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THE FORTRESS OF KOLADA’S dark stone walls stood ominous against the forested landscape behind it. How much countryside it encompassed, Lorica could not tell, but it seemed to stretch well into the greenbelt along the river to the east, and disappeared into the woods northward. No castle tower stood in the center, as in the fortress of Ogress.
The road leading to the gateway wound through grassy fields now fading into winter’s frost, though some patches nearer the river remained green. Horses grazed in these fields, and as Lorica neared the pastures she feasted on the beauty of the animals. They were not like the saddle horses belonging to travelers who rode to Tuluva. She had never seen beasts such as these. They were tall and majestic with proud arched necks. Their manes were long, some extending to the ground with shiny coats of black and chestnut brown. Several of them spotted Lorica and the children and lifted their heads, ears attentive to the intruders.
“Mother, look at them!” Crispin declared. He had been walking by her side this morning and the sight of the horses drew a breath of excitement from him. He stopped to admire the animals.
“What a special sight that is,” she agreed. “We should be so lucky to see these beautiful beasts on such a pleasant morning.”
“I’m going to love it here!” Kandace declared from the cart, holding her puppet in her arms and grinning. “I love horses. Do you think Lord Baron will let me ride one?”
“You don’t know how to ride,” Crispin stated.
“Neither do you.”
“Surely I do.” When Lorica gave him a scowl he added, “at least I’m old enough to learn.”
“Anyone can learn to sit on a horse,” Kandace argued.
“But if you don’t take control of the horse you’ll fall and break your legs.” Crispin returned. “In any case, these horses are so large you’ll never be able to get on them alone.”
“You could boost me,” Kandace said, and Crispin snorted.
“I do hope you two don’t squabble like that when we get to Kolada. The sophisticated world doesn’t put up with such nonsense,” Lorica scolded.
Lorica could barely keep up with her children when they came to the city gates and ran to the cliffs of the moat as the drawbridge lowered for morning commerce.
Merchants congregated around the gateway with their oxen carts bearing wares from neighboring villages—livestock, fabric, and metalworks. So many people huddled together in a montage of color and scents it was overwhelming even for her. Lorica lifted Kandace into the cart for fear the child might get lost, and Crispin she followed as closely as she could.
“See this wagon, Mother!” He looked over his shoulder as the throng shoved him forward. “They have crossbows! Different kinds and sizes. Look!”
When the iron bars of portcullis lifted, the crowd pushed him beyond the armory’s wagon as they swarmed the entry. Lorica tried to keep up as the guards ushered them onto the bridge. Kandace leaned over the side of the cart, enthralled by the swans that floated on the clear waters of the moat.
“Wait up for me,” Lorica called to Crispin, but he had gotten lost in the crowd and her voice drowned from the noise. Her heart raced in fear for him. She jogged as quickly as she could with the weight of the wagon, though the crowd restrained her movement. Never had she been among so many people so tightly packed together. They smelled of wool and perspiration, goat, and oxen. Their voices became a low roar, men, and women alike mumbled, laughed and shouted and a donkey brayed. She kept her eyes ahead of her, eyeing Crispin’s gray cap bouncing among the many other cowls and hats and bald heads. Eventually she lost him.
Once within the walls of the fortress, the merchants traveled through the city streets, the masses thinning once some people turned down alleys and others up various lanes. Lorica followed the mainstream of folk to the marketplace and stopped near a well to take a breath.
“Where’s Crispin?” Kandace asked.
“We’ll find him,” Lorica replied, drawing water from the well and ladling out a drink for her daughter.
“He shouldn’t have run off. Why doesn’t he ever get in trouble?”
“Kandace, please, let me do the mothering.”
The girl sighed and wiped the drips from her chin. “Where does Lord Sylvester live?” She handed the ladle back to Lorica.
“I’m not sure. We’ll have to ask, but someone will know. Keep an eye out for your brother.”
So many people and such a busy market, that a sick feeling came over her which would not fade until she found her son. Boys his age swarmed the streets, tricking her eye. She wondered if something had happened to him already, otherwise it would seem he’d be looking for her in a centralized location. She shuddered at the thought of him lying in an alley somewhere overtaken by a seizure.
Vendors crowded the center plaza with tarps for shade and make-shift kennels for goats and chickens, stands of fruit, vegetables, and smoked fish. Lorica moved through the shopping lanes with her cart pausing to watch a bearded merchant, his head wrapped in a cloth headdress, balance a customer’s coins on his scale weighing it against a glass weight. He shook his head.
