Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels) (55 page)

The royal messenger looked back at him, entirely unmoved, and handed Sir Robert a scroll closed and sealed with the Queen’s personal seal. He accepted it automatically and looked at it numbly as the messenger looked him over with a critical eye.

“I am required to wait for your answer, Sir Robert,” he said formally.

“Keep your voice down,” growled Sir Robert. “If you wake me all the way up, we’ll both regret it.” He turned his back on the messenger and stumbled over to his desk. He had to grab the edge of the desk at the last moment to stop himself from falling, and lowered himself carefully into his chair. He fumbled at the scroll’s wax seal, his fingers numb and clumsy. He should never have taken that many blacks. He scrabbled at the wax seal for embarrassingly long moments, then finally was able to break it, tearing the thick paper in the process.

The messenger watched it all from the doorway, stonily silent.

Sir Robert made himself concentrate on the handwritten note. It was a summons from the Queen. He was commanded to attend a special Court. Right now, if not sooner. No excuses accepted. Since it was written in Felicity’s own hand rather than that of a Court scribe, it meant this was a private summons. Secret. Sir Robert felt stupidly pleased that he was able to follow all the implications of that. A special, secret Court session meant that important things would be said. Things he needed to know. So of course he had to go. Except … was this good news or bad? A commendation or an accusation? Just how much did the Queen know about all the things he’d said and done in his time?

His thoughts were whirling all over the place now, and he had no idea how long he sat there, staring blankly at the torn scroll, until the messenger in his doorway cleared his throat loudly. Of course, a reply was expected. He had to say something.

“Tell Her Majesty … I’m delighted to … be delighted to accept her kind invitation. I’ll be there.” His tongue felt like it was drunk, and his words were so slurred, even he could hardly make them out. Sir Robert could have wept. It wasn’t fair. He was in no shape to deal with this. Why did the Queen have to send for him now? He needed to sleep. He swayed in his chair.

“Jesus, you’re a mess,” said the messenger, and there was as much disappointment as contempt in his voice. “Come as you are. If you can.”

He turned and left, and the sound of the door slamming shut behind him was almost unbearably loud. Sir Robert fumbled out his keys with numb fingers, searching for the key that would open the secret door in his desk. He needed more pills. Something to wake him up, to make him sharp again. Something to make him the man he used to be.

Sir Vivian was talking with the Lady of the Lake. He’d brought her to one of his favorite and most secret places, an indoor Forest glade deep in the heart of the North Wing. It was a long way off the beaten track, so far off that only a few people even knew it existed. Sir Vivian was happy for it to stay that way. The glade was entirely self-sufficient, an oasis of greenery inside the cold stone of the Castle. There were trees and shrubs, grassy lawns and mossy banks around a slender chuckling river that ran to and from nowhere, all centered around a delicate stone fountain whose gushing waters rose high into the air. Rich scents of earth and grass and growing things hung heavily on the air, and all the trees’ branches hung down with the weight of summer greenery. The glade was a peaceful place, the only sound the gurgling of the fountain. Sir Vivian came here when he needed quiet, a place to clear his thoughts and listen to his own heart. He’d been a bit shy of revealing his special place to the Lady, but she loved it immediately. She was currently manifesting within the fountain’s waters, standing tall and proud as water streamed down from her outstretched hands.

“This is a wonderful place,” she said happily, her voice giving shape and meaning to the sounds the fountain made. “I don’t remember it from when I was last here.”

“You wouldn’t,” said Sir Vivian. “It’s only twelve years old. During the Demon War goblins came to live in the Castle for a while, after their home, the Tanglewood, was destroyed by the encroaching long night. They created this place from cuttings they brought with them. This is all that’s left of the Tanglewood now. The goblins are long gone, and given their obnoxious nature I can’t say anyone really misses them. But they left this behind, and anyone who could fashion and appreciate a small miracle like this couldn’t be all bad.”

The Lady laughed, and suddenly it was raining. A soft, gentle sprinkling of rain that fell out of nowhere like a delicate haze on the air, just cool enough to be refreshing. The glade blossomed as the rain touched it, and the grass became almost unbearably green, and flowers were bursting out of everywhere in bright and glorious colors. Sir Vivian looked about him, awed and wondering and happily enchanted, and laughed quietly.

