The Starkin Crown (6 page)

‘If you were killed or captured, we'd lose everything'. Queen Liliana's voice was drained and weary.

Peregrine huffed out his breath. ‘All right, all right, I'll go'. He slid his dagger into its tooled leather scabbard, and took up Blitz from his perch, the falcon's bells chiming softly.

‘Blood is blood and duty is duty,' his mother said. ‘Right now it's your duty to keep yourself safe. Never forget that you are heir to two thrones, and so our only hope to bring peace to this poor land of ours'.

‘I said all right!' A moment later he was sorry. He laid his
cheek briefly against her shoulder, keeping his right arm still so as not to disturb the hooded bird. ‘I do understand, Mam. It's just I wish—'

‘Don't wish!' Queen Liliana threw up her hand.

‘You're afraid it'll come true? That's Aunty Rozalina's Gift, not mine'.

‘Robin, we don't yet know what Gifts you have. You're always talking people into doing what you want, so it wouldn't surprise me at all to know you've inherited the Tongue of Flame from her'.

‘Oh, that's no Gift, Mam, that's just my natural charm,' he said cheekily.

She sighed. ‘You know how much grief Rozalina's Gift has brought. I just wish you to take care'.

‘Take care, child of storm, do you dare?' Stiga said. ‘Find the spear, be of good cheer'. She brought Peregrine his longbow and quiver of arrows, and stared into his face intently.

He thanked her absently, shouldering his bow and saying to his mother, ‘But Aunty Rozalina herself said the spear of thunder would be found, and so surely that means—'

‘Robin, my boy, please, can we just get through this battle? You'll be safe with the Erlrune, she can teach you to control your Gifts, and then, maybe, when you're older—'

‘Yeah, when I'm ninety'.

‘Please, Peregrine, don't argue with me'.

Peregrine, startled by the use of his real name, glanced at his mother in surprise. She had always called him Robin, ever since he was a newborn baby and far too small, she said, for a grand name like Peregrine.

Queen Liliana looked close to tears. At once he was sorry again. He said so contritely, and she ruffled his hair and kissed
him and said, ‘You're the last of the Stormlinn, Robin. If you should die, the wildkin throne will be left without an heir, and all our hopes would perish. Remember, you alone carry “the blood of wise and wild, farseeing ones and starseeing ones”'.

‘I know, I know'.

She said nothing more, going out the door in a rush and banging it shut behind her. Peregrine sighed.

‘She fears the lightning in your head,' Stiga said.

He frowned in response, staring at the still-quivering door.

‘No need to fear'.

‘I'm not afraid,' he assured her, and he wasn't. A secret escape through the dead of midwinter was far more exciting than having to study geography and cartography, and he loved galloping through snow. He only wished the quiet house of the Erlrune was not his destination.

Peregrine pulled on his thick leather coat, lined with beaver fur, and caught up his heavy gloves and his beaver-fur hat. He already wore so many layers he felt like a swaddled baby, but he knew he would be glad of them once he was outside. Stiga brought him his travelling cloak, woven for him by the Erlrune, and then he followed her down the stairs, his falcon perched on his wrist.

Peregrine thought about what his mother had said about his Gifts. What would it be like to have the Gift of Telling, like Queen Rozalina, so that every word he spoke had power beyond the ordinary weight of language? To have every wish, every curse, every prophecy he spoke come true? Queen Rozalina had told her stepmother, Princess Adora, that no child of hers would ever live to sit on the starkin throne, and that had come true. She had told her father, Prince Zander, that he would die
by his own hand, and that had come true. She had told her grandfather, King Zabrak, that he would die on the day she was set free, and that also had come true. Peregrine felt a little superstitious shiver. No wonder Queen Rozalina was so quiet now. No wonder she was afraid to speak.

