The Wealding Word (2 page)

“What are you doing out here in your nightgown? In!” the woman said. She cast a dark glance down the lane at Gall, but the herder had moved on.

“Lexi locked me out,” Nell shivered.

The older girl hummed in the kitchen, pretending not to hear the accusation. Danielle shook her head, knowing well enough how her two daughters got along. “Well, get dressed and comb your hair. You can help me at the castle today.”

The castle meant a day free from the awful household chores that Lexi always made her do, like pulling feathers off the hens or dumping the chamber pot. Nell beamed at the offer, but quickly covered her mouth. Lexi liked to remind her that her teeth were as crooked as an old stone wall, so Nell did her best to smile with her lips sealed. “I’ll be right back,” she said, racing to her bedroom.

Once in her room, she hastened into a homespun dress, and then attempted to comb the knots from her hair. Streaked amber, copper, and chestnut, the tangled layers seemed to change color with the season. Of course, Lexi called them troll-tresses and said hair was supposed to be straight and yellow.

Her two pets lolled together on the rug at her feet, watching Nell struggle with the comb. The dog, a blue-eyed border collie named Rawley, took almost as much abuse from Lexi as Nell did, since he was always getting underfoot or making a mess of things. Nell’s striped cat, Sola, knew better how to avoid trouble. She often stayed in the
bedroom hiding from Lexi all day. Sometimes Nell went walking in the forest with her pets. The woods were her favorite place – quiet and far away from other people. Plus, Lexi never ventured out of the village, so the time Nell spent in the forest was time spent away from her sister, and that was
almost
the best part of all.

“Finish up Nell, we need to go,” Danielle called from the kitchen.

As she ran from her room, Nell grinned at Lexi, who would be staying behind. “Have fun with the chamber pot!” With that, she flounced outside after her mother, troll-tresses flying.

Danielle was a tall woman – and a fast walker. Today she was late to her duties, so Nell had to jog to keep pace. Far away through town and up a long hill sat the castle. Its towers and thick walls overlooked the sea on one side, and the forest on the other. Two banners flapped above it: a dark blue one with a white unicorn, symbolizing the queen, and a red one with three interlocking gold circles, which was the standard of the king. “How come only the queen lives in the castle?” Nell asked as they hurried up the road.

“The queen and her son live there,” her mother replied.

“And nobody else? Why doesn’t the king live there?”

“Lots of people live in the castle Nell,” Danielle said, “but King Reginald has been gone for many years. If he returns, he’ll live there again.”

The king’s prolonged absence at sea was no hindrance upon his kingdom. It was a time of peace, and the people loved their queen with the exotic name: Queen Pharisij. Everyone knew Pharisij was from a far-off land, and that her marriage to King Reginald had been arranged before she was born, but if the wedding united two kingdoms, none of the common people ever heard which. Some said King Reginald had been unhappy with the arrangement from the start. It was even rumored that he sailed off shortly after their marriage just to be away from his bride. Whatever the case, the
young queen’s lineage – who she was and where she came from – was a constant source of wonder among the people.

Nell and her mother climbed the cobbled road upward, past ramshackle houses, barking dogs, and children caked with mud. The lower warrens were a confusion of sounds and smells all jostling for Nell’s attention. A peddler shouted at Danielle to sample a bit of brown cheese, but the woman pushed past, pulling Nell behind her through the crowd. Higher up on the hill, however, the air was still. Here, stately brick manors competed with one another for the best view of the sea, though most of the estates were hidden by brick walls. It was said that every lord’s house boasted a garden filled with rare flowers and exotic animals – more closely guarded than many a jeweled treasure. When Nell was a girl, she would press her face against the iron gates, hoping to catch sight of a peacock or horned tiger, but all she ever saw were ivied walls within.

The road ended at the outer gates of the castle. In keeping with the ancient custom, its entrances were entwined with magnificent serpents. The stone dragons were supposed to protect the door should some ill fortune seek to enter. Every household in the kingdom owned a small figurine of some sort – even Nell’s family had a chipped dragon standing vigil outside their home.

