Robin could see the outline. Unlike the zigzag pattern tracing the door to the conduit, this appeared to be a straight-sided panel. The bricks did not dovetail with the wall on either side. “Do you detect any hinges?”
“I don't, Sire. It's a door, I'm sure of it, but how does it open?”
They pushed and prodded at the sides but nothing budged.
Meeyoo scratched the sand along the panel’s bottom.
“Look, Sire, Meeyoo is helping.”
“We suspect she needs to relieve herself,” Robin said, grateful she hadn't soiled the inside of the rucksack.
He and Sir Maxwell dug knives into the panel's border but found no device joining the door to the wall.
“I'm sorry, Your Majesty,” Sir Maxwell said. “I can't figure out how this opens.”
Robin sighed. “Let's take a step back. Maybe from a different perspective ... wait. Meeyoo? Where's Meeyoo?”
“She probably took off after a lizard or a mouse,” Sir Maxwell said.
“Perhaps.” Robin scanned his surroundings but the cat was nowhere in sight. “Meeyoo? Where did you go?” He took a few steps to the right then the left. His throat tightening and his stomach souring, he trotted toward the woods calling the cat's name. He wished he had some pungent treat like a morsel of cheese or fish with which to coax her out of hiding.
“Sire, look,” Sir Maxwell called.
Heaving a sigh of relief, Robin jogged to where the knight stood facing the wall. “You found her?”
The knight pointed up at the sky. “It's the gryphon, Sire.”
Robin squinted. Two distant for him to make out any detail, a dark shape cycled high above in the sky beyond the wall. “It’s a bird, Sir Maxwell. A large one, with a long tail. A hawk or buzzard perhaps. There could be something dead on the other side of the wall.”
“It's the gryphon, Sire. Meeyoo's mate, Meeyowyow's father. He protects Meeyoo. He is never far from her. She must be on the other side.”
Robin tried not to snort. The young knight did have a fanciful imagination and it wasn't helping to find the cat. She could be anywhere. She could be far from here by now, as lost in this unmapped land as they were. His shoulders cramping with mounting despair, he scanned the grounds. A small trough leading under the panel's bottom edge was imprinted with fresh cat tracks and the feather strokes of a feline's tail. “Look at this. We think she's tunneled underneath.” Of course she had. What cat could resist investigating what lay behind a closed door?
“Then she is on the other side,” Sir Maxwell said. “The gryphon is keeping her in his sight. Maybe like Meeyoo we could tunnel underneath.” He dropped to his knees and scraped at the ground.
Robin heard a creak and gravel rained down. “Hold a minute, Sir Maxwell,” said Robin. The panel’s top edge no longer abutted the wall but had inched out. “It's not hinged on either side. It pivots at the midpoint.”
They pushed the bottom edge away from them. The top edge tipped into the space above them. When the panel was at a right angle to the ground it left an opening.
Sir Maxwell stood back and regarded the opening. “Looks wide enough for a person to pass through.”
“Or a cat. Meeyoo?”
“It would have to be a small man,” Sir Maxwell continued. “Do you suppose it explains why the people in Near eat so sparingly? So they can remain thin?” He stroked his chin. “A woman could pass through. Maybe that's why they have their women cloistered. They train them as scouts to wiggle through this wall and search for Perooc.”
“What a notion. Meeyoo?” Robin called.
The cat neither appeared nor made a noise.
Sir Maxwell removed his pack, set it on the ground near the opening, and knelt. “I will investigate, Your Majesty.”
“Take care not to get wedged in,” Robin said.
Sir Maxwell turned on his side and wriggled through the space. His feet vanished from view.
Robin knelt and peered into the space. Light on the other side shined on Sir Maxwell's lower legs and feet. “Sir Maxwell?” he called.
“Yes, Sire. Meeyoo has done the scouting for us. She is here. Nothing and no one in the immediate area presents a threat.” The knight paused. “Your Majesty should see this.”
Robin sighed. Another secret door? Taking the passage leading to Near had been a gamble, one he lost. Not only was he no nearer to sailing to Hewnstone but it also cost him a knight.
