Once upon a Spring morn

30

Choices

Roel slammed a fist into palm. “Shift to a different trail? But we are so close-just two borders to cross-and there are but eight days left before Avelaine will be lost forever. We simply must rescue her ere then.” Celeste reached out and took Roel’s hand and unclenched his fist and smoothed his fingers. “Cheri, we must follow Lady Doom’s counsel. If we do not, we will fail.”

Roel sighed and nodded. “It’s just that. .” His words trailed off.

“I know, my love. I know. We’ve come to an unexpected crossroads. Yet the Sisters see what might be, what is passing, and what is nevermore, and so we need to heed their guidance.”

Roel shook his head and then softly intoned:

“To triumph in the Changeling realm, Shift to a different trail.

You must take the sinister path; Find the gray arrow or fail.”

After long moments of silence, Roel said, “I wonder what this gray arrow is?”

Celeste shrugged. “Whatever it is, and whatever it is to be used for, we will not succeed without it, and Urd did say that we needed to fetch it. Hence, we must find it.”

Roel nodded. “I note that when she told us to shift to a different trail, Urd glanced along the road in the direction you name ‘duskwise,’ and ‘sundownward’-a bearing I would call ‘west’-and she did tell us to take the sinister path; and certainly toward sundown is the leftward way from where we stand-here on what I would name the south side of the road-and we stood here when she said it. What does the map say lies in that direction? And will it take us to the Changeling realm in time?”

“Let us make camp, and then we will look,” said Celeste.

And so they unladed the geldings and unsaddled the mares and curried and watered and fed them, and they laid out their bedrolls and made a small fire from scrub and an armful of branches gathered from a nearby thicket.

As they ate, Celeste unfolded the map, and by lantern light and firelight she traced out a path duskward to reach a boundary crossing. “Hmm. . here is what we are to look for at the crossing itself, yet somewhat after the crossing, on a duskward bearing, it is marked Spx, whatever that might mean.”

She showed the chart to Roel, and he shrugged and said, “I haven’t the slightest notion either. But look, if we keep going sinister, the next crossing after is very close.”

Celeste stared at the map and blew out an exasperated breath and said, “And just beyond that crossing the chart is marked El Fd and nearly on top of that enigmatic note is Ct Dd. I wonder if El Fd means we are bound for an Elven realm.”

“Elven realm?”

“Where live Elves,” said Celeste.

“Under the hills, you mean?”

Celeste laughed. “Roel, in Faery some Elves do live under the hills, but others dwell as do we.”

“I see,” said Roel. “In the mortal realm, though, ’tis said Elves betimes are seen abroad, but for the most they remain under the hills.”

“A strange notion,” said Celeste. “Still, I wonder about the marking: El Fd. ”

Roel peered at the map. “Perhaps it refers to an Elven realm as you have guessed, cherie, but what about the Ct Dd right next to it?” Celeste sighed. “I have no idea what that might stand for. Ah, Mithras, why couldn’t whoever made this chart have spelled out the meanings?”

Roel snorted and said, “Mayhap the cartographer was one of the Fates.”

Celeste laughed but then sobered. “Take care, love, for they might be listening.”

Roel turned up a hand and said, “Most likely.” Then he raised his face to the sky and called, “Why couldn’t you have made the map plain?”

Celeste slapped a hand over her mouth to conceal a smile.

“Ah, well,” said Roel, “whatever those initials might indicate, we do have a clue:

“Creatures and heroes and the dead Will test you along the way.

Ever recall what we Three said,

To fetch the arrow of gray.”

“It seems we are to be challenged along the sinister path,” said Celeste. “My bow and long-knife will be ready if they are tests of arms.”

“And if not?” asked Roel.

“Then my wits,” said Celeste.

Roel nodded, and then looked at the map again.

“Think you we can fetch the arrow and then reach my sister in the eight days remaining?”

“I cannot say, for there is no scale,” said Celeste, tapping the map. “Still, if the Fates have sent us this way, surely there is a chance.”

