Once upon a dreadful time

Suspicions

Some two candlemarks after the arrival of the retinues, when the travelling kindred had freshened themselves and had changed out of their riding clothes-the women into silks and satins and soft slippers, and the men into trews and jerkins and such-the distaff side gathered in the green room, while the men gravitated to the armory to inspect the arms and armor to be used in the tournament to come.

As tea was served to the ladies, Simone looked about the intimate chamber, with its velvet walls the color of pale jade, and its floor of a tile an even lighter green. The comfortable chairs they sat in were upholstered in an emeraldine fabric bearing a pattern of tiny diamonds of light yellow. They sat in an arc about a small, unlit fireplace ensconced in a corner, the room comfortable on this summer eve with air wafting in through open bay windows.

Glass-chimneyed candles in stands lit the chamber with a soft glow, reflecting highlights from the gilt frames of several modest landscapes: a placid lake nestled among snowcapped mountains; a green glade half-seen through a curling fog; a herd of horses racing across sunlit, rolling hills, and running before a distant storm sweeping after. In addition, on the wall above the mantel hung a quartet of individual small portraits of children-two boys and two girls-presumably those of Valeray and Saissa.

Simone’s gaze then went to the arc of women: to her left sat Avelaine, and then on ’round deasil were Camille and Saissa and Liaze and Celeste and Michelle. In a pocket high on Camille’s gown slept a small sparrow-Scruff his name-a thing Simone found most curious.

To the left of each chair stood a small round table of some sort of dark wood, on which one of the maids placed saucers and cups, and a second one poured tea for each lady, the third adding milk and honey if so desired. A sideboard of the same dark wood-ebony? — sat against one wall, and there the maids placed the tea service and then withdrew.

When the staff softly closed the door behind, Saissa took a deep breath and peered down into her cup, as if seeking tranquility therein. Then she raised her gaze to the gathering. “For nearly four years I have at times felt as if someone or something vile has been in my chamber. Yet when I look about for the source, nought is there. The feeling comes and goes, and oft is very brief, though at times it has lingered awhile. I understand that Liaze, Celeste, Camille, and Michelle have sensed the very same thing, have had the very same experiences. Not so?”

“Oui, Maman,” said Liaze, the others nodding in agreement.

But Michelle added, “I do not discern the feeling of malice unless Borel is with me. And yet it does not emanate from him but from somewhere else. I think it is directed at him, though he does not detect ought.”

“None of the men seem to be aware,” said Saissa, “at least Valeray does not.”

. .

In the armory, with its racks of arms and armor, of hauberks and helms and shields, of bows and arrows and crossbows and quarrels and darts and spears, of halberds and hammers and maces and axes and morning stars, of daggers and poniards and dirks and swords and other such weaponry, some bronze and glittery, others dark and dull, Emile watched as his eldest son hefted one of the tournament lances, long and slender, its point bluntly padded. “Ha! With this one I will unhorse you other three,” said Laurent.

“Pah!” snorted Blaise, replacing a battle-axe in a stand of the weapons. “You and what other hundred knights?” Emile laughed, as did the others, all but King Valeray, who merely smiled.

“You appear troubled,” said Emile. “Is something weighing on your mind?”

“It’s just these sensings the women have,” replied Valeray.

“Sensings?”

“As if something or someone evil is spying in on us-on Borel and Michelle, on Liaze and Luc, on Alain and Camille, on Celeste and Roel, and on Saissa and me.”

“Are you certain that it is not some sort of womanly vapours? My own Simone is at times given to such, and-”

“Non, Emile, these are no vapours, no caprice d’une femme.

My daughters and daughters-in-law and my wife, they truly sense this malevolent thing, this spying, yet, for me, I detect nought whatsoever.”

“Neither do we, Papa,” replied Alain, with Borel and Luc and Roel signifying their agreement.

Borel said, “Though I do not perceive ought amiss, sometimes Slate seems to sense evil is nigh.”

“Slate?” asked Emile.

“One of my Wolves,” said Borel. Then he smiled and added,

“I suggested to Chelle that women are perhaps closer to Wolves than are men.”

Valeray barked a laugh, yet quickly grew serious again. “Ah, me, but this is no humorous matter. Saissa says that it’s as if some evil, unseen creature has invaded our chambers, and we must do something about it.”

