How
could the princess speak so familiarly with the Jewel? Speaking to it
at all proved difficult for Lovisa, who for the moment couldn't even
bring herself to open the great double doors that led to the Jewel's
chamber. Sure, she had been here before to greet the Jewel or to wish
it goodnight; the Jewel considered them all to be its companions, and
to reciprocate such considerations with a greeting or an
acknowledgement seemed natural. But to actually stand before the
Jewel and consult it, to ask for its advice, or even to carry out any
sort of conversation with it did not seem natural at all. Lovisa had
never approached the Jewel on her own; at the knighting ceremony, her
seven comrades had been there with her, and the Jewel had no words
for her that it did not have for any of them. They had all been made
to feel simultaneously small, insignificant, great, and powerful by
its words.
Still,
Lovisa knew that if no one knew what to do about that poor boy, then
the Jewel certainly would. But if she didn't act, then there was
nothing to be done. Feeling as stiff as if she had been petrified,
Lovisa pulled the massive doors aside and entered. There was the
Jewel, sitting upon its dais in an oddly patient manner, as if it had
been waiting for her. In an instant, Lovisa's anxiety was replaced by
the combination of joy and comfort that she remembered so well from
her first encounter with the Jewel. She felt as though it were the
beginning of the holiday season, or the first day of a week-long stay
with a dear friend or relative. If the Jewel was a person, she
figured, then it would be a kind maiden woman who warmly welcomed
guests into her home to have a chocolate chip cookie and a seat on a
comfortable chair. But still, how was one meant to address a magic
stone? Lovisa was spared the difficulty of having to figure it out
when the Jewel spoke first. “Hello, Lovisa.”
“Hello,”
Lovisa replied, and the sound of the Jewel's voice calmed her enough
to allow herself to walk right up to the dais. “I mean, good
afternoon,” she said, remembering that pleasantries were the best
things to be said when nothing else could be.
“What
brings you to me, my dear?” the Jewel asked in a rather motherly
fashion. Lovisa did not hear the words from the Jewel itself, but
from the turquoise stone around her neck. “Have you run into any
sort of terrible trouble?”
“Oh,
not exactly,” Lovisa said. “We're all just fine. But you see, Ion
and Troy found this young boy just sitting around in the middle of
the field, and they brought him to me. He's only about fourteen years
old and, well, he certainly looks as though he has had a rough time
of it. We don't know where he came from or what his intentions are,
and if he knows, then he isn't telling us. So we're all at a total
loss for what to do with him. But he's so small, much too small for a
boy his age. He's dirty and burnt and his clothes are frayed...could
a boy like that really hide any wicked intents?”
There
was a long silence. Even the Jewel, Lovisa supposed, must take some
time to think. Finally, it spoke again, and its voice was like a
long, heavy sigh. “Anybody,” it told her, “has the ability to
harbor malicious intents, and anybody has the ability to mask them.
But I would like you to bring this boy here to me.”
“Bring
him here?” Lovisa asked incredulously. “Are you s...” She
caught herself. Of course the Jewel was sure. It would not have said
anything that it was not sure of. “All right, I will,” she said
with a nod. “Thank you, Jewel, for your time and for your help.”
She nodded again and she saw herself out. The Jewel had no more words
for her.
Lovisa
found Sanjaia's horse before she found Sanjaia and the boy, but she
was relieved that it was parked in the same place as where she had
left them. She parked her own horse beside it and dismounted, and
found the two of them nestled safely underneath the thick branches
and trailing leaves of a willow tree—a makeshift fortress. Sanjaia
sat perched on a lower branch, strumming out a merry melody on his
lute. The boy had managed to relax enough to lie down and rest his
head on a soft clover patch. His eyes were closed, his face calm, and
his arms crossed over his chest, and Lovisa wondered if he had
actually fallen asleep. But at the sound of Lovisa's footsteps, his
eyes snapped open immediately, and he sat up. “I'm sorry,” Lovisa
said, “I didn't mean to wake you!”
“I
wasn't asleep,” was the boy's stony reply.
