Once upon a dreadful time

Visions

“Princess?”

Michelle turned to see Steward Arnot standing in the snow.

“Oui?”

“My lady, Vadun is here. He came with Armsmaster Jules.”

“Ah, then, I’ll be right there.”

As Arnot trudged away, Michelle signaled the pack au revoir, though what they interpreted was I go, for what the princess and the Wolves said to one another, though understandable, had slightly different meanings, such as Michelle’s posture for femme was taken as bitch by the pack, and vice versa.

Regardless, for the past three days not only had Michelle been intensely acquiring Wolfspeak, she had also learned from the pack some of the human words and silent hand-signals Borel had taught them all. In the beginning it had been painfully slow, but as her Wolfspeak vocabulary had grown, it had gone much faster. At times the entire pack had been involved; even Slate had deigned to speak with her.

As Michelle bade the Wolves “au revoir,” Slate turned to Dark and said: Master’s bitch two-legs cub-smart. Tears brimmed in Michelle’s eyes, and yet she had a great smile on her face, for never had any praise from her former human tutors made her as proud as Slate’s casual aside to Dark.

. .

Chelle hurried through the corridors to come to the blue room, where Jules and Arnot and Laurent waited with the guest. And as she entered, the princess paused, for Vadun was not like anyone Chelle had ever seen before: small, he was, child sized, and seemed to be dressed in nought but leaves and twigs. His hair, while clean, was unruly and long, reaching unto his waist, and though it was brown it had a greenish tint shimmering among the strands. His tilted eyes were green as well, though pale and translucent, as of the most delicate of jade. His face was narrow and his form slender, and his arms and legs lean. His smooth light brown skin seemed to match that of a young tree sprout, and his feet were shod in bark shoes. It was almost as if some small woodland being akin to a bush or a tree had somehow come to animate life. That such a creature lived in a realm of ice and snow was a mystery, one that Michelle, for reasons unknown, felt she had no right to delve into.

And as the princess entered the chamber, Vadun stood and bowed and said, “My lady.” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as of a zephyr gently stirring foliage.

Michelle inclined her head and replied, “Voyant Vadun.” She took a comfortable chair and gestured to the others to be seated as well, and Vadun returned to the cushioned footstool that fitted his size.

“Princess,” said the small being, “Armsmaster Jules has told me the terrible news, yet unless someone in your household has had a dream bearing upon the calamity, I know not how I can help.”

Even as Michelle’s heart sank, Jules said, “He suggested I bring him here, my lady, just in case someone has had such a reve.” At the armsmaster’s words, Vadun smiled, showing rather catlike teeth.

Michelle turned up her hands. “I know of no one who has said so.”

“Princess,” said Arnot, “recall that you and Borel were dream-linked during your imprisonment.”

“Oui. We were.”

Arnot turned to Vadun. “Shouldn’t that help?”

“Perhaps,” murmured the dream seer. “What were the circumstances?”

With her hope rising, quickly Michelle explained.

Vadun sighed and said, “I see. Yet that was an enchanted sleep, and the fact that you could meet one another in your dreams is quite rare, even when one is enspelled, and rarer still in normal sleep, though great love or loyalty aids.” As Michelle’s heart fell again, Laurent said, “I do not seem to recall any of my dreams, yet that doesn’t mean someone else might not have dreamt of Prince Borel or any of the others. We could ask everyone here.”

Vadun again smiled, his features gentle in spite of the sharpness of his teeth. “Sieur Laurent, though it would help, one need not recall a dream for me to. . See.”

“What mean you?”

“Just that I merely need to be in contact, one at a time, with each member of the household.”

“What do you need?” asked Michelle.

“A quiet and peaceful room, preferably smaller than this, darkened and lit by a single candle. It should be furnished with a couch or such in which the member of staff can be at ease, and a comfortable chair for me at the head of the dreamer’s divan. I would also like some mint tea or other such to be brewing and fill the chamber with a pleasant scent.” Michelle looked at Arnot. “The green room?” He nodded. “A good choice, my lady.”

Michelle then turned to Vadun. “Forgive my manners, Voyant Vadun, but have you eaten? And surely you need rest from your travels.”

“I would appreciate a meal, my lady, but I need no rest, for the sooner started the sooner we might know.” ONCE UPON A DREADFUL TIME / 237

Arnot said, “Your pardon, Dreamseer, but what would you have to eat?”

“Some tea would be nice as well as. . might you have a vole?”

Arnot frowned. “Vole? Mean you a mouse?”

