Ross Lawhead (35 page)

Dumb with awe, Daniel leaned back against a barrel as Kæyle took his seat and with a snap of the reins, the cart jerked off. It felt as if his insides were still quivering like chords on a harp that still held their notes. Daniel remained in this dream-like state for a long time into their journey before realising that the road that was stretching out behind him was very wide, level, and straight. It must have been a pretty good song.

2

Freya woke up with a queasy feeling in her stomach. Her body, evidently realising that she was awake, hit her with a full blast of nausea. Alarmed, she swung herself out of bed and lurched to the toilet, where she was immediately sick. She caressed her swollen belly as she spat into the bowl and wiped the corners of her mouth with a couple squares of toilet paper.

She couldn't help glancing as she flushed—why was there always so little? What was her body doing, throwing up what wasn't there to throw up?

She grabbed her dressing gown, leaving it undone, of course— she hadn't been able to draw it together for a couple weeks now—and padded into the kitchen.

“Hello, sweetie,” Felix said. He was seated at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in his hand, the morning paper spread in front of him. A welcome and comforting stereotype, she thought. She smiled at him and went to the refrigerator.

“Do we have bacon? I feel like bacon, toast—no, a bagel if we've got one—marmalade, and . . . mustard. Lots of mustard, with the bacon, obviously. Dijon, preferably.”

Felix chuckled. “Okay, my little gastronome, have a seat. I'll whip you up something.”

Freya lowered herself into one of their kitchen chairs, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “I heard you in there,” Felix said as strips of bacon hissed in the frying pan. “How are you feeling today?”

“About average. This coffee's helping.”

“I hope you're not drinking it—you'll get one of your headaches.”

“No, I just like the smell.” She spent a few moments in thought.

“Do I have an appointment today?”

“Yes, you do. Leigh was kind enough to offer to take you, remember?”

“That's right . . .”

“In fact—” Felix glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh dear,” he said gravely. “You're running late. I let you oversleep. I'm sorry.

Quick, go get changed and I'll have this ready for you when you're done.”

Sighing, Freya hoisted herself up. As she passed the kitchen counter, she reached a hand out to take a scrap of bacon but received a slap on the wrist instead.

“Naughty,” Felix said with a grin.

Stomach growling angrily, Freya went back into their bedroom and dressed, putting on the minimum of makeup. There was a knock on the door just as she was finishing her eyeliner. She heard Felix open it and the murmur of voices greeting each other.

“Freya . . . ?”

“Coming!” Freya shouted. She stood straight and looked at herself in the mirror. When did she become so old?

As she bustled down the hallway, a wave of dizziness hit her. She slowed as she reached the doorway and put a hand against the wall to steady herself.

“Are you okay?” Stowe asked.

“I'm fine, just stood up too fast, that's all. Hello, Leigh. You look lovely, as ever.”

“Thank you. Well, we'd better get moving.”

“I'll see you this evening, my love,” Felix said, giving her a peck on the cheek as he helped her into her coat.

“Okay, bye.”

It was only as Freya was getting into Leigh Sinton's car that she realised she hadn't had anything to eat.

“Don't worry, dear,” the older woman said. “We can pick something up on the way back. It's been awhile since we had a good chat. How are you coming on Brize Norton's
Commentaries to the Names of the Guardians
, by the way?”

“I don't know . . . I'm a little hazy . . .”

“It is difficult, I agree. Do you want me to review with you?”

Freya was trying to remember who exactly Brize Norton was. The name rang a very faint bell, but she thought it was a place, not a person . . . Maybe one was named after another?

“These are the names of the guardians of knowledge:

Hanamiem, Tusemptoulous, Alsanaz, Moem, Noetinous. These are the names of those who stand at rest before them: Teitauem, Aufaem—”

“Leigh,” Freya said, deliberately interrupting. “Do you ever wonder why we're doing what we do?”

“We're doing very important work, Freya,” Leigh said, turning the radio off. “We're retrieving information that's been lost for centuries.”