“You
could've fooled me,” Lovisa said with a chuckle. “Anyhow, I would
like for you to come with us. I've found a place for you to go, and
there's somebody who would like to see you.”
“Who
is it?” Sanjaia asked in unison with the boy.
“It's
somebody very kind,” Lovisa told the boy, “and very wise, who
will know exactly what to do to take care of you. Go on back to the
horses now. Sanjaia and I will meet you there.”
The
boy headed back to the horses with an unmistakable spring in his step
that had not been present before, holding his head higher and his
body taller, without a slump or a slouch to be seen. Guilt took hold
of Lovisa at the thought of this poor waif facing interrogation or
even imprisonment when all he wanted was a warm place to rest his
head. If he
was sent to go against us, she
thought, then
the real
enemy
is whoever it is that sent him. She
had the saddening feeling that the boy had forgotten he was meant to
be an enemy the moment he was offered care and kindness.
“So where are we taking
him?” Sanjaia asked. “Who is this mysterious kindly soul?”
“It isn't so mysterious,”
replied Lovisa. “It's...it's the Jewel.”
“Lovisa, no!” Sanjaia
caught her by the shoulders. “You can't take him to the palace,
Lovisa! Remember what Ion said! You can't trust him!”
“Well, tell me where else
he should go!” Lovisa snapped. “Sanjaia, the Jewel itself told me
to bring him there! If the Jewel itself requests his presence...”
“You spoke with the
Jewel?” Sanjaia asked, astonished.
“Yes,” Lovisa said, “I
did. 'Bring the boy to me,' it said. It would not have said that if
it saw any danger!”
They found the boy waiting
on the back of Lovisa's horse, his expectant eyes facing the horizon.
Sanjaia knew that he couldn't argue with the Jewel. “It's probably
best if we don't tell Ion,” he whispered finally as he mounted his
horse. “Are you all right?” Lovisa asked the boy warmly, forcing
herself to smile against her guilt and anxiety.
“Fine,” the boy said
dryly.
They urged the horses on,
making way for the Palace of the Jewel, making their way through the
repetitive scenery of tall grass and thickets of weeds and shrubs.
The boy was alerted to a sudden cacophony in the distance: what
sounded like a horrifically agonized cry that sent a chill through
the bones of all three of them. “What in the world is going on out
there?”
“It's nothing to worry
about,” Sanjaia assured him. He recognized it as the sound of
Morgana testing out one of her distortion spells against an
unfortunate manikin.
“That's
nothing
to worry about?!” the boy asked, his voice quaking. “It sounds as
though somebody's being turned inside-out!”
“Nobody is being turned
inside-out,” Sanjaia told him with a light chuckle. “It's only a
friend of ours, practicing her spells.”
“What kind of spells?”
the boy asked. But Sanjaia shook his head; he wouldn't say anything
more about it, and the boy didn't press him. He remained silent until
they pulled up into the courtyard of the Palace of the Jewel, and
then he let out a cry in spite of himself.
“What's wrong?” Lovisa
asked. “Are you all right?”
“It's...it's
just...it's remarkable!”
the
boy exclaimed with a gasp. Like other children, he had read about
such places in storybooks, and like other children, he had been sure
that such places did not exist outside of storybooks. Oh, he knew
that there were palaces, though he had never been fortunate enough to
see one up close. But a palace like this, with its opalescent walls
that reflected every color of the rainbow and its glistening towers
that imposingly looked down upon them as if alive, was another thing
entirely. Everything, from the trailing, bell-like flowers in the
courtyard to the glittering golden gates inlaid with tiny pearls,
seemed unfit for any ordinary royalty. “Who in the world lives
there?”
the boy asked once he had caught his breath.
“You'll see,” Lovisa
told him. “But wait here for a moment, all right? Keep a sharp eye
on him, Sanjaia.” She dismounted her horse and unlocked the gate to
let herself through.
Keep
a sharp eye on him. The
boy was still distrusted, and he sighed wearily. He distracted
himself with the sight of the dreamy palace before him, watching as
reeds danced in the wind beside the aquamarine-colored garden pond.
