Fallowblade (55 page)

As Asr
ă
thiel curtseyed before him, for some reason it kept running through her mind that she had not even been given a chance to bid goodbye to Tangwystil.

A
s morning fog slowly dispersed from the peaks, Asr
ă
thiel left the halls of the Mountain King and started for King’s Winterbourne, escorted by William and his troops. On the wooded slopes of the foothills, autumnal maples snagged the first beams of the rising sun, like yellow lamps illuminating the gloomy forests of pine and cedar. Upon receiving news of Asr
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thiel’s imminent return, William had despatched the swiftest runners from his encampment to the nearest semaphore station, with messages to key personages. Two days later, while his entourage descended the winding paths of the hills at a walking pace, the wind changed unexpectedly. A sky-balloon appeared from amongst the clouds, whisking along like a bubble on the breeze. As soon as Asr
ă
thiel spied the aircraft in the distance her spirits rose and her footsteps lightened. She could hardly wait to see her friends and family again. When the balloon landed she saw, to her joy, that the pilot was Avalloc himself, and ran to meet him. The Storm Lord, trembling with emotion, greeted Asr
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thiel with a single word, ‘Welcome,’ and a heartfelt embrace. He thanked William and all his men for the part they had played in rescuing his granddaughter, though they refused to take credit for anything except escorting her from the gates of Sølvetårn.

‘I am amazed to see you looking so well, after your ordeal, dear child,’ Avalloc said to Asr
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thiel, tears coursing down his cheeks. ‘My knees have been shaking ever since I received word that you had been set free. Such a dreadful burden has been lifted from my shoulders!’

‘Oh Grandfather, I am mightily glad you came to take me home,’ the damsel exclaimed. ‘There were times when I wondered whether I would ever see you again!’

Over meadow and wood, across hill and valley and swift-coursing river, the Storm Lord’s aerostat transported Asr
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thiel and William to Wyverstone Castle. The return of the weather-mage sparked wild celebrations in King’s Winterbourne. From the moment the citizens heard the news that she and the prince were on their way, they began to gather in anxious anticipation outside Wyverstone Castle, braving the chilly Autumn morning. Over the next few hours the crowd swelled to more than a thousand people eager to witness Asr
ă
thiel tasting freedom after two months in the underground prisons of unseelie wights.

Watchmen on the parapets spied the balloon approaching. At the instant they were certain the weathermage was on board they spread the word and bells began ringing all over the city. Even the great bronze bell of Essington Tower pealed out, whose deep voice had not been heard since the end of the Goblin Wars. The city erupted with excitement, and citizens declared the day the most joyful in living memory.

The balloon alighted in the castle grounds, but instead of retreating to the inner chambers Asr
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thiel mounted the stairs to a balcony overlooking the gates. As soon as she appeared before the waiting multitude the mood of anticipation yielded to jubilation. She was greeted with cheers, thunderous applause and a throwing of hats into the air. The streets filled with people blowing horns and whistles, shouting and singing, in an outpouring of emotion. Soon after Asr
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thiel disappeared indoors the citizens flocked to the taverns and inns to celebrate. The public houses were packed; the celebrations were wilder than previously, when they had received the news that she was still alive. By sunset, cartloads of ale had been consumed. All-day drinkers spilled out of the inns and into the streets, clutching tankards and jugs. Exuberance and elation proliferated. The merrymakers felt bound together by a sense of camaraderie, now that a shared tribulation was at an end.

King Warwick said to Asr
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thiel, ‘We have all escaped the same prison you were incarcerated in. Our feelings were trapped in the same dungeons. The prayers of the whole kingdom have been answered, in the wake of the shameful bargain we struck to end the war. We all share a great sense of relief.’

It was Warwick’s desire that Narngalis’s official weathermage should abide at the castle in the care of the royal household after her two-month ordeal, rather than returning straight away to her lodgings. Asr
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thiel was happy to do so, because her grandfather remained with her. During her stay she received many visitors—family and friends, admirers and well-wishers, representatives from all kingdoms, including a bearer of good wishes from the new druid primoris in Cathair Rua. People asked her why the goblins had let her go, and she replied honestly that she could not say for certain, but perhaps the wights had tired of her company. People pressed her on how she had passed her days in Minith Ariannath, and how she had been treated and what she had seen; they wanted to hear every last detail, but Avalloc intervened and bade them leave her in peace. Nor did he ask any questions himself, for he was happy just to have her back, and content to let her tell her story at her own pace, if at all, and perhaps also he dreaded what her answers might be. Asr
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thiel did not reveal the details of her experiences in Sølvetårn, did not speak of the urisk’s true identity, or of what had happened between herself and the goblin king. With her musings and her secrets, she appeared quite withdrawn by comparison with her usual self.