“Why? For what purpose?”

“Why?” Ms. Sinton smiled, as if she just realised that she was being put on. “But you know why, dear. Listen, this is just the hormones. Relax, and you'll get through it. I remember when my sister had her first, it was months before—”

“How . . . how long have I been pregnant?”

“What?”

“How long, precisely?”

Leigh, still keeping her attention on the road, stole a couple sideways glances at Freya. “Well, I don't know how long
precisely
, but it's been about six months since your anniversary dinner when you announced it to us all—that was May third. You do remember
that
?”

Freya twisted her wedding ring around her finger.

“As I was saying, the names of those who stand at rest before the guardians are Teitauem, Aufaem, and Acsatalt standing at Hanamiem; Raeruoak, Zocuam, and Zyquruis standing at Tusemptoulous; Ribmisot, Ribmitet, and Fusout standing at Alsanaz; Tuiujiat, Viorinrhvut, and Fasynipiat standing at Moem; and Ingekaper, Atuhis, and Ingekipap standing at Noetinous.

Proceeding from those standing before the guardians are those known as the myriads, who are Ekram, Zuler, and Kukilaor proceeding from Teitauem standing at Hanamiem; Umtip, Cenut, and Memeniat proceeding from Aufaem standing at Hanamiem; Jaekuq, Dojqubir, and Rylnshus proceeding from Acsatalt standing at Hanamiem; Iofunipiat, Eavashuapout, and Liomes proceeding from Raeruoak standing at Tusemptoulous; Tenclu, Teqiqiu, and Ujasu proceeding from Zocuam standing at Tusemptoulous; Rulaki, Ryngnge, and Shoqi proceeding from Zyquruis standing at Tusemptoulous; Cescimu, Guplacim, and Lukracem proceeding from Ribmisot standing at Alsanaz; Tumnot, Elsinuph, and Encutout proceeding from Ribmitet standing at Alsanaz; Raidi, Menc, and Cofiz proceeding from Fusout standing at Alsanaz; Jesnubim, Usuoeim, and Feaiovhe proceeding from Tuiujiat standing at Moem; Telme, Irjitoli, and Imimiv proceeding from Viorinrhvut standing at Moem; Guplivek, Ipieuak, and Cuoaega proceeding from Fasynipiat standing at Moem; Rujku, Angaragh, and Akakash proceeding from Ingekaper standing at Noetinous; Faquculur, Allugu, and Rasth proceeding from Atuhis standing at Noetinous; and Ullil, Akurri, and Ulamue proceeding from Ingekipap standing at Noetinous.

“Surrounding them are those who are known as the helpers of they who proceed from those who stand before the guardians and their names are Uzson, Lameffarrsiari, Ursapagla, and Thernilugfu surrounding Ekram proceeding from Teitauem standing at Hanamiem; Zerriol, Ujeiquaem, Ezegum, and Stamao surrounding Zuler proceeding from Teitauem standing at Hanamiem; Spugheom, Usgisi, Euzam, Leuleu, and Mazpesh surrounding Kukilaor proceeding from Teitauem standing at Hanamiem. Jimeolamemipem, Fareka, Ucuzul, and Replu surrounding Umtip proceeding from Aufaem standing at Hanamiem; Narpal, Eullauj, Ralungel, and Fareka, surrounding Cenut . . .”

Freya felt herself nodding again. She felt so tired these days. Something to ask the doctor about. Her head reclined back on the chair's headrest, and she closed her eyes and drifted away.

3

The journey through the forest took them three days. During the first night, when Daniel was curled up in the back of the cart, just on the edge of drifting off to sleep, he heard someone call his name so loudly and so clearly that he jerked around and sat up, staring into the darkness for some time, hardly daring to breathe.

“Daniel!”

He would have answered, but the voice was clearly, unmistakably Freya's. Kæyle and Pettyl were huddled close together on the seat up front. They had obviously not heard anything out of the ordinary. Daniel lay back down but didn't sleep. He was feeling tired—and more than tired, weak. He was obviously malnourished and kept thinking back to the stone that Kay Marrey had given him that he had foolishly let drop in the forest on the first night. Perhaps that contained minerals that he needed. Well, maybe he'd find something to replace it at the Fayre—or better yet, a way home.