Sanjaia played a bit on his harp, but the boy was too enchanted to
take any notice.
Lovisa
returned a few moments later and, to the boy's surprise, unlocked the
gate again and pushed it aside for him. “Come in, honey,” she
said, and he thought that his heart would rise and fly. Oh
my! I get to go in
there?!
He
leaped from his horse and darted through the gate like a rabbit, and
Lovisa quickly caught him by the hand. “Not so fast, please,” she
told him firmly. “We'll be going in together.” She could feel his
body tremble as she led him to the entrance. The boy found warmth in
her hand this time, which he had not felt when Ion had handed him
over to her like a pet that nobody wanted. The warmth increased as
she led him into the palace, and he remembered what it was like to be
cared for.
A staple such as milk is
one that is easily taken for granted. After all, in any ideal quality
of life, milk is both plentiful and accessible. Very few may truly
appreciate milk, or savor the taste of milk, or long for milk with
their breakfast in the way they might long for blueberry pancakes.
But if someone were to find themselves in a situation where milk was
as hard to come by as a buttercream birthday cake, it would become
just as savored and sought after.
“Oh, I think that's
enough, Magus,” Lovisa said, patting the boy's head when he eagerly
held out his glass for a fourth serving of milk. “If you fill up on
milk, there won't be room for anything else. Eat your sweetbread.
It's really good!”
“It's
so empty in there that I have room for anything,” Magus insisted,
but he obediently took a bite out of the bread, and then had to be
stopped from wolfing the rest down. It was as if he had never seen
good food before, even ordinary food like milk and sweetbreads. Dear
god, Lovisa
thought as she watched him greedily gobble it up, how
has
this
boy been living? His
clothes had been changed from the dirty street attire to the soft
cotton pants and taffeta shirts from Rodin's wardrobe; though they
shared a clothing size, the clothes were still very loose and billowy
on Magus' twig-thin body. The Jewel had instructed Lovisa and Sanjaia
to let him have a bath and to dispose of all traces of his old
attire, preferably by burning them. Lovisa didn't know why, but
Sanjaia did, and it gave him a spooky feeling: the Jewel had
discovered that the boy came from Aldine. The clothes were bugged
from head to toe. The thread-worn pockets of the loose shirt and torn
jeans were ideal hiding places for tiny devices designed to spy and
track, as were the holey cap and shoes. The boy was likely outfitted
with so many devices, traps, bugs, tools, tricks, and even magic
spells intended for surveillance that a thorough bath was the only
way to get every inch of them off. Sanjaia had guarded the bath door
for an hour and not one moment less, no matter how much Magus
insisted that he was done washing. “You're done when I say you're
done,” was Sanjaia's curt response. He was taken aback by how
harshly he spoke—he had never spoken like that before. Good
lord, he
thought, we
really are changing...
The Jewel had not deemed it
necessary to turn Magus away, and even if it had, Lovisa wouldn't
have been able to do it. That said, it was Lovisa who would have to
explain why he was here despite strict instructions to keep him away.
Magus had cleaned his plate entirely and now held it out for her.
“Can I have more?” he asked hopefully, and Lovisa was delighted
to see that some color had returned to his pale face, which reminded
her of something else entirely. “No, honey,” she said, taking the
plate from him. “You can have some more later on. Right now, I'd
like to tend to those awful sunburns. Why, you look just like a roast
chicken!”
“I feel like one too,”
said Magus, and Lovisa giggled. “Go on over to the bed, then,”
she told him, “and I'll look around and see what I have for those
burns.”
“I've been wanting to lie
down on that bed since I laid eyes on it!” Magus excitably
confided. He threw himself down on the bed with relish, ignoring the
pain of his burns and the aches of joints that never found a good
place to rest. He was delighted to find a mattress so soft and thick
that his body sank into it. He sighed happily and rolled over on his
back. When Lovisa returned, she found him asleep with one pink cheek
pressed against the pillow. He was not yet so far into sleep that he
could not feel the delightfully cool, minty ointment that she gently
applied to his sunburnt face, or the soft kiss that she placed on his
cheek once she finished.