They sat without speaking for long moments, eating waybread and jerky and drinking brewed tea. Finally Celeste said, “Lady Doom gave us one last admonishment ere she vanished: ‘Left is right, but right a mistake; you will fail if the wrong path you take.’ I wonder if she was speaking of these crossroads. Was she warning us to take the left-hand way and not the right?”

“Another puzzle,” said Roel, “another confusing instruction. Mayhap what she was saying is that we should take the right-hand way, for if left is ‘right,’ but ‘right’ is a mistake, then doesn’t that make ‘left’-that is, the left-hand way-the mistake?”

Celeste groaned. “I don’t know.”

“Agh!” spat Roel. “I just had another thought: we were travelling due south-due sunwise-when we came upon Lady Doom. What if the left-hand way, the sinister way, is based on the direction we were going, rather than where we were standing when she gave us the rede? That would make the sinister path be toward the east, dawnwise, sunupward.”

Celeste’s face fell. “Oh, Roel, do you think that could be so?”

“I know not, cherie. Regardless, let us see what lies along the road toward dawn,” said Roel. As his finger traced a sunupward route, he mumbled, “Hmm. . PR

and WT and over here GY. -Argh! That’s no help whatsoever.”

Celeste shook her head and said, “It all depends on which way one faces as to which of these roads-

dawnwise, sunwise, duskwise, or starwise-is sinister.

Yet the road running dawn to dusk is a ‘different trail’

from the one we were on, hence the one to follow, though in which direction, sunupward or sundownward, there’s the rub.”

Once again they fell into silence, but finally Roel glanced up into the star-filled night, and said, “Let us sleep on it. I will take first watch.” Celeste pushed out a hand of negation. “Non, love, for if you take first watch, you will let me sleep beyond my due. Instead, I will take ward now.”

“What’s to say you won’t do the same to me?” asked Roel, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth.

Now Celeste peered at the spangled vault above and said, “The sun will rise ten candlemarks hence. I will guard the first five, you the last. -Done?” Roel reluctantly nodded and said, “Done,” and he held her close and kissed her tenderly, and then lay down.

Celeste listened to Roel’s breath slowing as he fell into slumber, and when he was fast asleep she stood and paced to the horses. They, too, were adoze, and so she returned to the fire and cast a branch thereon.

And she sat in the warmth and reviewed Lady Doom’s rede as well as Urd’s final message, seeking answers that did not seem to be forthcoming. And slowly her watch passed as she pondered which way to ride on the morrow. Candlemarks eked by, and when she awakened Roel for his turn at ward, she had come to a conclusion. She embraced and kissed him, and as she lay down, she said, “Roel, think on what should be our course from here, and by morn let us see if we agree.”

“My thoughts exactly, cherie,” said Roel as he saddled his mount. “We must take the sinister path, and I believe we measure sinister from where we stood when Lady Doom spoke her rede. And as to ‘left is right, but right a mistake,’ mayhap it applies here-or not-though I do believe its true meaning is ‘leftward is correct, but rightward is wrong.’ Regardless as to whether that is the proper interpretation, I say we ride toward the west, in the sundown direction.”

“Oui,” said Celeste, pulling tight the girth strap

’round her mare. “Duskwise. Let us find this Spx, whatever that might be. Mayhap ’tis where the gray arrow lies.”

And so they mounted up, and trailing the packhorses, sundownward they rode.

“Oh, now I understand,” said Celeste, breaking out of her rumination.

“Understand what, cherie?”

“What Lady Doom meant when she said I was to think on the riddle she posed and the answer I had given.”

Roel frowned, then cocked an eyebrow.

“Remember, she told me that I had answered all three riddles: hers, Verdandi’s, and Skuld’s. But I replied that I had said ‘river’ in response to her poser, which was neither a yes nor a no to the question at the end of the riddle. Anyway, she told me to think on it, and I have.”

Roel smiled. “And what did you conclude?”

“That I didn’t really have to answer the question, for by merely saying the name, or not being able to, that is answer enough.”