It was Queen Rozalina's wildkin mother, Shoshanna, who had first foretold that the throne of stars would be broken by the spear of thunder. To prove her wrong, and to assert his power over her, Prince Zander had taken the spear and thrown it in a bog, and taken Shoshanna in chains to the royal palace, where he had made her his concubine. Shoshanna had died there, giving birth to Rozalina, who had, in time, inherited her mother's Gift of Telling and pronounced her own dire prediction.

‘This palace shall fall into desolation and none shall dwell here but owls and bats. The spear of thunder will be found and your throne shall be smote asunder. The rivers will run red and the sun shall turn black. Only when a blind boy can see and a lame girl walk on water shall peace come again to the land, and the rightful king win back the throne'.

Was it a curse or a prophecy? Not even the Erlqueen knew. In the twenty-five years since, the royal palace had indeed fallen into ruin and the rivers of Ziva had run red with blood. Vernisha, Prince Zander's cousin, had seized control and proved to be the most ruthless sovereign in starkin history.

Seeing the devastation her words had caused, the Erlqueen had sworn never to curse again. She had become a quiet, gentle woman who spent her free time writing songs and stories that were sung and told in secret all over the land.

Meanwhile, Peregrine's parents searched out blind boys and lame girls in an attempt to help the final part of the prophecy
come true. Some Queen Liliana had been able to heal; others were beyond help. Many had become healers themselves, or scribes in the library, or spinners and seamstresses in the royal service. One had been Jack's father, his sense of smell and taste so acute after a lifetime without the ability to see that he was able to detect poison with a single sniff. Until someone had found an odourless, tasteless poison …

Jack was waiting for them in the great hall, dressed for the bitter cold, a short sword and two daggers strapped to his waist. His pack was far larger and heavier than Peregrine's, and he carried a shuttered lantern in one hand.

King Merrik was standing before the fire, Queen Liliana beside him, her head against his shoulder. He looped an arm about her waist.

‘Why couldn't they just let us have the winter to rest?' she said bitterly. ‘Fight, fight, it's all we ever do'.

‘It's fight or die,' King Merrik replied gently. ‘And we have achieved a lot in these past twenty-five years, you know we have. Don't lose heart now, darling'.

‘I'm afraid,' she whispered. ‘Do you think it's wise to let this starkin girl ride out with Robin? What if it's a trap?'

‘What could she do?' Peregrine demanded. ‘She's only a girl. I have my bow and arrows, and my dagger and my flute. And we're safe here in the Perilous Forest, the wildkin would never let harm come to me'.

‘Stiga does not trust her,' Queen Liliana said.

‘It took Stiga a long time to trust me too,' King Merrik reminded her. ‘You know Stiga fears all those with starkin blood'.

‘Yes …' Queen Liliana drew out the word, her dark brows knotted. She looked at Peregrine. ‘Be wary of her, Robin. We
know nothing of what is in her heart. I fear she means you harm'.

‘I'll have the Merry Men to guard me, and Jack, and Blitz,' Peregrine said buoyantly. ‘And we only have to get to the Erlrune's. What could one slip of a girl do between here and the Evenlinn?'

G
RIZELDA STARED HAUGHTILY AT THE HEALER.
‘I
WILL NOT
wear that ugly old thing. Take it away!'

Palila stood resolutely, a heavy grey cloak draped over her arm. ‘You must wear it, my lady. It has spells of concealment and camouflage woven through it by the Erlrune. It will help hide you from watching eyes'.

‘It's magic? You want me to wear a thing of magic? I shall not!' Grizelda shuddered at the thought.

‘If you will not wear it, you cannot ride with the prince'.

Grizelda eyed the old woman speculatively. She was only small, with a hunched back and hands so crooked and swollen she could not button Grizelda's mantle. She had told Grizelda to button it herself, but when Grizelda refused she had had to call a serving-maid. She walked with such evident pain that Grizelda wondered she did not take to her bed and stay there.

Yet there was strength there. Grizelda had no doubt Palila meant what she said. She bit her lip. Her skin crawled at the thought of allowing a thing of wildkin design to come
anywhere near her body, but she had no intention of staying here at Stormlinn Castle, soon to be reduced to ashes and rubble. She had to stay with the prince.