Sir Maxwell was as concerned as he was about Dame Deidre. Yet the young knight’s breathless exclamation conveyed wonder as well as urgency.
Would this gate lead to another settlement? It had better not be Perooc. It had damn well better be populated by people who could aid him in to reach port. What was to have been a brief excursion to a landmass to bury a dead wizard had stretched into two days. Tempus was fugit-ing. Meanwhile, the crew of the Emperor's Fancy was no doubt losing patience and the people of the Chalklands desperately needed the delayed cargo.
Robin sighed. Even as he shoved Sir Maxwell’s pack and his own through the narrow opening in the wall, he suspected it was a mistake. He trusted his young knight, though, and Sir Maxwell’s astonished shout from the opposite side piqued Robin’s curiosity. He squeezed through the aperture afforded by the trap door, straightened, and regarded the scene before him.
Robin blinked against the brightness. No wonder Sir Maxwell sounded awed. Groves, fields, and meadows surrounded the three small settlements they had encountered but the ones stretching before him now dazzled him with color. The trees were not simply vivid green but also brilliant pink, purple, golden yellow, and deep red. Feathery meadow grasses waved plumes of orange, pale blue, and chartreuse, like a peacock’s tail. The scents of rose, lilac, and rosemary perfumed the air, as well as aromas he couldn’t name.
Robin was proud of his Chalklands kingdom’s landscape: its verdant pastures, fruitful fields, and leafy woods, its abundant kitchen gardens, and robust flower beds. He found it especially impressive since the realm’s chalky soil made agriculture difficult. Even in winter, his groundskeepers strove to make Bell Castle attractive by clearing away dead foliage and staging containers of junipers and ivies so there would be something green to see at every turn. Servants festooned the castle walls and statuary with garlands of holly and pots of heather to add spots of color.
It paled in comparison to this vista. He gawped at his present setting. The gaudiness of what lay before him made him dizzy. There’s citizens would be too consumed by ceaseless arguing to notice but it would stun the practical and purposeful people of Here, and rattle the regimented residents of Near. At least the figures winging across the sky had the shapes of ordinary birds, save for one outsized specimen.
Even Meeyoo appeared unnerved. She sat on her haunches, her eyes opened wide, her nose, ears, whiskers, and tail twitching.
“Your Majesty,” Sir Maxwell breathed, his mouth agape.
“It is a sight, Sir Maxwell.” Robin shouldered his pack and handed Sir Maxwell’s to him. The tip of a spire miles in the distance suggested the existence of a settlement. “Let’s go that way. We’re hopeful the denizens of such a vibrant setting might have equally lively minds that will yield the information we need.” He and his knights had come ashore in part to get a fix on their position and had learned nothing. Delving deeper into this unfamiliar territory had only taken them further from their ship.
He and the knight had gone but a few feet through a meadow as colorful as a quilt when Robin noticed Sir Maxwell’s leggings and his own taking on color, and Meeyoo’s fur was rainbow-striped. He thought at first they had picked up pollen from the meadow plants then realized they were flecks of paint. Someone had colored the fields and surrounding flora.
Robin scooped up the cat and finger-combed paint from her fur. “Meeyoo, best you ride or you’ll be cleaning yourself for days.” He tucked her into the rucksack and hoped the paint wouldn’t prove to be poisonous.
A village came into view. The settlement looked as thoug
h someone had unleashed a hoard of children armed with paints, bits of lumber and fabric, and clay. Structures were in every possible geometric shape and painted in a myriad of colors. The sides of buildings served as canvases for illustrations, portraits, and slogans.
Where Here was the definition of “stark,” There a model of “idiosyncrasy,” and Near the epitome of “order,” the village ahead personified “abandon.” Aromas both herbal and floral wafted toward them. The commons rang with music, but nothing organized. Robin heard a flute and a recorder, string instruments, and drums, each playing a different tune. Pennants flew from the roof of a gazebo thronged with people.
“Some type of festival, do you think, Sire?” Sir Maxwell asked.
“Could be. See if you spy anyone who appears to be in charge,” Robin replied.
“If there is someone, he’s not doing a very good job. This place is chaos,” Sir Maxwell replied.
