It took a day for Taggie and her ranger escort to clear the Farndorn Forest. When they did emerge on to the frozen fields beyond, snow was falling thickly, reducing visibility to a couple of hundred metres. But the greatest seers among the Karrak Ladies were searching for them. For her.
‘I can feel their questing,’ Mrs Veroomes said as the horses plodded on. The soft snowflakes were sticking to her cloak and building small dunes on the wide brim of her purple hat. ‘They know you are close – they feel people’s delight at your dreams. They are desperate to capture you.’ She took a handful of ash from a suede pouch, and cast it into the slow-moving snow so she could watch the particles drift down. ‘Many spies creep across the land, spreading poisoned words and making false promises to those they believe to be weak.’
‘What about the diversion?’ Wenuthi Jones asked. The ranger wore a tight woollen hat against the cold, and a long cloak fastened round his neck with an old tarnished gold chain. He seemed perfectly at ease riding through the snowy forest, but then Taggie couldn’t imagine many things bothering the resolute ranger.
Mrs Veroomes waved a hand through the drifting ash, stirring it. She studied the eddies as they spun amid the snow. ‘A great battalion is chasing the volunteers along the road to the sea. Several of the dark Lords accompany them.’
‘That’s good,’ the ranger chief said.
‘Do the Karrak Lords not try to conceal themselves?’ Mr Anatole asked in puzzlement.
Mrs Veroomes frowned, concentrating. ‘No.’
‘How strange. They normally cast a shade around their loathsome activities.’ He looked worried.
Piadrow and Sophie swooped down out of the snow-clotted sky to hover beside the Dolvoki Ranger. ‘It’s becoming difficult to scout through this,’ the skyman said. ‘Two of our party have flown ahead as far as the village of Barrowden, four miles yonder. The fields between here and there are clear of any Karrak minions.’
The prospect of getting off her horse and actually lying down on a bed was all that Taggie cared about now. Her saddle was indeed excellently crafted, and the mare a careful ride, but they’d been riding for hours. She was stiff and sore everywhere – and extra places too. Even Jemima had been quiet for the last part of the afternoon, which was telling.
‘I know the village,’ Wenuthi Jones said. ‘There is an inn there, the Green Duke. The landlord is a good man; we can rest there tonight.’
Taggie wanted to put her arms round the gruff ranger and kiss him.
It still seemed to take forever riding over the fields, avoiding the isolated farm houses. Above them, the moonclouds tightened their grip on the sunlight, thickening and darkening until there was barely any light left on the lands below.
A mile outside Barrowden, they crossed the canal that led to the village station.
Taggie looked down the long straight strip of ice, with its spongy banks of frozen reeds and snow-crusted willows looming overhead. She turned to look the other way, where the canal cut cleanly across the countryside. The snow which fell on the ice was over a foot thick, and hadn’t been disturbed. ‘Where have all the turtles gone?’ she asked plaintively.
‘They are in their sheds, hibernating,’ Felix told her as his paws gently tugged his pony’s mane, guiding it along.
‘How can the Karrak Lords do this? Why do they want to ruin other people’s lives?’
‘It is their nature,’ the big white squirrel said. ‘As it is our nature to delve into mysteries that should never be examined. There is so much history behind this time, Majesty. You cannot put it all right, you simply have to live the best you can – that is what life is for.’
Taggie nodded meekly. ‘I think I’m starting to understand that.’
The sight of the abandoned canal had been dismaying enough, but Taggie found the state of the village even more shocking. Many of the cheerful stone cottages had been burned out, their shaggy thatch roofs reduced to piles of ash amid the blackened walls, leaving a skeleton of eaves and rafters sticking up out of the ruins. The ones that remained intact were even worse off, Taggie thought. There were things growing on the stone walls – slimy mushrooms with crowns bigger than her head that dripped a dark-green milky mucus on to the ground where it trickled over the crusted snow. Toadstools with stems as long as her arm thrust up out of the wooden window ledges, while thick slippery ribbons of algae clung to the mortar between the stone.
‘What is this stuff?’ she asked, aghast.
‘Frost fungus, Majesty,’ Felix said with a shudder of revulsion rippling up the fur on his back. ‘It was infecting the capital when I left, and now it is spreading. We believe it originally came from the Dark Universe. There are few buildings left in the Fourth Realm that survive its vile growth.’
As they led their horses through the narrow streets, the blind bulbs of the frost fungus stirred, bending slightly like seaweed caught in a current, yet there was nothing in the air but the gentle drift of snow.
Taggie wondered where everyone had gone. Nobody was outside, which was understandable. But no lights were visible in windows, no smoke curled from chimneys.
‘Where are they all?’ she asked.
‘Some remain here, my Queen-to-be,’ Mrs Veroomes said. ‘I can see them huddled fearfully in their homes. Most have gone, fled to the countryside and forests. Barrowden is close to the capital, many of the Karrak patrols have passed through, burning and pillaging. Those who remain have stout hearts indeed.’
The frost-fungus growths had only just begun to creep up the walls of the Green Duke. The inn’s front door was closed and the windows tightly shuttered. Wenuthi Jones knocked quietly. There was no reply. He knocked again.
‘We are closed – there is no ale left,’ a muffled voice said from inside.
‘Ronuld, it’s Wenuthi. I have two young girls with me, they need a bed for a night.’
There was a long pause, then the sound of heavy bolts being drawn back. The door opened and a chubby hand thrust a lantern out. Somewhere in the shadows big round eyes blinked.
