“Oui. But dire events are afoot, and all must answer the call.
— Now come, for Prince Regar and Sieur Blaise await.”
“Blaise I know, but who is this Regar?”
Flic leapt into the air. “I’ll introduce you.” He sped downward, Buzzer winging after, and, with a sigh, Fleurette followed.
. .
In the courtyard, four knights and a bastard prince, along with four guides-one from each of the Forests of the Seasons-all of them buckled in armor and strapped with weaponry, waited for attendants to bring horses and remounts from the stables.
Standing at hand were King Valeray and Queen Saissa, Princesses Celeste and Liaze, Prince Borel and Michelle, Prince Alain and Camille, Sieur Emile and Lady Simone and Vicomtesse Avelaine. Nearby a pack of Wolves lolled upon the cool granite of the courtyard.
“Ride with care,” said Valeray, “for we know not what traps Hradian might have set.”
“Sire,” said Alain, “they go in haste.”
“Oui,” said Valeray, “I know, I know: safety and haste oft are strangers to one another. Even so, even agallop, it pays to keep an eye toward what might be dangers ahead.”
“Damn!” blurted Borel, “but I would go, too, were it not for these closing ceremonies four days hence.” Slate and the pack lifted their heads and looked expectantly at Borel, the Wolves eager to be away from this great stone den.
“Ah, my brother,” said Alain, “what could you do in the Winterwood and I in the Summerwood that Sieurs Laurent and Blaise will not already have under way by the time we reach our respective manors?”
Borel merely growled and turned up his hands in a sign of exasperation.
“Right,” said Alain.
Saissa said, “My son, e’en though the alert will be sounded in this realm on this day, still we must put on a show of normality here at the faire, for morale purposes if nought else.”
“Oui,” growled Borel, “but do all of us have to be present for the closing?”
“King, queen, princes, and princesses, and even prince Duran,” said Saissa, “as it has ever been.” Borel drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out, and Michelle took him by the hand and smoothed out his clenched fingers. Borel looked at her and fleetingly smiled, and with his other hand he made a signal to Slate. The big male Wolf dropped his head, the pack following suit.
The attendants brought horses, remounts tethered behind, and at that same time Flic and Fleurette and Buzzer arrived and settled to the cantle of one of the saddles, and, after a welcoming of the tiny femme and the bee, Flic introduced Fleurette and Buzzer to Prince Regar.
Regar slapped a tricorn upon his simple bronze helm and said, “Lord Borel and Lady Michelle assure me that when you are not flying this is your customary mode of transport.”
“Indeed it is, my lord,” said Flic. “And now about some honey, Fleurette and Buzzer need to break their fast, and I could do with a nip myself.”
Regar smiled and pointed up to his three-cornered hat and said, “Even now there is a dollop in place along the back brim of this cocked chapeau.”
Flic laughed and sprang into the air, and he and Fleurette and Buzzer darted to the tricorn and the meal thereon.
With tears in her eyes, Lady Simone stepped forward and embraced in turn her three sons, Avelaine following. And Celeste kissed Roel, even as Liaze kissed Luc.
And then all the men mounted up and rode out over the bridge, and, with each following a guide, Laurent headed starwise and Roel dawnwise, while Blaise and Prince Regar-with his two sprites and a bee aboard-fared sunwise and Luc duskwise. They spurred the horses and away they galloped, warriors running in haste on their separate but allied missions.
From a corner of the parapets above, where the ones left behind had rushed to, they watched until the riders finally vanished among the trees beyond.
“May Mithras ward them all,” said Saissa, and the others nodded in mute agreement.
Moments passed in silence, then Borel sighed and looked at Michelle. “Ah, well, tomorrow morn I will send you and my warband on to the Winterwood, and then follow after the faire is done.”
Michelle nodded. “I understand.”
“But I do not,” said Avelaine.
Michelle smiled and said, “Lady Avelaine, were I to wait, I would merely slow the prince down on his journey home.” Avelaine looked at Borel, an unspoken question in her eyes, and he said, “With remounts for me, I can travel to Winterwood Manor in but a day.”
“I see,” said Avelaine, but then she frowned and said, “Yet, my lord, you would go alone?”
“I will not be alone, for my Wolves will be at my side.”
“Can they keep up?”
Borel barked a laugh. “Ah, Lady Avelaine, my Wolves, if let run free, could be there in even less time. Non, they will easily hold pace with the horses.”
“Speaking of leaving,” said Celeste, “I think it would be wise, Lady Avelaine, were you and half of my warband to start out for Port Mizone on the morrow as well.” Avelaine frowned in puzzlement. “But why?” Celeste held up two fingers and said, “Two reasons.” She ticked down the first finger. “Your husband, Vicomte Chevell, readies a war fleet to go after the corsairs, and I would have you to your home ere he sets sail on that mission.”
“And the second reason?”
Celeste ticked down the remaining finger. “You are with child, and we know not when Hradian might strike, and so I would have you safely away, not only from here but also well beyond the Springwood, for we are her deadly enemies, and she would like nought more than to see us slain, and I would not have you and your unborn be caught in the storm to come.” In spite of Avelaine’s protests to the contrary, all agreed this was the wisest course. Avelaine continued to protest, but finally Valeray said, “Lady Avelaine, must I command it done?” Avelaine curtseyed and said, “No, my lord, I bow to your will.”
And Sieur Emile stepped forward and embraced Avelaine and whispered, “My daughter, I am loath to see you go, yet it is best for you and Lord Chevell and the child now in your womb.” And Avelaine looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes, and she whispered in return, “Oui, Papa, I know.” And even as it was decided, Sprites came winging toward the Castle of the Seasons in answer to the bugled call.
. .
“Crows, you say?”
Valeray nodded at the tiny, black-haired femme. “Oui, Peti.”
“And Flic and Fleurette saw this witch, this Hradian speaking to them?” Again Valeray nodded. “We reason she set them at the starwise bounds of the four Forests of the Seasons to ward against the alarm being spread from here by Sprites. Flic suggests that you fly at night when the crows are asleep.” Peti sighed and said, “Ah, oui, at night, when the silent owls are awake instead, and just as dangerous.”
Beside her, a brown-haired male Sprite said, “I know this Flic. He bears a silver epee, less likely to snap in twain than thorns we at times use to defend ourselves.”
“You use thorns?” asked Emile.
“Oui. Though usually our quickness alone is enough to cope with crows and such, there are occasions when a long slender thorn is a better way to deal with a foe.” The Sprite turned to Valeray. “If you provide us with epees like Flic’s, we would appreciate having them. Regardless, thorns or silver, we can not only spread the alarm throughout Faery, we can deal with the crows as they sleep on their perches.”
“Mais oui!” exclaimed Peti. “You have hit upon it, Trit. And we can enlist the aid of the Root Dwellers in dealing with the crows in the night.”
“Root Dwellers?” asked Avelaine.
“The wee folk we saw on our journey here,” said Celeste, holding one hand above the other to indicate a being some few inches to a foot tall. “They live among the roots of the trees.”
“Ah, those,” said Avelaine. “I remember.” Valeray looked at Saissa, and she said, “We’ll round up all the pins and needles and such that we can find.”