They stood outside the gazebo appraising the denizens. The mélange of aromas and the cacophony made Robin’s head ache. At last, someone pulled away from the crowd. An older woman with flowing silvery hair and wearing a purple robe gamboled toward them.
“Peace, love, happiness,” she said, half-dancing, half-singing, and threw her arms around Robin.
No, Robin decided, he did not know anyone like this woman.
Sir Maxwell inserted himself between them. “Unhand the king,” he said.
The woman hooted and embraced the knight. “I take you for new arrivals. Welcome. Peace, love, happiness. I am Oonen,” her moniker sounding more like a squeal of glee than someone’s name.
Sir Maxwell peeled her arms from his neck. “I am Sir Maxwell, and this is King Bewilliam, ruler of the Chalklands and the Palisades.”
Oonen grasped handfuls of her robe and curtseyed. “Those sound like magical places. Are they?”
“Yes,” said Sir Maxwell.
“No,” said Robin. He glared at the knight.
“Begging Your Majesty’s pardon, they are.” He turned to Oonen. “We have a gryphon.”
“We do not,” Robin said. “There is no such thing.”
“A gryphon! We have just been visited by a gryphon.”
“So you have seen it?” Sir Maxwell said.
“Yes, flying overhead.”
“That must be our gryphon. He guards Meeyoo, the king’s cat. Meeyoo is the gryphon’s mate.”
“So she must be near, this cat Meeyoo.”
Sir Maxwell grinned. “She travels with the king.”
“How delightful.” Oonen clapped her hands. “Is Your Majesty a wizard as well as a king? Cats do take to wizards.”
“We are not,” Robin fumed. “Tell us, have you heard of Hewnstone?”
“I have not heard of any of those places you mentioned but I’m sure they’re wonderful. Everything is beautiful in its own way.”
“What is this place then?”
“Nowhere. Everyone knows this is Nowhere.”
“So this is not Perooc?”
“Oh, no. Once you have been to Perooc you will know that.”
“Have you been to Perooc?” Sir Maxwell asked.
“I have, I have.” She threw her arms up and spun.
“You have been to Perooc and came back here?”
“Every place is wonderful. Once your eyes have been opened you can see life’s true essence wherever you are.”
Robin would say her eyes were open. The pupils were so widely dilated as to make her eyes appear black, and they were glassy.
“I have been to Perooc in my heart, in my mind.”
Sir Maxwell looked crestfallen and Robin doubted they’d learn anything useful here.
“Have you seen a unicorn?” Sir Maxwell asked, his eyes wide.
“You know there is no such thing,” Robin said, but Oonen countered, “There is. All one needs is to be receptive to the possibility. Only then could one hope to spot one.”
“What about the treasure? We were told Perooc was the site of unparalleled treasure.”
“We keep reminding you, we are not on a treasure hunt, Sir Maxwell. We seek information about how to reach the port of Hewnstone.” Sir Alan and Sir Albert had remained behind in Here and There, allegedly to garner intelligence. Not, Robin hoped, for ulterior motives.
Oonen leaned into Sir Maxwell’s face. “The treasure is knowledge, good sir. The knowledge there is magic everywhere. In everyone, in everything.”
Magic. Robin scoffed. “The strangely-colored trees, the flowers, the grasses. They’re not magical, although they appear to be. You painted them.”
Oonen laughed. “We simply wanted our surroundings to reflect what we knew to be their essence.”
“We were told once you possess this knowledge, you will have power. Incredible power. Power over man. Power over Nature,” said Sir Maxwell.
Oonen nodded.
“You can turn your enemy into a toad. You can melt the stoniest of hearts.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Oonen replied. “If that’s what you want to do with it. I do not have that power. I did not try to seize the treasure.”
“Because of the dragon,” Robin said.
“Because I did not need to. I did not need the treasure. Once I arrived in Perooc, my mind was opened. I understood there was more in this world than what we see or hear.” She waved her hands and her eyes bounced in their sockets as if to take in everything at once. “Come join us. You can see what life is like when the Universe has revealed its secrets.” She turned and danced toward the commons.
Sir Maxwell looked Robin a question.
