Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Spring morn

until our business here is done.”

Celeste groaned and glanced back at the camp. In the growing light, no one stirred, not even the sentry, who seemed locked in his stance. She looked again at Skuld and said, “In all fairness I must confess that I know the riddle of the Sphinx and the riddles you posed to Camille and Borel.”

Skuld smiled. “I shall not ask you any of those, nor the one I posed to your sister.”

Celeste’s eyes flew wide in startlement. “You aided Liaze in her search for Luc?”

“Is that a question you would have me answer?” Celeste threw out a hand of negation. “Non. Non. If you posed a riddle to her, one she correctly answered, then you aided her.”

Again Skuld smiled.

Celeste took a deep breath and said, “As for a riddle you would have me answer, say away,” and then she braced herself as if for a blow.

Of a sudden the sound of looms weaving swelled, and Skuld said:

“Trees on my back, dwelling below, I fare when a wind does flow.

Name me. . ”

Even as the clack of shuttle and thud of batten diminished, Celeste’s heart sank and tears sprang into her eyes. I will never get the answer, never.

“Wipe away your tears,” said Skuld, “and think.”

With the heels of her hands, Celeste dried her cheeks, and she looked at Skuld and then away. In that moment a small piece of wood caught in the flow went racing downstream. Watching it, Celeste recalled a happier time long past in her childhood, when she and her brothers stood by a brook and-

“A ship!” she cried. “Lady Wyrd, ’tis a ship, for the trees on its back are the masts, the dwelling below houses the crew, and a ship does fare when a wind flows.” With hope in her eyes, she looked at Skuld.

Skuld now smiled and said, “Correct. And now I have something to tell you, and a gift for you as well.”

“This something you are going to tell me, is it in the form of a rede?”

Skuld nodded, and again Celeste groaned. “Lady Wyrd, I am not good with puzzles and redes, can you not say it straight out?”

“No, Princess, I cannot, for my sisters and I must follow the rules.”

“Rules,” mused Celeste. “I wonder just whose they are.”

“That I will not say,” replied Skuld. “Instead, this is what I’ve come to tell you.” And again as the thud and clack of weaving intensified, Skuld said:

“Seek the map, it is the key,

For Changelings dwell beyond the sea.

Yet beware, for there are those

Who bar the way: dreadful foes.

“A moon and a day, there is no more For the lost sister you would restore.

Seven years all told have nearly passed; A moment beyond and the die is cast.

“What might seem fair is sometimes foul And holds not a beautiful soul.

Hesitate not or all is lost;

Do what seems a terrible cost.”

Skuld fell silent, and Celeste said, “I understand some of it but not all. Lady Wyrd, would you please-?” Again, with an upraised hand, Skuld stopped the flow of Celeste’s words. “I cannot, Celeste. But this I can tell you: along the way you will face terrible trials, but you will also find aid as well.”

Skuld glanced at the sky, the dawn bright, the sun yet below the horizon, but barely. “I must now go, Princess, yet remember all I have said. -Oh, and here, you will need this.” Between thumb and forefinger, Skuld held out the gift she had promised. As Celeste took it, the sound of batten and shuttle swelled and then vanished altogether, as did Lady Wyrd.

In the distance, of a sudden the camp came awake.

Men began stirring even as the limb of the sun rose above the rim of the world. Yet Celeste paid them no heed and instead peered at what Skuld had given her:

’twas nought but a small silver needle.

Dangerous Crossing

“And this is what she gave me.” Celeste held out her hand; the silver needle rested in her palm.

Both Roel and Anton looked, and Roel said, “I don’t see how that is going to help us.”

“Well,” said Anton, “needles are made for sewing.

Perhaps it’s to patch up something.”

“Such as. .?” asked Roel.

Anton frowned. “The map?”

“The map needs patching?”

“Perhaps it’s cloth rather than vellum,” said Anton, shrugging. “I mean, if it’s a magic needle, and if the way to the Changeling realm is somehow obscured by a rip or a tear or a hole, then maybe if this needle is used to stitch the fabric, well, then the way will come clear.”

Both Roel and Anton looked to Celeste for the answer. She merely shrugged and said, “Who knows the way of the Fates? Not I.” They stood a moment in silence, but then Celeste added, “It seems neither my brothers nor my sister nor I can be involved in any kind of a quest without the Fates intervening.” Roel frowned. “Your family is somehow caught up in the entanglements of the Three Sisters?”

Celeste sighed and said, “Oui. First it was Camille in her search for Alain. Then it was Borel and his quest for Michelle. And just moments ago I discovered from Skuld that Liaze dealt with the Fates when she sought Luc. And now, it seems, it is my turn.”

“At least there is one good, my lady,” said Anton,

“and that is, from what we know, the Ladies Wyrd and Lot and Doom aid rather than hinder. Even so, I do not care for the fact that Lady Skuld cast some sort of a spell over this camp of ours. Why, Goblins or Trolls could have attacked, or even the acolyte witches, and we would have been helpless.”

Celeste shook her head. “Anton, I think Lady Wyrd would not allow that to happen. As you say, she came to help rather than hinder.”

Roel shrugged and said, “I still don’t see how a needle can aid.”

“Neither do I,” said Celeste. She turned her back and opened her leathers from collar to breastbone, and high on the bodice of her silk undershirt she stitched the needle into the fabric for safekeeping. Refastening her leathers, once again she turned to Roel and Anton.

Nearby, Gerard cleared his throat and said, “My lady, my lord, and Captain Anton, breakfast awaits.”

“Well,” said Anton, “needle or no, parts of the rede she gave to you seem clear enough, the first quatrain, in particular.”

“How does it go again?” asked Roel.

Celeste frowned and said:

“Seek the map, it is the key,

For Changelings dwell beyond the sea.

Yet beware, for there are those

Who bar the way: dreadful foes.” Anton said, “From that, it seems the map will show that we will have to voyage beyond the sea, and since the map is in Port Mizon, most likely that’s where we’ll set sail from.”

Celeste nodded and said, “I am glad the warband is with us, for the last two lines of that quatrain speak of dreadful foes.”

“Foes we can handle,” said Roel, touching the hilt of Coeur d’Acier. “It is the second quatrain that has me most worried.” He took another bite of bread.

Celeste set aside her cup of tea and said:

“A moon and a day, there is no more For the lost sister you would restore.

Seven years all told have nearly passed; A moment beyond and the die is cast.”

“Oui,” said Anton. “I agree it is worrisome, for if we do not reach your sister a moon and a day from now, it seems she will somehow be lost forever.” Gerard, who had been standing at hand, refreshed Roel’s cup of tea and said, “I believe that will be at the dark of the moon, my lord.”

Celeste frowned and glanced at the moon, now but a thin crescent racing barely ahead of the just-risen sun.

“You are right, Gerard, for morrow night will be the dark of the moon, and we have but another moon beyond in which to find Avelaine.”