Once Upon an Autumn Eve (12 page)

The men nodded and selected partners, and stepped to Zacharie to get their sector assignments.

“Didier, Patrice, join them,” said Liaze.

“But, Princess, Zacharie told us to—”

“Never mind that. There are no Goblins in the manor, and whatever houseguard remains within will be more than enough to protect me.”

“As you wish, Princess,” said Patrice, bowing. Didier bowed too, and then they went to Zacharie.

Liaze paused a moment at Rémy’s side. “I need to speak with you and Zacharie. When you are free, come find me.”

“Where, Princess?”

“I’ll be in the kitchen with Cook for some moments, breaking my fast, after which I’ll be in the armory.”

As Liaze entered the manse, Zoé leapt up from a bench in the reception hall. “Oh, Princess, I couldn’t find you, and none knew where you went, though some of the staff said you had gone to the willow grove.”

“You needn’t have worried,” said Liaze, “for I was protected by Didier and Patrice.”

“That’s what Zacharie said, and Rémy had men standing by, just in case.”

Liaze sighed. “Zoé, I would have you find Eugéne and tell him to come to me in the armory.”

 

As Rémy and Zacharie entered the armory, the princess was selecting arrows and placing them in two quivers: one to carry across her back, the other to hang from a saddle.

“My lady,” said Zacharie. Then he looked at what she was doing and lifted an eyebrow in query, but she did not respond.

Eugéne strode in, the stable master puffing a bit, as if he had run most of the way. “Princess, you wished to see me?”

“Oui, Eugéne.” Her gaze swept across the three men. “I will be going on a long journey, and, Eugéne, I would have you make ready supplies for me and Pied Agile and Deadly Nightshade—grain for them, food for me, cooking and camping gear, and the like. I suspect I’ll need three or four packhorses to bear it all.”

“Mares or geldings,” said Eugéne, “else the chevalier’s horse is likely to run any pack animals off.”

“My lady,” said Zacharie, “where is it you plan to go? To a seer?”

“Non, Zacharie. I am going after Luc.”

“Oh, Princess,” protested Zacharie, but Rémy interrupted and said, “When we find something to show the way, there’ll be no need for you to ride after Luc, for my warband and I will—”

“Non, Rémy, Zacharie,” said Liaze. “I must go alone.”

“Alone?”
burst out Rémy and Zacharie and Eugéne together, and all began raising objections, each trying to be heard above the others.

Liaze pushed out a hand for silence, and when it fell, she said, “Lady Skuld was at the willow pool at dawn, and this is what she said. . . .”

 

“. . . And lastly, she told me a bird would point the way.”

As she fell silent, Rémy ran a hand through his red hair. “I know not what Skuld meant when she said you must ride with fear and dread and death and torn souls, except, perhaps, she might be telling you to go with caution; nor do I know why fear would kill any who accompany you, for we are stalwart and true, and have faced Goblins and Trolls without blenching; nor do I know who this ‘howling one’ might be, other than some Wolf or Dog; I do understand about treading softly, for that’s only prudence, but I know not where a black mountain lies; and as to a bird pointing the way, what bird? Princess, each of those things either I know or know not, yet of this I am certain: for you to go alone is folly, and my warband and I should ride with—”

“Do you argue with Lady Wyrd?” asked Liaze, looking first at Rémy, then Zacharie, and finally Eugéne.

Eugéne looked away, and Zacharie sighed, and Rémy, tears of frustration in his eyes, shook his head. And Zacharie said, “When do you plan on leaving?”

Liaze turned up her hands. “Soon, Zacharie, soon. Tomorrow or the next at the very latest, for the dark of the moon two moons from now rides a course that cannot be stayed.”

Rémy frowned and said, “My lady, I now ask you a question you once asked me: since we know not whence the witch did fly, which way would you go?”

“I don’t know, Armsmaster. I don’t know. I simply must trust to Fate.”

In that moment a footman entered—a young lad, Cook’s son. He bowed and said, “My lady, the funeral pyres are set.”

For a moment Liaze frowned in puzzlement, but then her visage cleared.
Ah, me, I had forgotten—Adrien and Paul—the two who were crushed by the witch’s terrible shadow.

“Thank you, Gaston,” she said. “We will be there shortly.”

