Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a dreadful time

Luc saw before him a reed-thin, sallow-faced homme with lank, straw-colored hair, his hands tucked across and within the sleeves of his red satin buttoned gown, a man who twitched away from unseen companions and yet whispered to them as he approached. As he came to stand nigh Luc, he bowed, and then glared left and right as if bidding others to show the prince courtesy as well.

When the seer straightened up, Luc asked, “Can you aid us to find Liaze and the others?”

“My lord,” replied Malgan, his voice high-pitched. He paused a moment and cocked his head as if listening to an unheard voice. “I will need something. . intimate of Princess Liaze’s-an oft-worn adornment, a lock of her hair, something in close contact with her personage.” Of a sudden he looked to his right. “What? What? Of course, of course.” He turned back to Luc and added, “A precious gem of sorts: amulet, ring, or the like. In fact, a gemstone would be best if you’ve not a lock of her hair.”

As Malgan muttered to someone aside, Luc cocked an eye at Remy and slowly shook his head in disbelief that this scarecrow of a madman could help them. “A gemstone, you say.” His words were not a question.

Malgan looked back at Luc. “Indeed, and the more precious the better.”

Luc stood and pulled a bell cord. Then he turned to Remy and Malgan and said, “Won’t you join me at lunch?” Malgan dithered over his choices, standing at the sideboard and taking up first one chunk of bread and then returning it for another, repeating this several times, not only over the choice of bread, but also of plates and cups and pats of butter and amount of tea and cuts of meat and selection of vegetables and pieces of fruit, all the while whispering to invisible beings.

As the Seer took a seat, then changed it for another, a page appeared.

Luc looked up at the lad. “Breton, fetch Zoe and tell her that we need an item from among Liaze’s jewelry, something set with a precious stone-ring, pendant, earring, necklace, or the like-something that is dear to Liaze, something oft in intimate contact with her.” Even as he instructed the boy, an ephemeral thought skittered ’round the edges of Luc’s mind, but ere he could capture it-

Malgan peered down at the floor and hissed, “Yes, yes, I know.” Then he looked at the youth. “Tell her, tell this Zoe person, to take it to the forge.”

“The forge, my lord?” asked the page.

“The forge, the forge, boy,” said Malgan, looking to his left where sat an empty chair at the table, one he had pulled out as if to sit in but then had chosen another.

The page looked at Luc, and he shrugged and nodded.

As the lad rushed away, Malgan glanced at Remy. “There is an anvil within, I take it.”

“Oui,” said Remy, frowning.

“And tools? — Hammers and such?”

“Oui.”

“Good,” said Malgan. Then he peered across the table and said apparently to no one, “I told you so.”

. .

Zoe had brought several pieces to the smithy. She held a pearl pendant up to her ear. “This one, my lord, is one of her favorites.”

“Here, here, put them all on the anvil,” said Malgan.

Zoe placed on the large bronze anvil the pearl earring and a ruby-set ring and a diamond on a silvery chain, as well as a fire opal set in a golden torque.

Malgan then muttered and whispered and pushed the jewelry about and finally said, “Yes, yes, I know: the diamond.” He took up a bronze hammer and, with a single blow, smashed the gem into powder.

Zoe shrieked and snatched away the remaining jewelry and protectively clutched it to her breast and turned her back to the seer, using her body to shield it from him. But Malgan did not seem to notice. Instead he peered at the resulting glitter casting its myriad glints unto the eye, and then turned to Luc and said,

“My lord, all I see, all we see, is a vast darkness.”

. .

Vadun and Michelle found the Wolves in a nearby snow-laden pine-tree glade, and Michelle introduced the voyant to them.

What she believed she said was: This person is here to help find Borel.

What they read in her postures and growls was: Two-legs here help find master.

After they had surrounded Vadun and had snuffled and had taken in his scent and found it to be friendly and unafraid, though a bit plantlike and smelling somewhat of an eaten mouse, Slate pronounced him acceptable.

Vadun said, “Are they comfortable herein?”

“Oui.”

“Then please tell them that I will be touching them one by one.”

Michelle said: This person will touch each of you.

Wolves interpreted: Two-legs touch one all.

Vadun then said, “Princess, as I touch each one, ask them to envision Borel.”

Michelle nodded, and when Vadun placed a gentle hand on Slate’s head, Michelle said: See Borel.

Slate stepped away from Vadun and turned his head this way and that and lifted his nose in the air. Finally, he said to Michelle: Master not here.

Michelle sighed in exasperation. “I am having trouble asking them to envison Borel. Let me see if I can think of another way to put it.”

Finally, she said to Slate: Borel not here.

Slate: Chuff.

Michelle: Do not move, but see Borel.

Slate whined in puzzlement.

Michelle turned to Dark: Dark. Do not move, but see Borel.

Dark whined in puzzlement, but then said: No move, hunt master?

“Yes!” exclaimed Michelle. Then she turned to Slate: Do not move, but seek Borel. Do not move, but smell.

Slate: Chuff.

And the great Wolf stood still and slowly inhaled scents and tried to find the master, and Vadun laid a light hand upon Slate’s head.

“Non, my lady, he has not dreamt of Borel,” said the voyant.

“Dark. Here,” said Michelle, and the bitch Wolf came to stand beside the princess.

Michelle: Do not move, but seek Borel. Do not move, but smell.

Vadun placed a hand upon this Wolf’s head, and then he shook his own.

Down through the pack they went in hierarchical order: after Slate and Dark came Render, then Shank, Trot, and Loll.

And as Michelle’s heart sank with each failure, at last they came to Blue-eye. Again Michelle repeated her command, and as Blue-eye stood still and took in the scent on the wind, Vadun said, “Ah, yes.”

Michelle gasped. “What? What is it, Vadun?” Vadun’s voice took on a low growl, and as if in a trance he began to move and posture, and Michelle interpreted.

Then Vadun shook himself as if becoming aware of his surroundings. “What did I say?”

“I know what you said in Wolfspeak, but I do not understand.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, literally you said: No moon. No stars. No smell. No see. Hear Borel in all big dark.”

Vadun frowned. “I do not understand either.”

. .

In the middle of the night, in Winterwood Manor, Michelle started up from a restless sleep, as did Luc in the Autumnwood.

Each knew with certainty just where their loved one was-

be it in the “big dark” as told by Blue-eye through Vadun, or in

“a vast darkness” as glitters of shattered-gem light and invisible companions had told Malgan.

“No matter how many times you try it, my lord, you’ll not get out,” said Rondalo.

The tall and slender Elf lounged on the throne, one leg over the padded arm of the chair, and watched as again Valeray stepped through the shadowlight-filled archway and vanished.

Moments later, the king trudged out from a corridor above and paced down the stairs to return to the vast chamber.

Raseri raised up his head, and Duran, astride the Dragon, squealed in delight and held fast to the barbels as he was lifted into the air. Standing below, Alain caught his breath and remained ready to catch the youngster should Duran lose his grip.