. .

“Do you sense anything, Avelaine?” asked Simone.

“Non, Maman.”

Simone turned her gaze toward the others. “Yet the five of you do?”

“Oui, Simone,” said Saissa. “I have told Valeray that it’s as if a vile but invisible being is at hand.”

“Vile but invisible being?” gasped Simone. “Oh, Mithras, then something must be done. Why, it could be anywhere.” Avelaine gasped and put a hand to her abdomen, yet said nought.

Camille took note of the gesture but said, “Alain and I believe it is Hradian. Somehow she is spying upon us, seeking a way to gain revenge.”

. .

“Revenge for what?” asked Emile, taking up a dagger and gauging its balance and heft.

“The death of her three sisters,” replied Alain, “acolytes all.” Emile frowned. “Acolytes? Of what religion?”

“No religion, Papa,” said Roel, hanging a shield back on its hook. “Instead those three dead were acolytes of Orbane, a foul wizard. Only his fourth one remains.”

Emile raised a puzzled eyebrow and turned up a hand. “Perhaps someone had better explain, for Simone and Laurent and Blaise and I are newly come unto Faery.”

Laurent and Blaise both nodded in agreement.

“Very well,” said Valeray, glancing at Borel and Alain.

“Mayhap it will do us all good to review just why it might be Hradian-the last acolyte-and what she might have in mind.”

. .

Saissa stood and stepped to the sideboard. “Anyone else for more tea?”

Shortly, with some cups replenished and others not, Saissa resumed her seat. She took a sip of tea and set her cup aside, then looked about the women and said, “It all began many summers ago, just how many, I remember not, but it was a goodly while back in a time ere I had met Valeray, ere the time our children were born.” Momentarily, Saissa seemed lost in reflection, a hint of a smile on her face. She nodded and then came to herself and continued: “Regardless, the wizard Orbane grew in power, and he had about him four acolytes, four sisters, witches all. And though at the time we knew not their names, they were Rhensibe, Hradian, Nefasi, and Iniqui.

“Orbane sought power o’er the whole of Faery, and he assembled a great army to march across the realms and take command of all. But he was opposed by the Firsts, and-”

. .

Emile laid down the keen, bronze sword. “The Firsts?”

“The first of each kind in Faery, Papa,” said Roel.

“This speaks to the beginnings of Faery, then?”

“Oui,” replied Alain. “You see, just as once upon a time there was no mortal world, well then, too, once upon a time there was no Faery. But the gods saw fit to create it and populate it with beings. The first being of each kind is named a First.

My wife, Camille, has a conjecture about such.”

. .

In the green room Saissa looked at Camille and said, “Why don’t you explain it, my dear?”

“Oh, please do,” said Simone, “for I deem it is something that Reydeau didn’t teach us.”

“Reydeau?” asked Liaze.

Celeste said, “I sent Reydeau to tutor Simone and her family and staff of the ways of Faery so that they would know what to expect herein.”

“Ah, I see.” Liaze turned to Camille and added, “I did not mean to interrupt.”

“Please, Camille,” said Simone, “please go on. I would hear of the beginnings of Faery.”

“Very well,” said Camille, “though it is but speculation on my part.” She took a sip of tea and set her cup aside.

. .

Alain looked at Emile and said, “It was when I had gone missing, and Camille was in search of me, though the only clue she had was to look for a place east of the sun and west of the moon. None she asked knew where such might be. But then she came across an Elf named Rondalo. He told her that his mother Chemine was a First, and she might know just where such a locale lay. Yet she did not, but she said there was one other who might know-Raseri the Dragon, who she thought might have been the very first First to have come unto Faery.

Chemine suggested that Rondalo guide Camille to the Drake.

Rondalo was bitterly opposed, for he was a sworn enemy of Raseri; it seems the Dragon had slain Rondalo’s sire Audane.

Even so, given Camille’s plight, Rondalo at last agreed to guide her to Raseri’s lair.”

. .

Camille smiled in memory and said, “And so I met the Dragon.

We spoke of many things, during which Raseri told me that he remembered nought of killing Rondalo’s pere or anything of his life ere he found himself in Faery. Still, he said he must have slain Audane, though he could call nothing to mind of the battle. His speaking of it spurred my supposition, there at the Dragon’s lair. . ”

. .

