Once upon a dreadful time

Jotun then collected the slain of the throng-Hradian one of these-and all were burned without ceremony, Raseri providing the flame.

Allies looked on with mixed emotions as the corpse of the witch was consumed by fire, for it was she who was responsible for setting Orbane free. The humans and the Firsts watched with grim satisfaction, whereas the Fairies themselves looked on in misery, for had she not acted, Orbane would yet be alive, and they all remembered him as a beautiful child who had somehow turned to iniquity.

Yet Camille came unto the Fey Lord and his queen, and she spoke of the Keltoi and their silver tongues, bards who caught the ear of the gods themselves, and they in turn made Faery manifest. Camille posited that one of these bards had told of a Fairy child named Orbane and the things that came of that.

Both Auberon and Gloriana took small solace in Camille’s supposition, yet mayhap in time it would give them comfort to think that it was nought they had done to turn their only child toward wickedness.

And after the fires had burned away, all rested for two days, for the campaign had been hard, and humans and Fey were weary. It was during this time, as Michelle lay sleeping, Slate looked at her and then at Borel, sitting and watching the sunrise, and Slate said: Master’s bitch cub-smart. Walk stealthy.

Talk good True-People-speak.

Borel cocked his head to one side: What?

Slate: Master’s bitch talk good True-People-speak.

Blue-eye: Walk stealthy.

Dark: Run fast.

Render: Cub-smart. Learn fast.

Shank: Talk almost good master.

Loll: Bitch lead fight.

Trot: Pack protect.

The next thing Michelle knew, Borel had picked her up and was whirling her about and laughing, and then he stopped and kissed her gently. She knew not what caused this outburst of joy but she did not question it; instead, she reveled in his glee and returned his kiss with passion.

The next day each faction of the allies set out for their various homelands: the Fairy army heading for The Halls Under the Hills; the Firsts withdrawing to go to their individual lieus, Jotun winging away on a lark as a Twig Man, heading for his mountain pass; various human brigades, with Sprites leading them, faring for their own domains; and Valeray and his family starting for the Forests of the Seasons, with Regar and Lisane accompanying them, for Saissa had asked them to come.

Ere they set out, Michelle kissed her sire, Duke Roulan, and promised to come unto Roulan Vale soon. And the duke and King Valeray embraced one another, for they were thieving comrades of old. Luc clasped Leon and said that he and Liaze would be at the Blue Chateau in the Lake of the Rose ere the summer came ’round again. And Auberon hugged Regar and asked him to visit soon, for there was much he would tell his grandson. Auberon also told Valeray and his family to keep the colts of Asphodel until they reached their goals, and then to simply whisper “pays natal” in their ears and turn them loose, and they would find their way home. Still more fond farewells were passed among those there, and then all parted their ways.

And so, among bugle cries and calls of “farewell” and “adieu” and those of “Mithras go with you,” the allies parted and rode away on separate tracks.

. .

Some six moons later, Valeray’s family sat before the great fireplace at the Castle of Seasons. A chill was in the air, for early spring was on the land, and in the demesne of Le Coeur de les Saisons, as the name suggests, the seasons followed their natural courses, unlike in the immediately adjoining domains, forever locked in spring, summer, autumn, and winter.

And they mused over all that had occurred in the conflict with Orbane, for there were yet questions unresolved.

“We saw the Reaper under his oak on our way here,” said Liaze.

“Moissonneur?” asked Valeray.

“Oui.”

“Oh, my,” said Camille, shivering, “I think I’ll never look upon him quite the same way.”

“I think none of us will, my dear,” said Saissa.

“What did he look like?” asked Celeste, her eyes wide with remembered vision.

“His usual,” replied Liaze, “a big redheaded man in homespun garb with a great scythe across his knees.”

“What did he have to say for himself?” asked Borel.

“Just that Faery is the one place he can come and simply be himself,” said Luc.

“Ah. .” said Valeray, and they all fell to silence, each lost in his own thoughts, and the fire in the great hearth crackled and popped and was the only sound heard.

Finally, Valeray said, “I still do not understand how it was that Duran was able to set us free, for he had no special amulet, nor did he have any-”

“We can answer that,” came a voice, amid the sound of looms weaving. And of a sudden the Three Sisters stood before the family. Urd cackled and turned to warm her hands before the blaze, while both Skuld and Verdandi faced the gathering.

Valeray and the men got to their feet and bowed, and Saissa and the ladies stood and curtseyed. Verdandi waved them back to their seats, and Skuld looked at Camille and said, “Your son Duran could get out because he yet has that which each of you has lost”-Skuld fixed Valeray with a darting glance-“some more than others.” She turned back to Camille. “Oh, Duran will lose it, too, yet at this time of his life he is truly an innocent, hence the Castle of Shadows could not contain him. You see, it is the lack of innocence that confines one therein and makes escape impossible, unless an innocent leads you out. And when Duran grasped your hand, he could set you free. Lack of innocence kept Orbane imprisoned for many long seasons; and none could come and rescue him, for he had no one in his life who was blameless-certainly not him nor any of his acolytes.”

“What of my amulet?” asked Luc. “It allowed a wicked person to lead Orbane to freedom.”

“Your amulet, Prince Luc, confers an aura of innocence upon the wearer, but only to the semisentient Castle of Shadows does it seem so, for those who crafted the castle foresaw that one day such might be needed, though they didn’t anticipate someone as vile as Hradian would let an even more wicked person out.

Regardless, that’s how Hradian set Orbane free.”

“Oh my,” said Camille, “and here, Lady Urd, I thought you might have meant Duran when you said in your rede ‘the least shall set you free,’ and at the time I thought it applied to that prison. But now I know it to have been meant for the linn at the River of Time and applied to my Scruff.” She turned and looked at the wee bird perched on a stand at her side.

As Urd cackled, Skuld said, “Your Scruff, Camille? Do you forget who gave you the sparrow?”

“Oh, non, Lady Skuld. It was you in your guise of Lady Sorciere who did so.” Skuld nodded, as if to say, Just so.

Roel smiled and looked at Lady Doom.

“Well, young man,” snapped Urd, “what have you to say for yourself, grinning at me like a village idiot sitting on a welcoming wall?” Roel barked a short laugh and said, “It’s just that when I was trying to resolve your rede, I thought that, in addition to Duran, Flic or Fleurette or even Buzzer could have been the ‘least’ who would set us free. It never occurred to me it might be Scruff, a sparrow.”

The wee bird chirped somewhat querulously and cocked an eye toward Roel.

“Oh, Scruff, I did not mean to ruffle your feathers,” said Roel, and then he laughed.

“Scruff is the reason we are here,” said Verdandi.

“Scruff?” asked Camille, alarm in her voice. Tears came into Camille’s eyes. “You said one day you would come to reclaim him.”

“Oui,” said Skuld. “You see, he was cursed by the Fairy Queen, and to break the curse he first had to perform three deeds of heroism ere he could be set free.”

“Scruff is cursed?” blurted Celeste.

“Did you not hear what my older sister said?” snapped Urd.