the king rode the rest of the courtiers, then the carriages with the women, then the rear guard. As they came to an overlook above a verdant valley, Hatch held up his hand.
“My lords, do you see that shimmer down there?” he asked, brows forming a concerned chevron. He placed one hand onto his wand and used the other to point to a strange-looking patch of land near a small temple that lay in the midst of the sprawling vineyards. Blufeld Castle was visible on the other side of the valley, clinging to the side of the highest hill.
“Aye,” Mosspeak replied grimly. He pulled his wand from its holster.
The king, a bit nearsighted since childhood, asked, “Where? What is it? I don’t see it.”
Silas pulled a looking glass, and Mosspeak replied, “It looks like a slightly botched concealment charm. It’s not hot enough today for it to be heat shimmers.”
“But we are deep inside Bryn!” Rischar protested. “And we are too far from the Teeth for it to be Feralfolk.”
“I know, Your Grace,” Hatch replied. “Perhaps it is simply a vintner who bribed a priest to hide some of his wine to avoid taxes, or some petty criminals hiding stolen goods. But we cannot be sure from this distance, and the size of the anomaly concerns me.”
“I could slow the front guard and send some scouts,” Mosspeak proposed.
Rischar nodded. “Do it,” the king agreed.
Hatch continued to peer through his spyglass. He watched Mosspeak ride past Kepler, who looked from the older duke down to the strange spot in the valley, then turned back as though to ar
gue with Mosspeak, who shrugged him off.
“You are troubled,” the king observed.
“Aye, Your Grace,” Silas admitted. “I am troubled. Something isn’t right.”
***
“Why have we slowed down so much?” Shiloh asked Hatch, her voice pitched low. Honey sat on her shoulder, obviously concerned about something, as he wouldn’t cease pulling at her hair.
“I think we might be walking into an ambush,” Hatch replied softly. “Keep your wand handy.”
Mosspeak worked his way back to them and shook his head. Hatch sucked at his teeth.
“What is it, my lords?” Shiloh asked.
“I sent some scouts ahead. They haven’t returned,” Lord Mosspeak explained. “I sent a messenger on a fast horse to Blufeld Castle, but they fly no flag indicating having received him.”
“There’s precious little cover along that road down there,” Silas pointed out.
“So I’ve noticed,” Mosspeak concurred with a grimace.
“Should we send the women back to that convent we left an hour ago? It isn’t that far,” Shiloh suggested, biting the inside of her lip. “Best to do it before we start descending into the valley, don’t you think, my lords?”
Silas nodded. “That’s not a bad idea,” he replied. “Send them to safety with some of the rear guard. Use your men, please, Lord Mosspeak.”
Mosspeak nodded his understanding. “I’ll clear it with the king,” he replied. “But I don’t want to frighten the women unnecessarily.”
“Tell them something is blocking the road, and they should rest there while we clear it,” Silas suggested. Mosspeak nodded and went to speak with King Rischar.
“I’d like you to stay, if this is going to be a fight,” Silas told Shiloh.
“I’d be a bit insulted if you didn’t.” She gave him a little wink, then turned serious again. “How many attackers, would you guess?”
“Depends on how many of our party are in on it,” Hatch replied, grim-faced. His eyes darted from man to man, and he stared as though he meant to see right through them.