Camille shook her head in puzzlement. “Tell me then, are all Firsts as are you: knowing nought of what went before you each came unto Faery?”

“So it seems,” said Raseri, peering toward the oncoming light.

Camille fell silent and took another bite of biscuit. Around the mouthful she said, “Have you heard of the Keltoi?”

“Indeed. Most in Faery know of the legend. Wandering bards all-those whose tales caught the ear of the gods, and they in turn made Faery manifest.”

Camille swallowed and took a drink of water. “Well then, Raseri, answer me this:

“What if it is true that, as they wandered across the face of the world, the Keltoi did tell their tales, and the gods did listen, and they so enjoyed what they heard they made Faery manifest so that they could be entertained by the stories that followed?

Mayhap long past, ’round a campfire a gifted Keltoi began a tale, the first one the gods listened to, and it went something like this:

“Once upon a time there was a terrible Drake named Raseri, a Drake who breathed flame. And in a hard-fought duel with an Elf named Audane, Raseri slew the Elf. Yet it was Audane’s wedding night, and he had lain with his bride ere the battle, and some ten moons after the terrible death, Audane’s grieving widow, a Water Fairy named Chemine, birthed a son. And Chemine gave over unto the wee lad Audane’s silvery sword, the one with the arcane runes hammered down the length of its blade, and she said, ‘One day, my Rondalo, you will battle with vile Raseri, foul murderer of your sire.’ ” Camille fell silent, and Raseri cocked his head and said,

“Mayhap ’tis true that such did happen. Even so, where does that lead?”

“Oh, don’t you see, Raseri, ere that tale perhaps there was no before, no existence whatsoever for Faery, no existence even for you. Mayhap that’s when Faery began. Perhaps that’s when you were born full-grown. Mayhap there was no Audane, yet even if there was, if the legend of the Keltoi and the gods is true, then it is no fault of yours he was slain. Instead ’tis completely the fault of the Keltoi who told that story, the first the gods had heard, and this blood vengeance, this sword-oath Rondalo swore, should instead have been sworn ’gainst the tale-teller, or the gods who made it true, for in truth they are the ones in combination who did murder Audane.”

Raseri grunted, but otherwise did not reply, and Camille ate the remainder of her biscuit in silence, her thoughts tumbling one o’er the other.

Finally Raseri said, “If you have the truth of it, Camille, then much needs setting aright.”

“Wh-what?” said Camille, shaken from her musings.

“I said, have you the truth of it, then much needs setting aright. Even so, there is this to consider: although the Keltoi, or gods, or in combination, are responsible for much grief and rage, they gave me, they gave all of us, life as well. Without them we would not be. Hence, if the legend is true, we owe them our very existence. Those tales, though fraught with peril and desperation and fury and sorrow such as they are, without them we would not be.”

Camille nodded, somewhat abstractedly, and Raseri tilted his head to one side and said, “You seem preoccupied, Camille.

What were your thoughts that I so interrupted?” Camille glanced at Scruff and then at the Drake, then out to where Rondalo might be, and she shrugged and said, “I was just wondering whose silver tongue or golden pen is telling the tale we find ourselves in.”

Raseri’s booming laughter echoed among the peaks, but when he looked down at Camille, she wasn’t laughing at all.

. .

“. . and so you see, Simone,” said Camille, glancing at Avelaine as well. “If I am right, then each of the Firsts is the first of its kind to have been spoken of in a Keltoi bard’s tale, one whose story was made manifest.”

. .

In the armory, as Alain fell silent, Blaise said, “Did this Rondalo fellow ever fight Raseri?”

“Non,” said Alain. “After Raseri bore Camille to someone even older than he, the Dragon flew to see Chemine and told her of Camille’s conjecture. Chemine and Rondalo and Raseri made a truce, and, as it so happens, Rondalo and Raseri became the best of friends, and these days they go adventuring together.”

“Huah!” grunted Emile. “An Elf and a Dragon adventuring together. How odd.”

“Only in Faery,” said Roel.

Emile nodded and then turned to Valeray. “Well then, now that I know what a First is, tell me of this person Orbane.” Valeray said, “Orbane is one of the Firsts as well, evil wizard that he is.”

