anywhere within the four forests.”
“That we do not know,” said Flic, peering toward distant trees and the clear skies above. Then he added, “Regar is correct. We should all go together.” A silence fell among them, and they continued to break their fast. And soon the horses were led across the sward toward the gazebo. One was fitted with a small rack, several modest bags of provisions affixed thereon. Of the other three horses, two were completely unladen, while one was fully equipped with tack, saddlebags included.
Followed by Buzzer, Flic flew up and landed on one of the bags and said to the hostler, “I say, have you enough honey packed away in these? Buzzer will require quite a bit, you know; we don’t want to have to stop along the way to gather nectar because we’ve run out.”
“Three full jars, wee sieur.” The stableman held his hands in such a way to indicate the size.
“Perhaps it is enough,” said Flic, frowning, for as yet he did not know just how far hence the halls of the Fairy King lay.
He looked at Buzzer and then flew back to the gazebo. “Prince Regar, are we ready to leave?”
Regar downed the last of his tea and stood. “As soon as you point the way.”
“Follow me,” said Flic, and he flew to a large flat of flagstone on the path bordering a flowerbed nearby, Buzzer and Fleurette following awing, Blaise and Regar afoot. As soon as the Sprites and bee alighted, Flic said, “Now let me see, nigh the entrance to the halls of the King Under the Hill, there are white phlox and purple thistle and tiny bluebells. Oh, and yellow poppies, but only in spring.” He frowned. “I wonder what season it is there?”
“It was summer in Valeray’s demesne,” said Fleurette, “and I believe his realm properly follows the march of the sun.”
“Oh, then,” said Flic, “tiger lilies instead, but only near streams.”
Flic sank to his knees and it appeared he was speaking to the bee, yet what he said, only Fleurette seemed to have a glimmering. Buzzer began a peculiar wiggling and buzzing dance, Flic paying rapt attention. Back and forth in a straight line the bee wriggled, pausing now and again to thrum her wings. And then Buzzer began dancing in a different direction, and again and again she buzzed and wriggled and paused. Once more and again and several times thereafter she changed the course of the dance, each on a separate tack. Finally, she stopped, and Flic shook his head and growled.
“What is it?” asked Blaise.
Flic sighed. “Buzzer knows of a number of places with all four things, some closer than others, but most of them quite far. Now let me think, is there anything more? — Oh, of course, the large dolmen and the light that streams out. But wait, that only happens at night, when Buzzer is quite asleep.” He pondered a bit more, and then said, “Aha! I have it. It’s where we spent a fortnight waiting for Prince Borel to emerge; Buzzer knows him as Slowfoot Who Does Not Fly.”
Again Flic conversed with the bee, and Buzzer took up the dance once more, now wriggling and buzzing and pausing, this time in a single direction.
“Good,” said Flic, looking up at Regar. “She has it. Yon is our way.” Flic pointed, aiming more or less in the direction the bee had danced: a bit to sun of duskwise, or as some would name it, more or less west-southwest. “There are a few marges of twilight to cross. Still, it is much shorter than the twisty path that Prince Borel and I took to get there, for we went many other places ere aiming for the halls of the King Under the Hill.” Regar smiled and said, “Well then, let us hie.” He turned to Blaise and the two men embraced and pounded one another on the back, and Regar said, “I will do my best to rally my Fairy King grandsire to bring his armies to join in the battle against Orbane, should the wizard get free.”
Blaise nodded and said, “If Orbane does escape, then, just as we sent the warning throughout the lands, so too shall we send word as to where to assemble.”
“Well and good,” said Regar. “And even if my grandsire disapproves and refuses to join, certainly I will be there.”
“And I,” said Flic, flashing his tiny silver epee on high.
“Buzzer, too, for we are mighty with our stingers.”
“And I,” said Fleurette, “even if I have to fight with nought but a thorn.”
“Oh, Fleurette,” said Flic, “I think it too dangerous for-”
“Nonsense, Flic,” snapped Fleurette. “Where you go, so go I.”
Regar turned to Blaise and said sotto voce, “Methinks it will be a very long journey if these two continue to argue over who should and should not join the fight.”
Blaise laughed and said, “Methinks you are right, Prince.” Regar slapped the tricorn on his helm and mounted the saddled steed.
Flic and Fleurette, yet squabbling, flew up to stand in the prow of the three-cornered hat, and with a whispered word to Buzzer, the bee flew up and ’round and took a bearing on the sun, then shot off on a direct line a bit to sun of duskwise.
“May Mithras hold you in his hand,” said Blaise.
“You as well, my friend,” replied Regar. And he spurred away following the beeline, with remounts and the pack animal in tow.
Across the sward they cantered, veering to go out one of the gates in the long wall surrounding the immediate estate. Then they hewed back to the line Buzzer flew, and toward the far wooded rise of the wide vale they angled.
Blaise watched until they at last disappeared among the boles of the green-leafed forest. Then he turned and headed back toward the manor, for there was much planning to do to make ready for an oncoming war.
Redes
From Springwood Manor at dawn, four messenger falcons took flight; they were conveying missives to the other three manors of the Forests of the Seasons as well as to Valeray’s castle. Likewise did four falcons fly from Summerwood Manor, and four each from the Autumnwood and Winterwood. The message capsules held tidings of arrivals, with three sets bearing reports of meetings with the Three Sisters and of the redes they spoke, and one set-those from the Autumnwood-speaking of the Reaper’s odd words. Not long thereafter-ere midmorn had come- the skies above the various manors and o’er the Castle of the Seasons were filled with the
In the manors, stewards read the words and then took the messages to the knights, while in the castle, the king summoned queen and prince and princess alike, as well as Sieur Emile and Lady Simone.
“Hmm. .” mused Valeray as he passed the messages about,
“If Skuld and Verdandi and Urd are involved, then dire events lie before us.”
“Yet,” said Camille, “if Raseri is found in time to intercept Hradian, then mayhap all can be avoided.”
Saissa sighed. “I would not hold hope for such, Camille, for it would appear from the words of the redes that Raseri will not be found.”
“I agree,” said Celeste. “Look at this one from Blaise. He tells that Lady Lot said:
“That certainly sounds to me as if war with Orbane is inevitable. I mean, Verdandi says ‘the die is cast,’ and so what else would we interpret it to mean?”
A pall fell upon the gathering, and Borel said, “Then should we not leave now, return to our demesnes and prepare?”
“What could you do that Laurent isn’t already doing?” asked Simone.
Borel growled in frustration and said, “At least I would be doing
“I would go, too, Brother,” said Alain, “yet surely Blaise is taking all necessary steps, and I could add little.”