As the lad bowed and left, Liaze turned to Zacharie. “After the funeral, have the entire staff—searchers included—gather in the welcoming hall. We shall see if any know of a black mountain, or the one who howls, or of ought else in Lady Skuld’s rede.”

 

Even as the pyres were burning and many wept in grief, Jean, the falconer, stepped to Liaze’s side and said, “My lady, one of the peregrines comes . . . from the Summerwood by the course of his flight.”

Liaze looked up in the direction Jean pointed, and the grey-and-white raptor came winging in swift and true.

Liaze sighed.
I had completely forgotten we flew them yestermorn, bearing news of my betrothal to

Luc.
She turned to Jean and said, “Bring the message to the welcoming hall.”

Jean nodded and set out for the falcon mews.

 

There was an uproar in the welcoming hall, shouts of protest and cries of alarm.

Liaze let the clamor run its course, and then she raised her hands for silence. When it came, she quietly said, “It is the only way, for I would not go against Lady Skuld’s words.” She looked at Didier standing nearby and added, “As I was reminded, there is much more at stake than a personal tragedy, else Lady Wyrd would not have come. I
must
go.”

A murmur swirled among the staff, some nodding, others wiping away tears, yet all seemed to agree that an appearance by Lady Skuld could not be ignored.

Liaze cleared her throat, and a hush fell once again. “Do any of you know of a black mountain, or of one who howls, or can any shed light upon any part of Skuld’s rede? If so, speak now.”

Men and women looked at one another and shrugged or shook their heads. Finally Liaze said, “If you think of ought, then find me.”

After the members of the staff returned to their duties, and the searchers to their task, Liaze read the message from the Summerwood. Tears welled in the princess’s eyes, for the tissue-thin note was full of joy, Alain and Camille congratulating Liaze and Luc on their betrothal.

“Zacharie.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Send messages to each of the manors and to my père and mère, and tell them what has passed.”

“Yes, my lady.”

 

Throughout the day, Eugéne, Zacharie, Rémy, and Liaze decided what to take on a long journey. They were interrupted several times by members of the staff, each one bringing some speculation or other to the princess’s attention. But they shed no more light upon Skuld’s words.

And as the sun slipped across the sky, messenger falcons arrived bearing congratulations: from Celeste in the Springwood; from Arnot, steward of the Winterwood; and from King Valeray and Queen Saissa. In addition to Valeray and Saissa’s felicitations, they added that they knew nothing of a child abandoned in the woods, nor of a foundling raised by an armsmaster named Léon.

With each of these received messages, tears ran down Liaze’s face, while those with her looked the other way and waited.

During the day as well, the manor remained silent, people yet creeping about, desolation on their faces, for two men were dead, and Luc was gone, and the princess was going away. Only Martine seemed unaffected by the loss of Luc, and she came unto Liaze and said, “We make our own fate, Princess—not some
Skuld
person. There is no need to leave the manor on a perilous quest simply because of the word of this—this Lady Wyrd. Besides, for you to go off alone to search for nought but a common hedge knight is foolish in the extreme.”

Rage flared in Liaze’s eyes and she snapped, “Tutrice, one more such statement and I will banish you forever from the Forests of the Seasons.”

Martine quailed and fell to her knees. “Oh, my lady, forgive me. Forgive me.”

Liaze stood rigid with anger, and Martine rose to her feet and dipped a humble curtsey and meekly crept away.

Dusk found Liaze and Zacharie and Rémy and Eugéne in the stable, having just finished the planning for her trek: Liaze would need four packhorses in addition to her own mount and Luc’s. And as they looked over the animals, Didier came running in. “My lady,” he called, and bobbed a short bow, and said, “in the search Patrice and I found a Goblin campsite, well used, though we could only see a single set of footprints, as if a lone Goblin occupied it. Patrice is yet there, warding the place. The campsite has a crow cote, we think for messenger crows, and but one is left. Shall we kill it?”

Even as Rémy started to nod, Liaze cried, “No!”

“No?” said Zacharie.

“No,” affirmed Liaze. “A bird shall point the way.”

“The riddle, the rede, Lady Skuld’s words!” exclaimed Rémy.

