The Wildkin’s Curse (18 page)

‘I wonder if she can call storms. That is one of the talents of the Stormlinn, you know.'

‘She said something about coming into her Gift,' Merry said, feeling oddly uncomfortable talking about Liliana to his mother.

‘At least we know she can call up the wind. I wonder if she will use this Gift of hers to speed along your journey. I think you will find it useful if she does, for the king only allows the wildkin princess down from her tower on feast days. The next feast is to celebrate the spring equinox, when day and night are of equal length. It is only a matter of two weeks or so away now.'

‘Two weeks?' Merry said, his heart sinking. It took at least that long to sail to Zarissa.

‘Yes, give or take a day or two. Tell this Liliana of yours that if she wishes to see Princess Rozalina, you must all be at the palace by the spring equinox, and I'm sure she'll make sure your winds are fair.'

‘Yes, Mam.'

She leant forward suddenly and ruffled his hair. ‘It is so good to see you, Merry! I'm sorry it has to be like this, with code words and disguises. You must hate to see me looking like an old hag.'

‘I'm glad to know that you're alive. It's been so long,' Merry said. ‘Though I did think you might come to see me at the Erlrune's . . .'

‘Shhh,' she said automatically, looking around. ‘Be careful what you say, Merry, even here. I'd have liked to have come, you know that. But the winter was very hard for many, many people.'

‘Yes, I know. Here, Mam. I've got something for you.' He gave her the bag of coins.

She gazed at him in dumbfounded delight. ‘But where . . .'

‘I won it. From Zed's cousin, Lord Zakary.'

‘Gambling with the starkin, Merry? Don't do it! They'll not keep a gentlemen's code of honour with a hearthkin, you should know that. Here, take it back. You might need it. What if he accuses you of stealing it?'

Calmly he pushed the leather pouch back into her hands. ‘Better I not be found with it then.'

‘Then keep some money for yourself, Merry.' She began to open the pouch but he stopped her, putting both hands over hers.

‘I'm fine, Mam. I've been to the luthier and spent far too much on Lady Oriole already.'

‘If you're sure, then.' She tied up the mouth of the purse again and stowed it away in the pocket of her filthy old apron. She turned a little away from him, and Merry saw her face was troubled. ‘You must not stay. It is not natural for a well-dressed boy like you to come to the Lilies in the Field. You had better go.'

Disappointment was like a stone in his gut. He nodded and bent to scoop up Tom-Tit-Tot. ‘All right.'

‘Not yet!' She drew him to her, hugging him close. He could feel how thin she was. ‘I wish . . . I wish . . .' Her voice died away, and then she said, ‘I wish you weren't going to the king's court.'

‘But why?'

‘It's not safe . . . not for anyone, really, but especially not for you. I wonder at Briony . . .'

Merry stepped back. ‘What do you mean, especially not for me?'

‘There is something I've never told you . . .' She sat back and rested her chin on her hand, staring at him thoughtfully. ‘Do you remember the story of how your father was born?'

Merry nodded. ‘Yes, he was born underwater. His mother was one of the starkin, and she and Granddad eloped from Zarissa. But on the boat she was overcome by remorse and regret, and she threw herself into the water. Granddad dived in after her and saved her, but the shock brought the baby on early, and so Da was born there in the water.'

He remembered too, though he did not say it aloud, the prophecy his father Durrik had heard all his life, about the manner of his own death.
He who was born under water, shall under water die . . .

Merry did not want to think about how his father died and so he went on quickly, ‘Eventually Granddad brought Da to Levanna-on-the-Lake, where he met Pedrin . . . and my grandmother went back to Zarissa. That's it, really.'

‘What you don't know is that your grandmother was Princess Druzilla, eldest daughter of King Zhigor the Sixth.'

‘What?' Merry stared at her in stupefaction.

‘You heard me.'

He could only stare at her. Tom-Tit-Tot stared at her too, his ferret eyes round with surprised wonder.

‘Your grandfather was a faithful servant of the Erlqueen of Stormlinn . . .'

‘Granddad? He was a wildkin?' Merry was amazed.

Mags nodded. ‘He kept his heritage carefully hidden—he would have been killed if anyone had found out he was one of the Stormlinn.'

‘He lived at Stormlinn Castle? He would've known Lili's mother. I must tell her.'

‘I'd tell no-one,' Mags warned.

Merry hardly listened. ‘Tell me everything!'

‘When Prince Zander massacred everyone at Stormlinn Castle and carried away Princess Shoshanna, Johan set out to Zarissa to see what he could do to help rescue her. He had the Gift of Music and so was easily able to win a job at the palace as a musician. He began to map the palace, smuggling out blueprints to the Erlrune . . .'

‘We studied them at the Evenlinn,' Merry said. ‘They were very good.'

‘He was a very clever man, your grandfather. And a good one. He risked his life to get those maps. It wasn't long before he was appointed the royal music teacher. Princess Druzilla had been married already and widowed without any children. Johan was teaching the children of her younger sister, the Princess Emmazine. The two sisters used to come and watch sometimes. Princess Druzilla loved music and dancing . . . She struck up a friendship with your grandfather . . .' Mags paused and looked away. ‘I think she was deeply unhappy. There is little left in life for starkin women if they lose their husband and do not have children.'

‘So they fell in love?'

Mags nodded. She hesitated, then said, ‘I think she must've thought herself unable to have children. The starkin always blame the wives if a marriage is unfruitful. When she found she was with child, they eloped. Yet she found the journey hard. She had never lifted a finger for herself, and the further away they sailed from the court, the greater her anguish grew . . . I think her courage failed her . . .'

‘So I am one of the Ziv too,' Merry breathed. ‘Starborn.'