Roel laughed and said, “Exactly so, cherie. But heed: even a wrong answer resolves the riddle, or rather the question as stated, for if one gives a wrong answer, then that means one’s answer to the question is no.”

“Hmph,” grunted Celeste. “It’s not much of a riddle if no answer at all as well as any answer-right or wrong-resolves it.”

“Mayhap that’s the way she planned it,” said Roel.

“How so?”

“Love, I think the Fates truly wish to give us guidance, and so they make it as easy as they can without breaking those ‘rules’ they follow.” Roel then shook his head and added, “As to why they would do so, I haven’t a clue, yet I wish they could speak plainly instead of in murky redes.”

Celeste nodded in agreement, but said, “I believe one of their rules must be that those they help must cipher out the meanings for themselves.”

Roel nodded and on they fared, heading ever duskward as the sun rode up the sky.

Nigh midday, Roel said, “To the fore and left, Celeste, a long train of dust.”

“A caravan, do you think?”

“Oui. Or the like.”

Celeste frowned and said, “It is moving starwise and will cross our course. Perhaps we’ll intercept it.” Closer they drew and closer, and Roel said, “Camels.

It is a long train of camels.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of them but have never seen such,” said Celeste. “I hope we do cross their path, for I would see a camel.”

Roel grunted and said. “I saw my fill of them during the war. They are swift, but are not as nimble as horses.

And the warriors astride were quite good, especially with the bow; we were hard-pressed to defeat them. You and I must take care, Celeste, for should this be a military train, such men are fierce.”

“Roel, someday, you will have to tell me of this war.”

“Ah, me, cherie, I do not like to think about it, for many good men died. . on both sides, I am certain.”

“When you are ready, my love.”

They rode without speaking for a while, and then Roel said, “It’s not like single combat, where two knights agree upon the rules ere the fighting begins. Instead it is a charge of steeds and knights and footmen and a horrendous collision of armies crashing against one another, and confusion and chaos and a wild uproar filled with the clangor of weapons and belling of steeds and shouts of rage and cries of fear and the screams of the dying. All one can do is lay about and lay about and lay about, with hammers smashing and swords riving and spears stabbing and arrows piercing, with severed heads flying and entrails spilling forth like hideous blossoms blooming; hands and arms are lopped off in a dreadful pruning, and bones snap and skulls crunch beneath crushing blows. And then, finally it is over, and it seems a silence reigns, but the silence is only relative to what has gone before, for the field is littered with the dead and the dying, and men weep and cry out in an agony born of horrendous wounds, and horses scream of broken legs and ripped-open bellies; and the gorcrows and looters come to pick over the carrion, and-” Of a sudden, Roel became aware that Celeste had stopped the horses and had dismounted and now held him by the hand, and tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked up at him.

Her voice choked, yet she managed to say, “You need never tell me of this war you fought.” He nodded once, sharply, and whispered, “Let us ride on.”

She looked up at him for a moment more, and then kissed his fingers and released his hand and turned and mounted her mare.

The caravan continued to fare starwise across the grassy plains, and as Celeste and Roel drew closer, Celeste said, “It looks as if their road will join ours. See, it curves ’round and does not cross over; I think it becomes one with this way.” Roel nodded but said nothing, and on they went.

Ahead, the caravan followed the arc and soon it was plodding duskwise, ahead of Celeste and Roel. It moved at a more leisurely pace than they did, and slowly the horses atrot overtook the ambling camels.

“It is a merchant train,” said Roel, his first words in a while. “Not a military convoy. They have an escort of guards, though, so be wary.”

Celeste slipped the keeper from her long-knife, and she strung her bow, though she slipped it back into its saddle scabbard.

As they neared the tail end of the train, three camel-mounted guards-dusky-skinned and dressed in turbans and jodhpurs and boots and long riding coats under torso-covering bronze-plated armor, and armed with curved scimitars and lances and bows-slowed and waited for Celeste and Roel to reach them. One of the warders held out a hand palm forward and called out,

“Wakkif!”

His meaning clear, both Roel and Celeste reined to a halt, and their mounts snorted as if to blow their nostrils free of the somewhat rank odor of camels, and it took a firm hand to keep the horses from sidling away.

