The Nature of a Curse (Volume 2 of the Year of the Red Door)

by William Timothy Murray

  "I guess so," he nodded.

  "You were dreaming," she smiled.

  "Yes, of a desert princess," he said.

  "Oh?" She stood and came over to him. "And was this desert princess beautiful?"

  "I don't know," Robby replied. "She was covered in robes and a scarf was across her face."

  "Oh, mysterious! That's even worse."

  "No more mysterious than you!" Robby chided.

  "What's so mysterious about me?" she said, slipping onto the cot and pulling the blanket over the two of them. "I think you should not try to understand me so much, and just take me at face value. Or however you wish to."

  • • •

  Afterwards, they talked, and they gave each other a fuller accounting of their experiences over the last few days. There was much to say and for each to ponder. As Sheila related her story, Robby was impressed by her strength and stalwartness, though her words were far from boastful.

  "During the fight at the bridge," she said, "I think I killed six men. Each fell with one of my arrows and did not move afterwards. I had to aim for their necks or their faces, so covered with armor and shields they were. Nine more I managed to stop with an arrow in their legs or hands. It was horrible. I did not know I could do such a thing. It wasn't like the fight we had on the way back from Tulith Attis. This was slower. It was more...intentional. I can't explain."

  She talked for a long time about how confusing and useless the fighting had been. About the mad retreat from Passdale, how the night was spent on the road making traps for their pursuers, and about trying to make a defense at the Narrows, and how the mounted Redvests broke through so easily. She described seeing Robby amid the wild horsemen, the Thunder Mountain Band, that poured onto the road ahead of her.

  When Robby's turn came to tell his tale, she thought it very interesting. She shook her head when he expressed guilt over breaking his oath to tell the truth.

  "You lied because you thought it was the only way to save Billy's life," Sheila said. "Don't worry about it. You may have to lie again before our journeys are done, and do other dreadful things besides. I only wish you had not killed Bailorg."

  "Why? I would think you of all people would want him dead, after what he put your uncle up to."

  "My uncle put himself up to that," retorted Sheila. "I only mean that it would have been good to see what Ashlord might do with Bailorg, what news or knowledge Bailorg might have given up to him."

  "Oh."

  Robby went silent. Sheila realized she had hit a nerve.

  "I'm sure he deserved to die," she said, trying to recover. "And I'm sorry that you had to fight him. One of Martin Makeig's men said you fought like a lion."

  "Oh? They told you about it?"

  "Well, of course Billy told his story of it all, about being captured and how you rescued him. When I had a chance, I asked a Hill Town man who was there when you killed Bailorg. Lantin Rose, I think the man's name is. He told me how well you fought."

  "Well, Ullin's training certainly helped."

  "He said you used a dagger and what he called a living staff. Is that the staff over there?" she nodded at Swyncraff leaning against the wall. "I thought it was only an odd-looking piece of rope. Ashlord says there are few like it, and that Bailorg had one, too, or something of the sort. He said you got yours from Queen Serith Ellyn."

  "Yes, from her brother, actually."

  "I still find it hard to believe that you really met a queen."

  "Me, too. Anyway, yes, that's it. Its name is Swyncraff," Robby said. "What it actually is, I'm still not sure. Only it does what I want it to do, taking shapes that I bend it to, sometimes like rope, sometimes like a rod. And watch this."

  Robby rolled over onto his side and stretched out his arm, hand open, toward Swyncraff. Sheila saw him close his eyes for a moment, and his hand and arm trembled as if every muscle was straining against some invisible force. Swyncraff stiffened visibly, and the end leaning against the wall began tapping. Suddenly it bowed into an arc and sprang across the room into Robby's hand so fast that Sheila instinctively ducked behind him. But he held it firm and now relaxed, breathing heavily from the effort.

  "It is hard to do," he said, sitting up and laying it across his lap. "But I'm getting better at it. Though—funny thing—it's as if it is learning what I want. Like we're getting to know each other."

  "You speak as if it is a living thing."

  "I know. It's the only way I can explain it. In a way, I have come to think of it as alive. More than that. Like one would think of a horse or a favorite dog. I actually think it wants to please me."

  He handed it to her and she examined it closely.

