In Which a Seeress Arrives for Dramatic Effect
Alex was waiting for Tala by the time she left her room, this time fully dressed and with the mirror very deliberately turned to face one corner of the bathroom so she wouldn’t have to look at it and any of the psychotropic nightmares within, bespelled or otherwise. No matter how many times they tried, they hadn’t been able to replicate whatever spell it was, and Tala just wanted it to go away for good.
“What did the sword look like?” he asked quietly.
Tala paused, looking at him. The firebird, as usual, was curved along his shoulder like some animated shawl, though it was looking as despondent as he seemed to be.
“I didn’t see too many details,” she said slowly. “It looked like an ordinary sword to me, although I’m not experienced enough to know what a normal one looks like, I guess. It was just a sword stuck inside a stone.”
He exhaled. “I was afraid of that.”
“Does this have anything to do with the Avalon sword?” She knew as much about it as the casual internet reader. Obviously, the fantastical elements of the legend were talked about more—how the sword could change shape and form, how it could manifest different abilities depending on its wielders’ personalities and preferences, how it was never the same with every incarnation. How it was always found in strange places; within walls, inside dragons’ tails, embedded in stone.
“Yeah. Been hoping you might have a clue as to where we could find it. But if you keep seeing it in a forest…” Alex gestured at the castle walls, indicating the winter outside. “I don’t think there’s anything even remotely green out there anymore.”
“It looked like a forest, right up till everything started decaying and the sword started corroding. Is that some kind of protection spell?”
He frowned. “None that I know of.”
“Why is it showing itself to me, then? What do I have to do with it?”
Alex shrugged. “Might have something to do with the Makiling curse. Maybe whatever enchantments used to conceal it aren’t holding up anymore. But you have to tell me if you see it again. It’s important.”
“I really don’t want to see it again, but sure.”
“Like I said, be careful what you wish for. If only I’d been in the room when you were. I would have—” He paused. “Just let me know, okay? And Tala, about your dad—”
“Don’t, Alex.”
“But don’t you think we should start—”
“No, we shouldn’t, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to start this now.”
“Then when are you going to?”
Never, Tala thought. Never’s a good place to start. “I’m hungry. I’m heading down.” She marched away, giving him no choice but to sigh loudly and follow.
The others had already seated themselves at the table in the dining hall downstairs by the time Tala and Alex emerged, a sumptuous meal spread out. There were roast chickens swimming in a tart orange sauce, bread still hot from the oven, and freshly made jam and butter. There were slices of cheese and platters of fruit in heavy metal plates, and flagons that held water, much to Ken’s obvious disappointment. Whatever their problems were after the frost had spread, starvation apparently wasn’t one of them. The castle, Tala soon learned, had both a bespelled glasshouse and a large chicken coop specifically engineered to remain untouched by the winter. West told her that most of the Tintagel family’s inherited spells were created to combat the Snow Queen in particular, with ice as the specific threat to design their magic against.
Ken, already ravenous, was stuffing his face with as many cheeses and bread as his mouth could handle, while West had long discarded knife and fork for fingers. Loki was more reticent, exerting some effort at table etiquette the other two had long abandoned. Their staff was back to the size of a toothpick, tucked behind their ear. Ken’s swords rested on the wall behind the boys, easily within arm’s reach.
The firebird hopped onto the table, settled itself next to Alex’s chair, and briskly attacked a platter of bread. The count smiled indulgently at it, like firebirds at the supper table were a common occurrence. Alex took his seat, frowning quietly into space as he grew lost in his own thoughts.
“It’s one of the few luxuries I indulge in.” The old man sat at the head of the table, barely touching his own food. “Knowing there’s a good meal waiting for them encourages my men to become better soldiers, and I employ a very skilled cook.” A large harp stood in the corner of the room. No musician was in evidence, yet the harp continued to play. As Tala watched, the strings drew taut, plucked by unseen hands, the music carrying across the hall.
“It’s good, Uncle!” West enthused. “We haven’t had anything but sloppy joes all day.”
“Sloppy joes?” The older man looked perplexed.
“American food. Made of camel.”