They made good time, it would seem, since they traveled during the night. Daniel didn't know how they or the horses could still see the road, but he imagined that their elf senses were equal to the task. Kæyle and Pettyl took turns driving, allowing the other to sleep—stretching out in the back of the cart while Daniel rode up front. The only rest off the road they took was for the horses when they needed to be fed. Daniel enjoyed the journey.

The movements of the cart, though not always gentle, were comforting, and the shifting green treescape was like a tonic for his soul. It was three long days of calm and peace, and the last of that for a long time afterwards.

He came to know Pettyl better. She was very talkative and told him stories of Elfland and histories of the forest, in particular tales of the birds that Daniel found especially compelling.

On the afternoon of the second day, Daniel heard Freya call his name again as they stopped to feed the horses.

“Daniel!”

He was drinking a hot tea-like drink that Pettyl had made and nearly spilled it all over himself when he leapt off of the stone that he sat on.

“Daniel,” Pettyl said, “are you alright?”

“I'm fine. It's just a little hot,” he said, holding out the tin cup. He sat back down and drank, trying to hide his anxiousness. It sounded like Freya needed him, and badly.

And so it was that they came to the lowlands and joined a road that Kæyle had not asked for. And so they left the forest, but not before Kæyle gave a song of thanks to the forest for what it had provided them.

This last leg of the trip was a short one, but fascinating, for they now traveled along a road that was intermittently cobbled and well worn. The landscape was open, and the strange distortion of distance meant that Daniel was able to see miles farther than he could in his own world, giving views of hilly farmlands where houses of bulbous design, constructed from white carved stone and wood, dotted the landscape.

“Who lives in those?” Daniel asked Pettyl.

“No one very much, I should think,” answered Pettyl. “Many of these are now abandoned since the nine princes gained rule of the kingdom. Some of the farmers have been chased off, some killed, and some dead in the wars. The widows and daughters will have worked the farms for a short time and then dispersed to wherever their relatives were still living—or to become married elsewhere.”

“That's too bad,” Daniel said, gazing glumly at one of the odd structures.

Not long after, they passed through an entire elfin village— similarly deserted. There were only a dozen or so buildings, but they were magnificent. They were carved out of the same white stone as the farm buildings, and the shapes—unlike Niðergeard's, which were all lines, ridges, and arches—were organic, as if they had grown like shells to house strange, enormous creatures. But they were old and decaying. Roofs and walls had collapsed and spilled out into the streets, allowing a view of the rooms inside, which looked like honeycombs, no less organic than the exterior.

“This place was beautiful once,” Pettyl said. “We came here often, being the nearest settlement. The spires and edifices were decorated with flags and banners of every colour under the sun.

Banquets and parties were common, for the elf-folk in these parts love a festival above all else and make it the chief aim of all their work. There are twenty-seven grand festivals in the rural elf's calendar, and any number of lesser local ones. The feast hall over there”—Pettyl pointed to a large amphitheater structure that had a wooden roof on it that had partially collapsed—“held most of the festivities when the weather was inclement. Other times, marquees would be raised and bonfires built. It was customary to visit other villages during local celebrations, so that elves from hundreds of miles around would come to know each other, enjoy each other, love each other . . .”

Pettyl's voice trailed off. The cart rattled on through the dead streets and soon the village was behind them.

“Where are we going?” Daniel asked. “Where is the market held? Is it in a city?”

“No, but it will seem like a village, if one made of tents and booths. It is a gathering place—a very old one. It is near a large standing stone which marks the confluence of several counties and has been a festival site for many generations. In times past it used to be a station on the King's Circuit—he would visit once a year and dispense justice to those who gathered there. Obviously, that doesn't happen anymore. The princes sometimes keep this custom, but if they do, it is only to revel.”