  "It is some kind of wood? Oak, maybe? And what are these iron caps on the ends?"

  "I don't know." Robby touched it, and when it flopped into a rope-like object across her hands, she jumped in surprise. Robby touched it again, and it stiffened into the dangling shape.

  "It is truly magical!" she uttered in amazement. "And it will only do these things for you?"

  "Yes, that's right," Robby said. "Magical? I don't know. Maybe that's as good a way as any to put it."

  "I daresay it's a useful thing to have along with us, even if only you can use it."

  Robby took it from her, straightened it, and leaned it against the bed. When he reclined, Sheila put her head on his shoulder and nuzzled against his cheek.

  "So you are coming?"

  "Yes."

  Robby nodded.

  "It isn't a trip for a girl to undertake, even during the best of times," he said mildly.

  "I've already had this conversation with Ashlord and Ullin," Sheila answered. "I have been taking care of myself for a long time, now. I haven't always done too well, but I've survived. And I'm as good a fighter as any of us, I think, except maybe Ullin. I'll hide my girlishness as best as I may when we are around others."

  "I'm not sure that's possible," he joked.

  She turned and raised herself on an elbow, looking down at Robby's face.

  "You know I'm not like other girls," she said. "I'll not miss the niceties that I never had, at least never had until I lived with your family. I can hunt and fish and clean what I catch and cook it, too. Without even a pot! I've slept outside more times than most men I've met. I can ride hard and run fast and walk far without tiring. You know all that."

  "I dare say I do!" Robby smiled, fingering the edge of her newly shorn hair. "And I doubt if any among the company can do any better. I just wonder if you would not be safer staying here, at Janhaven with my mother and Mrs. Bosk, than wandering off into goodness knows what."

  "As long as I know what I know, about you, that is, I'll not be safe anywhere. If I come with you, at least I'll be with others who share the same danger. Are you against me coming?"

  "No, my love," Robby said. "I'd worry about you if you came or if you stayed. And, well, I've been thinking about things, and I'm wondering if I should just go alone."

  "You're joking!"

  "No, I'm not."

  "But you don't even know the way."

  "That's a problem, I admit. Perhaps Ashlord could instruct me concerning the way to go."

  "Don't be silly! Even Ashlord is unsure of the way. You'll need help. And, no matter what you think, you'll probably need protection, too."

  "I know, I know. It's just that so many will be at risk."

  "At risk either way," Sheila countered. "You should let people decide for themselves how to deal with their own risk. You're not King, yet, you know."

  "And unlikely ever to be."

  "Don't say that! If it is not your fate to be King, perhaps it is only your fate to try. Then so be it. And if you are determined to try, your friends are determined to help if they can."

  "So I guess that's that."

  "I think so," Sheila said, kissing him on the lips.

  • • •

  When the two finally came downstairs into the great room below, Durlorn was clearing away the plates f
rom the mid-afternoon meal. He offered them each a serving of ham and bread along with a bowl of gravy, which they took and thanked him for as they sat down at the long table across from each other.

  "I need to go see my mother," Robby told Sheila. "I forgot to ask her if she managed to save any of our maps."

  "I think she might have," Sheila told him. "I remember seeing a cart full of books and scrolls, anyway. I don't know how much of it was from your place and how much of it might have been from Broadweed's school or from the Common House."

  "I hope the Redvests haven't gotten hold of them."

  "Why's that?"

  "Because they show Barley and these parts very well. Roads, streams, crossing points, even most of the farms and houses are marked on some. The Redvests would find them very helpful, I'm sure. But if they were saved, I'd like to look them over. Especially the maps of the west country, Thunder Mountains and farther off."

  "To get an idea of where we're going, I suppose."

  "Yes."

  "Well, I think Ashlord will want us to meet again tonight," she said. "I've never seen him so anxious or so grave. I think he's more worried about things than all the rest of us put together, yet..."

  "Yet, what?"

  "I don't know," Sheila shook her head. "He has a kind of faith, I guess. No matter how grim things are, and no matter how angry he gets, there's always some sort of confidence that he has in things. That things will somehow work out. That, in the end, all will be well."

  "Could've fooled me! His talk never ceases to frighten me!"