Across the drawbridge, a man with a sparse beard leaned against the guard house. He had as many antics as Nell had tangles in her hair, and had been Nell’s friend since before she could remember. “Ward!” she called, skipping ahead to meet him. When Edward saw her coming, he raised his plumed helm. Then with a practiced flourish, the young soldier performed a bow so ridiculous that even his fellow guardsmen broke out in laughter.

Their mirth died at once as the clang of weapons rang from just inside the gate. Before the guards could grab their pikes, ten brown
geese erupted from the entryway. The angry birds scuttled across the drawbridge, snapping their beaks and racing directly at Nell.

“Look out!” Ward cried, but he was too far away to stop them.

Nell backpedalled as the geese beat their wings into wild flight. Close behind them hurried a woman wrapped in a patterned purple shawl, white hair whipping about her. She was stuffing something into a bag rather than watching where she sped.

Nell knew at once it was the Witch of the Weald, but she was too frightened to move. She could only duck as the woman barreled past, knocking her onto the drawbridge. The angry shouts of guardsmen and the honk of geese filled the air, but Nell was suddenly cut off from all sound. The sorceress’ long hair had become unfastened in the collision, blowing about them both. Wraiths of silver-white sealed Nell in a protective cocoon.

With a face estranged from time, the sorceress considered the girl lying on the bridge. She seemed to recognize something rare in Nell. Reaching down, the woman pulled her to her feet. “You love the weald child, yes? The trees, the air? I can see it in you.” The witch’s voice was crisp and stern. “Listen close now, it’s only right that you have this.” Before Nell could splutter a reply, the sorceress put her lips near the girl’s ear, cupped her hand, and whispered a Word.

The sound of it was the green-hued calm before a storm. It was the weighty crack of stone against groping roots, the first scratch within a blue egg, the howling liturgy of night – all contained within a single syllable. A fierce, vital power passed into her every pore, absorbed her into itself, and rippled on in silence.

Nell was bewildered. She stood still for many moments, shrouded by the witch’s long hair, and steadied by the firm hand upon her shoulder. Slowly her heartbeat replaced the echo of the Word in her chest. Time seemed to resume its normal flow as the lady pulled
back a long, white wisp. Men were rushing from the castle, pikes at the ready, and Nell’s mother was yelling her name.

“We will meet again,” the sorceress promised Nell. She left her then, striding away from the castle in a reckless flurry of purple.

As soldiers pounded past, Nell noticed something lying on the timbers. It was a silver bracelet in the shape of a serpent. “She must have dropped it,” Nell breathed. She picked it up to give back, but the sorceress was gone.

By then, Ward was at Nell’s side. “Are you all right?” Unlike the other guards stomping over the drawbridge, the young man seemed more interested in Nell’s safety than in chasing after the witch. But Danielle took her daughter by the hand before Nell could answer, pulling her toward the gate. Clearly, it was time to work, and not time for chatting with palace guards.

“See what happens when you run after boys?” her mother scolded. Nell was still too shaken to argue. Besides, Danielle was late for her duties, and on days like today, it was best not to cross her.

When she finally had a moment alone, Nell brought the bracelet from her pocket to consider it. It had three tiny flowers fashioned out of blue gems that sparkled like water in the sunlight. She slipped it on, since it was the perfect size for her wrist, and the glamour of it made her soon forget the ordeal on the bridge.

While her mother cleaned, Nell wandered through the large, opulent rooms of the castle. She ran her finger along candelabras, and stared into ancient paintings. Over and over her eyes drifted back to the treasure on her wrist. Despite its beauty, something about the trinket made her uneasy. Soon her mind began putting words upon the jittery feeling in her chest: the bracelet had been dropped by a powerful sorceress, and wasn’t really Nell’s. Surely the witch would want it back.

Nell didn’t know much about the sorceress who lived in the deep woods, but people whispered that she had a fearsome temper.
Wouldn’t she come looking for the bracelet she dropped? The gems must be worth a fortune – a gift fit for a prince. And it was then that another worry seized her. What if someone saw the bracelet and accused her of stealing it from the castle? Nell swallowed hard, knowing she could be in serious trouble. She looked down at the silver bracelet glittering on her arm,
it was so pretty
, and then pulled her coat sleeve down to conceal her wrist.

