AutumnQuest (4 page)

Then tears sprang into Loreen’s eyes. “Oh, Donavah. How can you stand it? Just the thought of them—” Sira’s elbow jabbing into Loreen’s ribs cut her off. She gulped and completely broke down.

“Loreen!” Marileesa snapped. “Pull yourself together. Donavah needs us all to be strong for her.” She didn’t say, “Haven’t you done enough?” but the words seemed to hang in the air as if she had.

A lump rose unexpectedly in my throat, making my words thick as I said, “I don’t want to talk about it, all right? For now, I’m going to the retreat house. Master Foris thought it would be better for me to go away for awhile.”

Loreen sniffled. “You’re going away?”

I nodded. “Tomorrow morning. But I’ll be back soon.” How was it I could lie to my best friends so easily?

In the end, there didn’t seem much to say, and the girls left. But their simply coming had meant more than any conversation could have.

Talisman and Queen is an ancient and popular game of strategy. Its origins lie in the depths of time, when suitors gave small gifts—symbols of themselves and their love—to the women they courted. A knight might give a hand-carved wooden dagger; a bard, a tiny lyre. A woman would carry a talisman publicly to show which man she favoured.

As more than one man might—and often did—pursue the same woman, the giving and displaying of these gifts became strategic elements in the game of love.

And, ultimately, they also became the foundation of the game of Talisman and Queen, in which the player who wins is the one whose Talismans “Secures the Queen’s Heart.”

~from
A History of Games

When I got up in the morning, I changed into the traveling clothes I’d left unpacked. It felt a little strange to be wearing trousers and a tunic. Would I ever change into a novice’s robe in this cell again? No point in following that line of thinking.

On my way to breakfast, I found Traz carrying another tray in the direction of my cell. He stopped when he saw me.

“You’re coming to table, miss?”

I smiled as he turned around to walk next to me. “Don’t think I’ll get another chance to say goodbye to my friends. My trunk has already been taken away, and I expect I’ll be off myself soon.”

“Indeed, miss,” he said, bobbing his head.

“Look, Traz, why don’t you eat that food. You look like you could use another meal on your bones.”

“Oh, no, miss. They’ll see you at table and will know you didn’t eat this. I’ll just take it back to the kitchen.”

He really was a skinny lad. I stopped him and rummaged around on the tray, taking a whole-wheat roll and some fruit. “There. You met me in the corridor, and I just took a few things, and now you’ll take the tray back.” I tucked the food into the pocket of his worn but clean tunic. “You needn’t tell them I didn’t eat what I took.”

Traz grinned. “Thanks, miss.”

“Now, back to the kitchen with you, before I report you for loitering!” He giggled as he scampered off. There was something appealing about the boy. I almost wished he were my little brother. I watched him go, sorry I wouldn’t get a chance to become better acquainted with him.

In the refectory, my entrance was greeted with a sudden hush. No one looked directly at me, but I knew that everyone was watching nonetheless. I held my head up as I walked towards where my friends sat waiting for me. The last thing I wanted to do was to appear guilty—no matter how I actually felt.

I sat down next to Marileesa, who wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “You just see if it won’t.”

“Yes, you’re right,” I said. “It will.” Ever since last night’s meditation and trance, or whatever it was, a residual sense of certainty had settled on me, making me confident that my plan, however improbable it might seem, would work. Everything would be all right. I hugged Marileesa back. “Let’s eat.”

I tried to nibble on a pear, while my friends dug in to their breakfasts. By this time, the shock of my arrival seemed to have worn off, and the noise level returned to normal, although I occasionally caught a surreptitious glance shot my way.

“So what are you going to do?” Marileesa asked.

I sat up and straightened my shoulders. “I’m going to prove that Breyard is innocent and get him set free.” A long silence followed this pronouncement.

Loreen cleared her throat. “How’re you going to do that?”

