Crossing Over (22 page)
Authors: Anna Kendall
It went on for an hour. The little princess was taken away to bed by her nurse. The stewards brought more wine, more ale. The savage captains performed a “dance” together from their own country, a brutal leaping toward one another, knives drawn, in a three-way mock combat that I thought any moment would become the real thing. This was dancing? But when it was over, they laughed and clasped hands and knelt before Lord Solek, who cut each of them lightly on the left cheek with his own knife. Drops of blood dripped into their beards. All three laughed again, and the queen smiled. And not even I, who had studied her day after day, month after month, who had done for her what no one else in The Queendom could do, could tell if the smile was emotion or calculation. Or both.
Then the entertainment was over. The savages left the palace. Courtiers, ladies, advisors retired, and the servants began to clean the debris from the feast. Green guards admitted me to the queen’s outer chamber, where I still slept on the hearth. I crept cautiously through the dark room, holding my candle aloft. But a sliver of light came also from the privy chamber beyond. The door was open a crack, and within Lord Robert was shouting.
“—bad enough that you promised him the princess for his barbaric son, but to also—”
“That is not your business.”
“—promise the ships and their captains, and—”
“I am doing what is best for The Queendom!”
“You are selling him The Queendom! Do you really think you can control him, after he defeats the Blues? We’ll be left with nothing but his army of savages, which
he
controls! Those damn
guns
—”
he
controls! Those damn
guns
—”
It was a strange word; I had never heard it before. But I had heard the queen’s tone before, and I knew that Lord Robert ignored it at his own peril.
“I will not let anyone else control
my
queendom, Lord Robert.”
my
queendom, Lord Robert.”
“And how do you think you can stop him? By taking him to your bed?”
“How dare you!”
“You were sniffing at him like a bitch after hound spoor! ”
The sharp crack of hand on flesh; she must have slapped him. Appalled, I crept quietly back toward the far door, extinguishing my lantern. In the dark I deliberately overturned a stool, cursing loudly.
“Who’s there?” Lord Robert called. He flung open the privy-chamber door and peered, backlit, into the outer chamber.
“It’s Roger the fool, my lord! I tripped while coming in. ...”
The queen called, “Come, Roger!”
I groped my way across the room and into the privy chamber, rubbing my shin and looking as foolish and unknowing as I could. Lord Robert glared at me. The queen looked composed, all her fury hidden. She said coldly, “You are dismissed, Lord Robert.”
He had mastered himself, or her slap had mastered him. But he was not the actress she was, and the color was high in his face as he made his bow and left. The queen smiled.
“What did you hear? Don’t lie, Roger. Not to me.”
“I heard angry voices, but no words. And then I tripped over the stool.”
She studied me, and I could not tell if she believed me, or if she were just stowing away my lie for her own use in her own time. But all she said was, “I have work for you now.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
From the table she picked up small jeweled scissors, an elegant trifle for snipping thread. “You will cross over and find one of the savage warriors dead from today’s battle with the Blues. Only two were killed, both slain with lucky arrows from Blue archers before the Blues fled. From one of them you will find out two things. First, you will say,
‘Solek mechel-ah nafyn ga?’
And they will answer either
‘ven’
or
‘ka.’
Listen while I say it again, and then say it back to me.”
‘Solek mechel-ah nafyn ga?’
And they will answer either
‘ven’
or
‘ka.’
Listen while I say it again, and then say it back to me.”
Eammons must have taught her the words. How many words? Had the exchange of language with Solek at dinner been no more than pretty feminine play? It might be that she already understood much of what he said. Or not. We went over and over the words until the queen was sure I had them correct.
“Good, Roger. Second—”
“Your Grace, whatever those words mean . . . common soldiers ...”
“Common soldiers know everything,” she said calmly. “Just as kitchen maids do.”
Was that a reference to Maggie—even a threat? I couldn’t tell. With the queen, I could never tell. But I did not forget that this woman had poisoned her mother.
“Second, I want you to learn the secrets of that fire-powder in the warriors’ guns. How is it made? What must the tubes from which the projectiles fly be made of, and how?”