“Not enough.”
The patron grumbled and reached in a leather bag tied to his waist, adding a few more pennies to the plate.
“Yes?” he asked. The merchant grimaced and waved his fingers for more. When one more was dropped onto the scale, the merchant gathered the coins and quickly tucked them away in his own bag, nodding to the patron to pick up his purchase.
When the customer had left, the merchant looked up at Lorica.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I’m looking for Lord Sylvester,” Lorica said. The man laughed.
“Everyone is looking for Lord Sylvester.” He shook his head and went on to another customer. “Seems the baron would avoid us all!”
“Can you tell me where he lives?”
Looking over his shoulder, he eyed Kandace in the cart. “I don’t know what your dealings with the baron are, but you’d best be cautious when you mention his name. There are folks in this village on the warpath against the lord. If they suspect you’re his friend, you might have a difficult time. Keep your young one close to you.”
With that he turned his back on her. Lorica’s face heated up and she looked at the people who had crowded around her. She should find Crispin and worry about Lord Sylvester later. She moved away.
There was an inn at the intersection of the square and a livery next to it. Perhaps someone there had seen her son, or maybe he had gone there looking for her. Despondent that the Ogress tax collector had taken all her money, she dreaded selling her cart or possibly her blankets when she ran out of food. But lodging would be costly, and she wasn’t sure if Lord Sylvester would allow his wizard to see her son without recompense. These were complications she hadn’t expected, but for now Crispin was her foremost concern.
“I think he’s probably at that armory,” Kandace said, pointing to a blacksmith’s tent. “I’m hungry,” she added.
“There’s bread and cheese in the pack.”
“There’s sausage over there.” Kandace pointed to a merchant booth where strings of sausage hung over a table, the aroma of which met Lorica’s nostrils as soon as she turned her head. Poor child, if Lorica hadn’t been robbed in Ogress, she’d have bought her children a treat such as that, they deserved so much more.
“There’s bread and cheese in the pack,” Lorica repeated and nodded at their bag near Kandace’s lap. With that she pulled the cart toward the blacksmith’s tent.
A young man worked the billow’s over a raging fire, fanning the flames with each push of wind. His face, red from both the reflection and the heat, shone. Droplets of sweat dripped down his forehead. So focused was he that he did not see Lorica as she drew near. The smith, though, glanced up at her, his white beard shimmered with firelight as he beat the red hot tip of a sword—the sound of his mallet ringing off the anvil.
“What can I do for you, miss?” he asked. “
“I’m looking for my son.”
The man grunted and stopped his work. He looked around him, shaking his head. “No son here.”
“I thought perhaps he came by recently. He’s besotted by weapons and how they’re made, and I thought he’d be attracted to your tent.”
When the man didn’t respond, she went on.
“He has light hair and bright blue eyes. He’s twelve years old, wearing a tan tunic. Carries a cross bow. We’ve been on the road for a few days so he’s wearing a bit of dust on him.”
The man carried his blade to the fire and placed the tip of it in the coals while his helper continued to feed the flames. He wiped his hands with his apron and stepped up to Lorica.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Taken aback that he should ask so directly, she hesitated so he cleared his throat.
“An introduction is in order. My name is Benjamin Duringham and it’s me the townsfolk come to with questions, looking for council and seeking advice. They tell me their secrets, so I don’t rightly open up to strangers. But you look like an honest woman.”
“My name is Lorica from Tuluva.”
He nodded. “I’ve seen a lad here who might be your son. Dust all over him and bore a crossbow on his back. Some bolts in a quiver and a cap on his head that looked like his mother might have made it. Yes?”
Lorica exhaled deeply, realizing she’d been holding her breath.
“He took off with another young man the town knows well. Hadley’s his name.” He scratched his beard and gave her a leery eye. “I don’t know your boy, but I know the other one. You’re an outsider so I’ll give you counsel. There’s been trouble in this town. Not long ago the king’s men arrested good folk who were fighting a just cause. Wasn’t right that they were taken away, but the king might understand and let them loose once he talks to them. I don’t know about that. What I do know is that the Hadley boy who ran off with your son had been stirring up trouble and some say he’s partly the cause of why the village is up in arms. It might not be a good idea to allow your boy to associate with him.”
“Which way did they go?” Lorica’s hands began to sweat, and her heart raced. Trouble with the villagers would be more than she could manage.