The count let that pass. “Your friends tell me you’ve spent all your life in a place where magic is nonexistent by nature, and that this is your first visit outside of the American kingdom, much less to Avalon,” he said to Tala. “My apologies for neglecting to inform you of the castle enchantments. I hope it didn’t sour your bath.”
“Not at all, sir,” Tala said, a little pink from the memory.
“The mirror you spoke of, though…that is curious. It’s not an heirloom, and not bespelled in the least. Was it possible that you were simply tired from the journey?”
“I know what I saw, sir,” Tala insisted.
“I meant no offense, milady. Odder things have happened. As to your journey, supplies might pose a problem. It will take a few hours to travel to the nearest village on foot, and I must inform you that that village did not survive the frost.” He paused. “Many did not. I cannot guarantee what other atrocities you might find as you travel.”
“We know, milord,” Zoe said soberly. “We’re prepared to take that risk. If you can provide a map to help lead us to the city of Lyonesse and Maidenkeep castle, it would be much obliged. Loki here is an excellent scout.”
“I’ll do more than that. One of my possessions is a bespelled cornucopia, so none of you will have to worry about going hungry. It can only pull up three meals a day, though, so it would be best to be sparing with it.”
“That’s more than generous, milord.”
“Surely you can’t expect me to let His Highness leave under such poor circumstances. For that matter, it would be easier on my conscience to ask that Prince Alexei remain under our hospitality instead of accompanying you. It is far too risky to have our last royal brave these unnatural elements.”
“Absolutely not,” Alex said immediately. “I appreciate the offer, milord, but I’m going to see this through with them. I might have been far too young to leave Maidenkeep, but my father taught me all its secrets. They will not be able to use the enchantments there without me, and their journey would have been wasted.”
“His Highness has already survived shades and ICE agents,” Ken quipped. “Avalon isn’t the only place teeming with unnatural wildlife.”
The man’s expression changed. “ICE agents? Those foul demons attacked the prince?”
“I take it they’ve been assholes long before the frost started?” Tala asked.
“Every encounter I’ve had with them has been less than cordial. Their objectives are anathema to Avalonian values. We have always opened our arms to the defenseless; it is not their crime to have been born in dangerous places. ICE takes what should be reasonable laws and twists them beyond cruelty.”
“The cruelty,” Alex said, “is the point.”
The count sighed. “You were fortunate to have reached the castle without incident. The forests teem with unnatural wildlife these days. My men have reported sightings of ice wolves and shades.”
“Ice wolves,” Loki mused. “It would have to be as cold as a Beiran winter for their kind to flourish here.”
“The frost has spread far enough and thick enough that even ice wolves can manifest. No doubt the accursed Snow Queen’s final gift. We have had sightings of them as far along as the Burn, and even into northeastern Albion. We’ve had ogre and even rare chimera attacks. Our enchantments prevent the ogres from drawing near, and they’re impatient enough to leave even without assuaging their bloodlust. The only chimera we’ve encountered in the last six months was a young jabberwock cub and we managed to take care of that with no fatalities, praise the heavens.”
Ken’s hands stilled. “A cub? It’s a Wonderland offshoot. Why is one in Avalon, and why is it breeding?”
“I have no answers for you, milord. If we had waited for the wockling to reach adulthood, we would have suffered more casualties. Its remains are displayed in my great hall.”
“That was a jabberwock cub, not a dragon?” The jaws alone had been as wide as the castle doors. Tala didn’t want to imagine how big an adult would be.
“Perhaps it’s arrogance on my part, but there is very little to celebrate nowadays, and its bones are a reminder we can still prevail. I can only imagine how much worse it must be everywhere else. My men frequently scour the land for survivors, but…” He lifted his hands helplessly.
“Doesn’t it ever get lonely, milord?” Loki asked.
“I chose to settle here permanently over forty years ago, long before the frost stole Avalon. I grew tired of the constant politics and backbiting that surrounds the Lyonesse court, and I find I prefer the isolation and solitude over the false conviviality constant in many of the houses, although I suppose that point is moot now. I had not always been in agreement with the peers of the realm, but I hope they have found a safe haven amid all this ice. My mother’s predictions prepare us for most impending attacks on our castle, else we would have lost much more.”