“But why would the gods do such?” asked Emile. “I mean, why would they make manifest a vile wizard who wished to rule all of Faery?”

“Because of the adventures he would spawn,” said Valeray. “Terrible as they were, it would be entertainment for the gods.”

Laurent slammed a gauntleted fist into a gauntleted palm and gritted, “Gods be damned.”

“Oh, Laurent, tempt them not,” said Roel, “else something might befall you as befell Avelaine.”

Laurent looked at his brother and wrenched off the gauntlets and flung them to the table where others lay. “Pah! That was the Lord of the Changelings and no god who stole our sister.”

“Nevertheless. .” said Roel.

Laurent took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I hear, little brother. I hear.”

Emile said, “What of this war with Orbane, Lord Valeray? I assume this monstrous mage was defeated.” Valeray nodded and said, “Many of the Firsts-Raseri the Firedrake, Jotun the Giant, Adragh the Pwca, Tisp the Sprite, and others-banded together to oppose Orbane and his conquest. Yet he was too powerful for them, and something had to be done. My friend, Duke Roulan, Michelle’s sire, came up with the seed of a scheme. You see, at the time he and I were neither duke nor king, but thieves instead. Yet we were caught up in the war against Orbane, for his minions were ruining our business. And so. .”

. .

“What we need,” said Roulan, “is a way to turn Orbane’s own power against him.”

Valeray nodded. “But how?”

“Well, Val, I know where one of his castles is located, though it is said to be warded by a witch; but surely you can get in and discover something of his own that we can use against him.”

“We. .?”

“Well, perhaps not we directly, but certainly the Firsts could.”

“I don’t know, Roully. I would think the castle well guarded, and it might-” Of a sudden, Valeray fell into thought. “Guile.

We can use guile. Though if Orbane is in residence, it’s the end for us both. But if he’s elsewhere, and the witch stands ward, well. .”

Roulan pushed out a hand of negation. “You know Orbane is off opposing the Firsts, and this castle is one of his lesser. What is it you have in mind?”

Valeray smiled and said, “Remember how we fooled the mayor, and. .”

A moon or so later, at a grey stone castle on a bald hill in the midst of a dark forest, a hag knocked for entry. From the battlements above, the Troll guard shouted down for her to go away, yet she croaked that she was a soothsayer who had private words for Lord Orbane within.

After repeated demands by the crone and threats by the Troll, disturbed by the racket without, the mistress of the castle appeared. It was a witch who announced she was in command of this holt.

“I have a dreadful message to give to the dark one, and I would see him,” called up the hag.

“Dreadful message?”

“I am a soothsayer and I have seen, and I’ll only speak with Lord Orbane.”

“Seen what?”

“Oh, Mistress, this is not for your ears, and I certainly cannot say it in front of your warders; it might dishearten them.

Besides, I am tired and need a rest, and I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea. I would have you take me to Lord Orbane.”

“He is absent,” called down the witch. “So you will have to tell it to me, and I can get word to him.”

“Tell it to you?”

The witch drew herself up to her full height. “I am Nefasi, Orbane’s acolyte, and he trusts me with his very life.”

“Ah, Mistress Nefasi, I do not know whether to tell you or not.”

“I can always force it out of you.”

“Heh. Maybe. Maybe not. Yet perhaps as Orbane’s acolyte. .

— But if I tell you, it must be in a place of protection-a place of power and transmutation-ere I will divulge the message dire.”

The crone and the witch haggled, but finally, fearing the worst for her master, the witch allowed the hag to enter the castle for the message she would tell.

Accompanied by well-armed Troll guards, by winding ways and up stairwells and past many rooms-ways and wells and rooms the crone committed to memory-Nefasi took the aged soothsayer into Orbane’s own alchemistry chamber, where a pentagon of protection was permanently inscribed upon the floor. There did Nefasi cast a spell, one that temporarily rendered the Trolls deaf and mute, and then told the old soothsayer to speak. And so, surrounded by unhearing and unspeaking guards, with the crone and the witch sitting at a table within the pentagon, the hag looked about and then whispered, “Orbane will be defeated by his own hand.”