‘Very well'. Palila turned to go.

Grizelda flung up a hand. ‘Wait! I'm sorry. Of course I will wear it. I do not wish to bring danger to Prince Peregrine'.

Palila turned back, her eyes steady on Grizelda's face as she held out the cloak. The material shimmered slightly in the candlelight, like water in the grey light before sunrise.

Grizelda took the proffered cloak, glad she was wearing her gauntlets so she did not have to actually touch the material with her bare hands. She draped it about her shoulders as gingerly as if it were a snake. ‘There. Satisfied?' she said tartly.

‘You do know, don't you, that Prince Peregrine has wildkin blood in him, inherited from both parents?' Palila said softly. ‘He is heir to the wildkin throne. He has the gift of magic'.

Grizelda struggled not to let her distaste show in her face. ‘Of course I know,' she said loftily. ‘I'm not an idiot'.

‘Do not underestimate him,' the old woman went on. ‘Yes, he is young and not very strong. No doubt you think you can wrap him around your little finger as easy as blinking'.

Grizelda turned away, giving a light laugh. ‘What are you talking about? Of course I don't think that!'

Palila continued as if she had not spoken. ‘His wit is keen, though, and his heart is good. He's as valiant a prince as you'll ever find, and he has talents he has hardly discovered yet'.

‘He is lucky to have such a loyal subject'. Grizelda spoke frostily, wanting to stop the old woman from saying any more.

‘He has many loyal subjects, you will find,' Palila responded.

Grizelda showed her teeth in a smile and swept to the door. ‘I assure you he can count me among them'.

Palila made a gesture with her crippled hands and the door opened. Grizelda tried not to flinch. She thought she had been prepared for anything, but the wildkin stronghold was even more strange and uncanny than she had expected. That feast last night, with its barbaric customs, all that leaping and jabbering with spears, all the horrible creatures with bulging eyes and horns and weird glowing eyes. She had been so uneasy it had taken all her strength to smile and chatter away, let alone use her wiles to entrance the prince.

As Grizelda swept down the staircase, she considered the prince. She had been disappointed in him to begin with. He was so thin and so pale, so ordinary looking. His squire was twice his size and three times as handsome.

Yet he had been kind to her, and surprisingly lithe and bold during the strange ritual dance he had performed. And she liked his eyes. They were a beautiful colour, grey-blue in some lights and grey-green in others, and filled with light. If only he were taller!

Peregrine shifted from foot to foot, eager to get on his horse and ride out into the frosty night.

His father was giving a few last-minute orders to Lord Montgomery, the captain of Peregrine's bodyguards. Meanwhile, people scurried about the great hall. Some carried racks of spears and pikes out to the battlements, or dragged baskets filled with rocks and boulders to throw down the murder holes. Old women sat tearing linen sheets into strips and rolling them into bandages, while others
pounded herbs to make new batches of healing lotions and ointments. Although Peregrine's mother could heal simple wounds with a touch, she could not heal too many in a row without exhausting herself. More complex injuries took time since she drew upon the strength of the patient themselves as well as her own, and too hurried a healing could drain the injured to the very point of death.

‘Time to go,' Lord Zedrin said, coming into the hall, dressed in armour, his helmet under his arm. ‘It'll be dawn in less than three hours. Are you hungry, Peregrine?'

He shook his head. ‘I'm still full from the feast'.

‘You need to make sure you eat properly and get plenty of rest,' said King Merrik. ‘Jack, can I trust you to make sure his Highness doesn't get too tired?'

‘You can, your Majesty'.

‘I'll be fine, Father,' Peregrine sighed. On his wrist, Blitz shifted, his bells chiming gently.

‘Well then, let's get you out of here before they start throwing their blasted fusillier fire,' Lord Zedrin said. ‘Where do you think they got it, Merry? I thought we'd blown up all their gas mines'.