There was much discussion
among the seven other knights about what was to be done about Lovisa
and Magus, none of it shared with Lovisa and Magus themselves. Ion
considered her breach of his orders a grave betrayal, which quickly
escalated to an act of treason when Sanjaia reported that the boy
came from Aldine. “She doesn't think!” Ion had roared. “She
leads with her foolish heart, and now that heart has led the snake
and his venom right to our door!”
He had calmed down
considerably since then, after a few of his well-meaning comrades had
convinced him to lead with his own head as opposed to his hot blood.
As per their advice, he had not confronted Lovisa or even spoken with
her at all, and the rest of them followed suit. When he spoke now,
his exasperation was buried under several layers of pity: “It's a
shame, she is such a dear girl, and I've never known a better heart
than hers. But it's that very heart that has gotten the best of her.
No one has ever taught her that there's no room for kindness in war.”
“Of course they haven't,”
Alicia said in Lovisa's defense. “She has never known war.”
“She's
only following the Jewel's advice,” Sanjaia said. “The Jewel told
her to bring the kid here, and so she did! The Jewel told her to let
him have a bath and some food, and so she did! The Jewel said it was
safe to keep him here for now, and so that's what she did! Do you
really think that the Jewel would lead danger to its own
door?”
“He
is
dangerous,”
Morgana said harshly, “and only an idiot would doubt that. But I
suppose that the Jewel saw something in him besides the danger.
Humans are dreadfully complicated, and young humans especially—they
are fickle, impressionable young things who hardly have a mind to
make up. I suppose that somewhere in the unintelligible nonsense that
makes up the mind of a young human, the Jewel found something that
prompted it to keep him around.
“I'll tell you what the
Jewel saw in him,” Sanjaia said, standing up on his chair. “It
saw a child, put up to some ridiculous evil plan by some ridiculous
evil man who finds it appropriate to send a kid out to do his dirty
work! He was probably promised food, or a bed, or even money in
return. 'Go do these knights in, and you won't have to sleep in a
pile of dirty hay tonight!' But now look, he's gotten that and more
without having to do anybody in! So who's to say that he won't just
give up on the whole thing? I think it might be all right to let up
on him at least a little.”
“And as usual,” chided
Morgana, “you're a fool.”
“Eluani hasn't said
anything,” Alicia interjected as Sanjaia attempted to work up a
retort. “If anybody ought to have anything to say about all this,
it would be Eluani, and yet she's been completely silent!” They all
looked to Eluani, who was sitting at the end of the table with her
arms folded and her face stoic. “How do you feel about all this,
Eluani?” Alicia asked. “Do you think that it bodes well?”
Before Eluani could answer,
Lovisa appeared in the doorway. “I know you've all decided not to
speak to me,” she said bitterly, “and I know you probably don't
care about Magus...”
“I do care!” Sanjaia
interrupted.
“Yes,” said Alicia,
“how is he doing?”
Lovisa grinned. “He's
smiling in his sleep,” she told them. “I don't think he's ever
even dreamed of accommodations like these.”
“I'm sure he's dreamed of
them,” Morgana said coldly.
“It's very unfortunate,”
Alicia said, “but Lovisa, you know that he can't stay here. He's a
refugee from Aldine, and it's just too dangerous to keep one of those
around.”
“Where else is he going
to stay?” Lovisa asked defensively. “They won't have him in the
city.”
“I wonder why,” Troy
said with a roll of his eyes.
“It's dangerous for him
too,” Alicia reminded Lovisa. “Right now, we are under the
constant threat of an attack. You know that.”
“I do know that,”
Lovisa said, “but we can protect him. And if we can't, the Jewel
certainly can. There's a reason that it asked me to bring him here.”
“Yes,” said Rodin, “it
wanted him off the streets and out of harm's way. Now that he is,
we've got to figure out what to do with him.”
“You don't know if that's
the only reason,” Lovisa argued.
“Take him to the
princess,” Eluani spoke out suddenly, and everyone turned to face
her. “As soon as he wakes up, we'll get him fed and on a horse, and
we'll set out.”