At these bodeful words, Nefasi’s gaze flicked briefly toward a small locked chest sitting atop a table, a chest the soothsayer clearly noted, though the crone did not let Nefasi see that she had. Nefasi asked if there were more to the sooth divined, and the beldame shook her head. Nefasi rewarded the soothsayer with a single gold piece and sent her on her way, and in spite of the hag’s grumblings, the witch did not give her the promised cup of tea.

That very same night, his disguise now gone, Valeray scaled the outside wall to the alchemistry room, and he picked the lock and found within the chest two clay amulets. Valeray was disappointed, for it seemed that they were nought but trinkets. Regardless, he wrapped them well and stood in the window and, using a sling, he cast them to Roulan who was waiting at the edge of the woods. Then down clambered the thief, and soon he and his accomplice were riding agallop to the waiting Firsts. Yet even as Valeray and Roulan passed through that dark forest, they were seen and recognized as strangers and pursued.

They managed to reach the Firsts, and the hounding enemy was routed.

. .

King Valeray took up a sword and sighted down its length, saying, “Despite their lowly appearance, Emile, the clay amulets were descried by Lisane the Elf who is a true seer, and she told the Firsts what they were: powerful magical artifacts cast by Orbane himself. Lisane called them Seals of Orbane, and said that likely there were at least seven of these dreadful relics about, for it seems the residue of power on the seals indicated such. In any event, the magic within-curses all-would be loosed when the clay seal was broken, and it would obey the desires of the one breaking the seal to the detriment of the one who was the target of those desires. These two seals were used against their maker: the first to destroy Orbane’s protection, the second to cast Orbane into the Castle of Shadows in the Great Darkness beyond the Black Wall of the World, where he remains still, for the Castle of Shadows is inescapable.” Valeray fell silent, but Alain said, “Because of Hradian, three of those seals were used against us: one to make my sire and dam seemingly vanish; one to curse me to be a bear by day, though I could be a man at night; and one to snatch me and my household away and betroth me to a Troll if my truelove ever saw my human face.” He paused a moment and smiled unto himself and added, “But Camille took care of that.”

Blaise frowned. “Why were those three amulets used in that manner? I mean, if they were so powerful, why not use them to set Orbane free?”

Valeray shrugged. “I repeat, the Castle of Shadows is inescapable, and apparently, the seals are not powerful enough to set him loose. Besides, that would be a boon to him and not a detriment, and the seals can only be used to visit ill upon someone or something.” Laurent shook his head. “Any prison can be breached, given enough men and arms. Hence the ones held therein-be they criminals or innocents-can be set free.”

“Not the Castle of Shadows, my boy,” said Valeray. “Those who go in do not come out.”

. .

“How can that be?” asked Simone, sipping her tea. “How can a mere castle be inescapable? Surely a large army could break him free, and if I understand you aright, he had a large army at his beck. . or if not him, at the beck of this Hradian creature.” Saissa shrugged, but Camille said, “Mayhap upon a time a Keltoi bard started a story: ‘In the Great Darkness beyond the Black Wall of the World there was an inescapable prison where only the most dreadful of criminals were kept.’ ” Camille paused and looked at Liaze and then said, “ ‘And there was but one key to this dreaded Castle, and it was held by a comte whose full title was Comte Amaury du Chateau Bleu dans le Lac de la Rose et Gardien de la Cle.’ ”

“Wait a moment,” said Avelaine, and she turned to Liaze.

“But for the name of Amaury, isn’t that your Luc’s title?” Liaze nodded and said, “It is when he is at Chateau Bleu.

Amaury was his sire, and the first keeper of the key.”

. .

“What key?” asked Emile, thumbing the green fletching of an arrow.

“This one,” said Luc, drawing an amulet on a chain about his neck up from his jerkin. The talisman was silver and set with a blue stone; the chain was silver as well. “Ere he rode off to war, my sire placed it ’round my throat when I was but a tiny babe.”

“What has it to do with ought?” asked Laurent.

“It is said to be the key to the Castle of Shadows,” replied Luc.

“That’s a key to the inescapable prison?” asked Blaise.

“If what they say is true, indeed it is.”

“Hold on, now: what if someone, say this witch Hradian, sends her minions to steal the amulet. Wouldn’t that mean she could set Orbane free? If so, I say we hunt her down and kill her like the bitch she is.”