Before I could answer, Sira said, “You don’t have much time. I overheard some of the masters saying that the king wants Breyard tried and convicted . . .” her voice dropped to a whisper and she didn’t meet my eye, “. . . by Emancipation Day.”

“Emancipation Day?” My brain whirled, and I pressed my hands onto the tabletop to steady myself. “That’s only a month away!” On foot, I couldn’t reach Penwick, the capital of Alloway, that quickly, much less find the evidence I would need to prove Breyard’s innocence. I struggled to quell the fear within.

The bell calling everyone to classes would sound any minute now, so I started to say my farewells. When it finally did ring, everyone stood up and headed towards the doors. I hugged each of my friends, wiping away more of Loreen’s tears with my sleeve. I held Marileesa longest, trying to draw some of her strength into myself. Then we kissed each other’s cheeks, and a moment later, all my friends were gone.

I meandered through the corridors, feeling sure I was seeing them for the last time. This brought memories flooding back. Memories of Breyard showing me around the academy the day of my arrival, smug in his big-brotherly superior knowledge. Memories of the first times I wandered the corridors alone, terrified of getting lost. And memories of whispered conversations with my friends—especially about
boys
.

When I arrived back at the cell I no longer considered mine, I sighed. How would Mama and Papa react to the news that their only son had been arrested, that their only daughter had disappeared? A lump rose in my throat, and I tried to hold back the threatening tears. Everything had gone so horribly, horribly wrong from what we all expected.

Admittedly, it was unusual that our parents had sent both of their children to a magic academy, leaving no offspring to take over the small family farm. There had been much whispering and gossip about it in the village.

But Grella, our village magician and my tutor, said not to worry, perhaps Papa was especially proud that both of his children had such strong magic when he and Mama had none. That had satisfied me at the time, but now I began to wonder.

Still, I knew that I had to go after Breyard. There wasn’t enough time to go home to Barrowfield first. And how pleased our parents would be if I succeeded. When, I corrected myself; when.

Lost in thought, imagining the joyful family reunion, a knock on the door startled me, and Isol came in.

“The wagon has arrived. Are you ready?”

I stood up. “Out front in the usual place?”

Isol nodded. “Here. I had this prepared for your journey.” She handed me a large pouch. “It should keep you until supper at the house.”

I left the cell, a little uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

“Donavah?” I turned and faced her. “I do hope everything works out. For the best, I mean.”

I smiled at her. “Thank you, Isol. I’m quite sure it will.” Doubt assailed my heart, but I ignored it. It had become important to me to look calm and collected, no matter how torn up I felt inside. As if the pretence would make it real.

Just outside the main entrance, I found the wagon heaped with sacks and crates. I was apparently to be delivered to the retreat house along with supplies. I made sure my trunk hadn’t been forgotten, then clambered onto the seat. A stiff, old man climbed aboard next to me, picked up the reins, and clucked the horses into motion.

The weather couldn’t have been better for a trip in an open wagon. It was warm for an Autumn day, but definitely not hot. Puffy clouds hung in the bright blue sky, and a fresh breeze mussed my hair a bit.

As we took to the road, I took a deep breath. Since coming back to Roylinn at the end of Summer, I hadn’t spent as much time outdoors as I’d been accustomed to over the break, but I’d been so absorbed in my studies that I hadn’t noticed. Now the smell of the mown hayfields brought back memories of rest-day family picnics when Breyard and I were little.

Before long, we passed into the cool shade of the woods that lay just south of Roylinn. The dappled green light shining through the leaves overhead made the yellow leaves that had fallen look like a golden carpet on the forest floor. I tried to relax.

“Your first time to the retreat house, eh?” The driver’s voice startled me out of my reverie.

“Oh, um, yes. I’m only fifteen—not, well, senior enough, you know.”

“You’ll like it. Nice and quiet, it is.”

“You’ve been there a lot?”

He looked at me in surprise, then started chuckling. “Been there a lot? Indeed, my girl, for I’m the cook.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, a little embarrassed.