“Is Great-Aunt Elspen coming down for supper?” West asked.
“She rests upstairs.” The count sighed. “The Dame Tintagel fares most days, and the Dame Tintagel fouls in others, but she is just as mad as ever, I’m afraid. She is older now, and weaker. Her sight grows dimmer as the months pass, but her visions continue, and they do not stop. You would think the spirits would be kind enough to allow her the rest of her years in respite, but they do not.”
“What kind of visions?” Ken wanted to know. Loki shot him a warning look, but the count did not seem to mind.
“She is both blessed and cursed with the old gifts of prophecy, Sir Inoue. She is one of the Hundred Seers still living. The seeds of prophecy are coming, she tells me—the sword of ivory and ebony, the staff of snakes and lilies, the reap of shadows and thorns. The white doe and the bearskin comes, she said, on their way to meet the witchborn. The key lies in the frog prince, she says.”
Alex shifted uneasily.
“The Dame can be very obscure, sometimes.” The count smiled. “My father was a meticulous scholar, and one of his life’s works was a catalog documenting every family coat of arms currently in existence, along with any segen users within their lineage. Most I have committed to memory. There is nothing else to be done in these parts but defend the keep and indulge in study.”
“With all due respect to your mother,” Alex said, “that doesn’t sound like much help. A sword of ivory and ebony sounds like a nod to Ken, but the others? Witchborn?”
“I believe I can make a few educated guesses on my part. The ‘sword of ivory and ebony’ do describes the swords you wear to the letter, Sir Inoue. I have fought beside your father in battles past, and have seen your famous blade in action.”
Ken grinned around a mouthful of chicken. “Technically, they’re swords of ivory and ebony, plural.”
“I said as much, but the Dame insisted she made no mistakes on that score. And the ‘reap of shadows and thorns’ could only mean the Nottinghams’ scythe, the one they call Gravekeeper. It is the only segen I know forged from nightwalker blood.”
The others stirred uneasily, but the count glanced at the main doors. “Sir Nottingham left to explore the castle grounds an hour ago. I offered to send a few of my knights along, but he refused—” He broke off. Loki had half-risen from their chair.
“Should I go after him?” they asked, glancing back at Ken.
“Is there something about the Nottingham lad I am not aware of?”
“The Cheshire never sent him to join us on this mission, milord,” Ken explained. “He volunteered, and a Nottingham volunteering for anything is suspicious enough.”
“Do you have reason to suspect his intentions?”
“Comradeship isn’t something the Nottinghams are known for.”
“That is true,” the count admitted. “Perhaps the burdens the Gravekeeper places on their shoulders make them that way. I know his grandfather enough that I would place little credence on rumors. As difficult as he can be, William Nottingham would fall on his scythe before he would betray the kingdom. Still, my men will keep a close watch over him. William, I remember, was just as impulsive. The prophecy, too, mentions a staff of wood and lilies.” He looked inquiringly at Loki. “I presume that is yours. My apologies, but I see that sliver behind your ear is rife with spells.”
“I don’t know if it’s a segen.” Loki drew out the toothpick, flipped it in their hands, and a second later was holding a heavy staff. They turned it to show an intricately carved flower on one side of it. “Dad just gave it to me one day.”
“A water snake is the Wagners’ coat of arms, and the Suns’ are of a rare species of lily, if I am not mistaken. The Suns also have in their possession a majestic staff that can lengthen or shorten according to its owner’s wishes, called a Ruyi Jingu Bang. It’s said to possess some limited sentience of its own, able to independently defend its wielder against opponents.”
“My last name is Sun-Wagner, but I’m neither by blood. Shawn Wagner and Anthony Sun adopted me.”
“The prodigal sons,” the count said, with sudden understanding. “Your fathers’ story is known to me.” He studied them closely. “Yet I could almost swear you bear a passing resemblance to someone else. Surely, an adopted child would not be able to…but perhaps I am mistaken. My sight has been growing worse as of late.”
