AutumnQuest (7 page)

“Boy’ll see to your horse,” she said as a lad approached.

“Wait, please. I need my things.” I fumbled with the straps, then clutched the pack to my chest. The boy led away the horse, who grumbled to me that he’d better be getting some good grain after the day’s labors. I pushed the unwelcome comment from my mind.

The serving girl looked back at me impatiently, and for the first time, I noticed a look of worry in her eyes. I hurried to catch up.

“You
will
be able to see to Master, won’t you?”

“Well, I’m here to see him,” I said, a sense of anxiety beginning to oppress me as I perceived a heavy tension emanating from the house.

“Oh, but you must save him.”

“Save him? What are you talking about?”

“You must save him,” the girl repeated, tears starting in her eyes. “He can’t die just because those stinking Royal Guardsmen cut off his hand and foot.”

WinterEnd is celebrated the day after the first buds appear on the early-blooming axcel bush, one of which is planted in every village, town, and city square. When the buds are spotted, typically by children keeping careful watch, word spreads quickly so that preparations for the feast the next day can begin.

Summer Solstice is celebrated with elaborate magic exhibitions, concerts, and feasts. Winter Solstice is a night filled with the telling of stories and the imbibing of hot drinks. In some communities, storytelling competitions can be as fierce as the drinking competitions.

Emancipation Day, in late Autumn, originated as Judgment Day, the annual day of execution. As capital punishment fell out of practice, a new custom evolved in which one half of petty criminals are set free. Eligible prisoners are gathered together in the prison and each pulls a stone from a leather sack. Each stone is painted black or white with an equal number of each in the sack. Then the warden removes a stone, and all prisoners who have a stone of the opposite color are freed.

There are other holidays, many of a local or regional nature. For example, a village might celebrate the anniversary of its founding, or the king might declare a day of feasting in honour of the birth or marriage of a prince or princess.

~from
The Book of Lore

“What?” I stopped mid-stride. She turned around and looked at me imploringly. “When they were here two days ago they questioned Master, and before they left, they cut off his hand and foot. As punishment, they said. But now infection has set in, and Mistress is afraid he’ll die. He needs a healer, so we sent to Roylinn, and now you’re here.” This short speech seemed to take up the last of her courage reserves, and she broke down in sobs. “Please hurry,” she managed to stutter out.

“But I can’t. I’m not a healer.”

Her sobs grew louder as the meaning of my words sank in. I patted her shoulder awkwardly. “But one will surely be along soon.”

Just then the front door of the large house burst open. A small woman with an intimidating air about her looked down at the two of us standing at the foot of the steps, then charged down herself.

“Mallie, why are you delaying the healer? Pull yourself together, child.” And before I could utter a word, she took my elbow in a powerful grip, pulled me up the steps and into the house, and led me down the corridor, keeping up a running monologue I couldn’t manage to interrupt.

“A good girl, and a good worker, and I’m quite fond of her. But sometimes she just can’t control her emotions. Leaving you standing on the doorstep crying her eyes out while Gam is dying for want of your care. Damn the soldiers!” She made a few choice remarks about them and their predecessors. “And they have the gall to say they’ll spare his life, but then they go and mutilate him like this, as if that won’t kill him. I told him he should never have gotten involved with that damned egg.”

She threw open a door and pushed me ahead of her into the room. The odors of disinfectant, herbs, and putrid flesh made me gag. “What egg?” I choked out the words.

“He found a dragon egg hidden in a load of fine cloth that came from Hucklow.” I caught my breath, but she didn’t seem to notice. As she continued, I tried to compose myself. “I told him to be done with it, just take it to the woods and leave it. But would he listen to me? Does he ever? No. He hires that worthless carter Beels. O’course,
he
paid the price anyway, didn’t he just?”

“Ma’am!” I finally broke through her tirade. She stopped and looked at me, wide-eyed. “I’m not a healer. I can’t help you. I’ve only come to deliver a horse from Kibee.”

“Oh.”

Her suddenly woebegone face touched my heart. “I’m sure the healer will be here soon,” I said gently.

“Yes.” It came out as a whisper. “Indeed.”

“So maybe I should just go.” I pointed towards the door.

A deep voice from the vicinity of the bed startled me. “Mama, I’ll take care of this.” A young man of about twenty rose to his feet as he placed a damp rag on the sick man’s forehead.

He walked over to us, then led his mother to the bedside. “You stay with Papa. Look after him. I’m sure the healer will be here directly.” The woman sat down next to the bed and took her husband’s intact hand in her own. The young man came back to me and escorted me from the room.

“I’m sorry. She’s quite distraught.”

“I should say so. I don’t blame her at all.” I looked back at the door he’d just closed and shuddered. “I’m just sorry I can’t help.”

He led me to an office across the corridor from the bedroom. “You said you’ve brought a horse?”

“Yes. A horse and a letter from Kibee.”

“Then I should be able to take care of it. Unless it’s confidential?” I shook my head when he paused. “My father has been training me to take over the business, although we didn’t expect it to be so soon.” An understandable bitterness crept into his voice. I pulled the letter from its place in the front pocket of my pack and handed it to him.

“Oh! I’m completely forgetting my manners. I’m Nevis. Can I get you some water to drink?”

“Yes, please. And I’m Donavah.”

He motioned for me to take a seat while he went to a table along the far wall and poured a glass of water from a crystal decanter. He handed it to me, and I took a drink. The water was surprisingly cool.

