“The witch has flown,” said Borel to those three as he mounted. “We go to see the king and break the ill news.” Even as they set out for the castle, through the dark from dawnwise a tiny Sprite came winging.
Affirmation
“And you think it was Hradian?”
“Papa, we are not certain of that at all,” said Camille.
Valeray shook his head and sighed in resignation. “Still, who else would be after the key?”
“Indeed,” said Liaze, “who else?”
“And she took on your shape?”
“Oui. Luc thought it was me and gave over the amulet to keep it safe.”
“And this crow. . Hradian, too?”
Camille nodded. “You saw Scruff pursue it, Papa, and Regar said it had a dark aura about.”
“Still, it might have been a Changeling,” said Valeray, “dark aura or no.”
They sat in a side chamber off the grand ballroom, did Liaze, Celeste, Camille, and Valeray. The room itself was appointed in blue and served as a private chamber for intimate gatherings of the king and a handful of his guests; hence it wasn’t as if the royalty had rushed off in panic, but instead had momentarily retired, perhaps simply to talk over their echecs matches and relax.
“And this Regar, he’s the grandson of the Fairy King?” Camille turned up a hand. “So he implied.”
“Then that would make him a prince.”
“Borel introduced him as such,” said Celeste.
From beyond the closed door there came muted applause as, no doubt, someone had achieved a clever victory.
Valeray stood. “Let us return to the matches, for I would not have our absence noted. Besides, there’s nought we can do until the scouting party returns, and that might be awhile, for they could be on a long chase.”
Camille got to her feet. “You go, Papa, and Celeste and Liaze, too, for since I lost my first match, I will keep watch and let you know when Alain and the others get back.” Valeray looked at her in mild surprise. “You lost?”
“Oui. After Scruff’s agitated display, I could not concentrate.” Liaze nodded and glumly said, “Had we only known what upset him so, mayhap we would still have the key.” Camille made her way to one of the upper balconies. She stood in the warm summer night and looked out over the faire and the people within.
Camille frowned, for the usual sounds of laughter and music did not ring. Instead she heard excited chatter-
Camille looked beyond the grounds, and, there at the verge of the woods, torches cast light on seven horses and three riders, and they seemed to be waiting. Deeper within the forest itself, a light gleamed, yet dark boles of trees and cast shadows obstructed the view, and so Camille could not tell what was occurring therein.
Even as she watched, the glimmer within the woodland began to move, and shortly a borne lantern and a high-held torch showed four men and Wolves emerging.
The four mounted up, and they slowly rode back toward the castle, the Wolves ranging fore and aflank and aft.
She watched as they rode through the gathering, and the crowds gave way before them, especially before the Wolves, and voices called out, but the men rode grimly on and did not reply.
Over the bridge and into the courtyard and toward the stables the riders and Wolf pack fared, and Camille stepped back from the balcony and into the castle proper and went down the spiral stairs, making her way toward the ballroom to signal Valeray and the others that the men had returned.
. .
One at a time, so as to not alarm the echecs contestants, the royalty slipped from the grand ballroom to make their way up to the war chamber high in a tower central to the castle, a room with windows overlooking all approaches to the holt. Camille stepped out first, and she swiftly went to the stables and led the men to the chamber, where they awaited the arrival of the others, and one by one they drifted in: Liaze, Celeste, and finally Saissa and Valeray.
Both the king and queen looked upon Regar in puzzlement, and Borel said, “Sire, Dam, this is Prince Regar of the Wyldwood, grandson to the Fairy King. He went with us on the search.”
Valeray frowned and then his eyes lit in recognition. “Ah, I remember: you are the bowman who nearly won the contest at archery. Welcome, Prince.”
Regar bowed and replied, “Bastard prince at best, my lord, for the Fairy King did not wed my grandmother.”
“Nevertheless,” said Valeray, “in my halls you are a prince.”
He gestured toward the broad map table. “Let us be seated and speak of what you found.”
As soon as all were ensconced in chairs, Valeray turned to Borel and said, “What came to pass?”
Borel glanced at the others and said, “While Roel and the others were gathering the horses, Alain, Luc, the Wolves, and I went to Luc’s tent at the dawnwise end of the arena, and there we. .”
. .
“. . and that’s when the Bear came to the end of the trail.” Saissa said, “The Bear and the Wolves went through the center of the faire?”
“Oui, Maman.”
“I imagine that startled them.”
“Oui, Maman, yet there was no other way to follow the imposter to the source.” Regar looked at Alain in wonderment, and Alain smiled and shrugged a shoulder.
As the vial made its way ’round to Luc, to be slipped back into the pocket of his waistcoat, King Valeray sighed. “And so, to summarize what you have told me: Hradian came to ground in the woodland, went through the heart of the faire unnoticed, perhaps in a glamoured form; she paused at the dawnwise end of the arena and took on the guise of Liaze, mayhap using a potion; then she inveigled the amulet from Luc, after which she fled.”
“Oui, Papa,” said Alain, with Borel and the others nodding in glum agreement.
“Given the word of the Wolves and that of the Bear,” said Camille, “it was no Changeling that Scruff flew after, but instead it was Hradian in the shape of a crow, or glamoured to look like a crow, when she took flight, amulet in hand.” In the pall that followed, Luc slammed a fist to the table and exclaimed, “What a fool am I!”
“Non, Luc,” said Valeray. “Fooled, oui; a fool, non.”
“But I thought it peculiar that Liaze would ask for the key,” replied Luc. He shook his head and added, “I should have known it was not my truelove, but an imposter instead.” Even as Liaze reached out and took Luc’s hand, there came a tapping at the door, and servants entered bearing a tea service and a platter of small appetizers. They were followed by the steward of the Castle of the Seasons, a tall and spare blue-eyed man with dark hair touched by silver, who asked, “My lord, will you be dining herein?”
“Non, Claude. As before, we will be in the gold room. Set an extra plate for Prince Regar.”
“Oui, my lord,” said Claude, and he signaled the staff and they withdrew.
As Queen Saissa poured, and they passed the filled cups around, along with the appetizers-sauteed mushrooms stuffed with a light cheese-King Valeray sighed in resignation. “I suppose there’s nothing for it but that we must raise our armies and alert the realms and notify the Firsts.”
“The Firsts?” asked Regar.
