“Nay, Lady Camille, not your fault, but that of the Troll-cast magic.” Lanval popped the lid from the canister. “We’ll have a spot of tea, and you can say how you came.”
“But how did you get here, Lanval? Was it the wind?”
Lanval added a bit of branch-wood from Camille’s bundle of sticks to the dying coals in the hearth, and hung a kettle on a fire iron and swung it over the blaze. Then he turned to Camille and said, “Aye, it was the wind; we whirled across the sky in that terrible howl, the Prince and the entire household of Summerwood Manor-all, that is, but you-to plunge down on this appalling isle to join the slaves already here as thralls to the Goblins and Trolls.”
Tears welled in Camille’s eyes and ran down her cheeks, and she said, “Oh, Lanval, I was stupid and foolish, and thus the calamity fell. A year and a day and nearly a whole moon agone, I contrived by candlelight to see Alain’s unmasked face; that’s when the curse struck and that awful wind did come.”
Lanval sat down at the table across from Camille and said, “Nay, my lady, again I say, ’twas the fault of the Trolls, the cham and the chamumi and the ancient dread magic that somehow did come into their hands.”
“Cham? Chamumi?”
“Troll words,” replied Lanval. “Cham means king; chamum, queen; and chamumi, princess. Regardless, Chamumi Dre’ela, the Troll princess, set a curse upon the prince long past: Alain spurned her advances, and so she cursed him-broke a terrible amulet of clay she wore about her neck, one of Orbane’s devices, we think.”
Camille said, “One of the Seals of Orbane, or so Lord Kelmot thought.”
“Lord Kelmot?”
Camille nodded. “He aided me after the terrible wind took you all away. I told him of the clay amulet Olot wore, and Kelmot spoke of the seals.”
Lanval said, “Seals of Orbane: Olot had one, and Dre’ela another. Regardless, when Dre’ela broke hers, Alain was cursed to take the form of a bear in the day, though he could be either man or bear at night, whichever he chose. Further, Dre’ela’s bane was such that he could never marry anyone but her. To this she added that if Prince Alain ever fell in love, and if his true love ever did discover that he was both man and bear, then he would have to marry Dre’ela in a year and a day and a whole moon beyond.”
“Marry a Troll princess?”
“Aye. The wedding is three days from now.”
Camille’s face fell, and she glanced at the split and splintered stave. “Then that is the reason for the time I was given.”
An eyebrow raised, Lanval looked at her, but she explained not. Instead she said, “Oh, Lanval, we must do something ere then.”
The kettle above the fire began steaming. Lanval got up to attend it, and Camille glanced at Scruff, the sparrow again asleep in her dress pocket. While Lanval prepared the tea and once more hid the canister, Camille carefully set Scruff to a shelf above the table, where he ruffled a bit and then settled as she sat back down.
While they waited for the tea to steep, Camille said, “The second curse then, it was the cause of the wind.” Her words were a statement, not a question.
“Aye, the cham, the Troll king, Olot, set a terrible curse on Prince Alain there in the Winterwood that night he and his Goblins assailed you and the Bear.”
Camille nodded and sighed.
As Lanval poured two cups of tea, he said, “When you and the Bear first arrived at Summerwood Manor, the Prince told us that if you ever saw his face, then he and the entire household staff would be transported to this isle, and we would all become Olot’s slaves. Hence, the seamstresses immediately set to making the masks he would wear, and that’s how you first saw Prince Alain-his features hidden. Yet masks or no, the prince said that Olot had further added that none could tell you the reason for concealment else the curse would come due regardless.”
“Yes,” said Camille as she watched tea leaves swirl and settle in her cup, “the secrecy: all could know but me.”
“Aye, my lady-not only of Olot’s curse regarding seeing Prince Alain’s face, but also of Dre’ela’s curse were you to learn Alain and the Bear were one and the same. We simply could not tell you, though all else but you could know.”
“Can we not break these curses?”
“Many mages tried, my lady-you saw numbers of them there at Summerwood Manor-yet none succeeded. Orbane’s cursed clay amulets are simply too strong.”
“There must be a way. There must.”
Lanval shook his head. “I’m afraid only the Fates could defeat such great and powerf-”
Camille’s eyes widened. “The Fates!” she blurted.
Lanval looked at her curiously.
“Lanval, we might just have a chance, though at the moment I know not how.” An elusive thought skittered along the edge of Camille’s mind, yet it was gone ere she could capture it.
“My lady?”
“Lanval, I have a tale to tell you, a story to unfold.” Camille blew on her tea and took a sip and then began:
“After I committed my stupid mistake and the terrible wind came and hurled you all away, Lord Kelmot aided me in finding the Lady of the Mere. She was there that dawntime, sitting in the hollow of the oak, and both Alain and Kelmot had told me that she does not appear unless something dire is in the offing. Even so…”
When Camille’s tale came to an end, the golden carding comb and shuttle and spool lay on the table along with Lady Sorciere’s staff. One at a time Lanval picked up the gifts and examined them and then set them back. Then he sighed and looked at Camille. “Fates or no, I know not how these might be used to break the curse. Have you any thoughts?”
Camille turned up a hand. “None.” Again Camille felt that there was something she should know lying on the edge of her mind, yet once more the wisp of a thought vanished.
Lanval frowned. “Would that the prince could advise us, for he is quite well-read and perhaps would know how to use these to the good.”
“Is there any way I can see Alain?”
Lanval shook his head. “He has been kept prisoner in a suite of windowless, Goblin-guarded rooms in the citadel. None are permitted to see him but Olot, Dre’ela, and Te’e-foon.”
“Te’efoon?”
“She is the chamum, the queen.”
Camille frowned. “No one else is permitted therein but Trolls?”
Lanval nodded. “Just those three.”
“What about those who clean the chambers, change the bedding, and-”
“My lady, it is clear you have never seen how Trolls and Goblins live. There is no cleaning of rooms, changing of bedding, or the like. However, you do remind me that there are those who take drinking water and food to the prince’s quarters, but they only enter when Alain is the Bear, and even then, the Bear is not present, but in a separate chamber in those same quarters, and so-Bear or prince-none ever sees him but the Trolls. They isolate him, for they have some vile plan they would not have upset, and the prince is at the center of all.”
Camille looked at the three Fate-given gifts. “If I could be one of those who serve the prince, mayhap I can use the opportunity to bribe the guards.”
Lanval’s eyes widened. “Better yet, mayhap you can bribe the chamumi.”
“Dre’ela?”
“Aye. She oversees those who bring the food and water, and I know she is quite fond of true gold; when we first came, every gold thing we had, be it ring or brooch or coin or aught else, she stripped and kept as her own, fashioning necklaces and bracelets and bangles from it all.”
“Oh, Lanval, if she does love gold that much, then perhaps I do have a chance.” Camille gestured at the gifts. “Surely these are true gold.”
“Aye, they are,” said Lanval. “Rare on this isle, for here only glittering Troll gold is found.”
“Kolor spoke of it,” said Camille. “-Troll gold, I mean. Quite worthless, he said.”
“Indeed it is,” said Lanval. “But list, Lady Camille: in your recounting did you not say the Fates warned you to keep these gifts. If so, then giving them to Dre’ela would be a mistake.”