“Your
Grace
—”
Grace
—”
She put her hand on my shoulder. “This is important, Roger. The most important thing I have ever asked you to do. The fate of The Queendom may depend upon it. In a few more days, more help will arrive for us, but meanwhile this will help me so much now. Can I rely on you?”
This was the queen at her warmest, her most persuasive. The threat and the warmth, all mixed together. I nodded, too frightened to find words. But she went on gazing at me, and so words were necessary. I tried to say, “Yes, Your Grace,” but what came out was, “What other help?”
She frowned, withdrew her hand, and then laughed. “Why not? It isn’t really a secret. I’m sure conjectures are rife about the court. My brother’s bride, Queen Isabelle, sends troops to reinforce Lord Solek’s army. They are on their way already.”
Queen Isabelle. I had been right after all, or at least partially right. Queen Caroline had remained so calm during the siege because she had not one but two armies to oppose the Blues rising against her. And then I saw something else. Queen Isabelle’s army, loyal to Queen Caroline through the marriage tie, would also ensure that Lord Solek could not take the throne for himself. She was not trusting in Lord Solek completely; she had other insurance. The Queendom did not really depend upon my report from the country of the Dead. However, she did not believe that either the savage chieftain—who, after all, did not know our language—or I would realize this.
It was the first time that I had ever thought, for so much as a second, that I had the upper hand with her.
“Are you ready, Roger? Then go now.”
She handed me the jeweled scissors. I thrust it into my soft underarm, just above the yellow velvet of my parti-colored sleeve, and I crossed over.
Dirt in my mouth—
Worms in my eyes—
Earth imprisoning my fleshless arms and legs—
Then I was over, and something was very wrong.
19
AS EVER, THE DEAD
still sat, or lay, gazing at nothing. But the
ground
was wrong. I was used to the way the country of the Dead stretched or shrank, so that what was close by in the land of the living might here be miles off. But always the ground was the same, covered with low, dense grass. Always the sky was an even, featureless gray. Always the river meandered placidly, flat and slow.
still sat, or lay, gazing at nothing. But the
ground
was wrong. I was used to the way the country of the Dead stretched or shrank, so that what was close by in the land of the living might here be miles off. But always the ground was the same, covered with low, dense grass. Always the sky was an even, featureless gray. Always the river meandered placidly, flat and slow.
Not now. The grass stood in uneven patches: some places high weeds, some low grass, some bare ground. The river had rocks in it and the water, flowing faster, eddied around the rocks in tiny bursts of white foam. The sky seemed darker. And beneath my feet, the ground rumbled softly. What was happening in this place, where nothing ever happened?
Dazed, I began walking along the river. I saw no one I recognized. After a while the trees grew denser, making small groves and then patches of woods. The land grew wilder and I had to veer away from the water. I could not find the two dead savage warriors, and even if I had, they would have been sitting tranquilly, as unreachable as the rest of the Dead. In the land of the living, the queen waited for my answer. What was I going to do?
All at once, a man jumped out at me from behind a thicket of bushes. I hit out at him and he hit back, his blow landing on my jaw, not hard enough to break it but hard enough to knock me down. It was a Blue soldier. As I lay panting for breath, he grabbed me by the arm and hauled me over to another soldier, who recognized me.
“Boy! Did the witch-queen, that whore, send you back here again?”
It was the same soldier I’d spoken to on my last crossing. I stammered, “Y-yes. She told me . . . she told me to see how all goes in Witchland, until she herself can return.”
He spat, and his saliva made a little wet spot in the dirt. Had the Dead always been able to do that? But clearly this man still did not believe he was dead. The country of the Dead was filling up with people who, like Bat, did not believe they inhabited it. And the landscape began to turn stormy when the Blue soldiers did not behave like the Dead. The rumbling of the ground, the wind and lightning and darkening of the sky—all increased as the number of Blue soldiers increased from battle on the other side.
I had caused this
. I, Roger Kilbourne, with the lies I had told about “Witchland.”
I had caused this
. I, Roger Kilbourne, with the lies I had told about “Witchland.”
