“We’re keeping her,” Ruth said. “Of course, we’re keeping her.”
D. J. Butler is an American speculative fiction author. His epic flintlock fantasy novel Witchy Kingdom won the Dragon Award for Best Alternate History Novel in 2020. Witchy Winter won the 2018 AML Award for Best Novel and the 2018 Whitney Award for Best Speculative Fiction, and Witchy Eye was a preliminary nominee for the Gemmell Morningstar Award.
For more information, go to: https://davidjohnbutler.com/
Safe Place
By Eliza Eveland
I CRACK OPEN AN EYE AT the sound of my boy shuffling about. It’s early enough that the room is still dark, but he doesn’t light a candle. There was a time when he would have been afraid to walk around the palace in the dark, but those years have long since passed. Now, my bones are weary and my joints ache in the morning chill, but I lift my head and thump my tail against the floor just the same.
In the deep shadow, I hardly recognize him. He’s gotten taller, leaner, stronger. We don’t play ball as much as we used to either. It’s just as well. I don’t have the energy I used to, and my eyes aren’t as good as they once were. I know his smell, though, and even if it’s changed a little through the years, it makes me happy. He smells different from the humans around the palace, like the first autumn frost on leaves and wet earth, but all elves smell a little more like the wild world than the stone buildings humans make.
He pulls on his heavy socks, and his boots, but it’s not until he reaches for his bow that I know why he’s gotten up so early. “Come on, Brick,” he whispers as he passes me on the way to the door.
That’s what he calls me, and I call him Boy, even if he is more a man now. He’ll always be my boy.
My joints creak and pop as I rise, but I shake out the stiffness and follow him. We’re going hunting for rabbits, or maybe pheasants. I hope it’s rabbits. They’re more fun to chase.
The big hallway is empty except for a few men in iron suits. They help me guard my boy, and sometimes they have treats. I nose the one at the door, checking his pockets just in case he has one.
“Mornin’, Prince Faelyn,” says Orin, patting my head. “You’re up early.”
My boy sighs. “I was hoping to slip out before you got here. Can you just pretend you didn’t see me?”
“King Crow will kick my ass all the way to Greymark if I let you go out hunting alone.” Orin digs into his pocket and brings out a dry cracker. Not my favorite treat, but
I’m starving, so I take it.
“I won’t be alone. I have Brick.”
I wag my tail and puff out my chest. See, Orin? I can guard him, too.
Orin sighs and crosses his arms. “I know he’s a war hound, but he’s not a very good one, Faelyn. He’s getting up there in years, you know.”
Rude! I try to hack up the cracker on his boot, but it’s stuck in my throat.
“Please, Orin? Cover for me just this once. It’s not like I can’t handle myself, and I’m just going out to Mercia’s estate. I’ll be within sight of the estate walls the whole time, and I’ll be back before lunch. I swear it!”
Orin huffs out a breath, considering us for a moment. He looks down at me. I wag my tail and try to look cute. “Don’t make me regret this,” he says and turns his back, pretending to examine the ceiling. “My, what lovely masonry. I’ve never noticed.”
While Orin is busy examining the rocks, we sneak away.
There are more guards at the mouth of the castle, but we don’t go that way, instead slipping out a window in the library. There’s a little ledge there that gets slippery when it rains, but it’s been dry lately. My boy leaps down to the ground and turns around, holding out his arms for me to jump. I go without hesitation, and he catches me with a grunt.
“Are you getting fatter or am I just getting weaker?” he says as he puts me down.
What is it with people being rude to me today? It’s called muscle, Boy. All hounds have it. You should try getting some.
He snorts and replies, You keep telling yourself that, old hound.
I don’t talk mind-to-mind with my Boy as much as I used to. He wants to keep his powers secret, though I don’t understand why. There are dozens of mages in Brucia, even a special school for him to go and learn more about his magic, but my boy doesn’t like schools. He doesn’t like people telling him what to do, or when to do it, or why. Once upon a time, before I knew him, he was raised as a slave in an elven war camp, and he says there was enough ordering about in that job for a lifetime.
Carefully, quietly, we make our way through the little courtyard on the side of the palace, and he hoists me over the squat stone wall. Jumping down makes my joints ache, but I shake it off. Once we’re free of the palace walls, he pulls up his hood and we hurry on our way. Human guards, with their inferior sense of smell, only have their eyes to rely on, and they will only see a man and his dog out for a morning stroll. We go to the stables where I catch a fly and eat it while my boy is saddling Toffee, his favorite horse.
Morning, hound, says Cinnamon, the old mare. Thanks for getting that fly for me. I’ve been swatting him all night.
I grin and let my tongue loll out of the side of my mouth proudly.
Ah, if it isn’t the war hound. I wondered what that stench was.
I know that voice. With a snort, I lift my attention to the rafters where a black and white tomcat carefully crawls along one of the high boards. ‘Lo, Tom! How did you get out this time?
Tom Whiteshanks is an inside cat, but he’s not very good at it. He gets out a few times a week, usually to come chase mice or pigeons. I sometimes help.
He grins down at me. I got into the mage’s workshop. He always keeps a window open in there when he’s brewing potions.
Your boy is going to miss you.
Tom sighs and rolls his eyes. For the last time, hound. Isaac is not my boy. He is my servant.
I quirk my head and perk my ears in doubt. Are you sure he sees it that way?
He feeds me, collects my droppings, and showers me with love and affection. What else would he be?
Tom gives a lazy stretch, tail twitching. What’s yours up to?
We’re going hunting! I think. My tail thumps loudly against the floor, sweeping errant bits of hay back and forth. You should come with us! It’ll be fun! There are rabbits and birds and all kinds of weird things to sniff and pee on!
He pauses licking his paw to look down at me, whiskers twitching. Good gods, hound. Have you no decency at all?
Nope! I pant. I don’t even know what that is.
Clearly, Tom replies dryly and goes back to licking his paw.
So, does that mean you’ll come with?
Not today, hound. Today is the day I finally catch that white mouse that’s eluded me in here, and then I plan to nap in a sunbeam.
Tom has been trying to catch that white mouse for weeks. I’m pretty sure he’s actually caught it twice and just let it go so he’ll have an excuse to visit the horses every day.
Faelyn has Toffee saddled and leads him out of the stall, signaling we’re ready to go.
Enjoy your sunbeam, I say to Tom as my boy mounts the horse.