Luc shook his head. “Non. Trying to steal the amulet would do no good, and in fact would probably result in the minion or minions being dead. The amulet has a powerful spell upon it, and if the witch or anyone else tried to take it without my permission or by means of duress, or if I were slain and Hradian tried to take it, the amulet would slay her too. No, it must be borne by the rightful heir, or freely given by the heir to someone of his choosing.” Luc removed the talisman and held it out to Blaise. “Here, I freely give it.”

Blaise set a helm aside and tentatively took the amulet and looked at it carefully. As he handed it back he said, “And you say this is the only key to that prison?” Luc slipped the chain over his head. “As far as I know, it is the only key, though I ken not how it opens the door or gate or barrier or whatever it is that locks one in.”

. .

“Oh, my,” gasped Michelle, her cup clattering in her saucer,

“perhaps that’s what she meant.”

“What who meant?” asked Simone.

“Lady Wyrd,” replied Michelle. She looked at the others and said, “Don’t you remember? It was at the ball celebrating the safe return of Celeste and Roel and Avelaine and the war bands from the Changeling land, and. .”

. .

At the midnight mark, King Valeray called a halt to the music, and he took stance upon the ballroom dais, and as servants passed among the gathering and doled out goblets of wine, Valeray called for quiet, for he would make a toast to the successful quest and to those who rode thereon, and he would toast the brides and grooms to be, and of course he would toast the child to be born to Alain and Camille.

But the moment that all had a goblet in hand, including the servants, of a sudden there came the sound of shuttles and looms, and before the gathering stood three women: Maiden, Mother, and Crone; the Ladies Skuld, Verdandi, and Urd; the Fates Wyrd, Lot, and Doom: one slender, her robe limned in silver; one matronly, her robe limned in gold; and one seemingly bent with age, her robe limned in black.

A gasp went up from the gathering, yet Valeray and Borel and Alain, and Luc and Roel and Chevell all bowed, the men in the gathering following suit; and Saissa and Liaze and Celeste and Camille and Michelle and Avelaine curtseyed, the gathered women doing likewise.

“Mesdames,” murmured King Valeray upon straightening.

“Valeray,” said Verdandi.

“What would you have of us?” asked the king.

Verdandi looked at Urd, and she in turn peered at Celeste among the gathering and said, “The gray arrow?”

“It is in my quarters,” said Celeste. “Shall I fetch it? It is broken.”

Urd cackled and said, “Broken? Nay.” And with a gesture, of a sudden the arrow appeared in her hand, and even as she held it, the shaft became whole and its leaden point keen. Then she looked at it and murmured, “Even were I to let it stay broken, still it is too deadly to remain in mortal hands.”

“Why else have you come?” asked Borel, stepping forward.

Slowly Urd turned her head toward him and canted it to one side. “Just as when once I met you by a stream, ever bold, I see.

Questioning the Fates, are we?” And then she cackled in glee.

Borel pushed out a hand in negation, and Michelle looked at him quizzically.

“I believe what my son means,” said Valeray, “is-”

“We know what he meant,” snapped Urd, and she turned to Skuld.

“Yes, we came to give warning,” said Lady Wyrd, “and it is this: for a while there will be peace, yet upon a dreadful time yet to come you will all be needed, as will others. Heed me.

Stand ready and relax not your guard, for there will be a- Ah, but I cannot directly reveal what I have seen, yet know that one among you will be the key.”

“The key?” asked Camille.

Skuld looked at her and smiled and said, “The key.”

“So peril yet comes,” said Valeray, his words a statement, not a question.

“It does,” said Skuld.

“Be ready,” said Verdandi.

“And on guard,” added Urd, and her gaze swept across the gathering to momentarily stop upon Luc, and then moved to Camille.

And the sound of looms swelled and then vanished, and the Sisters Three vanished as well.

The gathering stood stunned for a moment, but then Valeray lifted his glass and, with a rakish grin, said, “Here’s to interesting times!” To interesting times! cried they all.

. .

“I do not understand what you are referring to,” said Simone, peering into her now empty cup and setting it back upon the saucer.

“Oh, Simone,” said Michelle, “Lady Wyrd said, ‘One among you will be the key,’ and Liaze’s Luc has the key, and Lady Urd’s gaze rested upon him just before the Three Fates vanished. Hence, perhaps that’s what she meant when she gave us that warning.”

