Dark Jenny

TWENTY

Luckily the turnoff was marked well enough that I spotted it in the dark. We left the stone-paved road for a more traditional worn path across the countryside. Here and there hearth fires shone through the windows of small farms, and we startled a group of young people skinny-dipping in a lake. The sound of their joyous panic was both sweet and, in its fragility, somehow ominous. If they knew what was going on at Nodlon Castle with their king, they might not be in such a hurry to run around so vulnerably.

We went around a bend, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a man on horseback just beyond a stand of trees. “Don’t move!” I hissed. I yanked the reins with one hand and reached for my sword with the other.

Jenny laughed. “That’s a statue, Mr. LaCrosse.”

By the time she said it, I’d figured it out myself. It was life-size, made of stone, and mounted on a low pedestal. The horse reared on its hind legs, and the knight riding it had his sword above his head.

I sighed in relief and embarrassment. “Who the hell puts a statue out in the middle of nowhere, anyway?” I snapped.

“You can find these all over Grand Bruan. There was a decisive battle in the wars of unification on this very spot. Old Pernil-that’s the knight’s name-came out of retirement to fight alongside Marcus and Elliot. He took a javelin meant for Marc and died.” She paused for a moment. “Pernil used to visit our castle when I was a little girl, long before Marcus came to power. He did little sleight-of-hand tricks to amuse me. I wanted to marry him when I grew up.”

Looking around at the countryside, I was again amazed at how quickly and thoroughly the citizens of Grand Bruan had put aside centuries of differences and united under one ruler. The battle she described left remarkably few scars on the landscape. I’d seen fields so salty from spilled blood that nothing ever grew there again.

Near midnight we left the open country and went back beneath the forest boughs. Owls and nighthawks called, and deer darted from cover ahead of us. The insect chorus expressed its contentment, countered by the barrumphing of frogs. Like those isolated stretches of the main road, this would be prime bandit cover anywhere but Grand Bruan.

“I saw you admiring my painting,” Jenny said. “Back at Blithe Ward. I apologize for spying, but you understand why now.”

I was glad she’d decided to talk, because I was losing the battle with my eyelids. “Was the model you or the queen?”

“That one was me. Elliot painted it himself.”

“I’m impressed. He’s a man of many talents.”

“No, only a few. But he excels at them.” She paused. “You thought it was Jennifer?”

“Well… yes. At the time I didn’t know you existed.”

“Then may I ask you something as a man?”

“I’m not sure I’m qualified to represent all men.”

“I think you’ll do, if that kiss was any indication. Who is more beautiful, the queen or me?”

I laughed. “Any answer to that question might lead to bloodshed.”

“Please, I’m serious. I know we look similar. Even identical to a casual glance. But there must be differences.”

“There are. But they don’t make one of you more beautiful than the other.”

“What are they?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Her voice grew small in the darkness. “She makes Marc happy. I once wanted to do that with all my heart, and failed. I’ve often wondered if that meant she was somehow a better person than me.”

“You make Elliot happy. I doubt very seriously if the queen could do that.”

“Making Elliot happy is no effort.”

“Maybe making Marc happy is no effort for the queen. I’d say you both ended up where you needed to be. I’m sorry it’s all gone to hell like this. Hopefully it can still be salvaged.”

“You said you kept the other Jennifer’s secrets. Did you just mean this situation, or were their others?”

“If I answer that either way, I’m breaking her confidence.”

She nodded and turned away to look into the dark. Neither of us spoke for a long time. At last Jenny caught me yawning and said, “If you’d like, you can stretch out in the back. I can drive a wagon.”

“That’s okay.” I urged the horses to a faster pace. They snorted their disapproval but obeyed. I doubt they were used to working this late, either. “We’re close, if the map was right.”

She nudged me in the ribs. “You won’t be much of a bodyguard if you’re too sleepy to hold your sword. Go get some rest, I’ll be fine. I promise to scream if I need you.”

She had a point, and I really was having trouble keeping my eyes open. So I crawled into the back of the wagon and used her bag for a pillow. I put the sword beside me and snapped the hilt into my cast. In my dreams, I fought with Agravaine while Marcus Drake sat in judgment and the two Jennifers, one on either side of him, watched and laughed.

Two things woke me. One was the realization that, with all the other insanity I’d found in Blithe Ward, I hadn’t mentioned the dust cloud to Spears. If those were soldiers on the move, he’d run right into them. Of course, he was their commanding officer, second only to King Marcus, so there should be no danger. As long as they were Grand Bruan troops.

The other was the awareness that we’d stopped.

It was still mostly dark, although the horizon ahead had begun to lighten. We were no longer in the forest. I sat up and saw Jenny on the wagon seat, absolutely still, facing ahead. One of the horses whinnied impatiently.