“Min inte? Mnain jayi? Intu kasdin ’ala fen?” demanded the guard.

“Do you speak the common tongue?” asked Celeste.

The warder frowned. “Kult e?”

Celeste sighed and said, “Parlez-vous la vieille langue?”

“Kult e?”

She turned to Roel. “It seems he speaks neither Common nor the Old Tongue.”

“I have heard such language as his in my travels, though I do not speak it,” said Roel. “It sounds as if he is from Arabia.”

The man looked at Roel and said, “Betif’ ham

’arabi?”

Roel shrugged and shook his head, saying, “I think he just asked if I speak Arabic.”

Another warder came riding back, this one with gold braid ’round his turban. He spoke to the guards, and they treated him with deference.

“It seems he’s the captain,” said Roel.

The man looked at Celeste and dismissed her with a gesture, at which she bristled but remained silent, but Roel he eyed with some respect. Yet he, too, did not understand either the Old Tongue or Common.

Roel clapped a hand to his own chest and said,

“Chevalier Roel.” He gestured toward Celeste and said,

“She is with me.”

Again Celeste bristled, but still she remained silent.

Once more Roel slapped his chest and then pointed duskward along the road and said, “We ride yon.” The captain slowly scanned the plain; the land was empty as far as the eye could see. He said something to the three other warders, and they reined their camels about, the animals turning at the tugs on their nose rings, and with the beasts groaning and hronk ing, and blue tassels swinging from saddle blankets, and the riders thumping the camels with switches and crying, “Hut, hut, hut, haijin. Yallah, yallah!” they rode to catch the caravan and resume their posts.

The captain once more scanned out to the horizon, and then said, “Kammil,” and he gestured for them to continue riding duskwise.

Quietly Roel said, “Cherie, if they are from Aegypt or Arabie, they do not consider women the equal of men.

It would be best if you rode slightly back and to my left.”

Celeste hissed, and then muttered, “As you will, my master. Yet be aware, love, you will someday pay for this.” Then she grinned at Roel’s gape.

Roel then laughed and heeled his mare and together they rode onward, did the knight and his lagging princess.

And slowly they passed alongside the camel train, the beasts laden with trade goods. Dark-skinned men walked alongside, while others rode, trailing the pack animals on tethers running to nose rings.

“That must be painful,” said Celeste, “yet fear not, my love, I’ll not leash you that way.”

Roel burst into laughter, and on they fared.

For the rest of the day they rode, and that evening as dusk was falling, and even as they espied in the distance to the fore the twilight bound looming up into the sky, they heard water running somewhere to the starwise side of the road, and there they found a spring bubbling out from the ground and running through the grass and down a gentle slope.

“That’s odd,” said Roel, looking about. “There are no hills or mountains nearby, yet here we have a fountainhead.”

“ ’Tis Faery, love,” said Celeste. She glanced at the darkening sky and added, “Perhaps we should camp here.”

“Oui,” said Roel. “It is a good place. And on the morrow we can cross through the twilight and mayhap find the gray arrow.”

The next dawn, as they were breaking camp, a turbaned rider came to the spring and stopped to let his camel drink its fill.

“A scout, I think,” said Roel, “from the caravan.” As the beast sucked water, Celeste stepped to the man and offered him a cup of tea. The scout took it and smiled and nodded his thanks.

Roel saddled the mares while Celeste removed the nose bags and stowed them away. As she tied the bundles, the turbaned man rinsed out the tin cup and stepped to her side, and smiling and nodding, he handed the vessel to her. Then he helped Roel lade the gear onto the geldings. Finally, all was ready, and Celeste and Roel mounted up, and the scout strode to his now-grazing camel and commanded the beast to kneel; then he, too, mounted and got the animal to its feet.

They rode together in a comfortable quietness for a ways, still going duskwise. The horses snorted and were somewhat nervous in the presence of the camel, yet

Roel and Celeste held them firmly, and after a while they settled.