“You
can't be serious,” said Troy in exasperation. “It's bad enough
that he's hanging around here. Now you want him brought to the
palace?”
“Not that they'll take
him,” interjected Morgana.
“I
didn't say to take him to the palace,” said Eluani, “I said to
take him to the princess.
As
soon as he wakes up, we'll go.”
After the incident with the
golem, the knights had been given devices that could be used to call
upon the princess at any time, as well as to communicate with
eachother across the field. Rodin took his out now and pressed the
switch that would allow him to connect with the princess' device.
“Princess Cordelia?” he spoke out, and she returned a clear and
prompt response: “Yes, Rodin, what do you need?”
Rodin was suddenly at a
loss for words. “I...we...well...”
“We found a young vagrant
out in the fields,” Ion took over. “He is a waif from Aldine.”
There
was silence. Lovisa could have slapped him. You
idiot! They're going to interrogate him, browbeat him, intimidate
him...and he doesn't need that! He needs someone to take care of him!
Finally,
Cordelia spoke: “Are you sure that he's from Aldine? Did he tell
you so himself?”
“The Jewel told us,”
Rodin said.
“Do you have the child
with you?” Cordelia asked.
“We do,” replied Rodin.
“Then bring him to the
city entrance,” Cordelia said. “I will meet him there.”
“As you wish,” said
Ion. “Thank you, Princess.” He turned to Lovisa. “Go and wake
the boy.”
“I'm
not going to wake him,” Lovisa said defiantly. “We will wait
until he wakes up, and then we will give him dinner before
taking him out. You can tell the princess that.” She headed for the
door, her mind already formulating the right words to say to Magus.
No matter how the news was broken, it would be a betrayal. But
hopefully there was a way to take a bit of the edge off. To find
Magus standing there at the door, his eyes turned on her like angry
flames, was the very last thing that she would have expected.
“Magus!” she exclaimed. “How long have you...”
“I heard everything!”
he cried out with fury. “You brought me around just to toss me back
out! I ought to have known!”
“Magus...” Eluani
began.
“Shut
up!” he hollered. “Don't even talk to me! You all hated me from
the start...and I hate you too! You all can burn
in hell!”
He took off running, making
his way through the halls like an angry dart with no particular
target. Immediately, Lovisa gave chase. “Magus!” she called.
“Magus, come back here! Magus!” But his legs were like springs,
and he flung himself out the door before Lovisa could catch up to
him. She heard Ion's angry boots pounding their way towards her, and
she turned around and stood her ground, her arms outstretched. “Step
aside!” Ion roared, his eyes crackling like the sparks of a blue
flame.
“Leave him alone, Ion!”
Lovisa cried. “He's...” The next thing she knew, she was lifted
into the air and set back down on her feet in one swift motion that
knocked the wind out of her. By the time she regained her composure,
Ion was already out the door.
Magus was accustomed to
running, and he had the powerful legs to show for it. His entire
life, it seemed, was running; running down streets, through alleyways
and farmers' fields, running from guards and from people who caught
him stealing, running from ruffians that singled him out as easy
prey, running from the many altercations he had gotten himself into.
He had been tossed over Aldine's border and forced to run from
guards, and now he was running from traitors he had been foolish
enough to believe were friends. He didn't have any friends.
The good meal he'd had—a
very rare treat for him—had given him the energy to fling himself
over the golden gates of the palace and dart off before anyone that
may have been chasing him could even think of catching him. The sound
of heavy feet pounding after him brought him down to his hands and
knees, darting through shrubbery and patches of tall grass like a
snake. He sprung up the moment he touched road and continued to run.
The beautiful clothes that he had been given were dusty and stained
with grass. His hair, which had been detangled and combed down
neatly, was tousled by the breeze and was gradually returning to its
previous wild state. His burns began to sting again as the sun
touched his skin. He had been brought to an enchanted castle, where
they had managed to transform him into someone else for the time
being. Now he was out in the wide world again, and slowly reverting
back to himself. He was truly lost, with nowhere to go that would not
lead him into trouble. The beacon that he was meant to use to call
upon his benefactors at a time like this had been taken from him. It
was still in the palace, with all of the other remnants of his life
in Aldine.