  "You don't know him well enough, yet. But you'll see what I mean. He's good to have around. He's good to be around."

  Sheila got up and took her plate over to the tub and dumped it in with the rest.

  "I think I'll go make myself useful, if I can. My guess is that I'll see you later tonight."

  She kissed Robby and he watched her go. A pang of desperation seized him for a moment, wishing everything could just go back to the way it was before.

  "I'd ask her again to marry me," he thought. "I'd take her to Glareth with me, to be there while I go to school. Afterwards, we'd find some little place somewhere not too far from Passdale. Close enough to town for me to walk to the shop and close enough to the woods and fields for Sheila."

  Then he wondered how anything could ever be as it was before, heaving a sigh and pushing his plate away. After a moment of thought, he left, determined to find Billy.

  • • •

  "We had a short meetin' this afternoon, just so as to clear the air a bit. But a lotta folk warn't thar. So yer mother's askin' all to gather at the stockade two days from now."

  Mrs. Bosk talked to Robby and Billy as she pulled a few potatoes from a sack. She had a kitchen of sorts set up in an abandoned stone hut on the edge of Janhaven, and with other wives and daughters helping, it was cleaned and set up with rough tables for preparing and cooking meals. It was cramped and hot inside, and as she bent over to push the sack back into its bin, her ample bottom nearly toppled a pile of bowls resting on a stool behind her. Billy dodged out of the way of a little girl hauling a bucket of water to pour into the great cauldron, and Robby reached out suddenly to catch an iron pan from striking another woman when it was knocked off the nail from which it hung on an overhead rafter.

  "She's gonna ask folks to sign a pact," Frizella went on, pushing Billy out of the way so that she could get to a high table where she began washing and chopping vegetables. "I think she's over at the woodshop down near the mill. Went down thar with me carpenter from Boskland."

  Having finally gotten the bit of information they wanted, the boys moved to the door.

  "Will ye be back to see me?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Billy said. "I'll be back soon to help ye out here." He dashed back to her quickly and kissed her on the cheek. "Don't ye worry."

  Robby caught the misty look in her eyes, and he knew it was not from the onions.

  "I'm just goin' down to the camp," Billy said to Robby once they were outside. "Me aunt's thar, an' I need to square away some things with the kinfolk. If ye see Ibin, tell him to get on over to the kitchen!"

  Robby nodded and waved as they parted at the fork. Billy headed down the east road, while Robby walked along a little track that ran beside a stream behind Janhaven and on down toward the old mill. The mill itself was about a mile away, and Robby had the track to himself. There were bright orange and golden-yellow and burnt-red leaves blowing across the way and still falling from the thick overhanging poplars and sweet gums that were just beginning to prepare for winter. There was still plenty of green, though, and Robby thought it unusually warm for the time of year; he had not yet seen any frost, though each night was colder than the one before. Still, in the shade of this path in the late afternoon, the light breeze bore the slight scent of coming winter on its breath, mixed with the dry mustiness of autumn.

  Coming over a rise, Robby looked down and through the trees at a few buildings at the edge of a clearing near a stream. He surmised from the cords of wood and planking piled neatly up against one shed that this must be the woodworker's place, and as he turned to take the path downward, he saw his mother emerge from the shop and stride up the path toward him. She had changed her clothes and was now wearing the same sort of buckskin breeches that Sheila commonly wore and a blouse of equal ruggedness made of thick dark-green linen. Her hair was braided and fell over her left shoulder like a scarlet rope. Behind that shoulder jutted the hilt of her sword, and the fletchings of a quiver full of arrows jutted up behind her right shoulder, over which was strung a bow. Robby imagined her as a stranger, and wondered what impressions might be inspired in any who first saw her like this. Her expression was stern, she had not yet seen Robby, and her stride determined. Robby decided she was a dangerous beauty. He continued on down the path into her view, and when a smile lit up her face, she did not look as dangerous as before.

  "Hullo!"

  "Hello. I didn't expect to see you here."

  "I wanted to talk with you," Robby said as they came together. She took his hand, they kissed, and they began the walk back to Janhaven.

  "I'm sure you have a lot on your mind. More, even, than the rest of us," she said.