‘Two girls?’ Ronuld exclaimed. ‘And a small army of your fellow rangers, which you neglected to mention. Wenuthi Jones, you will be the death of me yet.’
‘One night,’ the ranger said. ‘That is all. And a short one at that.’
The door opened wider, and Ronuld the innkeeper emerged from the dark. He was one of the round people, Taggie saw, his head moving from side to side on a short neck that was almost invisible behind drooping folds of chins and cheeks. His short arms waved excitably. ‘The dark patrols are everywhere. They already burned my stables, accusing me of harbouring spies. They would have burned the Green Duke itself if they weren’t so fond of my ale – not that they ever pay for it.’
Taggie slipped her coat’s hood back, and smiled down at the round man. ‘Mr Ronuld, I’m truly sorry to have put you in this position, but we really are very tired, and our seer can foretell a patrol coming from a long way off. We will be gone after a few hours, you have my word on it.’
Ronuld’s jaw dropped open. ‘Our – our Queen-to-be,’ he stammered. He tried to drop to one knee, which his bulk made impossible, so he wound up squatting in the snow.
‘Please,’ Taggie said, clambering down off her horse. ‘Get up, it’s cold out here. May we come in?’
‘Of course, Majesty, of course.’
The skyfolk fluttered down out of the snow, welcoming the refuge afforded by the inn. Rangers busied themselves caring for their horses, then hurried into the warm parlour to join everyone else. Taggie and Jemima claimed a table near the embers of the fire Felix, Sophie and Mr Anatole sat with them. Wenuthi Jones sat with Mrs Veroomes on the next table, talking earnestly in quiet voices; they seemed to know each other well. The rest of the rangers spread out around the parlour with the skymen who folded their wings down flat while they were indoors.
Ronuld tipped several fresh dry logs on the embers, kicking up a small flurry of sparks which drifted up the wide stone chimney. Then he waved at his nervous son who came in carrying a tray of food. ‘I’m sorry there is so little,’ he said bitterly as the boy started handing out plates. ‘But the Karrak forces plunder us every time they pass through, and there is no more food coming from the farms. Our stores are almost exhausted.’
‘This is more than enough,’ Taggie assured him as she chewed on a thick slice of bread, with a portion of hard cheese on top. At least there was hot tea.
‘I’m worried about us coming here,’ she said quietly to Felix as the round man went over to one of the rangers, offering more tea.
Felix looked up from the bowl of seed he was eating. The snow and frost had melted off his fur, which was now looking badly matted. ‘If Wenuthi vouches for Ronuld, we have nothing to fear,’ the squirrel replied.
‘It’s not that. As soon as the innkeeper saw me, he knew who I was. So did everyone in the Farndorn camp. If they do, so will the Rannalal and every spy the dark brethren employ.’
‘He knew who you were only when you revealed yourself to him. When we venture into the palace, you will be heavily disguised.’
‘I suppose so, and I will practise the wardveil. It’s just I’d hate to think I’m the one who’s going to ruin this. We have to be successful. We cannot fail.’
‘All here understand what is at stake, Princess. And I think if catastrophe lay ahead, Mrs Veroomes would see it.’
‘Actually,’ Jemima said. ‘The one thing seers can never see is their own death. Mrs Veroomes told me. Imagine if you could, if you spent your whole life watching the moment approaching. She said it would drive you mad. And she’s right.’
‘So we don’t know if we’re going to succeed,’ Taggie said miserably.
‘It is a good plan,’ Sophie said. ‘And the most steadfast of my flock will be waiting above the palace to lift you away from any trouble.’
Taggie smiled at her friend. ‘Yes – yes, you’re right. I’m sorry . . . I’m just tired and worried.’
‘You have every right to be,’ Sophie said. ‘But we’re here to help in any way we can.’
Taggie looked round the stone-walled parlour, lit only by a few flickering candles and the fire in the hearth. Skyfolk and rangers were starting to relax as they ate their small meal, saying little but united in one cause. She cursed herself for not showing them enough gratitude during the day. They had come with her on a wild scheme to rescue her father, who they all believed had deserted them. They came because she could lay claim to the shell throne, and because of that they would willingly lay down their lives for her. She owed them so much. She scraped back her chair and stood up.
‘I just want to say thank you,’ Taggie announced to everyone in a wavery voice. ‘And tomorrow, if things start to go wrong, or look impossible, I want you to know I won’t be stupid and just carry on regardless, even though it’s my father who’s in the dungeon. He knew the responsibility that would fall upon me one day, and did his best to protect me until I was ready. Getting captured by the Karrak Lords now would be a betrayal of all his hopes, of everything he did. And I believe he knows that. Thank you.’
‘Well said, my dear,’ Mrs Veroomes said. ‘Yes, well said indeed.’ She raised a small glass of red wine.
Sophie gave Taggie a big hug. ‘You know that your comfort reaches all those who dream in the First Realm, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then remember this. Last night, your father will have felt your touch. He will know you’re alive, and that you’re here. He knows, Taggie, he knows. Imagine how happy he is knowing you’re safe.’
‘I never thought of that,’ Taggie said. ‘You’re right. Oh, I wonder if I can find him in my dreams tonight.’
‘Well it’s about time you found out, if you don’t mind me saying so, Majesty,’ Wenuthi Jones said. ‘You need to sleep. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow will be even longer.’ He scowled at the ceiling. ‘Not that we will know daylight again, until you regain the throne.’