Cobweb Bride (30 page)

“She’s in the
cart!
” Jenna said suddenly. “
Claere!
Oh, Lordy, Lord!”

There was absolute silence. They paused, every face turning to the back, where the unobtrusive sick girl had been lying next to Emilie.
 . . .

“Noooo
 . . .” said Gloria.

In that moment, the hood covering her face moved, and for the first time Claere spoke loudly, in a peculiar mechanical voice, and they all heard her.

“I am indeed she. . . . I have left behind all things—including my
life
, and my father’s court—to travel to Death’s Keep. And this man—” her pale slim hand pointed at Vlau—“is not my brother, but he is here to accompany me.”

Vlau spoke not a word, and appeared as still and intense, and somehow as lifeless as ever—or possibly even more so. Only his gaze burned.

“
What?
Your Imperial Highness! Oh, I cannot believe it, a thousand pardons if we have offended! Your clothes—your disguise, surely—they are so
common
—that is, begging pardon of Your Imperial Highness—” Lizabette was babbling. She immediately sat up, and attempted to bow clumsily. Several of the other girls also curtsied awkwardly, and Jenna was staring in amazement.

Lizabette continued speaking rapidly, in a high voice, forgetting how cold and uncomfortable she had been only moments ago. “Dear Lord in Heaven, this is just impossible, an honor beyond imagining! Oh dear, oh dear!”

She then put the back of her hand to her mouth, and giggled almost hysterically, and shook her head, and held her face in both hands, unable to stop talking. “Of all things! Well, imagine that! The blessed Infanta of the Realm, here in this cart! All we need now is the black knight to keep us—”

“He’s in the cart,” said Percy.

Lizabette stared at her, shook her head in bemusement.

“No, really, he’s in the goddamn cart,” Percy said again. And Marie and Gloria simply pointed.

In that moment, Beltain stirred, coming awake underneath the burlap blanket. Next to him were a few removed pieces of black armor.

Lizabette glared in his direction, her jaw dropping.

T
hey set out along the path, moving quietly and in haste, while the winter sun remained hidden by the heavy morning overcast. Lizabette had insisted that as long as they did not abandon the safety of the path, they would be practically invisible to any patrols or hunters in the Northern Forest.

Huddled for warmth, Lizabette continued to cast stunned glances at the two high-ranking occupants of the cart, on either side of her, while Percy drove them forward. The walking girls moved carefully near Betsy, afraid to step even an inch off the road, so as not to be seen.
 . . .

“Are you really, really,
really
sure we’re safe here?” Jenna kept asking.

“As certain as I can be,” Lizabette replied, meanwhile glancing discreetly at the Infanta in her threadbare burgundy cloak.

“One thing I cannot understand,” Percy mused out loud, “is why
he
—the black knight there—was able to find the path and see me on it. . . .”

She turned around to stare at the young man in question, who semi-reclined, head resting against a sack of someone’s belongings, and watched her drowsily with narrowing eyes. “Why and how did you ever manage to notice me and Betsy, Sir Knight?”

“I don’t know. . . .” His answer was barely audible. “Who is Betsy?”

“Our horse!” Jenna exclaimed.

“Our horse indeed! In Heaven’s name, Jenna, how should
he
know a silly thing like that?” Lizabette said, giving the knight a wary and ingratiating look.

“He’s been in this cart long enough; he should know our saint names by now
 . . .” muttered Percy.

“I know yours,” he said, all of a sudden. “You are
Persephone
. Your saint was the one who’s been to Hell and back. Or to be exact—an ancient pagan goddess who was beloved by the god of the Underworld himself, and who was doomed to spend half her lifetime there, and the other half, in the mortal world of men—”

“And who do you think was this god of the Underworld?” Percy said.

“Death . . .” came the serene voice of Claere Liguon, the Infanta. At the sound of it, Vlau, walking alongside her place, visibly started.

“Death, and none other, indeed,” replied the black knight. “So then, Persephone, what does it make
you?
”

“It makes me the Cobweb Bride.”

“If only it were that easy,” the knight said.

“Oh, but it
is
that easy.” Percy clenched the reins tighter with her mitten-covered hand. “Death either takes me, or he does not. And tonight we find out.”

“How?” Lizabette—who had missed the early pre-dawn sighting of the shadow structure—was now confused.

“I have seen this place where we are going,” explained Percy. “Death’s Keep shows itself only during the in-between times of twilight—dawn or dusk.”

“
You
 . . . are not the Cobweb Bride,” the Infanta said. “
I
am. For, as you know, I am dead. And thus, I am his already.”

“She’s
dead . . . ?
” Marie whispered. And the other girls stared in horror. Those riding in the cart, moved away from the Grand Princess . . . then, realizing that they were instead drawing closer to the
black knight
, decided to stay in place, and froze like trapped deer.

“How? How can she be dead?” Gloria babbled. “She is talking!”

“My father is dead also, and yet he talks and rides and commands,” Beltain said softly. And then he added: “And he, the Duke Chidair, is apparently hunting for Your Imperial Highness. I must therefore deliver you to him.”

“No! The evil Duke Hoarfrost cannot have her!” Jenna said. “She is the Snow Maiden, and Vlau is Jack Frost, and—”

“What are you raving about, Jenna?” Gloria, still shaken up, was now trying to keep the cold wind away by adjusting her wool scarf over half her face.