In that moment a gong sounded.

. .

“Ah,” said Valeray as the distant echoes died, “dinner, my lads.

Let us hurry and fetch the ladies from the green room and get to the board, else the chef will be most upset.” As they filed out from the armory, Blaise said, “I think Laurent is right: let’s hunt down this bitch Witch Hradian and kill her outright. Then Orbane will have no acolytes at all, none to attempt to set him free.”

As the ladies waited to be collected, Camille and Avelaine took up the cups and saucers and moved to the sideboard. “You are with child?” asked Camille softly.

Avelaine glanced down at herself. “Oh, does it show?”

“Non, it’s just that I saw you place a hand across your waist when the peril of an unseen being was mentioned.”

“Ah. You are observant, Camille, and, oui, I am with child.

I was going to announce it at dinner tonight.” Camille gripped Avelaine’s hand and said, “Splendid.”

“Oh, but I wish Chevell were here when I speak of it.”

“He does not know?”

“Non. I wasn’t positive when I set out from Port Mizon, but now I know for certain.”

“Regardless,” said Camille, squeezing Avelaine’s fingers. “I am so happy to have Duran, and you will find a babe of your own to be a pleasure, too.”

“Where is the wee prince?”

“Perhaps asleep by now. When last I saw him he was with his bonne d’enfants having a bath.”

“He seems a happy child.”

“Oh, he is,” replied Camille, smiling.

In that moment, the king and princes and chevaliers arrived and swept the women out from the green room and toward one perhaps brighter.

. .

They sat about a long table, one of oak, and in a grand dining room. The chamber itself was all of gold, broken here and there by white: golden velvet paneled the walls, and white bellpulls dangled at each corner; upholstery of a golden fabric and patterned with a scatter of tiny white flowerets cushioned the golden-oak chairs; white sideboards trimmed in gold stood along the walls.

White lanterns in golden sconces cast a yellow-white aura over all. The ceiling above was white, with golden crown molding all

’round. The dinnerware was white porcelain rimmed with gold, and the white utensils were edged with gold as well.

The meal began with an appetizer of escargot and a small glass of pale white wine-“Ah, an Autumnwood vintage; some of Liaze’s best,” declared Valeray, hoisting his goblet on high toward her. The others followed suit, and Liaze inclined her head in response.

As they supped upon the snails, Simone looked across the table and asked Camille, “Why is it you have a small sparrow in your pocket?”

“Oh, Scruff, you mean,” said Camille, touching a finger lightly high on her bodice where the wee bird drowsed. “He is a trusted companion, and I wanted him with me at our meeting even though he is asleep.”

“Is he magical in some manner?”

“You might say so. He was loaned to me by the Lady of the Mere, to be my companion as I looked for Alain. It seems he can sense danger and deception, and he certainly proved to be of great aid.”

“This Lady of the Mere: who might she be?”

“Ah, the Lady of the Mere, she has many names: Lady Sorciere, Lady Wyrd, Lady Skuld, She Who Sees the Future.”

“This is one of those Michelle spoke about, one of the Fates?”

“Oui.” Camille gestured toward Valeray and Saissa and said,

“It seems this family is somehow caught up in the intrigues of the Three Sisters.”

“Ensnared is more likely,” said Valeray.

“Granted,” said Camille. “But without them I would never have rescued Alain.”

“Nor I Michelle,” said Borel.

“Nor I Luc,” said Liaze.

“Nor would Roel and I have released Avelaine and Laurent and Blaise,” added Celeste.

“Nor would have I discovered the whereabouts of King Valeray and Queen Saissa,” added Camille last.

“Here’s to the Fates,” cried Blaise, hoisting a glass, “else Laurent and I would be statues still.”

“Hear, hear,” said Valeray, and he hoisted his own and downed the drink.

Simone raised her glass as well, but tremulously added, “But who is to say that the Fates didn’t have a hand in precipitating those crises from which you all were rescued.”

. .

The escargot was followed by a creamy bisque of trout, along with another of Liaze’s white wines, this a vibrant gold, one that would stand up to the richness of the soup.

The talk turned to that of the tourney, and of the games and jongleurs that would surround the gala events-an echecs tournament, lawn bowling, croquet, ladies’ archery, minstrels, jugglers, stilt walkers, and the like, and it was during this happy converse that Avelaine announced she was with child.