Nevis sat in a chair near me and read Kibee’s letter. I watched him. He had pale green eyes and rather dark skin. His black curly hair was trimmed short, and a sprinkling of freckles gave him an impish look. What struck me most, though, wasn’t his appearance but the way he treated me: not as the half-educated student I was but as an adult. It felt odd, but in a pleasant sort of way.

“Well, everything appears to be in order,” Nevis said, tapping his hand with the letter. “Is there anything I can do for you? Would you care to stay here for the night? I can have a guest room prepared.”

“Oh, no, thank you.” Then I turned the conversation to what I really needed to know. “Um, your father. What happened? I couldn’t quite follow what your mother said.”

“Ah, that’s a bad business. Don’t get me wrong; he’s not as bad off as Mama makes him sound. But still.” He just shook his head and sighed. “You heard Mama say he found that dragon egg in a load of cloth?” I nodded. “Well, his first idea—and not a bright one, I can tell you—was to keep it and hatch it himself.”

“That’s crazy!” I exclaimed, then quickly clapped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Nevis chuckled. “Well, you’re right. It
is
crazy. Mama eventually made him realize that, with considerable help from me.” I smiled, imagining the scene. “So he decided to send it back to Dallon, the merchant in Hucklow, and he hired Beels, an illiterate old carter, to take it. Somehow, the old man figured out what he was transporting. He ‘lost’ the egg not far from here. A student from Roylinn had stolen it was the story he told the soldiers—before they cut his tongue out.”

I shuddered again. If this is what they did to those who innocently handled the dragon egg, what might they have done already to Breyard, whom they considered guilty? I leapt to my feet in a sudden panic. “Thank you,” I said, “but I really must go now.”

Nevis looked surprised but didn’t seem inclined to argue. Just then, voices out in the corridor heralded the arrival of the healer. Nevis rushed out of the room. I started to follow, intending to leave, but a familiar voice drifted down the corridor.

Master Larmstro! The academy’s most senior healer! He ran the infirmary in addition to his teaching duties, and his knowledge left even the most skilled masters in awe. I had a special interest in healing and took extra classes with him. It would be a disaster for him to find me here.

I turned my back to the door and stood in front of the window. Surely he wouldn’t recognize my silhouette. There were footsteps behind me, and I held my breath.

“No, Master,” Nevis said, “this room over here.”

I breathed again as I felt Master Larmstro’s presence retreat. There it was again—that weird sensitivity to life vibrations. Oleeda had said that that was maejic. Well, I didn’t like it, and I wished it would go away.

Once the door to the room across the corridor was safely closed, I drank another glassful of water, then found my own way out of the house.

I slipped out the front gate and looked around. This was the last house along the road, which, luckily for me, went straight to the nearby woods. That was where Oleeda expected me to find the dragon, or, more precisely, the dragon to find me.

It would start getting dark soon, and I wanted to be settled for the night in plenty of time. I hoisted my pack and headed for the woods at a quick pace.

Everything seemed at peace as I walked. The breeze tousled my hair, and birds flew high overhead, heading south for the Winter. As I passed a boggy area, I heard the self-satisfied croaking of toads and smelled the damp earth. The outdoors sang to me, and I smiled back.

There was maybe an hour of light left when I reached the edge of the woods. Once in the cool shade, it occurred to me that it would be dark even sooner under the trees. I searched for a likely spot to camp.

Not far from the path, I found a tiny clearing covered with fallen leaves, which I bunched up to make my bed. Then I gathered more dead leaves and dry twigs, and a nearby fallen tree provided plenty of firewood. Before long, a campfire crackled merrily in the dusk.

I made a supper of more bread and cheese, followed by two crisp, green apples. Kibee had included a small saucepan with my supplies, and I used it to heat water from my waterskin for herb tea. As the sun went down and the woods got dark in earnest, it also grew chilly. My cloak, which would double as a blanket, was in the bottom of my pack. When I shook it out to toss it across my shoulders, something fell to the ground. I picked up the unfamiliar packet in curiosity.

It was a black leather pouch about six inches long and three inches square, tied securely with a brown rawhide thong. What did it contain? I untied the thong and looked inside, but there wasn’t enough light to see. I tipped the contents into my hand to find a miniature set of meditation candles, small enough for traveling and complete with a set of four tiny pairs of candlesticks: gold for Summer, silver for Autumn, copper for Winter, and crystal for Spring.

That’s when it struck me that I hadn’t meditated all day. Consumed with my plans, I’d entirely neglected it. Today was the first day of health week, so I placed the pale green candles into the silver candlesticks, put everything else back in the pouch, and lit the candles.

In the peace of my little clearing, in the woods on a comfortable Autumn evening, it was easy to move through the meditation routine, and when I’d finished, I lay down for the night.

Of course, it might well have been the full day of unaccustomed activity and breathing the fresh, outdoor air. For whatever reason, it was easy to fall asleep.

I opened an eye when the loud singing of birds woke me up. The sky was barely grey, and the air felt chillier than it had the night before. I decided to get my fire going again, then perhaps get a little more sleep. But when I tried to sit up, every single muscle I had seemed to scream in pain. I groaned aloud and lay back on my bed of leaves.

An inventory of my body revealed that the worst off were my legs. Had to be the day before spent in the saddle, when I hadn’t ridden a horse in so long. Why hadn’t I thought of that? On the other hand, what difference would it have made if I had? Well, just lying there in the crisp air wouldn’t help.

I pushed myself up, trying to ignore the pain and telling myself that I would feel better once I got moving. Moving gingerly, I gathered more firewood and restarted the fire. The last of the water in my waterskin filled the saucepan for tea. Finding a creek or stream would have to be one of my first tasks once the sun was up.