‘Yes, and closer even to the throne than Zed, with this new law. For you are descended from the king's elder sister, while Zed is only descended from Zabrak's aunt.'

‘So we're some kind of cousin.' Merry could not help laughing; it seemed so ironic.

Mags shushed him, but said, smiling, ‘Yes. Third cousins. You share a great-great-grandfather. You are actually closer in blood to this Rozalina girl. She is your second cousin.'

Merry laughed again. ‘I can't take it in.'

‘You need to understand how dangerous this is for you. If anyone at the court knew that you were Prince Zander's heir . . .'

Merry's head was reeling. ‘But how can that be so? Surely not!'

‘If Prince Zander should die without having a son, you are the next male heir in line to the throne.'

‘Even if that is true, it'd be impossible to prove.'

Mags shook her head. ‘Your grandfather was a clever and careful man, Merry. He and Princess Druzilla were married in the way of the starkin, with consent before witnesses and a dowry from the wife—apparently Princess Druzilla took all her jewels with her when she fled—and the marriage deeds were duly signed and witnessed. He kept them safe all those years, hidden inside his bell box, along with their wedding rings. He gave me his bell box when he told me the story, and I have kept it safe for you.'

She rose on tiptoe and felt carefully among the thatch above one of the rafters, then drew down a long wooden box. Merry recognised it at once. His grandfather had kept the eight bells of his calling in that box, embedded in soft green velvet. Mags passed him the box, and he carefully unlatched it and opened it.

Eight bells lay revealed before him, descending in size from the heavy bronze death-bell, dedicated to Tallis of the Cold Embrace, down to the delicate birth-bell, dedicated to Tessula, the God of Breath. Each bell had mysterious runes engraved about its girth, which Merry recognised as being similar to those carved about the rose of his lute.

Mags gently removed all eight bells, keeping her fingers clamped on the clappers so they did not ring, then felt along the side of the box till the velvet lining lifted up with a faint clicking sound. Revealed below was a sheaf of thick parchment, tied together with blue ribbon from which hung two golden rings.

‘Your grandmother gave her ring back to your grandfather before she went back to Zarissa. He kept it all these years. I think he must've loved her very much,' Mags said sadly.

Merry opened the papers with trembling fingers and read the details of his grandfather's marriage to Princess Druzilla ziv Zitaraz, signed and witnessed by someone named Palila. The same woman had signed his father's birth certificate. Merry stared at the name. It seemed familiar, but he could not think why.

He shook his head. ‘I just can't believe it.'

Mags slipped down from the apple barrel and seized his hands. ‘It's true, Merry, as strange as it may seem. It's ironic, isn't it? The son of the rebel leader being second in line for the throne? But think what it means to us, Merry! If Prince Zander should die . . . Merry, you must marry this wildkin princess . . .'

‘Liliana?' he cried.

‘Who? No! Princess Rozalina! The king's granddaughter. If you were to marry her, your claim on the throne would be so much greater.'

‘But . . . I don't want to marry her, I've never even met her . . . and I don't want to be king! I can't believe you could suggest such a thing.' Merry leant back against the barrel, his legs suddenly feeling strangely weak.

‘But think of the good you could do. The changes you could make, the laws you could enact . . . Oh, why do you think I sent you to be fostered at Estelliana Castle, instead of keeping you with me? It was so you could learn everything you would need to know if the time ever came for you to lay claim to the throne.'

‘They would never let me be king.'

‘No . . . it would be dangerous. We'd have to be clever and canny and quick. If you were married already to Rozalina . . .'

‘But she's never met me! Why on earth would she want to marry
me
?'

‘She must hate the starkin too,' Mags said reasonably. ‘And your grandfather Johan was wildkin, and brought up at Stormlinn Castle. You've always had a touch of wildness about you, I've seen it, and so have others about you. She'll see it too. Besides, why wouldn't she want to marry you? You're kind and funny and clever and handsome . . .'

Merry snorted. ‘Who, me? I think you must be thinking of Zed.'

‘
I
think you are far better looking than Zed. He's tall, I grant you, and fair . . .'

‘. . . and strong, and a much better fighter. Besides, everyone else thinks he's the next in line for the throne! They think
he
should try and win Rozalina's hand.'

‘You must fix her interest first.'

‘This is all crazy,' Merry said. ‘You think I stand a chance of winning any lady's love when Zed's around? Even if I wanted to?'

‘Don't you say such things,' Mags said sternly. ‘
I'd
pick you any day over that big dumb buffoon.'

‘You're my mother, you're meant to be partial.'

She grabbed his ear and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Even if I wasn't your mother. Oh, Merry! I know it's a lot to take in. I may never have told you if the king hadn't changed the laws of inheritance. I've concentrated on keeping you safe all these years. Because if the starkin knew . . .'

She stopped and took a few quick turns up and down the aisles between the apple barrels. ‘No-one must know, Merry! I charge you to take care. The starkin spies must always have wondered what happened to the child born under the water. I fear for you, Merry, going willingly into that pit of vipers. I fear for you so much my heart can hardly keep on beating.'

When Merry returned to the Star and Crown Inn some time later, a hogshead of apple-ale under one arm, and rolls of songs under the other, he was greatly teased for having spent all his hard-won money so fast.

‘And on apple-ale!' Zakary said, his nose in the air. ‘How rustic! But then I suppose we can expect nothing else from a hearthkin brat.'

Merry could not help a crack of bitter laughter.

‘T
HEY SAY OLD SAILORS ARE REBORN AS ALBATROSSES,'
the old sailor said, taking his long pipe out of his mouth to gesture broadly. ‘I hope that it's true. I'd like to live my next life as a wanderer, riding the storm winds.'