“Until I and my bloodline are dead?”
Gwyd nodded.
“Does that mean I myself
must
stay alive, else the Wild Hunt will return?”
“Och, aye. You or your get, that is; or your get’s get, and their get’s get, and so on down through the days o’ Faery.”
“Oh, my. What a terrible burden. If I die ere I have children, or if my line dies out, then—”
“Then Lord Fear and the Wild Hunt will ride again.”
Liaze sighed, but said nought.
“Anyway, Princess, had ye not banished him, weel, the cock’s crow would hae sent him away the moment daylight touched him.”
As they stepped through the door, Liaze laughed and said, “And just where did you get the cock?”
Gwyd gestured outward. “Why, m’lady, it be the very bird of Twk’s.”
In that moment, a red-feathered rooster sprang onto the porch of the inn, and a diminutive Pixie dressed in green with a green feather in his cap sat in a tiny saddle astride the bird and held onto reins.
“Princess Liaze, this wee cock-a-whoop here be ma adopted cousin Twk. Twk, this be Princess Liaze o’ the Autumnwood. And Twk, hear me: she
banished
Lord Fear.”
Twk’s eyes widened in surprise, and he leapt from the back of the chicken and swept off his green hat and bowed and declared, “At your service, Princess.”
Liaze laughed and curtseyed in return, and then smiled at the tiny being, no more than eight or nine inches tall.
“And this cock-o’-the-walk,” said Twk, motioning at the red rooster, “is Jester, my faithful steed and harbinger of the sun.”
“Well met,” said Liaze, and she canted her head toward the proud chicken; the bird paid the princess no heed, for he was strutting about and peering into cracks in the weathered boards, looking for insects to eat.
Gwyd said, “Princess, I ken ye hae a need t’thank someone; weel then, let it be Twk here, f’r he was the one what got his rooster t’crow right at the dawnin.”
“Pishposh,” said Twk, waving a negligent hand, “ ’twas no great feat. You see, I think Jester believes if he does not crow, the sun will not come.”
Liaze laughed, but Gwyd looked at her and said, “Regardless, there be nothin better t’send Lord Fear and his grisly riders packin, or so Twk and his band o’ Pixies say.”
Liaze knelt and said, “Twk, I most deeply thank you and your Jester.”
Twk shrugged a shoulder and said, “My lady, when Gwyd told me of your circumstance, well, it was the least we could do. Anyway, ’twas nothing.”
Liaze shook her head. “Oh, no, Twk, I wouldn’t call it nothing, for you and Jester and Gwyd saved me from a dreadful fate.”
“Dreadful fate?” asked Gwyd.
“Oui,” said Liaze. “The bed of Lord Fear.”
“Oh, my,” said Twk, nonplussed, “I have never heard of Lord Dread wanting to bed
any
female.” He glanced at Gwyd.
“Och,” said Gwyd, “look at the Princess, laddie. I canna blame Lord Fear f’r wantin what he did.” Of a sudden, Gwyd clapped a hand over his mouth, and he flushed.
In that moment the rooster crowed loudly, and Twk said, “It seems Jester agrees with you, Gwyd.” Then he burst out laughing, as did Liaze, and Gwyd only turned a deeper red.
“Come,” said Liaze, once again kneeling and hugging the Brownie, “if you have the horses nearby, let us break our fast and celebrate the coming of day.”
“They be next t’a burnie in yon thicket,” mumbled Gwyd, yet mortified.
As Liaze and Gwyd walked across the overgrown field, Twk rode Jester at their side, the rooster veering this way and that through the weeds.
“Oh, and Gwyd, I have seen Luc and I know where he is—atop the black mountain of the rede. It is not too far from here and I know the way.”
“Aye, lass, I recked it was so,” said Gwyd, pulled from his embarrassment, “ye wearin the red scarf and all. Och, and that be good news! I ween we’ll be ridin out t’day, though I think ye and I both need a wee bit o’ rest ere we start, what wi’ us stayin awake through the nights as we hae been doin.”
Liaze frowned and said, “I want to be on the road at least by midday, for I think Luc is somehow enchanted, and we need to rescue him soon. After all, there are only eighteen more eves ere the night of the dark of the moon.”
“How far be this black mountain?”
“Across two twilight borders; perhaps a sevenday, all told.”
“Weel then, we hae plenty o’ time, and so a bit o’ rest should stand us in good stead.”