“No one is letting Hoarfrost have any of us.” Percy said firmly, blinking and facing straight ahead, into the wind. “Sir Knight, even if you were not incapacitated, and you somehow
could
take us now by force—if you had any honor, you would now concede that the right thing to do is to allow us to complete our journey.”

“And why is that,
Percy?
” his baritone sounded from behind her.

“Because the world must be set aright.”

There was a moment of silence.

“That may be so,” said Beltain. “But I still serve my father. And as such, I must obey his orders.”

“Even if the orders are wicked, and will result in bitter evil for so many? Nay, for
all
of us?”

“I obey my father!”

“You obey his shadow! Your real father is
gone
. And he cannot command you ever again.” Percy knew she spoke mercilessly, and yet somehow it felt good to wound him thus, in such a small way. . . . It was petty of her, yes; and furthermore, she regretted it immediately. But still, say it she must. . . .

“Oh, but the rules have changed.” The black knight’s manner remained impervious and hard as steel. “The dead and the living are now in an equal position here in the mortal plane. I cannot be sure if it is my father or not. And thus, in a true
agnostic
position, until proven otherwise, I choose to obey.”

“Lord Beltain Chidair
 . . . you are a philosopher,” Claere Liguon mused.

“I am a man who would perform his duty.”

“And is your greater duty to your Lord father, or to your Emperor? Who is your true liege?” continued the Infanta.

Moments passed, and he did not reply.

“For a long time, the answer was easy: ‘they are one and the same.’” The black knight spoke softly, as though recounting an old story to himself. “My father was my liege lord, and he served the Royal House of Lethe, and they in turn bowed to the Silver Court and hence your illustrious father, the Emperor. Thus, my ultimate liege lord was the Liguon Emperor. But now—”

“But now, what?” the Infanta said, and her voice had taken on a commanding strength, as she drew more air into the cold bellows of her lungs for each utterance. “What is different now, in your allegiance? Think, Lord Beltain! There is but one broken link in this chain of ancient vassalage, and it is not you, but
your father
. He has apparently betrayed his loyalties to the Imperial line, and if you follow him in the downfall, you suffer the dishonor also. So tell me again, and think well on what you say—
who is your true liege?
”

“I don’t yet know
 . . .” replied the black knight.

“
I
do . . .” said the man they knew only as Vlau.

Claere grew still, and did not make any effort to turn in his direction. But she was listening intently.

“What can
you
, of all men, have to say on this matter, Marquis Vlau Fiomarre?”

“Wait
 . . . he’s a
marquis . . . ?
” Lizabette whispered, while Gloria and Flor and Niosta and Marie and Jenna just stared at each other with rounded eyes, and remained very, very still.

“For myself, I can have nothing,” replied Vlau Fiomarre, as he strode relentlessly alongside the cart. “But for him, there is now one true solution. The Liguon he may choose to serve now would not be the father, but the
daughter
. Thus, in his own father’s eyes, he may be differently forsworn.”

The cart rolled along in absolute silence.

“Furthermore,” continued Fiomarre after a few heartbeats, “If I were in Lord Beltain’s place, I know what decision I would take. I would choose to serve
this
Liguon.”

And then the Marquis did not speak again.

“W
hy? Why are we not dead?” Flor was wondering out loud, a few hours after, while noon had passed, and the relentless cold stood all around them in the forest. “I mean, we should all be dead by now, our fingers and toes and noses falling off, in this freezing outdoors, with only tea to keep our insides warm!”

“Maybe we
are
dead,” Niosta said sullenly, through the thick scarf over her nose.

“You are not dead,” said Percy. “Trust me on this.”

“What I think,” Lizabette said, “is that it’s all this magical path’s doing. And the cart too—it is no doubt enchanted to keep us safe. In fact, I am absolutely certain of it.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Flor shivered, with her nose in her red shawl. “Because nothing else makes sense!”

“Remember, the whole
world
does not make sense,” Percy said softly. “And neither does this whole Cobweb Bride business. And yet, it is the only thing we can do—to try and do something, the best we can, with what we know.”

“But we don’t know anything,” said Jenna, walking behind the cart and swatting the back rail occasionally with a dry twig she had picked up somewhere.

“We know where we’re going.”

“Only
you
do, Percy!”

“And how exactly is it that she knows?” Lizabette said. “Who died and made her all-knowing queen?” And then she hushed, realizing the irony of her words.

“Yeah, no one died, and that’s the problem, Lizabette,” said Gloria.

And then for a few hours more they all were mostly silent, while the path meandered deeper into the forest, and the wind gusts tore at them.

There were a few times when the sound of patrols out on a hunt came in the distance, and the black knight became alert. But no one approached even close enough to call out.

Percy turned around to look at him, saying, “I beg you not to try and make any noise, Sir Knight, or you shall be gagged.
 . . .”

At which he merely looked at her, unblinking, with his steel-colored eyes.

In the late afternoon they stopped for a short break, and huddled around a very small fire, passing around the two clay mugs with hot tea. There were no more bread rolls left, and hunger was now a dull gnawing beast in their insides.

Emilie’s condition remained mostly unchanged, as she lay under a blanket in the cart, breathing laboriously, wedged somewhere between the Infanta and the black knight.

As evening approached, Percy stared closely at all the landmarks, trying to recall the exact location of the fortress made of shadows. There was a clearing up ahead, at the foot of some hills covered with a mixture of bare trees and evergreens.

“I am almost sure this is the right place,” said Percy, as Betsy pulled the cart up, and stopped with a snort, because now the path before them seemed to have dissolved into the ground cover of show.