“Indeed,” said Liaze. “Surely the Goblin sent messages to the witch. He must have informed her that Luc had escaped the Troll and Goblin party, and this Goblin kept watch on him.”

“Oh, my,” said Eugéne, “perhaps it was that same Goblin that caused the horses, especially Nightshade, to raise a ruckus that first night Luc came.” Eugéne looked at Zacharie. “You recall, Steward, it was just before we searched Luc’s goods to see who he might be.” Eugéne frowned and added, “And they were disturbed again last night, when the shadow came. Probably the Goblin again.”

“Perhaps it was the same one we slew climbing the wall,” said Zacharie.

Rémy turned to Didier. “Find Claude and see if he can tell if more than one Goblin occupied that camp you and Patrice found.”

“Didier,” said Liaze, “find Jean, too, and have him care for the crow and feed it well, for it will point the way to the witch’s abode, and perhaps to Luc.”

As Didier raced away, Eugéne growled, “Goblins.”

Rémy looked at Liaze and said, “I told you there were more out there.”

“Indeed you did,” said Liaze. “Still, it will not stop me from hewing to Lady Skuld’s words.”

She paused a moment, then said, “Rémy, I would have you and your warband search throughout the entirety of the Autumnwood. Mayhap there are other Goblin dens in the demesne, Troll holes too.”

“A difficult task, that, my lady,” said Rémy, a pensive look on his face, “for the Autumnwood is wide, and Goblins could be anywhere within.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Nevertheless, where there is one Goblin, there is likely to be more. We will find a way.”

Liaze wrinkled her brow in thought and then said, “The wee ones can aid you in this. Go to Lord Chaûn of the Lynx Riders. Have him and his folk ask the Sprites and other Fey throughout the Wood to bring word of any Redcaps or Ogres or Trolls within the realm. Tell him it is my wish.”

Rémy’s face brightened. “Yes, my lady.”

Liaze looked at Eugéne and said, “Tomorrow at dawn, saddle Nightshade and lade Luc’s errantry gear thereon. Saddle Pied Agile as well, and lade on my gear. And fit the packhorses with the supplies we discussed. When all is ready, we will release the crow, and I will ride the direction it flies.—Oh, and Zacharie, make certain that the message capsule the crow bears is open and empty, as if whatever message it might have held has been lost.”

“My lady?” said Zacharie.

“Zacharie, we do not want the witch to know that someone is on the way, perhaps following her crow. Instead let her believe that one of her minions elsewhere sent the bird, or that this one simply escaped.”

“Princess,” said Rémy, “how can you follow a messenger bird—crow or otherwise? I mean, once they take flight, they are gone, and no horse can keep pace with them.”

“Lady Skuld only promised that a bird would point the way, Armsmaster. I merely intend to ride in the direction of its flight.”

“You will not be able to hew to its exact course, my lady,” said Zacharie.

“If I stray to one side or the other of its line, well, I can only trust in Lady Skuld’s words and fare more or less on the bearing the bird takes.”

“My lady,” said Eugéne, “are you certain you want to do this thing—riding out alone on a quest and into the teeth of who knows what perils?”

“Eugéne, as I said before, I would not argue with Fate.”

Rémy started to say something, then shut his mouth with a
click!
of teeth.

 

The next morning, just after dawn, Liaze sat upon Pied Agile, with Nightshade tethered behind, and four gelding packhorses tethered after. Most of the staff was on hand, and many wept, especially Zoé, and even Martine shed tears. Rémy and the warband stood at attention nearby, a pained look upon the armsmaster’s face. And Zacharie and the houseguard stood in ranks opposite, the steward with tears in his eyes.

Liaze looked down at Jean; the crow from the lone Goblin’s campsite sat hooded on the falconer’s wrist, an upside-down uncapped message capsule upon the bird’s left leg, as if a missive had been lost along with the absent cap.

“Remember, Jean, Zacharie,” said Liaze, “let not the falcons fly until the crow is long gone.”

“Oui, my lady,” replied Jean.

The princess’s gaze swept across the assembly, and with a confidence she did not feel, she said, “My friends, keep well and do not weep, for just as I place my trust in the words of Lady Skuld, so should you. Luc and I shall soon return.”

A feeble cheer rose from the staff, yet not enough to override the weeping.