“I agree,” said Liaze, and on toward the thicket they strode.
Just before they stepped within the saplings, Gwyd paused and looked back at the inn where he’d once served as the house Brownie and said, “Och, ma inn, ma beautiful inn: it hae done fallen t’ruination.”
They stood a moment to gaze at the ramshackle structure, the once-grand edifice no longer imposing, the building nought more than a weather-beaten hulk.
“Lord Fear must have cast a glamour over it,” said Liaze. “It was quite striking those nights spent inside.”
“Oui,” said Twk. “Gwyd and I sat guard through these past several nights, and it indeed was majestic.”
“We watched ye and the Wild Hunt ride in f’r a sennight in all, and we thought ye’d ne’er don that red scarf. But ye did at last, and ma heart leapt f’r joy.”
“Mine, too,” said Liaze, smiling at the Brownie.
“Well, the glamour is gone along with Lord Fear,” said Twk.
“And it left ma inn a ruin,” said Gwyd.
“Well, Gwyd,” said Liaze, “now that Lord Fear is banished to his mountain, he and the Wild Hunt will not be stopping there at night, hence when this venture is over, you can come back and make it as it was of old.”
“Aye, lass, that I could do, but Brunies nae be the proprietors o’ public houses and such. ’Twould take someone else t’run the inn ere a Brunie’d take up residence. Anyway, most o’ the folks hereabout hae done fled the region, what wi’ Lord Death and the Wild Hunt flyin o’er ev’ry night; and so buildin up a clientele would be a mite hard what wi’ nae one livin about. Besides, when Laird Duncan recaptures his manor, then I be goin back t’that household. E’en so, I hate t’see what happened t’ma inn.”
With a sigh, Gwyd turned and entered the thicket, Liaze and Twk and Jester following. As they made their way toward the spring, Princess Liaze said, “What about you, Twk? Where go you from here?”
“Well, Princess, if you don’t mind, I think Jester and I would like to stay with you and Gwyd and see this quest to a suitable end.”
“Oh, Twk, I am not certain that we can take you along,” said Liaze. “You see, there is a rede from Lady Wyrd telling me that I should take no one else with me but the howling one—Gwyd. I cannot put you in danger.”
“But the way Gwyd told it,” said Twk, “that only applied as long as Lord Fear was a threat.”
“Aye, Princess,” chimed in the Brownie, “that I did say, but I couldna remember all o’ the words o’ the rede, though I remembered the o’erall gist o’ it.”
“Be that as it may,” said Twk, “now that Lord Fear has been banished for good—and if not for good, then at least for a very long while—you should be able to take more companions with you. I am certain Jester and I can be of aid.”
“Oh, of that I have little doubt, Twk,” said Liaze. “You already have been of more help than ever I could ask. When we get to the camp, let me tell you the rede, and then we’ll decide.”
They reached the site, and Nightshade and Pied Agile and the geldings were especially grateful to see the princess, the animals crowding in and nuzzling and begging to be scratched and petted. Liaze laughed and accommodated each, and then fed them some grain, and gave some to Jester as well, and then she and Gwyd spread out blankets and the princess and the Brownie and the Pixie took a meal of their own, Gwyd breaking out the last bottle of wine in celebration, the others having been drunk in the interim, Gwyd saying, “ ’Twas thirsty work findin the Pixies and Twk and all.”
Liaze laughed and Gwyd grinned and Twk merely shook his head.
They settled down to a meal of jerky and honey-slathered biscuits, and as they ate and sipped wine, Liaze said, “Twk, these are the words of Lady Wyrd’s rede. . . .”
“. . . and so you see, Twk, she only told me to ride with the howling one to aid me on the way, and she said nought about any others. She did, however, tell me that I would meet both perils and help along my trek, and you and Jester have certainly been part of the help of which she spoke. Nevertheless, she did not say that I should take any of this help with me.”
Twk fell glum and then brightened. “But she didn’t tell you to
not
take the help you found along your trek.”
Liaze sighed. “But I would not put you and Jester in harm’s way, for surely more peril lies along my journey, and Skuld only spoke of Gwyd in her rede.”
Again Twk fell glum.
“Let me think on it,” said Liaze, yawning and stretching. “But for now, Gwyd is right: we need rest ere setting out.”
As the leading limb of the sun entered the mark of the zenith, Twk awakened both Liaze and Gwyd, and the princess got to her feet and moved off into the brush to relieve herself.