The
woods were still a distance away, but nearby enough that they would
provide a viable place to settle. The trees would shade him from the
sun, there were thickets to hide in, and there were willows. Willows,
with their dense, trailing leaves and strong bodies, were the best
possible shelter trees. In Magus' experience, they often grew
alongside clear streams and ponds, where there was water and fresh
fish to be had. The thought of a willow was a comforting one in the
past, but now it could not measure up to the nice, soft bed that he
had left behind in the palace. He wiped a tear from his eye, and
shook his head as if to clear away any more that might come. You
wouldn't have been able to stay there, Magus, he
reminded himself. They
would've taken you away, and then you would be back out here anyway,
if not in prison. He
slowed down and allowed his legs a respite from the need to run. It
was not a long one, for he was set off again by the deep rumble of
oncoming hooves. Those
machine horses, Magus
thought as he frantically searched for a spot to hide. They were
ridiculous things. He had been informed of Rasta's preoccupation with
machinery and enchanted tech, but he thought they at least ought to
use real horses. He had evaded real horses enough times, but these
things...
Finally, he came upon a
growth of berry bushes, and he got down on his stomach and dragged
himself under them. He drew his knees up to his chest and curled up
as tightly as he could manage, which was relatively easy with his
small frame. The low rumbling sound drew nearer, and he peered
between the branches and beheld his opponent.
These
were real horses, not the bronze-colored machines of Rasta. They were
tall, strong black steeds decorated in the familiar purple and gold
regalia of Aldine, each carrying an armored rider. The soldiers of
Aldine had come for him! Even facing the wrath of his benefactors was
preferable to having nowhere to go at all. Magus emerged from the
bushes and darted after the army. “Hey!” he called out, waving
his arms. “He-e-ey! I'm right here! Help me! Hey!”
But his cries were lost in the pounding of the hooves, and the army
was quickly getting away from him.
They were heading for the
city.
Magus
halted in his tracks. They weren't here for him. They were here to
storm the city. Suddenly, his chest tightened as if it had been
squeezed. The
princess! She
was waiting for him at the city's entrance, and that's where she
would be when the soldiers showed up...
Magus'
mind raced. She's
the enemy, he
reminded himself. Why
should I care? But
enemy or not, he hated the thought of the princess in danger. After
all, she had offered to take him in, when originally he had been
turned away completely. And besides, she was in league with that
lovely woman who had shown him such unheard-of kindness and comfort;
that beautiful, golden-haired woman, who fed him and tended his
wounds, who gently combed the mats out of his hair and gave him his
best sleep on that wonderful bed. She treated him like he was a
precious thing that she must care for and protect, and he didn't
remember the last time that he had been shown kindness like that. It
certainly hadn't happened during his hard life in Aldine.
As he thought of her, his
legs carried him towards the army. His body grew hot with an inner
fire fueled by pure passion and by the thoughts of the kindness that
he had received. He wished more than ever that his fear had not
gotten the best of him and that he had gone quietly to the princess.
It was his fault that she was in harm's way, and now he was going to
make up for it. A few more flying sprints, and he would be tailgating
the last row of horses. The soldiers, facing forward, were unaware
that he was even around. The heat within his body grew and grew,
until finally it exploded. He closed his eyes against the blinding
flash. There were the soldiers, letting out blood-curdling, almost
inhuman screams as the pain overtook every part of their bodies.
Magus covered his ears and ran, without any regard for direction or
purpose. Those haunting death cries would surely break him if he
didn't get away...
He ran into something hard
and oddly metallic, and he was knocked to the ground. He opened his
eyes, clutching his head with one hand to stop the vertigo. Ion, that
red-haired knight with the red stone, had finally caught up with him.
But right now, he only had eyes for the soldiers and their horses as
their bodies were engulfed in flames. Magus turned away, because he
just couldn't bear the look in those eyes.
