Dennis McKiernan: Once Upon a Winter's Night

Camille looked down at Kelmot, an unspoken question in her eyes. He grinned and said, “I called upon a few friends of mine to help-Brownies, I believe you would name them, though to me they are the Nis and the Pech.”

“Where are they?” asked Camille. “I would like to thank them for-”

Of a sudden, Alain put a finger to Camille’s lips. “My love, one should never thank a Brownie, else he will leave in high dudgeon.”

Camille frowned, but then smiled and curtseyed to Lord Kelmot and said, “Well, if that is the case, my wee friend, my thanks do then go to you.”

Kelmot smiled and bowed in return, then leapt astraddle his lynx. He grinned his catlike grin, catlike teeth and catlike eyes agleam, and he said, “I am glad you are safely home, my lord and lady, and now I must be off to mine.” And the lynx bounded out through the open door and vanished into the dusk.

Alain closed the door after, and turned to Camille and said, “Well, my love, I wonder what there is to do, now that our guest is gone.”

Camille looked at Alain in all innocence and said, “Indeed, what is there to do?” Then she grinned and said, “I’ll race you.” And she darted for the stairs.

They sat in the game room, playing echecs. It was Alain’s move. As he studied the board, Camille studied him, for though she had lived with Alain for a moon and a fortnight on L’Ile de Camille, and another seventy-two days with him on the North Wind, and then even more days in Atterrage and on the journey to Summerwood Manor, she yet marvelled at the fact that she could see his beautiful face and see him in the daytime, to stroll the grounds of the manse or to take meals in the gazebo or to wander the hedge maze or to do whatever they would, all with the sun above.

Finally Alain exhaled, and turned his king on its side. “You take this one, my love, yet I’ll take the next.”

“Ha!” said Camille, grinning as she set the board again, with its spearmen and warriors and heirophants and such.

A discreet knock came at the door, and Lanval entered. Alain looked up. “Yes?”

“My prince, ’tis a trivial thing, but someone has stolen the small lockbox.”

Camille laughed. “ ’Twas I, Lanval. I am the miscreant. I had forgotten all about it. You’ll find it buried in Andre’s compost pile by the stables. I hid it after I took some coins to see me through my quest, though little good it did, me being robbed in Les Iles. Dig in the center, and there it will be.-And, oh, by the bye, you’ll find it damaged; I had to break in with a hammer and chisel… Renaud’s.”

Alain laughed. “Quite the burglar are you, my dear? Tools and all?”

Camille fluttered her eyes at Alain and said, “Why, whatever do you mean, sieur? Would I even know how to handle such devices? I am sure I would be all thumbs.”

They both broke out laughing.

Lanval smiled and shook his head and left them to their games.

Alain sobered and said, “Burying the box in compost, that was clever, my dear. But even more clever was presenting to Olot those double-answer posers, and challenging him to remove the wax, and solving the riddles of the Fates Themselves.”

Without comment, Camille smiled at Alain, then gestured at the board. She would play white this time.

He nodded, and she unconventionally opened the game by stepping forward the spearman who stood just to the right of the white queen’s heirophant.

As Alain pondered his response, Camille’s eyes wandered to the echecs board on the central table, the one reserved for Alain’s sire and dam should they ever be found. Then she stared up at the portrait of Lady Saissa, she with her black hair and black eyes. Then she turned and looked at Lord Valeray’s portrait, grey eyes and dark hair, though not as black as the lady’s. And as she looked, a thought eased at the edge of her mind, something that Alain had said, yet she could not quite recall what it “Your move, Ma’amselle Burglar.”

Camille grinned, and studied the board. Alain had sprung his black king’s warrior across “I have it!” she shrieked, Alain starting back. Camille leapt up from the table and darted to peer at Lady Saissa’s portrait, then whirled and dashed across to Lord Valeray’s. “Alain, I might know where your parents are.”

“What?” Alain, scrambled to his feet. “Where?”

“Oh, love, I might be wrong, but you said that I had solved the riddles of the Fates Themselves, but there is one I had not, for I knew not then what it meant. I still might not know what it means, but I do hope I am right.”

“Which riddle is that, Camille?”

“Urd’s last.”

“ ’Tis done,” said Alain. “The ribbon is laid.”

“Good,” said Camille, “for they know not the path, and we can but hope the ribbon will guide them, for neither of us nor anyone else must lead; ’tis my belief they need do this voluntarily, else it might have no effect.”

Alain nodded.

Camille hugged him. “And be prepared for disappointment, for I am not certain I am right. But if I am, then something wonderful will happen.”

At Alain’s second nod, Camille said, “You go on in; I’ll be at the gazebo. And remember, when I ring the bell-”

“I remember,” said Alain, his voice tight with tension.

With Scruff on her shoulder, Camille turned and headed for the gazebo, while Alain entered the hedge maze.

A quarter candlemark later, just as the sun reached the zenith, Blanche stepped from the manor and started for the gazebo, a tray of food in her hands. And at nearly the same time, Renaud rounded the corner of the manse and headed for the gazebo as well.

When they arrived, as Blanche laid out the lunch on the table-bread and cheese and petit fours and tea, and a small bit of millet seed for Scruff, who hopped down and began pecking away-Camille craned her neck about as if looking for someone and said, “Renaud, the prince would like to know how goes the crafting of shoes for the horses to come, now that the Bear is gone. But I don’t see Alain at the moment. Hmm… ” Her eyes lighted on a small bell on the table. In spite of her tension, she laughed gaily and said, “I know, why don’t I just ring for him?”

“Oh, Camille,” said Blanche, “the prince isn’t someone you just-”

But Camille took up the bell and jingled it quite hard, the tinkle ringing across the sward.

As Camille set the bell back to the table “Help! Help!” came a cry.

Scruff lifted up his head.

“Oh, help me!” came another cry.

Scruff took to wing, flying for the maze, even as Camille cried out, “Alain, Alain!”

“ ’Tis the prince,” gasped Blanche, but Renaud was already running toward the hedge.

Camille scrambled to her feet and followed Blanche, the handmaiden running swiftly after Renaud.

Now others ran toward the maze, one of these Lanval, though he and they were yet a distance away.

Renaud was first to the entry, where he hesitated, for he did fear this place: “I think if I ever went in there, I would lose myself forever,” once he did say to Camille.

Then Blanche reached the entry, and she hesitated too, for she shared Renaud’s fear.

But then Alain called out again, “Oh, help me! Help me!”

Gritting his teeth, Renaud, with Blanche right behind, darted inward, both casting their fears aside. Without realizing it, Renaud followed a long ribbon lying on the ground and twisting into the labyrinth.

Camille stopped at the entrance, and even as Scruff flew back over the hedges and landed on her shoulder, chirping an irritated “ chp! ” Lanval arrived. “Keep the others out, Lanval,” Camille said, then she darted within.

Twisting and turning, Renaud and Blanche ran through the high hedgerows, the ribbon guiding their feet. Winding and weaving, jinking left and right, at last they came to the very center of the maze, and there they found Alain waiting, standing beside the statues of his parents.