“They took off down the road toward Lord Sylvester’s castle.” He nodded toward a road leading from the center of the village.
“Thank you.”
So anxious over this new friend Crispin made, exhaustion no longer overwhelmed her. She picked up the cart and with Kandace bouncing in the bed, headed in the direction the blacksmith had pointed.
Fallen leaves covered the road, and more fell as they crunched under her shoes. A breeze chilled her cheeks, and the blue sky of the morning yielded to the dark clouds of a storm. Lorica would need to find Crispin soon and then they would all have to seek shelter before the storm.
Her fears lessened when she saw two young men on the road ahead.
“Mother!”
“Crispin? Why didn’t you wait for me in the square, I was so worried!”
Anxiety had not spoiled his outlook, evidently, for he wore a smile, and he was filled with more energy than she had seen in him for a long time. He pranced up to her, his friend trailing behind equally as cheerful.
“This is Hadley, Mother. I befriended him at the blacksmith’s and look what he gave me!” Crispin held up a dagger with an intricately carved hilt and a freshly oiled sheath. The artwork took her breath away, but more the fact that a stranger would be so generous. Remembering the smith’s words, she studied the boy standing a few feet away from her son. Something about the lad impressed her as being familiar, as if she’d seen him before but couldn’t place where.
“Hadley,” she nodded. “What a generous gift. Thank you.”
“What’s better is that Hadley knows Lord Sylvester and he’ll take us to his castle.”
“Is that so? Is that where you were going?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hadley said, and Lorica drew a breath.
“Without us?” she asked her son quietly.
Crispin laughed, and looked at his friend with mockery in his eyes, but perhaps she imagined that.
“Why hadn’t you looked for your sister and I in the village? Were you going to the baron’s house by yourself?”
“Of course not. We were going to come back for you and now we don’t have to. What luck!” With that Crispin nodded toward Hadley who turned and led the way.
Lorica hesitated and took his arm. “Crispin, I need to talk to you.”
In the second that he turned toward her the blue of magic sparked out of him and then it was gone.
“What for, Mother? We’re together now and this is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?”
Stunned by the aura and shocked by the disrespectful way he spoke, she scowled. “I’m not ready to meet a nobleman, and neither are you. We’re both filthy and must wash up and change into more presentable clothes.”
“Where?” Crispin mocked.
Kandace threw a bread crumb at her brother. “You shouldn’t talk to Mother like that, either. You’re lucky she doesn’t put a switch to your behind!” Her chewing made her words thick and mumbled but the message came across clearly.
“It’s fine, milady,” Hadley said. “Lord Sylvester doesn’t expect you to be cleaned up. Lady Anna is having bathwater prepared for you, I suppose.”
Lorica opened her eyes wide. “Lady Anna?”
“Lord Sylvester’s daughter. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“She knows we’re coming?”
Hadley laughed and took off his cap, bowing slightly. “We got word last night you’d be here this morning. It’s good fortune I ran into Crispin at the blacksmith’s, incredibly good fortune. Don’t blame him for skipping off. I made him come with me. I figured you’d find the way to the baron’s castle on your own. Everyone knows where he lives. We were right, weren’t we?” He elbowed Crispin and they laughed. The older boy waved for them to follow and then strolled up the road.
Lorica stood stunned, questions rushed through her mind. How did anyone know they were coming here, much less the baron and his family? She knew no one in Kolada, and certainly not the nobleman. Lorica was a peasant. In her mind she rehearsed every word she’d say to the baron, and those would be spoken on her knees, begging for help. She didn’t expect to be his guest. This must be trickery. Perhaps that’s what the blacksmith was warning her concerning this rascal Hadley.
“Come!” Crispin beckoned. He turned and trotted up to Hadley nodding for her to follow. Lorica picked up the tongue of the cart and trudged behind, pondering the circumstance.
“I don’t like it, Mother,” Kandace mumbled. “Not one bit. Crispin’s being a dit!”
The white bark trees grew thicker and closer together, and the fallen leaves adorned the forest floor with gold, red and green hues. By the time they came to the castle entry the road was near invisible. Hadley opened the gate and ushered her in, but neither of the boys offered to pull the cart. Instead, they ran ahead with youthful shouts of glee, leaving Lorica sweltering in puzzlement and with a sense of abandonment. If Jareth were here he would not allow such contempt. Why was Crispin acting so? Was it because Hadley gave him a pricey dagger? Could her son really be bought so easily?