Zoe entered the dining hall at that moment. She had donned a soft silk dress dyed green that rustled around her legs as she walked, emphasizing rather than detracting from her blue eyes.
Ken let out a playful wolf whistle. Zoe turned a healthy shade of pink, but wrinkled her nose at him all the same. The count rose, accompanying her gallantly to the empty seat on Tala’s left.
“I’m not too late, am I?”
“Not at all. You must have had a trying day. If you were too tired from your journey, I could have given orders for your meal to be served in your rooms instead, Lady Fairfax.”
“Fairfax?” Tala asked.
“Zoe’s mother,” Ken whispered.
“I don’t want to impose too greatly on your hospitality,” Zoe said, smiling. “And you’re very well-informed. I wasn’t aware West had told you who we were.”
“The Dame spoke of the arrival of a white doe. If I recall correctly, the Fairfax family crest is that of a white doe running across a field of golden brown. And I have a very good memory for faces,” the count added, with the abashed air of one made to admit an unusual skill. “I have had the pleasure of meeting your mother, Felicity, on several occasions in the past, and you are both very similar in features.”
“‘Pleasure’ and ‘meeting my mother’ aren’t usually things I get to hear in the same sentence.” There was a faint hesitation in her voice, though, a barely perceived tension upon mention of her mother.
The count turned to Tala. “And of course, you are the daughter of Lumina Makiling and the Scourge of Buyan.”
Ken choked on his goblet, coughing loudly. Loki lowered their knife and Zoe blinked, taken aback by the count’s bluntness.
“Uncle!” West protested.
“I say it as a statement of fact, Nephew, not as an insult.” The man sounded apologetic. “I’ve met your father in years past. While I cannot claim to forgive him for the atrocities he’d committed, I cannot fault him for wanting redemption, and I support that, though others have not. My mother does not have the vision to see hundreds of years into the future, but she can foretell the events of coming months. But she cannot choose what she sees and has no control over her own visions.”
“When did she make these predictions?” Zoe asked.
“The day Maidenkeep froze. It was the final vision she had of His Highness. After that, she could discern nothing.”
“We were like, what? Six years old?” Ken muttered. “I didn’t even know where we were gonna live, then, much less know I’d be here.”
“You remember the war, Ken?” Tala asked.
“Of course. Don’t you?”
“Not really. Mom said I was still fast asleep when they brought me away.”
“The sky is dark tonight,” a new voice sounded by the doorway. “It shall rain hail again soon enough. The poor boy shall be wet before long, I warrant.”
Tala had been expecting a crone, someone that fit the age-old witch stereotype. What she saw was an elegantly dressed lady, her white hair piled high on her head and expertly pinned back, and amused green eyes, like a cat’s. She dressed like a royal noble about to hold court, glittering gems on her fingers and lace generous across her bosom.
From across the hall, the harp’s music broke off without warning.
The count rose, moving to assist the old woman to her seat, but her hands flicked out to shoo him away. “Bother that, Hiram,” she said, her voice Avalonian-accented and soft. “I’m not an invalid.”
“The Dame of Tintagel,” the count told the others. “My mother.”
“The Hag of Tintagel, Hiram,” the old woman corrected with a soft, tinkling laugh, displaying even white teeth. “Is that not what they call me? But the boy does not come to the table. He lurks outside at his peril. The sky is dark tonight, and the clouds shall weep soon enough.”
“I will ask the knights to find him, if you like.”
“I like for nothing,” the old lady said, with a small sigh. “But I have a soft spot for William. His boy will not come willingly, and he shall be wet and thankless when he does. It is the Nottingham way, to spurn help when help is due.”
“I presume you know who our other guests are, Mother.”
“Have I ever been wrong?” She glided effortlessly around the table. “You have grown since I last saw you,” she said as she reached West’s chair. She patted his arm fondly. “Of all who sit at this table, it is your eyes that see clearest, though not even you know the truth of what you carelessly speak. Still as ugly as ever, dear one, but do not fear. All the better for the ugly groom to deserve the pretty bride. But beware of pretty maids hiding in dark village corners. They are not for you.”