“What’s wrong?” I asked thickly. My mouth tasted as if a badger had bedded down in it.

“That idiot, ” she hissed.

I climbed onto the seat beside her. “Which idiot?”

“Cameron Kern.” She nodded ahead of us.

We were atop a slight rise that gave a wonderful view of the rolling countryside below, all tinted gray in the dawn. Short stone fences marked off plots and pastures, and a small cottage lay about

a mile away. Beside it rose a barn, and on the barn’s sloping roof were painted the words, visible in the predawn light even at this distance, SEE THE CRYSTAL CAVE.

“I can’t believe he would do that,” she fumed.

“Do what?”

“That he would”-she sputtered in her fury before she got out the word- “advertise.”

I shook my head to wake up and found a sack of water in the basket. I splashed some on my face and said, “So what is the Crystal Cave?”

“It’s where Cameron always told everyone he was going to retire. To live secretly, quietly, in peace away from the world. No more kings and knights seeking his advice and counsel.” Her sarcasm grew stronger as she spoke. “And now he’s announcing its presence to everyone.”

I blinked a few times and yawned. “Does that change anything?”

“No,” she said, dejected. “It’s just disappointing.”

She whistled at the horses and we started down the hill. As the sun rose, we passed two more barns with the same message. I’d never seen that before, but if you were trying to drum up business, it was a great idea.

We met a local family on their way to market with a cart full of produce. I asked if they knew anything about the Crystal Cave.

“Oh, sure,” the farmer told us. “The guy who runs it, Cammy, comes by every so often to buy some vegetables. He always gives us tokens for a free visit.”

“What kind of place is it?”

“It’s pretty neat,” a little boy about ten said.

“Was anyone asking you?” his father snapped. “I know you have manners, boy, I’ve spent your whole life beating them into you. Don’t speak until spoken to.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” I said, although the kid didn’t look very intimidated by this threat. I asked the boy, “Have you been there?”

The kid looked at his father until the man said in exasperation, “All right, tell him.”

“Yeah,” the kid began, so quickly it was as if the words had been piling up behind his lips. “He can do magic tricks, and he sings all the songs about King Marcus. They say there’s dragons in the forest where he lives. They protect him from the bad guys.”

“There are no more bad guys,” his father said. “Marcus chased them back across the sea. We live in a peaceful kingdom now.”

I thought of Mary lying dead beneath Nodlon Castle. I said nothing.

“It’s got this whole model of Motlace, the king’s main castle, all made out of crystal,” the boy continued. “It covers the whole floor of the cave, and if you peek in the windows, you can see little scenes of the king and queen and all the Knights of the Double Tarn.”

“It really is something,” the father agreed. “I can’t imagine having the patience to do it myself.”

“Does Cammy live there alone?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions,” the little boy asked.

“That’s how I find things out.”

“What kinds of things?”

“All kinds.”

“Like what?”

“Like that you’re a really curious little kid.”

His father smacked the back of his son’s head. “With the manners of a damn billy goat. Stop pestering people.”

Throughout, Jenny remained silent, the brim of her hat pulled low ostensibly against the rising sun. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the back of the wagon seat. I thanked the farmer and his son, and we clattered off in opposite directions.

We followed signs down a narrow road to a clearing in front of an immense rock outcropping. At its base was the dome-shaped cave mouth shaded by an awning. Nearby stood a small stone cottage. Smoke curled from the chimney, and in the dawn lamps glowed through the windows. Seems somebody got up early.

I stopped the horses with an extra-loud “Whoa,” so that Kern would know we’d arrived. “Stay here for a minute,” I told Jenny as I hopped down. Just as I reached the cottage door, it opened.

A portly man with thick, wavy gray hair and a beard that covered his cheeks almost to his eyes peered out at me. He was clad in a baggy, multicolored tunic that hung almost down to his knees. He wore no pants or shoes. He held a long-stemmed pipe in one hand, and I saw he was missing most of his right middle finger; all that was left was a stump out to the first joint. The tapestries at Nodlon had captured his likeness, but they gave him more reserved dignity than the man before me possessed.

I smelled burning giggleweed; rather than getting up early, he seemed to have forgotten to put out the lamps the night before. Giggleweed did that to people.

“Hey, man,” he said genially. “I’m afraid you’re too early for a tour today, but come back closer to noon and we’ll be open for business. Here.” He flipped a coin-like token at me. “Tour’s on the house. Peace.”

“We’re not here for the tour,” I said, and ungracefully caught the token with my left hand. “We’re from Blithe Ward. Elliot Spears sent us. I’m Eddie LaCrosse.”