Robin shrugged. “Let’s see if anyone else knows where Hewnstone is. If we don’t get answers quickly, we will turn back.”
Robin scanned the village as they followed Oonen. Despite the colorful paint and swags of bright fabrics, the buildings were marked by cracked and rotted boards, missing shingles, and rusted metal. The rails of the pens and corrals had fallen and the enclosures stood empty. Chickens, pigs, and horses roamed the village’s street. Lean to the point of emaciated, the horses grazed on weeds. Pigs rooted in trash. “You painted the grass but you neglect the animals,” he said.
Oonen dismissed his concern with a wave. “We give them liberty, and they take care of themselves.”
The commons was so packed with people Robin wondered if there was anyone left in the village who wasn’t present. Garbed in a motely of outfits, they sat or lay in the gazebo or on the ground around it. Some danced or swayed neither in unison nor in time with any of the music. The musicians appeared to perform for an imagined audience since Robin couldn’t see anyone paying attention. Several people spun like a child’s top. Many had their eyes closed but those that were open were dark and glazed like Oonen’s. Bundles of herbs burned, their smoke hovering over the grounds thick as a fog bank.
“Something to eat, to drink,” Oonen said. “There is food here, somewhere.” She edged through the crowd, disappeared then emerged grasping the handles of chipped ceramic beakers. She handed the mugs to Robin and Sir Maxwell. “Drink and food.” She held out objects shaped like carrots with leafy tops but purple in color.
“They must be painted,” Robin said. “Don’t ….” But it was too late. Sir Maxwell had bitten into his and his smiling lips bore traces of dye.
“Let’s see if anyone knows where Hewnstone is,” Robin said. “Ask around. We will go to the left, you go to the right, and we will meet back here.” He moved through the crowd, nudging this person and that. No one acknowledged him but rather seemed to be lost in a dream. He returned to the gazebo’s entrance where he found his knight seated on the floor, his legs crossed, his eyes closed, his chin streaked purple.
“Did you learn anything?”
Oonen said, “He did, Sire. As he suspected. That there is more, so much more than what we can see with our eyes and hear with our ears and touch with our hands. The true nature of being goes beyond time and space. If we open our heart and mind, we can experience—”
Sir Maxwell hummed a tune low in his throat.
“We told you not to eat … whatever that was. Did you drink the drink? Argh. Are you intoxicated?”
Oonen said, “Intoxicated? No. We would never touch a substance that would dull our senses.”
Robin moved to rouse the knight.
Oonen blocked him. “I would advise Your Majesty not do that.”
Robin paused, his hand midway to Sir Maxwell’s shoulder.
“He is deep in a state. His spirit has traveled to another plane. If you disturb him, his body will come to attention but without his spirit. They might never reunite.”
“What gormless drivel.”
Oonen shrugged. “Your Majesty is his liege lord. Do as you wish, Sire, but you have been warned.”
Sir Maxwell hummed and rocked, oblivious.
Robin grunted and turned to exit the gazebo.
“You are leaving?” asked Oonen.
“We will return. Tell him, when his ‘spirit’ has done meandering, that we will be back for him and we can resume our journey.”
“To Perooc? There’s no need. Stay here. You can experience everything you would if you went to Perooc.
Robin shrugged off her hand. “We are not going to Perooc. We seek answers. You are not supplying them nor is anyone else here.”
Oonen grasped his biceps. “The answers you seek will cost you.”
“We will have to battle a dragon. We were told.” Robin snorted. “We have bested those beasts before.”
“No,” Oonen said, her lilting voice suddenly several registers deeper and ominous. “You have no idea.” She leaned into Robin’s face and growled. “You may conquer the dragon. You may seize the treasure. But you will be changed. Your life will never be the same. And the price will be everything that you hold dear. Are you truly ready to pay that?”
Robin broke free of her clutches. “Everything we hold dear is why we must go.”
Having exhausted every other remedy, Perooc’s treasure, reputed to satisfy every desire, is the king’s last chance to get his ship to port and its cargo to his desperate, starving subjects. Find out if he does in Forgotten Magic.
Wayward Magic Page 31