  "Different things, is what I would say, not more. Though I am still bothered by leaving."

  "You have to go. That has been decided. You cannot help us here by staying, especially if it brings strife our way from those who look for you."

  Robby nodded, feeling a pang at the hardness in her tone. "I know."

  "Remember," Mirabella went on, "that you will be taking no fewer risks than the rest of us, and probably more. If you become, well, what it is that you go to become, then you will be able to help us in ways far greater than you ever could if you stayed."

  "Yes, I realize that."

  "Well, then."

  "Mother," Robby put his hand to her arm, and they stopped, facing one another. "Well. It's just that I'm scared, Mother. I don't know if I am capable. I'm afraid something will happen to my friends. I'm afraid I'm not worthy to be a king. And it all seems so pretentious! And I'm afraid I'll not know what to do."

  Mirabella searched Robby's face for a long moment.

  "You do your best," she said at last. "It sounds so simple, but truly that is the hardest thing in life, to do one's best. Keep your wits and do not forget to use them. Use your knowledge. Use your friendship with others to help you understand new people. Use your strength of body and the fortitude of your own mind. Be determined to do your very best to be patient not only with others, but also with your own self. When the right thing to do is revealed to you, do it in full measure, though all others may oppose you. When the right thing to do is hidden from you, trust in hope."

  "Hope," Robby repeated. They continued on, each bearing the burden of their own mind in silence until at last Robby asked.

  "Where did you learn to fight, Mother?"

  Mirabella looked at Robby and smiled.

  "When I
saw you the other day," he went on, "you were so terrible! I've never seen anyone so full of wrath!"

  "It was an awful thing, Robby," she answered. "And I am as surprised as any to have taken up the sword again after all these long years."

  "You see," she continued, "when my brother Aram, Ullin's father, went to Duinnor to become a Kingsman, I ran away from home and followed him. Aram did not know that I followed him until it was too late, and too far, to send me back. From my youngest days, he taught me the use of the sword and the bow, and while Aram studied at the Academy in Duinnor, I studied, too, taking private lessons and furthering my skill at arms. When he graduated and became a full Kingsman, he was sent south to Vanara, and I followed. Once there, Aram and I learned war, and we fought many skirmishes together. We fought together, made merry together, worked and toiled together. His commander ordered Aram to send me away, but I would not go. His comrades called me his red-haired shield maiden. Aram laughed, and warned them not to say that to my face. But I didn't care. I longed to fight the Dragonkind, to have vengeance, as Aram did, for our older brother's death. And the Kingsmen respected that."

  A weak smile crossed her face, but it faded quickly.

  "After a year of soldiering, we found ourselves taking part in a great conquest. Two hundred thousand men and Elifaen crossed the Biradur Waste to lay siege to the desert city called the Green Citadel. It was the second time we of the north sent an army against that city, the same city that cost the life of our brother and many others. I saw many terrible things in that place. Even before we sacked the city, many were slaughtered. It was senseless. There were atrocities. We freed many slaves, Men and Elifaen, who were in bondage there. There were enslaved Dragonkind, too. But they were slain, or left to the ruin of the great city and to the retribution of their masters."

  She paused in her tale, and they kept walking until she stopped abruptly.

  "You need to know," she said earnestly, "that people are capable of the vilest acts. Although our enemy was the creature of the deserts, I witnessed honor and dishonor on both sides. When the battle was over, and our armies retreated victorious, there was no satisfaction in our victory. And fewer than one in three of us made it home. Soon, our withdrawal turned into a rout as avenging bands of the enemy marauded and harassed our retreat. And it was in the Blue Mountains of Vanara, at a place called Gory Gulch, that my brother died, pierced through with arrows. I took up his sword, it is here on my back, but I had to leave his body for the carrion. He died in the very same manner as our older brother before him, during a shabby retreat from a shabby victory against the same great city. Perhaps this sword is fated," she added, touching its hilt protruding over her shoulder and turning to resume her walk. "Every member of our family who has ever wielded it in battle has died. It was taken from my older brother Dalvenpar's body by a survivor and sent to our house with news of his death. It was then taken up by Ullin's father, Aram. And now, your mother wields it."