Her mother called from an adjoining room, “Nell, would you like to feed the pigeons in the tower?”

The pigeons lived in the tallest building in the whole castle. It was even taller than the one with the bell, and it offered the best view of the mountains beyond. The thought of it made Nell’s worries fade somewhat. “Yeah,” she shouted back, trying to sound excited. She kept her arms folded and her wrist safely covered as she passed the others.

Nell followed an old woman who knew the route up to the bird tower, listening all the while to complaints about steep stairs, bad eyes, bitter winters, and good-for-nothing sons. After a long, slow walk, they reached the upper rooms of the structure, which were only accessible by wooden ladders. Having scaled two, they came to a high storage chamber packed with bags of feed. The ladder in this room was much longer than the others and bowed dangerously in the middle. It was no wonder the old woman searched for someone else to feed the birds.

As the crone scooped seeds into a bag, Nell asked, “Why are pigeons kept in the castle?”

“To send messages to people far away. Pigeons always know how to get home,” the servant croaked. “Now, give them all this feed, and don’t go too close to the tower’s edge. I’ll wait for you here.” She lowered her considerable backside onto a burlap sack, closing her eyes for a rest.

It was hard to climb the treacherous ladder and balance a bag of seed, yet Nell slowly scaled her way up. When she reached the airy chamber at the top, the soft flutters of the pigeons filled her ears. The birds strutted around in their cages, feathers shimmering green, pink, and blue. Nell dumped the seed and watched them peck away. After a few moments there came a snuffling noise – the sound of someone crying. Behind the birdcages sat a boy on the tower’s edge, rubbing his nose. “Why are you crying?” she asked.

“I’m not crying,” the boy said, quickly wiping his eyes. Nell stood with her hand on one of the birdcages, not believing him. She knew crying when she heard it.

When he realized that she wasn’t going to leave him be, he tried to sound indifferent. “Today is my birthday, in case you care. My father is away at sea, but I thought he might return today.” He sent a pebble flying into the wind, watching it tumble a hundred feet to the ground below. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just another stupid day.”

Nell touched the bangle on her wrist: presents were nice on a birthday. On impulse, she removed the witch’s bracelet. When the boy saw it, he brightened. “Is that for me?” His words had a proper kind of sound to them, like he spent a lot of time reciting for other people. Nell thought he had the look of someone who had never emptied a chamber pot in his whole life.

She bit her lip, suddenly reconsidering. The bracelet was her treasure – the only fine thing she ever had. But, she admitted, today was his birthday, and his father was gone. “Yes, happy birthday,” Nell said at last, handing it over. It probably would have got her in trouble anyway. She managed a smile, only just remembering to shield her crooked teeth. “I’m Nell. Nell Shoemaker.”

He put on the silver bracelet without giving it much more than a glance. “I’m Ryan. Want to watch for my lord father with me?”

“Sure – oh!” she blurted, realizing suddenly that the boy was highborn.

“Oh what?” he asked.

As Nell squeezed into the stony crenel beside him, she shook her head and shrugged. “Oh nothing.” Had he seen her blush? She had never spoken to a noble before, and her ability to say much of anything fluttered away like a pigeon from the castle. Glancing sideways at Nell, Ryan seemed to be having a similar challenge, but he liked having the wild-haired girl next to him all the same.

They sat close together with nothing to talk about, dangling their feet over the side of the tower and tossing pebbles. The sounds of the castle drifted up to them: an occasional clank or laugh, the trundle of a wagon, a rooster’s call. Mostly it was the coo of the pigeons and the wind’s soft sigh that filled their ears.

To one side lay the ocean. Ryan’s gaze drifted to the glinting water and the great craggy islands of the archipelago. Nell peered in the other direction – out above the flags of the king and queen, past the courtyard where soldiers sparred, and over the many villas with their secret gardens now plain to see. Her eyes followed the little winding path leading down toward her home. Further and further she looked, beyond the swaying trees of the forest, past a bleak marsh, and finally on to the cloud-cloaked mountains in the distance. In the middle of it all stood a tall, white spire.