“Oui. A mouse will do. Preferably alive.” Inwardly, Michelle shuddered. How can such a rather plantlike being as is Vadun eat a live mouse? She looked at him and smiled, one that he returned, his catlike teeth showing.

. .

Passing among a gaggle of waiting, nervous women, some tittering, Michelle paused a moment to caution them to quietness, and then stepped down the hall to the green room, for she would be the first person Vadun would examine. Into the candlelit chamber she stepped and softly closed the door behind.

The odor of chamomile subtly filled the room.

The voyant de reves welcomed her with a smile, and he gestured to the couch. When she was fully reclined, he took his seat, the chair with piled cushions to raise him up on a level with the head of the divan.

“Now, my lady,” he murmured, “I ask you to clear your mind of as many thoughts as you can and to concentrate only on Prince Borel.”

“That will be rather easy,” whispered Michelle. She took a deep breath and thought of her truelove, with his silver-sheened hair, his ice-blue eyes, his handsome face, his ready wit and infectious smile, his caressing hands, his lean body, his-

Michelle felt a gentle touch upon her brow, yet she managed to maintain her thoughts of Borel and his ways.

“Oh, my, what strength of feelings,” Vadun softly said.

“And what troubled dreams of recent, yet pleasant ones as well: of Wolves and speaking to them, of ordinary things, but also of unknown and unseen dangers, of the prince and loving and of making love-”

Suddenly, Vadun broke contact.

Embarrassed over this last, Michelle said, “I did not mean to-”

“Oh, Princess, all beings have somewhat. . lustful dreams.”

“But then why did you break contact. Did you see Borel?

Did you find him?”

“Non, Princess, you have not dreamt a dream that can aid us in the search for the prince. Yet, do I understand it correctly?

You can speak with his Wolves?”

“Oui, though I am still learning.”

“Ah, good. Wolves are closer to nature, and extremely loyal to the pack, and, to their way of thinking, Prince Borel is one of them. Too, they dream. I would like to see if any have dreamt of your prince, their master.”

“You can do that? Be a voyant to their dreams?”

“Oui.”

“What of the members of my staff?”

“My lady, if the Wolves yield nought, then we shall return to the staff.”

“Where would you have me bring the pack?” Vadun shook his head. “Non, my lady, I will go to them, for they need to be in a place they find comfortable in order for me to see into their dreams.”

“Then follow me, Vadun.”

. .

In the Summerwood, this time Blaise, instead of Lanval, went to see the Lady of the Mere, but she did not appear at his beck.

And, upon his return, he found that no falcons had come bearing messages of what other seers might have learned.

. .

In the Autumnwood, Luc, fresh from the training grounds, had just sat down to his lunch as rawboned Remy, armsmaster at Autumnwood Manor, escorted a man into the chamber.

“My lord,” said Remy as they came forward, “I present Seer Malgan.”

Luc saw before him a reed-thin, sallow-faced homme with lank, straw-colored hair, his hands tucked across and within the sleeves of his red satin buttoned gown, a man who twitched away from unseen companions and yet whispered to them as he approached. As he came to stand nigh Luc, he bowed, and then glared left and right as if bidding others to show the prince courtesy as well.

When the seer straightened up, Luc asked, “Can you aid us to find Liaze and the others?”

“My lord,” replied Malgan, his voice high-pitched. He paused a moment and cocked his head as if listening to an unheard voice. “I will need something. . intimate of Princess Liaze’s-an oft-worn adornment, a lock of her hair, something in close contact with her personage.” Of a sudden he looked to his right. “What? What? Of course, of course.” He turned back to Luc and added, “A precious gem of sorts: amulet, ring, or the like. In fact, a gemstone would be best if you’ve not a lock of her hair.”

As Malgan muttered to someone aside, Luc cocked an eye at Remy and slowly shook his head in disbelief that this scarecrow of a madman could help them. “A gemstone, you say.” His words were not a question.

Malgan looked back at Luc. “Indeed, and the more precious the better.”

Luc stood and pulled a bell cord. Then he turned to Remy and Malgan and said, “Won’t you join me at lunch?” Malgan dithered over his choices, standing at the sideboard and taking up first one chunk of bread and then returning it for another, repeating this several times, not only over the choice of bread, but also of plates and cups and pats of butter and amount of tea and cuts of meat and selection of vegetables and pieces of fruit, all the while whispering to invisible beings.

As the Seer took a seat, then changed it for another, a page appeared.

Luc looked up at the lad. “Breton, fetch Zoe and tell her that we need an item from among Liaze’s jewelry, something set with a precious stone-ring, pendant, earring, necklace, or the like-something that is dear to Liaze, something oft in intimate contact with her.” Even as he instructed the boy, an ephemeral thought skittered ’round the edges of Luc’s mind, but ere he could capture it-

Malgan peered down at the floor and hissed, “Yes, yes, I know.” Then he looked at the youth. “Tell her, tell this Zoe person, to take it to the forge.”