“Is it true, Avi?” asked Roel.

“Oui,” replied Avelaine. “A little new vicomte or vicomtesse is on the way.” Laurent and Blaise and Roel leapt up from their seats and rushed to Avelaine’s side and handed her up from her chair and, somewhat cautiously, embraced her. Emile, too, hugged his daughter, and Simone wiped tears of happiness from her own eyes.

“I suppose Chevell is strutting about like a peacock,” said Roel.

Avelaine laughed and said, “He will be when I tell him.”

“Ah, little sister, he does not know?” asked Laurent.

“Non, Laurent. I only became certain this past sevenday or so.”

“Ah, then, he will be so jealous that he wasn’t here at this time,” said Blaise.

Valeray made a toast, and all echoed his words: “Vive le nourrisson a venir!”

. .

Amid joyous talk, the bisque was followed by venison in a light splash of a white cream sauce, with a sauteed medley of green beans and small onions and peas, all accompanied by a hearty red wine well aged in a cool cellar.

In addition, the servers brought out a wide platter of baked pheasants basted in honey, and still another of the white wines, this one light saffron in color. Accompanying the entree was a bowl of sauteed mushrooms and a sauteed medley of carrots and parsnips and red beets.

“Ah, my favorite,” said Borel, as the venison was brought to the board. “Merci, Maman,” he added, looking down the long table to where his mother sat at the far end.

Saissa smiled and signaled that she would have pheasant instead.

Yet even as they settled into the main meal, eventually the talk took a more serious turn as once again they spoke of the mysterious and malignant intrusion of something or someone upon their daily activities:

“And you think this acolyte, this Hradian, is at the root of it?” asked Emile.

“Oui,” replied Borel. “After all, my sire and his get are the ones she would hold responsible for the downfall of their plans: imprisonment of Orbane, the ruination of her schemes against my sire and dam and her plans for the Summerwood, and the deaths of her three sisters-Rhensibe, Iniqui, and Nefasi, in that order.”

“First was Rhensibe,” said Michelle. “Torn to shreds by Borel’s Wolves.”

“Then came Iniqui,” said Liaze, “kicked into everlasting fire by Deadly Nightshade, Luc’s warhorse.”

“Finally, Nefasi,” said Celeste, “slain by a god-made arrow.”

“And you three are responsible?” asked Simone.

“No more so than those three acolytes,” said Borel.

“In each case, Simone,” said Saissa, “the witches themselves had done terrible deeds and were about to do more: Hradian had changed one of my sons into a Bear and would mate him with a Troll; Rhensibe was about to slay Michelle and Borel with her very own poisonous claws; Iniqui would have drawn Celeste into the fire and would have let Luc die of exposure on a dark mountain afar; likewise was Nefasi set to kill your son Roel and would have slain Celeste, and the Lord of the Changelings would have left Laurent and Blaise as statues and used Avelaine as a brood mare. It was only because of these brave souls sitting here that none of that came to pass. It was Valeray’s deed that led to Orbane’s downfall, and it was Camille who upset Hradian’s schemes. And as far as the three slain acolytes, it was Borel who had called his Wolves, and Liaze who commanded Deadly Nightshade to attack, and Celeste who loosed the gray arrow, and these things spelled the end of Rhensibe and Iniqui and Nefasi. So is it any wonder that Hradian would seek vengeance?”

“Oh, non, Lady Saissa, that I understand,” said Simone. “It’s just that I wish none of it had come to pass, especially now that Avelaine is expecting.”

“Oh, Maman,” said Avelaine, “had it not come to pass, then I would never have met Chevell, and you would not have a grandchild on the way. And of course, we could not let that happen, now, could we?”

“Ah, young love and young mothers to be,” said Valeray, beaming at Avelaine, and then at Alain and Camille, at Borel and Michelle, at Liaze and Luc, at Celeste and Roel, and finally at his own Saissa. But then he sobered and raised his glass to them all and grimly said, “As declared apast by the Three Sisters, dreadful events lie ahead. Perhaps these ominous sensings the women feel are signs that those events are nigh upon us. Regardless and as I said once before, here’s to interesting times.”

To interesting times, said they all, though tears stood in Simone’s eyes and those of Saissa as well.