“Hello, Cameron,” Jenny called from the wagon.

The big man squinted his red-veined eyes toward her. His expression changed instantly from benign curiosity to guarded acknowledgment, and a lot of his haziness vanished. “Dark Jenny. Last person I expected to see on my doorstep first thing in the morning.”

She took off her cap and shook her long hair free. “I’m sorry to impose on you, Cameron, but I need a place to stay for a while. Elliot was called to Nodlon Castle; he should be back to pick me up within a week at the most.”

“You mean a place to hide,” Kern said.

“If you prefer.”

Kern puffed on his pipe and regarded her with the skepticism one might give a wild horse that seemed suddenly resigned to the bit. “And why should I get my feet muddy in your swamp again?”

“Because your hands are still dirty from the last time,” she fired back.

He remained motionless except for the smoke that swirled around his head. I politely kept my distance; as tired as I was, the last thing I needed was a contact high. After a long moment he replied, “Well, then, I guess I should be a more gracious host. Come in.”

Inside the little cottage a low fire smoldered in the hearth and something simmered in a pot hung below the mantel. It rekindled my gnawing hunger. Neat shelves sported dozens of little knickknacks, and obscure vellum books lined one wall. Two lutes and a hurdy-gurdy leaned against a chair. A closed door indicated a private bedroom or study.

I dropped Jenny’s bag near the door and gratefully slipped the scabbard from my back. I had to kick a woman’s discarded shift aside to prop the sword against the wall. Other articles of clothing, the residue of past meals, and general clutter covered most of the flat surfaces. Kern’s magic apparently didn’t extend to housekeeping.

Kern said, “Whoa, man. You seem to be injured.”

“Yeah.” The cast felt looser around my wrist as I held it up.

He leaned close and squinted at it. “One of the royal healers did this. You mentioned Nodlon Castle; is this Iris Gladstone’s work?”

I nodded.

“She’s a good healer.” With a wink he added, “Bit of a looker, too, or at least she used to be.”

“So how have you been, Cameron?” Jenny asked as she came inside.

He shrugged. “It’s a lot quieter here than at court.”

“I’ll bet.” She ran her fingers through her hair in an unsuccessful attempt to tame it. “Do you hear from court much?”

He shook his head. “Not a word. Marcus and I have nothing to say to each other.”

The door to the other room suddenly opened. I reached for my sword but checked myself when I saw the new arrival. Despite the manners drilled into me as a boy, I confess I stared.

It was a beautiful young girl with wavy golden hair and big blue eyes. But she was a giant, almost as tall as Marcus Drake. Yet she was built perfectly to scale, so that she took your breath away even as you worried she might step on you. She wore a too short towel tied under her arms and nothing else, which gave a clear view of many tattoos. She gasped when she saw us, tried to pull the towel in ways it wouldn’t go, and cried, “Whoops!”

“Hey, baby,” Kern said. “We’ve got some guests. Didn’t you hear the wagon?”

She looked out the window and giggled. “Gosh, there is a wagon out there, isn’t there? Wow…” Clearly Kern wasn’t the only smoker in the house.

“It’s okay,” Kern said. “Amelia, this is Mr. LaCrosse. And this is Jenny.”

The girl looked down at Jenny with the practiced eye of one used to evaluating rivals. “Jenny,” she repeated. “You look familiar.”

“She gets that a lot,” Kern said quickly. “She has a generic kind of face.”

“I’m an old friend of Cameron’s. I need somewhere to stay for a few days, and I knew he wouldn’t mind.”

“No, he’s a very kind man.” Amelia’s eyes flashed to Kern. “Cammy, may I speak with you for a moment?”

He sighed, followed her into the bedroom, and closed the door. Over the crackling fire, I heard their muffled, insistent voices. To Jenny I said, “That’s not his daughter, I take it.”

“No. Young enough to be, but no. He’s always liked his girls… impressionable.”

At last the door opened, and Amelia emerged in a robe cinched at her slender waist. Her voice was calm and reasonable now, and her smile gracious. “We just needed to discuss some things in private. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions before. You both can stay as long as needed. Anything we have is yours.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be leaving,” I said. “My job was just to get her here.”

“Well, you’re certainly welcome as long as you’d like.” Amelia turned to Jenny. “If you’d like to join me, we have a hot spring in one of the caves. I was on my way over there. It’s a great way to relax after a long trip, or”-Amelia glanced at Kern with a lascivious little smile-“a long night.”

To my surprise, Jenny nodded. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

“Good. I’ll get you a towel, and we’ll leave the men to talk.” Amelia gave Cameron a quick kiss as she went back into the bedroom, and he patted her behind through the robe.