“That’s more like it,” said the Lady approvingly. “You look quite handsome when you smile. You were always a grim and brooding one, as I recall, but that was many years ago. Haven’t you found anything to be happy about since?”

“Not really,” said Sir Vivian, and his smile was gone as quickly as it had come.

“How did you recognize me?” asked the Lady of the Lake. “I am much changed from what I once was.”

“I’d know you anywhere,” said Sir Vivian. “I recognized your smile. You were always very special to me. I would have died for you.”

“I’d much rather you lived,” said the Lady. “My true and gallant hero. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Sir Vivian grimaced, and half turned away from her. “Then you know I was a traitor. I betrayed my King.”

“And was Pardoned by another King,” the Lady said gently. “Look at me, Vivian. You have done many remarkable things. You were a hero at Tower Rouge, and a hero again to the peasants you fought beside in the Demon War. They still sing songs about your exploits. The Forest Land still stands, in part because of you. You should be proud of what you have achieved.”

“I always wanted to be a warrior,” said Sir Vivian. “To prove myself worthy by my own actions. But now even that is being taken away from me. I thought the Walking Man had come for Queen Felicity. I couldn’t trust my swordsmanship to stop him, so I used magic against him. The magic I inherited from my notorious parents. It didn’t stop Lament, of course. I doubt even the Magus could stand against the Walking Man. But I had to try to protect my Queen, and now the magic I never wanted runs loose within me, a constant burning temptation. It’s almost a physical need to use that power to make the world make sense, by force if necessary. To shake some sense into the world whether it wants it or not.”

“And into people, too?” said the Lady.

“Especially people,” said Sir Vivian.

“I feel the same way sometimes,” said the Lady. “I felt it when I was alive, and even more when I was reborn in this form. When I see people abuse the Land or each other, and the anger rises within me, I could make it rain for fifty years, cause the rivers to break their banks and flood the fields, and drive the people from the Forest. But I don’t. My role is to protect the Land, and those who live in it. It would be wrong for me to interfere too much, for then people would grow dependent on me, and learn nothing. And so I do the most good I can, quietly, from a distance, with the minimum of magic. I wouldn’t have revealed my existence even now, but events here are drawing to a climax, and at the end, I will be needed to do what no one else can.”

“Your life, or after-life, has purpose and meaning,” said Sir Vivian heavily. “I’m still looking for mine. By my age most men have found a shape or direction to their lives. They have a job they’re good at, an end to aim for, or at least the simple pleasures of wife and family. I have none of those things. I was a hero once, but it wasn’t at all what I thought it would be. I found something to fight for when I was defending the peasants against the demons, but it didn’t last. I left them for what I thought was a greater cause. But defending them against the Court proved too much for my limited diplomatic abilities. And the one thing I’d always set my heart on, becoming High Commander of the Castle Guard and personally responsible for the safety of my King, turned out to be the one thing that damned me. I failed, and in failing I betrayed another King. He died because I wasn’t up to the job he gave me.

“My life is so empty, Lady. So cold. Nothing and no one to care for, or care for me. This isn’t the life I hoped and fought for when I was young and still had dreams. You’ve been dead, Lady. What was it like? Would I find peace there at last?”

“You know your trouble?” asked the Lady of the Lake. “You need to get out and meet some girls.” She laughed at the almost shocked expression on his face. “I’m sorry, Vivian, I know you were expecting something more mystical, but sometimes the obvious answers are the right ones after all. You need to open your eyes and look around you, Vivian. The answer could be closer than you think. Now stand up straight and make yourself look presentable. There’s a royal messenger on his way with something important to tell you.”

As he scrambled to his feet and tugged more or less randomly at his uniform, the Lady merged into the waters of the fountain, her shape disappearing until there was only water, pouring smoothly from stone mouths. The gentle rain stopped. A messenger knocked on the closed door, and entered uncertainly at Sir Vivian’s command. His eyes widened as he took in the green glade, and then he saw Sir Vivian and marched smartly forward to stand before him. They exchanged formal bows and then Sir Vivian gave the messenger his best glare.