#
Surprisingly, Hadley didn’t wait for a servant to answer the door, but opened it and walked into the manor on his own. Crispin at least held the door for her. She set the cart down outside, and helped Kandace out, giving her son a frown when she walked by him, a frown that didn’t seem to affect him. Once inside, the boy skipped ahead of her and strolled side by side with his new-found friend.
Down a long corridor they walked, passing a servant with a tray. The man bowed and Hadley simply nodded at him. He snickered at Hadley, not for the boy to see but Lorica saw it. He nodded cordially at her.
The interior of the home smelled like polished wood, for the walls were made up of a deep cherry, an expensive import from a more exotic world, most likely shipped from the empire of Casdamia’s capital, Rigelstaff. She had heard of such trade items coming from the empire’s home. Barte son of Moshere’s extravagant taste hung on the tip of everyone’s tongue along the Wellstone River—how could a capital city harbor such sophistication while the poor villages of Casdamia, and even some of the cities in the Potamian kingdom, struggled to keep food on the table? That Lord Sylvester, known only for his horse trade could afford such a palace as this concerned Lorica. Kolada did not seem to be an impressively wealthy village, aside from the great wall around it. Yet the baron lived in luxury.
Hadley burst open a door to the living space of their hosts, announcing his arrival. A young woman leapt from the sofa, surprised, while a man and woman of obvious nobility turned their heads, looks of disapproval on their faces. The man, short and somewhat stocky with a goatee and bushy brows lifted a chalice to his lips. His graying hair was tied back, and salt and pepper sideburns laced his cheeks. Both the women wore gowns of intricate beauty, so royal that Lorica immediately cringed from her own dirty work clothes. She stepped back toward the door and held Kandace’s hand tightly. She had no control over her son, still he seemed equally shocked by the magnitude of wealth around them. Hadley smiled at everyone, unaware of any disorder he might have caused.
“Our friends are here!” he said. He bowed cordially, and then—of all things—left, dodging out the front door.
After a moment of awkward silence, Lorica curtsied and with a breaking voice whispered, “Forgive me for this intrusion. I had no idea...,”
“No, dear, no!” A vibrant young noblewoman whose long dark hair fell over her shoulders in curls and whose eyes were as blue as the sea, walked up to her. “Please don’t feel embarrassed, nor apologize. My name is Anna, and you’re welcome here. Indeed. I was expecting you. I’m sure you would like to clean up. Come with me and I’ll show you to your rooms.”
Lorica wanted to ask her how they knew she was coming, or if they had her family confused with another guest, but the moment was so awkward it had left her speechless. She would, though, prepare her questions for a more appropriate time, along with her request that they help Crispin. She followed Anna out of the room, her children trailing behind.
“What a lovely family you have!” Anna said as she led them down the corridor. She smiled at Kandace. “And your name?”
“Kandace!” the girl answered. She skipped to keep up with Anna and gazed awestruck at all the sights they passed along the way—portraits of distinguished people in furs, velvet and silk, golden figurines, and marble pedestals displaying statuettes of strange creatures the like Lorica had never seen before.
“And your name, young man?” Anna asked Crispin.
“Crispin Robinda, Milady,” he answered most politely.
“Crispin! You’re a fine young warrior I see. Seasoned with a crossbow?”
“I am.”
Lorica’s brow tightened at her son’s quick and arrogant response, and the pride he showed as he lifted his chin.
“Perchance you’ll have an opportunity to train with our soldiers while you’re here. I’m sure there’s a horse you could ride.”
“Really?” he asked, the sparkle in his eyes dancing.
“Is there one for me? I so like horses!” Kandace exclaimed.
“I think we might be able to find a pony suitable to your size.”
They came to the door of a bed chamber and as Anna ushered the children in, Lorica paused and spoke to her softly. “I have come to ask for healing for...,”
“Don’t worry about a thing. Your needs will all be taken care of,” Anna interrupted. “My father has already talked to the court magician. We’re sure we have a cure for him.”
“I am amazed that you knew we were here seeking help. How?” She wondered if the Healer had given them word.
Anna put her hand on Lorica’s shoulder and gave her a sympathetic smile. “Lord Sylvester cares for his subjects. Very seldom do the needs of our people pass unnoticed. It was in your stars that you would make this journey, and those same stars shine their light on Kolada. You’re in good hands.”