The Snowy Tower (19 page)

As they worked, the darkness in the cavern gradually paled, until at last they could see grey shafts of light appearing through cracks above. It was Queen Ashana’s wedding day and time was running out.

It was midmorning and Queen Ashana was taking a bath. The hot water was sprinkled with rose petals and chamomile flowers and floating with bubbles. A maid servant washed her hair and massaged her neck. The muscles were as tight as steel rods.

Cookie personally delivered a ewer of fresh milk to soften and whiten the queen’s complexion. Queen Ashana waved away her maid servants so she could speak to Cookie alone.

‘Albert is back. He says the children have returned from the north,’ whispered Cookie. ‘They have the prince safely with them.’

‘Thank the blessed Moon Goddess,’ whispered Queen Ashana, clutching the side of the bath with soapy fingers.

‘Courage, your highness,’ Cookie whispered. ‘Albert is gathering the rebels to the city.’

‘Are you sure?’ whispered Queen Ashana urgently. ‘Are you sure my children are safe?’

‘Albert says they are close by, your highness,’ Cookie assured her, before hurrying back to the kitchens to finalise the wedding feast.

Queen Ashana sank her head deep under the water, her eyes closed. She had a throbbing headache.

During the morning, the usual gaggle of peasants queued on the bridge to pass through the city gates. Farmers, fisherfolk, carpenters, smithies and craftsmen waited to sell their goods and offer their services to the city folk. They brought sacks of potatoes, herds of cows, baskets of fish, tools, caged chickens and carts of produce. Horses stamped, donkeys snorted, housewives giggled, farmers chatted. During the day, a stream of countryfolk wandered in and out of the city conducting their business. There was even more of a buzz at the
bridge than usual, for today was the day of the Royal Wedding. The day when Governor Lazlac of Sedah was to wed Ashana, the former Queen of Tiregian. Of course the peasants were keen to visit Tira to watch the festivities.

The Sedah sentries were endlessly bored with checking the goings-on of peasants and merchants. Desultorily they checked sacks and carts, but they were more interested in harassing the wealthy looking merchants to see if they could confiscate anything of value. They hardly noticed as one by one, over the course of the day, a rebel slipped in disguised as a farmer or cooper or seamstress or wheelwright or milkmaid.

Quietly and unobtrusively the ‘peasants’ made their way to several safe houses around the city where they were to await further orders.

The weapons had to be smuggled in separately, buried in cartloads of lettuce and carrots. Albert Drummond personally checked each cartload and each safe house, ensuring that everyone had arrived. He reiterated his orders then went to check on Cookie and the palace kitchens.

In the palace, servants ran hither and thither in a carefully orchestrated strategy of organised chaos.

The Great Hall was hung with banners and garlanded with flowers. Long tables were set up with white linen tablecloths, heavy silver and gold cutlery, huge candelabras, ornate salt cellars and damask napkins. Lord Lazlac had ordered many of the palace treasures to be uncrated for the feast. At one end was a dais, with a long bridal table and two thrones. Red, the colour of Sedah weddings, was everywhere – red velvet drapes hung from the sixmetre ceilings, while the benches and thrones were swathed with cushions the colour of fresh blood.

Maid servants and page boys scurried, sprinkling lavender water and rose petals, polishing the cutlery until their faces were mirrored in the blades.

In one of the bed chambers Queen Ashana was surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, who primped, powdered and perfumed the reluctant bride. Queen Ashana wore the blood-red Sedah bridal gown that Governor Lazlac had designed. Her face was ashen, devoid of colour. One of the ladies powdered her cheeks with rouge and coloured her lips with crimson. She looked like a lifeless doll, her blue eyes large and tearless, her hair coaxed into dozens of ornate ringlets, pinned with pearls.

Marnie bustled everywhere, sick with anxiety. Queen Ashana had warned her that Cookie and Albert had organised a force of rebel soldiers that were standing by, but they did not know any of the details.

Cookie popped her head around the door.

‘Under no circumstances would I recommend that you try the soup, your highness,’ warned Cookie. ‘It is far too spicy for your delicate stomach. Save your appetite for the roast duck with orange sauce, which I know you adore.’

Queen Ashana smiled wanly.

The final touch was the fine red wedding veil that swathed the queen from head to toe.

‘May the Moonmother bless you and keep you safe, your highness,’ murmured Marnie with an encouraging smile as she tweaked the veil into place.

Governor Lazlac was freshly shaven, his hair cut extremely short, and he was dressed in crimson ceremonial robes that swept to the ground. He surveyed himself in the mirror approvingly.

A loud knock sounded on the door.

‘Come in,’ called the governor, turning away from the mirror.

Burgis entered, accompanied by his unusual scent. Governor Lazlac wrinkled his nose in annoyance.