“I thought I gave orders I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

The messenger nodded, unmoved by the glare. He was used to people not being pleased to see him. “Sorry to intrude, High Commander, but I bear a personal message from the Queen. I am to wait for your answer.”

Sir Vivian nodded grimly, and all but snatched the scroll from the messenger’s hands. He broke the wax seal with a quick twist, and quickly scanned the message. Special Court … your earliest convenience … matters of urgency … no exceptions. Just what he didn’t need right now. He rolled up the scroll and stuck it in his belt. A summons from the Queen in her own handwriting was unfortunately too important to be ignored, or even put off.

“Tell the Queen I will be with her directly.”

The messenger nodded before leaving as quickly as dignity allowed. Even Royal messengers had more sense than to hang around Sir Vivian when he was in one of his moods. The Lady of the Lake reformed in the fountain as the door closed behind the messenger.

“You’re frowning again, Vivian.”

“With good cause. The Queen wouldn’t be sending for me this urgently unless things were really getting out of hand. Why did you vanish like that?”

“Because the less people who know of my presence here, the better, for the moment.”

“Why are you here?” asked Sir Vivian. “Why return now, after all these years?”

“Because I’m needed,” said the Lady. “Just like you, Sir Vivian. Go and see Felicity. She needs you now more than ever. I can’t come with you. And you mustn’t tell anyone who I am—or, rather, was. And try not to worry so much; things aren’t nearly as out of control as they might seem.”

Then she was gone again, and the fountain was just a fountain. Sir Vivian headed for the door. He somehow knew she wouldn’t be reappearing anytime soon. The sense of her presence was gone from the glade. He sighed. It had been good to see her again, talk with her, but …

“Just when you think things can’t become any more complicated,” he said gruffly, “fate starts dealing from the bottom of the deck. Maybe I’ll just use my magic after all, turn everybody into frogs, and take a long holiday somewhere more peaceful.”

He laughed briefly, surprising himself, and then left his precious private glade to attend his Queen and his duty one more time.

Elsewhere in the Castle, the young witch Tiffany was taking the dog Chappie for a walk, and it would be difficult to say who was the more embarrassed. She had gone to the trouble of conjuring up a leather collar and lead for him, but he took one look, snatched them out of her hand, and ate them, and that was the end of that. But Tiffany was still determined that a walk was in order, and her iron will wore Chappie down to the point where he went along with it just so she’d stop talking at him. They went for a walk, side by side, each grimly determined to outlast the other.

Chappie stared straight ahead and pretended she wasn’t with him, which was difficult because she insisted on keeping up a stream of happy chatter, and asking him the same question over and over again until he had to answer her. Tiffany could find topics of good cheer in practically anything, and usually did. Chappie limited himself mostly to grunts and the occasional quiet curse, and glared at everyone they met along the way. People took to shrinking back against the walls as they passed. Some even turned and ran. Particularly when Tiffany tried to stop and chat with them.

“Honestly,” Chappie said emphatically for the fifth time, “I don’t
need
to be taken for walkies. I agreed to protect you because Chance made me promise, but we could do that just as well behind a locked door. Preferably somewhere not too far from the kitchens. Right now I’m so hungry I could eat an entire horse, including the hooves and the liver. And I hate liver. So would you, if you thought about what function it serves in the body. Why is it that everything that’s supposed to be good for you always tastes absolutely foul?”

“Same reason that medicine does,” said Tiffany. “How else could you be sure it was doing you good? Everything in the world has to balance out, even symbolically. Perhaps especially symbolically.”

“It’s thinking like that that makes my head hurt,” said Chappie. “Look, can we please stop for a minute? I need to have a good scratch and lick my balls.”

“Chappie! You can’t do that in front of me!”

“Sorry,” said the dog. “Didn’t know it was your turn.”

He sniggered as Tiffany groaned loudly, and then they both stopped so they could glare at each other thoroughly. Tiffany could feel her voice rising in spite of herself. “Every day, Chappie, I pray none of you is rubbing off on Allen.”