“No apology needed. You couldn’t have known. But you need any extra food or anything, you let me know. Growing thing like you—need to eat hearty.”

I just nodded vaguely. The pouch Isol had given me sat at my feet, and even though I didn’t feel hungry, I picked it up to see what was inside. I gasped in delight to find a large bunch of grapes. Wherever had she found these this late in the season, even in the academy’s long-lived gardens? The first burst of juicy sweetness in my mouth brought back my appetite in a rush.

I shared the grapes with the driver, who told me his name was Kibee. I also ate a bread roll, saving the rest of the food for lunch.

Before long, we’d left the woods and were back among the open fields. When we passed through villages, Kibee was greeted fondly by the inhabitants. The children especially seemed excited to see him, and they ran alongside and behind the wagon shouting at us and laughing. As we left the first village, I found out why: Kibee stood up, turned around, and threw several handfuls of sweets at the children, who scrambled to get as much as they could. Then Kibee sat down and handed me a piece of candy wrapped in greased paper.

“Make these just for the young-uns. They don’t see much in the way of treats, they don’t. And their parents are all grateful. I figure if ever I need a favor, I only need to ask.”

I nodded my head in agreement as I sucked the honey-flavoured drop, and we settled into a friendly silence.

At noon, Kibee stopped in the shade of a large oak tree. I climbed down from the wagon and stretched. Kibee put some grain in nosebags for the horses, and I wandered over to the tree. Its branches were thick and sturdy, its lowest one in easy reach. I couldn’t resist the temptation, and slinging the strap of the lunch pouch over my shoulder, I began to climb. I was comfortably settled in a fork about ten feet up before Kibee noticed my absence.

“Donavah?” I looked down to see him peering around in confusion.

“Up here.”

He looked up and shook his head. “Aren’t you the sly one? A girl and all, too.” He laughed to let me know he was kidding.

The meal improved my spirits a little. As we trundled along through the afternoon, we joked and laughed and told stories. The one I liked best was what he called “The Legend of the Fire-Breathing Dragons.”

“A long, long time ago,” Kibee chanted in a sing-song, storytelling voice, “there was a dragon brood of great power. Red dragons, they were, that we haven’t seen the like of nigh on a thousand years. These red dragons, oh, they were a powerful lot. Kept mostly to themselves way high up in the mountains, working their dragon magic and having little to do with people.

“No, they didn’t need the help of puny humans to fulfill their plans. They concocted their spells and worked their incantations, and after hundreds of years of experimenting, they devised their most deadly weapon: fire. Yes, these red dragons learned to breathe fire.

“Once they perfected this skill, they swept out of their lair far away. Soon, the tales of their rampages abounded: whole villages ablaze, their inhabitants consumed; cities under attack; farmland and woodland razed.

“The other dragons, those who lived at peace and governed with mankind, grew jealous of the red dragons, and they rose up and fought them. Oh, those were glorious and terrible air battles, with great clashes and roarings and flames and ruin. But in the end, superior numbers finally triumphed over the spectacular red dragons, and they were wiped out, eradicated from the world, to terrorise this world of Hedra no more.”

Kibee’s voice stopped, but its spell took a few minutes to wear off.

“Fire-breathing dragons?” I asked. “Really and truly?”

“So say the tales.” And his voice was unexpectedly sad.

On we travelled under the afternoon sky. I’d met him only that morning, but by the time we reached the retreat house, I felt as if Kibee were an uncle I’d known all my life.

The house itself was more like an aristocrat’s manor than the tiny cottage I’d been expecting. The face of the large brick building was covered with creeping vines whose leaves, now gold and red, made an bright splash of color against the green lawns and hedges of the grounds. Kibee drove the wagon around to the back. When he stopped the horses, I climbed down, feeling better than I would have thought possible, considering the circumstances. Perhaps that was what Master Foris had intended.