As she stepped back into the campsite, a familiar figure came through the woods opposite.
“Madame Divenard,” called Liaze even as she loosed the keeper on her long-knife, for she knew not what might be afoot, “what are you doing here?” In spite of being wary, the princess scooped up a cup of water from the rill and held it out to the matronly woman as she reached Liaze’s side.
“Thank you for the favor,” said Madame Divenard, taking the drink from Liaze, yet tasting it not.
“Need you aid?” asked Liaze.
The yellow-haired matron looked at Gwyd and then at Twk and finally at the rooster and horses. “No, child, I have not come to fetch aid but to give it instead.”
The princess frowned, for she heard the sound of looms coming from somewhere, nowhere, everywhere, and her heart leapt in her breast.
“But first you must answer a riddle, Liaze,” said Madame Divenard.
Liaze took a deep breath and said, “Say away.”
My name as you know it now
Is scrambled in a manner somehow,
But within that scramble all the same
Is my one and only very true name.
“Oh, oh,” said Twk, hopping from one foot to another. “I know, I know!”
Madame Divenard then fixed the Pixie with a gimlet eye and said, “She alone must answer it.”
“Oh, my,” said Liaze, “I am to unscramble your name and make another. ’Tis a riddle worthy of the—Hmm . . . Divenard: D-I-V-E-N-A-R-D: two
d
s, one
v
, one
e
, one
n
, one
i
, and one
r
.”
In the background yet came the sound of looms weaving.
Twk continued to hop from foot to foot with one hand clapped over his mouth to keep words from popping out, but puzzlement yet filled Gwyd’s gaze; even so, Madame Divenard fixed the Brownie with a gimlet eye as well. Then she turned to Liaze.
Liaze smiled and then curtseyed. “Madame Divenard”—Liaze glanced at the sun at zenith—“you are known as
Midi
by your older and younger sisters, one of whom I have already met, and whom I am guessing among you three are known as
Aurore
and
Crépuscule
—respectively, Dawn and Dusk. But you are
Midi
—Noon—and, along with your sisters, Skuld and Urd, you are one of the three Fates: Wyrd, Lot, and Doom. But you, being Midi, are the one known as She Who Fixes the Present and Seals Men’s Fate. You are Lady Lot. And the name Divenard when unscrambled becomes your true name: Verdandi.”
Verdandi smiled, and her eyes turned golden, and her hair became sunlight yellow.
“Lady Lot?” blurted Gwyd. “Oh, my.” He bowed deeply.
Twk stopped hopping and bowed as well.
“Hae ye come wi’ a message?” asked Gwyd.
“Of course she has, you ninny,” said Twk. He turned to Verdandi. “Oh, tell us, tell us, Lady Lot . . . and if you please, might I join the princess on her quest?”
Verdandi broke out in laughter, and said, “Pixies.”
“Even so, Lady Lot,” said Liaze, “I would know why you met me just this side of the marge of the Forest of Oaks, and I would also know why you have come now.”
Verdandi sighed and said, “At our first meeting, even though I had watched and woven in the Tapestry of Time the course of your journey through that Forest of the Oaks, I merely wished to see if you were well. Some things do not show in the skeins my sisters and I weave, and I wanted to gauge your spirit . . . which, by the bye, I found quite fit.”
“And the reason you come now?” asked Liaze.
“Your companions are correct: I have come to give you a message.”
Twk turned to Gwyd and said, “See, I told you so.”
Verdandi smiled and glanced at the two of them. Then she said to Liaze, “By the rules my sisters and I must follow, I cannot answer straight out, but instead I must couch any aid I give you in the form of a riddle or rede.”
Liaze sighed and said, “I know. But, please, whatever aid you can give me, I would have.”
Verdandi smiled and then said:
Upon a bed ’neath ebon sky,
One plans for one to slowly die.
But if ye three are truly brave,
A golden draught will surely save.
Hence, ground your lyre and ground it well
For you to cast the needed spell.
Sleep must come, if it comes at all,
For one to thrive beyond the wall.
Take only one else one will die,
As will the one ’neath ebon sky.
Verdandi then turned to Twk and said, “Oui, my friend, you
must
go with Liaze and Gwyd, for you and yours will be needed at a critical time.”
“Oh, thank you, Lady Lot,” said Twk, clapping his hands.
In that moment the trailing limb of the sun left the mark of the zenith, and Lady Lot vanished along with the sound of the looms.