But within a league they came to a juncture, where a trail continued on toward the twilight bound, but the road began a slow arc starwise. Roel reined to a halt, Celeste stopping as well. The scout stayed his camel alongside them, a puzzled look on his face.

“Which way, cherie?” asked Roel. “What says the map?”

Celeste unfolded the vellum and looked and sighed.

“This road is not on the chart, nor the fork and the path beyond. We are to look for three boulders at the crossing, though.” Roel nodded and said, “Then let us choose.” As Celeste refolded the map she said, “Perhaps ‘left is right, but right a mistake’ applies here.”

“Hmm. . do you think? If so, then we should take the straight-ahead path.”

“I agree,” said Celeste, nodding.

“Betif’ tikir bi~e?” asked the scout.

“I believe he wants to know where we plan to go,” said Roel, and he pointed to himself and Celeste and then down the trail toward the wall of twilight looming in the near distance.

Frantically the scout shook his head and waved his hand back and forth in a negative gesture, saying, “La!

La! Abulhol! Abulhol!”

Roel shrugged and turned his palms up, clearly showing that he didn’t understand.

The man then patted up and down the length of his own body from shoulders to hips and then moved his hands as if he were turning his torso sideways. And then he stretched and stretched the envisioned form and held out his arms wide, indicating a gigantic body. He drew forth from the lower tip of his spine a make-believe tail and added it to the pretend body. Then he framed his face and lifted an imaginary head and placed it on the conjured creature. Lastly he clawed at the air and roared and then said, “Abulhol.”

“Some sort of huge, man-headed beast,” said Celeste.

Roel nodded. “Still, cherie, beast or no, I deem we must take the sinister way, for if left is right, and right a mistake, then somewhere ahead we must cross.” Celeste nodded and said, “Even if this isn’t the right way, we can follow the wall till we find the three boulders.”

“Just so,” said Roel, and he turned to the scout and shrugged. Then Roel touched his shield and lance and said, “Large or not, my spear and a swift charge should do.”

The scout moaned and shook his head and said, “La, la. Inte raltan.”

“Whatever he is telling us,” said Celeste, “he thinks we are making a mistake.”

“Nevertheless. .,” said Roel, and he turned up his hands and shrugged, and then heeled his mare and started down the path, Celeste following.

For long moments the scout watched them ride away.

Then he shook his head and turned his camel, and starwise along the road he fared.

A candlemark passed and then another, and nearer to the bound rode Celeste and Roel. Finally, “There are the boulders,” said Celeste, pointing ahead. “I deem we have chosen aright.”

Roel nodded and said, “If indeed we were to continue duskwise, though Lady Doom did not say.” Finally they came to the crossing and stopped. Roel dismounted and tethered his mare to Celeste’s gelding, then tied a rope ’round his waist. He handed the coil to Celeste, and she tied the end to her saddle cantle. As Roel took his shield in hand and drew Coeur d’Acier, he grinned and said, “Try not to drag me across all of Faery, my love.”

Celeste tentatively smiled but said nought.

Roel strode into the twilight, Celeste following, horses in tow. As they reached the midmost ebon wall, she stopped and payed out the line as Roel stepped on beyond. More and more length he took, and finally all rope was let out. Then it went slack, and Celeste began drawing it in and coiling it. At last Roel came through the midpoint, and in the darkness as he untied the line from his waist he said, “ ’Tis good that we filled all skins with water, for ’tis sand, all sand beyond, great dunes for as far as the eye can see.”

“What of the monstrous man-headed creature?” asked Celeste.

“No sign of such,” said Roel. “I believe the scout was speaking of a mythical beast that only exists in fable or imagination.”

Though Roel could not clearly see Celeste in the twilight, she shook her head, saying, “Forget not, love, ’tis Faery.”

Roel groaned and said, “Ah, me, you would have to bring that up.” He stepped to his mare and hung his shield on its saddle hook, and then untethered the horse and mounted and rode forward to Celeste and said,

“Shall we?”

“Let’s do,” said she, and laughed, and smiling, together they rode into the desert sands.