The rejoicing spread throughout the Four Kingdoms of Tir, especially after it became known that the goblins would depart from the northern borders at the equinoctial full moon. The exultation was not much dampened by the additional information that kobold law enforcement corps would be left behind. After all, what were a few dwarfish imps compared to the might of the goblin knights? Kobolds could eventually be quelled, with some determination, or so many folk liked to believe. King Warwick resolved that after the goblins were gone he would establish a permanently manned watchtower upon the heights of the Northern Ramparts, equipped with the most excellent spyglasses and with beacon fires ready for the sentries to light as a warning, in case the enemy ever returned, or any other unseelie thing came out of the northern lands.

Autumn laid rainbows of soft fire across Tir.

Sunlight slanted into a small courtyard at Wyverstone Castle, shining through the leaves of the birch trees as if they were panes of toffee. Avalloc Maelstronnar waited beneath those leaves, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the low beds of rosemary, marjoram and thyme laid out in symmetrical patterns. He looked but did not see, his mind being occupied with concern for his granddaughter and conjecturing as to Prince William’s purpose in requesting a private audience that afternoon. Presently the prince appeared, striding through the colonnaded gallery, his dark blue cloak of quilted linen flaring from his shoulders. As the young man stepped out onto the paving of the formal herb garden, the Storm Lord bowed.

‘Perhaps, Lord Maelstronnar, you guess the object of this meeting,’ William said after the usual preliminaries. His manner appeared a little awkward, which was not his customary way.

‘Perhaps,’ said Avalloc.

‘I am come to ask for your blessing. I would fain ask Asr
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thiel for her hand in marriage.’

With a smile and a gracious nod, the weathermage said, ‘You were right, Will. I had guessed your purpose. I know how highly you regard my granddaughter.’

‘And how say you, sir?’

‘My dear boy, you in your turn must surely guess how well disposed I am to such a connection. Asr
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thiel is very fond of you, and I have no doubt you could make her happy. I feel she would be well suited to be Queen of Narngalis when the time comes, for the people love her.’

‘And yet I sense some hesitation,’ William said, with a touch of unease.

‘If I hesitate at all, it is not from disapproval. Only that I have noted that since her return from her dreadful imprisonment the dear child appears quite abstracted. Her temperament is altered; she is not herself yet. And it is no wonder.’

‘I admit, it has not escaped me either,’ said the prince. ‘Who knows what horrors she has witnessed, of which she will not tell us for fear of causing distress.’

‘I believe it will take some time,’ the Storm Lord said, ‘before the scars of her ordeal begin to fade. I grant my consent to you and my blessing but, knowing my grandchild so well, I advise you to wait until she has recovered from her trials before making your proposal.’

This the prince agreed to do.

After seven days Asr
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thiel flew to High Darioneth to visit her uncle and aunt and cousins, and to pay her respects to her mother.

Jewel continued in her decade-long sleep in the house of Maelstronnar, untouched by time, sheltered by the cupola at the top of the spiral stair. The small room, with its huge windows framed by the stems of climbing roses, trapped warm beams of buttercup-yellow sunlight. The view in every direction was spectacular: sweeping panoramas of mountain, sky and plateau. In this crystalline arbour Jewel’s waiting-women sat peacefully, their voices, in conversation, as soft and low as running water. One was anointing the sleeper’s bare feet with scented creams. As Asr
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thiel entered they rose and curtsied, smiling gladly. The damsel exchanged civilities with the women before approaching the big four-posted bed that occupied much of this eyrie.

There, upon crimson sheets and tasselled bolsters she lay, like a magnificent marble statue painted in delicate colours by the most skilled of artists; Jewel, the mother of Asr
ă
thiel. Jewel’s tresses framed her face like dusky smoke. Fine textured and soft-hued was her skin, brushed with red at the lips and cheeks. Her lids were like the wings of a blue wren. Asr
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thiel kissed her mother’s brow and combed her hair, as was her wont. She spoke to her, telling her where she had been and what she had seen, yet omitting events that might upset Jewel, if indeed she could hear. As usual there was no sign that the sleeper was aware of anything at all, but Asr
ă
thiel never ceased to hope.

‘One day Father will return,’ she murmured. ‘He will learn of a way to waken you, Mother dear. Then we will all be together once more.’ In her heart she did not believe it.