“All here goes slow,” the Blue captain said to me. “We have found no way to go back to The Queendom. Queen Eleanor remains under a spell, not eating nor sleeping nor talking. But there are more of us now, sent by the magic fire-sticks.”
“Fire-sticks? ”
“Weapons that belched fire along with their magic, wielded by an army of male witches chanting foul spells.” He shuddered and spat again. “It was a battle outside the city walls, won by darkest magic.”
The
guns
. Today’s skirmish had been small; Lord Robert had said the major battle would take place tomorrow morning. And when those additional Blue soldiers died and arrived here, they too would be told this was Witchland. And so the number would grow of men who did not behave like the Dead because they did not know that they were.
guns
. Today’s skirmish had been small; Lord Robert had said the major battle would take place tomorrow morning. And when those additional Blue soldiers died and arrived here, they too would be told this was Witchland. And so the number would grow of men who did not behave like the Dead because they did not know that they were.
“But we caught one of the witches,” the Blue said grimly. “Just a while ago. And we will burn her.”
“You caught a witch?”
“Yes. Tell
that
to the witch-queen when she snatches you back!” His face took on a strange expression, both horrified and sly. “Does she strip you naked for her ensorcelling? And herself, too?”
that
to the witch-queen when she snatches you back!” His face took on a strange expression, both horrified and sly. “Does she strip you naked for her ensorcelling? And herself, too?”
“No. Yes. No.” I scarcely knew what I was saying. They had caught a witch here, a woman, and were going to burn her? How? Who?
“Did the whore-queen—”
“Can I see the witch?” I said. “I could . . . I could report back to the . . . the whore-queen that she does not have the control over Witchland that she thinks she does!”
He considered, nodded. The ground rumbled under my feet. “Come then, boy.”
I followed him across the plain, away from the river, to another patch of woods. The leaves blew in a restless breeze, where there had never been a breeze before. On the far side of the little woods were three dozen Blues, some standing and some sitting, none of them behaving like the Dead. A captain held a writhing girl by the arms. It was Cat Starling.
“Let me go!” she shrieked. “Let me go!”
Beside her was a great pile of dry wood, with a tall stake in the center.
“Help!” Cat cried as I stood there, dumb. “Help me, whoever you are! I’ve done nothing wrong! I—want—my—mother!”
“Tie her,” one of the Blues ordered.
The soldier dragged Cat, still screaming piteously for her mother, toward the stake. Another handed him two long strips of red wool. They had been torn from her skirt.
The Blue with me said, “She has the sixth finger. Just like the witch-queen who controls you. You’ll enjoy this, boy.”
I found what brain I had left. “Wait! I must talk with her first!”
The soldier scowled. “Why?”
“To . . . to ...” All at once country lore, heard at so many faires with Hartah, came back to me. And I thought, too, of Bat, from the
Frances Ormund
. “To take the amulet from her! She will not burn so long as she has the amulet.”
Frances Ormund
. “To take the amulet from her! She will not burn so long as she has the amulet.”
“Aye, that’s true,” said a Blue seated on the ground. “My granny always said that. Their magic amulets protect witches from fire.”
“You’re a brave man,” the soldier beside me said. He stepped back respectfully, and I walked to Cat.
“Give her to me.”
The captain did, and I wrapped one arm around her waist. She flailed and struck at me, but she was no fighter and I found I could hold her, although not without difficulty. That made her flail and shriek more. Under cover of her noise I spoke into her ear with all the urgency and authority I could.
“Cat Starling, a message from your mother—think of the river at Stonegreen. Think hard and wish yourself there. Do it
now
!”
now
!”
She seemed to have not heard me. The soldiers looked at each other—was that suspicion on that face there? I was supposed to be looking for an amulet. . . . I thrust one hand into her blouse, between her breasts.
At the touch of her skin, I got an immediate and enormous erection. My member leapt like a startled dog. The effect on Cat was different. She brought up her nails and raked them across my face, crying “Mama!” The next moment she was flying through the air, faster than a bird, toward that distant place where Stonegreen should be.
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