“The forge, my lord?” asked the page.

“The forge, the forge, boy,” said Malgan, looking to his left where sat an empty chair at the table, one he had pulled out as if to sit in but then had chosen another.

The page looked at Luc, and he shrugged and nodded.

As the lad rushed away, Malgan glanced at Remy. “There is an anvil within, I take it.”

“Oui,” said Remy, frowning.

“And tools? — Hammers and such?”

“Oui.”

“Good,” said Malgan. Then he peered across the table and said apparently to no one, “I told you so.”

. .

Zoe had brought several pieces to the smithy. She held a pearl pendant up to her ear. “This one, my lord, is one of her favorites.”

“Here, here, put them all on the anvil,” said Malgan.

Zoe placed on the large bronze anvil the pearl earring and a ruby-set ring and a diamond on a silvery chain, as well as a fire opal set in a golden torque.

Malgan then muttered and whispered and pushed the jewelry about and finally said, “Yes, yes, I know: the diamond.” He took up a bronze hammer and, with a single blow, smashed the gem into powder.

Zoe shrieked and snatched away the remaining jewelry and protectively clutched it to her breast and turned her back to the seer, using her body to shield it from him. But Malgan did not seem to notice. Instead he peered at the resulting glitter casting its myriad glints unto the eye, and then turned to Luc and said,

“My lord, all I see, all we see, is a vast darkness.”

. .

Vadun and Michelle found the Wolves in a nearby snow-laden pine-tree glade, and Michelle introduced the voyant to them.

What she believed she said was: This person is here to help find Borel.

What they read in her postures and growls was: Two-legs here help find master.

After they had surrounded Vadun and had snuffled and had taken in his scent and found it to be friendly and unafraid, though a bit plantlike and smelling somewhat of an eaten mouse, Slate pronounced him acceptable.

Vadun said, “Are they comfortable herein?”

“Oui.”

“Then please tell them that I will be touching them one by one.”

Michelle said: This person will touch each of you.

Wolves interpreted: Two-legs touch one all.

Vadun then said, “Princess, as I touch each one, ask them to envision Borel.”

Michelle nodded, and when Vadun placed a gentle hand on Slate’s head, Michelle said: See Borel.

Slate stepped away from Vadun and turned his head this way and that and lifted his nose in the air. Finally, he said to Michelle: Master not here.

Michelle sighed in exasperation. “I am having trouble asking them to envison Borel. Let me see if I can think of another way to put it.”

Finally, she said to Slate: Borel not here.

Slate: Chuff.

Michelle: Do not move, but see Borel.

Slate whined in puzzlement.

Michelle turned to Dark: Dark. Do not move, but see Borel.

Dark whined in puzzlement, but then said: No move, hunt master?

“Yes!” exclaimed Michelle. Then she turned to Slate: Do not move, but seek Borel. Do not move, but smell.

Slate: Chuff.

And the great Wolf stood still and slowly inhaled scents and tried to find the master, and Vadun laid a light hand upon Slate’s head.

“Non, my lady, he has not dreamt of Borel,” said the voyant.

“Dark. Here,” said Michelle, and the bitch Wolf came to stand beside the princess.

Michelle: Do not move, but seek Borel. Do not move, but smell.

Vadun placed a hand upon this Wolf’s head, and then he shook his own.

Down through the pack they went in hierarchical order: after Slate and Dark came Render, then Shank, Trot, and Loll.

And as Michelle’s heart sank with each failure, at last they came to Blue-eye. Again Michelle repeated her command, and as Blue-eye stood still and took in the scent on the wind, Vadun said, “Ah, yes.”

Michelle gasped. “What? What is it, Vadun?” Vadun’s voice took on a low growl, and as if in a trance he began to move and posture, and Michelle interpreted.

Then Vadun shook himself as if becoming aware of his surroundings. “What did I say?”

“I know what you said in Wolfspeak, but I do not understand.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, literally you said: No moon. No stars. No smell. No see. Hear Borel in all big dark.”

Vadun frowned. “I do not understand either.”

. .

In the middle of the night, in Winterwood Manor, Michelle started up from a restless sleep, as did Luc in the Autumnwood.

Each knew with certainty just where their loved one was-

be it in the “big dark” as told by Blue-eye through Vadun, or in

“a vast darkness” as glitters of shattered-gem light and invisible companions had told Malgan.