She moved next to Loki. “A tangled web,” she murmured, shaking her head, “tangled and tangled and tangled. You shall break a scepter over your knee and throw away a crown. You will deliver a throne into Neverland’s mercy, and your fathers will be proud. A light shines about you, Loki. There is more to you than outlander-born. And yet you must not let the stump, stump you far too often, lest the girl is lost.”
Ignoring the perplexed look on their face, she turned to Zoe, whose mouth had been open in indignation on West’s behalf. “Close your mouth, young doe. The swamps shall fill it soon enough.” She chuckled. “Oh, how they shall laugh, my dear; how they shall laugh. To take the shire over the gest, the chaff over the grain; how they shall laugh! But you shall laugh last and laugh long. The dead shall rise for you, little girl. The dead shall rise.”
Tala had never seen Zoe turn so pale until that moment, but the Dame only tittered again, like she’d told a joke, and then turned to Kensington. He squirmed under her thoughtful gaze.
“Learn to swim, boy,” was all she said, before turning her attentions to Alex.
Spindly fingers reached out to touch his face. Alex shrank back. “I just want a closer look, Your Highness. Ah. Yes. The firebird chooses true. The armies of sky and earth and sea shall answer your call. Such a heavy burden for one so young. A dozen times cursed, and also a dozen times blessed. Your dance with the queen shall be long, my dear, but your turn with her shall come soon enough. There will be a choice, that much I can see. A choice made in the castle of brick and ice. One leads to death. The other leads to something much worse.”
She shuddered briefly, snatching her hands away like she had just been burned.
“A traitor, a traitor, a traitor. Traitors three. The wolves know, oh how the wolves know, of the traitor, the traitor, and the traitor in your midst. The brave little tailor may lose a leg for you, and the fenking’s daughter may take up arms for you, and the mermaid shall lose her voice. Traitors; one for glory and one for dominion and one for love, and only then will you know of the traitor in your midst.”
“Are you accusing one of us?” Zoe sputtered.
“You think I lie, child?”
“I don’t believe in seers,” Zoe said bravely, though she had not stopped shivering since the woman’s pronouncement on her.
“Hawks have little taste for deer, as four legs shall outrun two. When you finally seek the comfort you want, it shall be with graves and not with feathers. Run as fast as you can, little doe; you will not run far enough.”
“Mother,” the count began, his expression pained, but the Dame waved him away with a perfumed hand, her fingernails manicured and trimmed.
“Strands of fire from the king,” she said. “But not the only braids of prophecy I see tonight. Strands of fire thicken this room. It marks each and every one of you. It comes, I can feel it. Strands of fire, filling the room. Filling it so that I almost cannot breathe.”
“The winter wars come; it wraps you all in it, like cocoons. The keep shall freeze and the keep shall burn before the keep shall rise. Do you not feel it? Do you not feel them? They shall rise up from the quiet places, to honor that which was broken, and the keep shall burn.”
Overcome by her own words, the Dame lifted a hand to her temple, turning her head like she was shaking off a blow.
“Mother!” The count was at her side in an instant. The servants hurried forward. Ken started up from his chair, and West’s eyes were round with fright.
“Perhaps you should go and lie down again,” the count suggested gently.
The Dame wavered. Suddenly she looked old, the jewelry and exquisite clothes doing nothing to hide it. “Perhaps I should.” She reached out one last time to grab Loki’s arm, holding on for a moment. “A traitor,” she whispered again, almost pleadingly, before allowing her hand to drop, servants appearing to guide her away.
“Woof,” Loki said. Only the firebird, now feasting on apples, remained unaffected.
“I must apologize,” the count said. “This is the first I have seen her so agitated in quite a while.”
“How long has Great-Aunt Elspen been this way?” West asked.
“She has been insistent about this coming war for years now, though she was always too vague for us to glean more. This is the only time I have heard her go into this much detail, though for the life of me, I do not know what she means by it.”
In the ensuing silence Kensington, looking like he’d been cheated somehow, but wasn’t entirely sure of what, spoke up.
“How in the bloody Burns did she know I can’t swim?”
A battering of wind screamed through the walls, as outside, the sounds of hail grew louder.