golden in some high halls;
Tread softly to not be heard.
In the dark of the moon but two moons from now
A scheme will be complete,
For on a black mountain an ever-slowing heart
Will surely cease to beat.
“Oh,” cried Liaze at this last verse as Lady Skuld fell silent. “The dark of the moon two moons from now is all the time I have?” Liaze’s eyes filled with tears.
Skuld sighed, then added, “I now remind you of something you already know: you will meet both perils and help along your trek, but beware and make certain you know which is which.
“And this I will add as well: take Deadly Nightshade with you; a bird shall point the way.”
In that very moment beyond the willow grove the rim of the sun rose above the edge of the world, and Lady Skuld vanished along with the sound of the loom, leaving behind the song of the brook singing in the glade.
15
Outset
L iaze stepped from the willow grove, emerging at the point where Didier and Patrice waited.
“My lady,” said Patrice, bowing, “we heard you coming, and—Oh, my, have you been weeping? —Ow!” He leaned down and rubbed his leg where Didier had kicked him.
“Yes, Patrice,” said Liaze, “I wept some, but I did not wail as loudly as did the crone.”
“Crone?” said Didier, jerking about to stare at the grove while reaching for the hilt of his sword.
“Did you not hear her?” asked Liaze.
Both Didier and Patrice shook their heads, and Patrice said, “All was silent, my lady.”
Liaze looked down at the trump hanging at her side, and she wondered if it, too, would not have been heard had she sounded it while Lady Skuld was present in the glade.
“About this crone . . .” said Didier.
“It was Lady Skuld in disguise,” said Liaze, now starting for the manor.
“Lady Wyrd?” blurted Patrice alongside. “Oh, but I am glad I didn’t see her, for I would rather not know my fate.”
“Patrice, you fool,” said Didier, “she only comes at great need and not for just any piddling thing.”
“Wull, how do you know I am not in great need?”
“It takes more than personal tragedy,” said Didier. “Something greater has to hang in the balance.”
At these words, Liaze stopped in her tracks. Didier and Patrice stuttered on a number of steps before stopping as well. Then they turned and started back, just as the princess strode onward. Reversing course again, they marched at her side.
Liaze said, “Exactly right, Didier. She would not have come unless something greater hung in the balance. Losing Luc, though an extreme blow to me, is but a personal tragedy. There is more to this than we know. Something critical in the scheme of things.”
She picked up the pace and headed toward the forecourt lawn where a large group of men were gathered. “Come, I have to confer with my armsmaster and steward.”
As the princess drew nigh she could hear Rémy call out, “All right, men, pair up. And remember, the slightest thing, no matter how insignificant it might seem, if it has even a remote chance of pointing toward the witch or the Goblin or ought else, send for Claude, for he is our best tracker. He will look at what you espied, and say whether or no it was of unnatural origin.”
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.
Tread softly to not be heard.
In the dark of the moon but two moons from now
A scheme will be complete,
For on a black mountain an ever-slowing heart
Will surely cease to beat.
“Oh,” cried Liaze at this last verse as Lady Skuld fell silent. “The dark of the moon two moons from now is all the time I have?” Liaze’s eyes filled with tears.
Skuld sighed, then added, “I now remind you of something you already know: you will meet both perils and help along your trek, but beware and make certain you know which is which.
“And this I will add as well: take Deadly Nightshade with you; a bird shall point the way.”
In that very moment beyond the willow grove the rim of the sun rose above the edge of the world, and Lady Skuld vanished along with the sound of the loom, leaving behind the song of the brook singing in the glade.
15
Outset
L iaze stepped from the willow grove, emerging at the point where Didier and Patrice waited.
“My lady,” said Patrice, bowing, “we heard you coming, and—Oh, my, have you been weeping? —Ow!” He leaned down and rubbed his leg where Didier had kicked him.
“Yes, Patrice,” said Liaze, “I wept some, but I did not wail as loudly as did the crone.”
“Crone?” said Didier, jerking about to stare at the grove while reaching for the hilt of his sword.
“Did you not hear her?” asked Liaze.
Both Didier and Patrice shook their heads, and Patrice said, “All was silent, my lady.”
Liaze looked down at the trump hanging at her side, and she wondered if it, too, would not have been heard had she sounded it while Lady Skuld was present in the glade.
“About this crone . . .” said Didier.
“It was Lady Skuld in disguise,” said Liaze, now starting for the manor.
“Lady Wyrd?” blurted Patrice alongside. “Oh, but I am glad I didn’t see her, for I would rather not know my fate.”
“Patrice, you fool,” said Didier, “she only comes at great need and not for just any piddling thing.”
“Wull, how do you know I am not in great need?”
“It takes more than personal tragedy,” said Didier. “Something greater has to hang in the balance.”
At these words, Liaze stopped in her tracks. Didier and Patrice stuttered on a number of steps before stopping as well. Then they turned and started back, just as the princess strode onward. Reversing course again, they marched at her side.
Liaze said, “Exactly right, Didier. She would not have come unless something greater hung in the balance. Losing Luc, though an extreme blow to me, is but a personal tragedy. There is more to this than we know. Something critical in the scheme of things.”
She picked up the pace and headed toward the forecourt lawn where a large group of men were gathered. “Come, I have to confer with my armsmaster and steward.”
As the princess drew nigh she could hear Rémy call out, “All right, men, pair up. And remember, the slightest thing, no matter how insignificant it might seem, if it has even a remote chance of pointing toward the witch or the Goblin or ought else, send for Claude, for he is our best tracker. He will look at what you espied, and say whether or no it was of unnatural origin.”
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.
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