‘Yes?’ he queried.

‘Sir, Sniffer has just returned from the north,’ Burgis cried enthusiastically. ‘He says he has news of the greatest importance!’

Governor Lazlac snorted, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his robes.

‘Not now,’ snapped Lord Lazlac. ‘I am to be married in an hour. Everything else can wait.’

‘But sir,’ interjected Burgis. ‘Sniffer says that –’

‘I said not now,’ roared Governor Lazlac. ‘Sniffer can bring me his news in the morning. He has certainly taken his time returning with it so another few hours won’t hurt.’

Burgis saluted and left the room, wondering what news it was that Sniffer had brought from the north. Governor Lazlac did not waste time on that thought. He was too busy dreaming of his coronation.

Downstairs in the barracks, Sniffer sat at the mess table, a trencher of food in front of him. His bandaged leg throbbed and his brain whirred with
all the news he had been unable to tell Governor Lazlac. He was too exhausted to eat.

Lieutenant Foulash sauntered in, dressed in his finest uniform. Sniffer dragged himself up and limped to the Sedah officer, clutching at his arm.

‘Sir,’ Sniffer pleaded, ‘I’ve terrible news from the north. Prince Caspar has escaped the Sedah priests, with the princess and the other children, and they’re heading for Tira. Captain Malish and his soldiers and Mortma have been captured by rebels and are prisoners in the forests north of here. I tried to tell Governor Lazlac, but he’s too busy. We have to do something.’

Lieutenant Foulash smiled. He could profit greatly from this information. He thought back to the severe reprimand he had received from Captain Malish when the Tiregian prisoners had escaped from the barn in the forests of Kenley. He thought back to a hundred insults and punishments he had suffered from his superior. Now Captain Malish had failed and Lieutenant Foulash would be the one to save the day.

‘Good work, Sniffer,’ congratulated Lieutenant Foulash. ‘I will look after everything from here. We will set off with a raiding party first thing in the morning to rescue Captain Malish and Mortma, and
we can search every house, inn and hovel until we find the pesky brats. Don’t worry, I’ll organise everything in the morning.’

‘But sir,’ Sniffer argued, ‘the children are on their way to Tira now – they may even be here already. Those children are up to something mysterious. I fear they may spoil all our plans.’

Lieutenant Foulash patted Sniffer on the shoulder, removing his desperate grasp from his uniform sleeve.

‘You look exhausted,’ soothed Lieutenant Foulash. ‘Why don’t you go and have a sleep? The royal wedding and coronation are in a couple of hours. The palace is crawling with Sedah soldiers. Nothing can go wrong now.’

Sniffer obediently left his dinner and went to his bunk, where he fell into a deep slumber.

Scouring the mountain of litter, the children worked feverishly. Roana could feel the gems glowing and pulsing in the hem of her green riding cloak. The sword must be here somewhere.

The four children climbed to the peak of the rubbish mountain, holding up lanterns to
illuminate the litter piles before them. The surface underneath their feet was shifting and unstable, so it was hard to climb. They had been searching for hours and were exhausted by the smell, the endless work, the lack of sleep, the darkness and the enormity of their quest. They could almost hear the minutes ticking away in their heads, and still they had found nothing.

Roana sighed, pinching her nose through the scarf. It was now almost sodden with the condensation from her breath.
One rock at a time, one rock at a time
, Roana thought to herself, remembering the mantra she had learnt weeks ago when they were moving hundreds of rocks to find the entrance to these tunnels. It reminded her to keep chipping away, and not to give up when the task seemed too enormous.

‘Look,’ Lily whispered, pointing over to the right.

Something moved in the corner of their vision, something white. The children spun around, their eyes straining in the dim light. Ahead of them on the next peak of rubbish was a figure, a white figure. Actually it was two figures. Skeletons. Human skeletons. One adult sized, one child sized. The two skeletons were jerking, jigging, waving, almost dancing on the spot.

The children screamed involuntarily, almost dropping their lanterns in fright. The lanterns made eerie leaping shadows that loomed and leered. Lily could hear her heart thudding erratically in her eardrums.

At the sound of their screams Fox left Caspar with George and bounded towards the children, his cutlass in his hands. Ethan whipped his bow from his shoulder, nocked an arrow and fired. The arrow fired through the skeleton’s chest, where the heart would be if it were alive. The skeleton danced more violently, but did not move towards them. Two more arrows fired swiftly – one was caught between the rib cage, dangling uselessly, while the other bounced off a rib bone and fell to the ground.

Fox jumped in front of Roana, shielding her with his body, cutlass in one hand, dirk in the other. He scanned the valleys and peaks in front of him, searching for danger.

Aisha leapt towards the skeletons, her nose quivering and her ears cocked, but she wasn’t growling and her hackles weren’t raised.