In that moment the trailing limb of the sun left the mark of the zenith, and Lady Lot vanished along with the sound of the looms.
After a moment, Liaze fetched the food bag and settled to the blanket and took out jerky and biscuits and laid them out for a meal. Then she looked at her companions and said, “We must unravel the full meaning of Lady Verdandi’s rede.”
Gwyd nodded and his face drained of blood. “Aye, Princess, we must, and I ken part o’ it, and a perilous thin’ it be. But the most terrible thin’ is, I dinna believe there be enough time t’do what must be done.”
32
Liaze looked at the Brownie. “What do you mean, Gwyd, that there isn’t enough time?”
“J’st this, Princess: the rede says a golden draught will surely save, and t’me that means some o’ the life-givin brandy made fra the golden apples, and-”
“Golden apples?” said Twk. “Do you mean Mithras’ apples?”
“Aye, Twk: Mithras’ apples. Anyway, Princess, the garden where they grow is far fra here, and, as I hae told ye before, it be warded by an unsleepin serpent… and that be why I say it be perilous, f’r the snake only sleeps f’r a moment on the night o’ the ’until it be too late. J’st how we might get one o’ the apples when he be awake, well, that I nae hae any idea.”
“Just how big is this serpent?” asked Twk.
“Och, mayhap fifteen, twenty o’ ma paces,” said Gwyd.
“Mithras!” exclaimed Liaze. “That makes him, what, some twenty-five, thirty feet long?”
“I told ye it were perilous,” said Gwyd. “He be a great beastie.”
“Why does he stay in the garden?” asked Twk. “I mean, that big, why not slither over the wall and away?”
“I nae ken,” said Gwyd. “Mayhap he be cursed t’guard the tree and its fruit.”
“What does he live on?” asked Twk.
“That, too, laddie, be a mystery. Mayhap the apples themselves. Mayhap those what come t’steal them.”
“You mean he might eat us?” asked Twk, shivering.
“Mayhap,” said Gwyd, looking at the princess.
“How far is it from here? — The garden, I mean,” asked Liaze.
Gwyd paused and, frowning in concentration, he counted on his fingers. “Weel, fra the inn, when I hae gone before, it hae been a moon and a fortnight t’there. But, if I didna dawdle, I reck I could get t’the garden in but a single moon.”
Liaze’s face fell in despair. “A moon? Just to get there? And another one to return? That’s two moons in all, and there are only eighteen nights till the coming dark of the moon falls due.”
“I canna help it, Princess, that be the truth o’ it.” Gwyd glanced at the horses. “O’ course, Princess, I was afoot, and not ridin any beastie.”
Liaze shook her head. “Oh, surely, given the vagaries of the borders of Faery, there must be a swifter way.”
“Lass, lass,” said Gwyd, “ye might be right, yet I hae looked f’r a shorter way and ne’er found one.”
“Princess,” said Twk, “would Lady Lot have said we need the golden draught if there were no hope?”
“No, she wouldn’t, Twk. No she wouldn’t. Hence, there must be hope.” Liaze leapt to her feet. “Hurry and break camp; there’s not a moment to waste.”
As Liaze began lading the packhorses, Gwyd quickly rolled blankets and quenched the small fire, while Twk hefted jerky and biscuits and trotted them back into the food bag. Jester merely continued to scratch at the ground and peck at unseen things.
Ere the sun had travelled a quarter candlemark across the sky, they were en route: Liaze riding Nightshade, Gwyd in tow on Pied Agile, for although the Brownie could ride, he would rather simply be hauled behind. Twk and Jester rode atop the packs of the lead gelding, both seeming perfectly happy to perch on the cargo once more, as they had when Gwyd had brought the Pixie and the rooster from their secluded hollow to the inn.
“Which way now, Gwyd?” asked Liaze as they emerged from the thicket and into the overgrown field.
“Toward the sunup bound,” said Gwyd.
Liaze turned leftward and kicked Nightshade into a trot.
“How far the border?” asked Liaze.
“On foot, four days, if I hied,” said Gwyd, “but ahorse, I canna say.”
Throughout the day, to preserve the endurance of the animals, Liaze varied the gait of the horses, going from a trot to a canter to a walk to a gallop. Occasionally, Liaze walked alongside the horses, as did Gwyd, and Twk would ride Jester. At these times they discussed the rede, trying to puzzle out its meaning.
“What I don’t understand,” said Twk, during one of these walks, “is she told me that I could accompany you, Princess, for I would be needed at a critical time. However, she also said ‘Take only one else one will die,’ yet here you have both Gwyd and me. That’s taking two of us, not one.”
Liaze nodded and said, “Oui, but she also told me that I would have to cast a needed spell, yet I am no witch, mage, wizard, no spellcaster whatsoever.”
Twk nodded and said, “And how are we going to make a golden draught? That takes special gear. I mean, the juice will have to ferment, and that needs time, and then we have to heat it to drive off the vapors, and then condense and collect those vapors, and-”
“Och, Twk,” said Gwyd. “Indeed, all that need be done, yet list, thanks to the lass here, we hae the gear wi’ us t’do so.”
Liaze frowned. “Gwyd, how many apples does it take to-Oh, wait, I recall you saying that each time you went to the garden, you had but moments to get just one and then flee. Is a single apple sufficient to make a golden draught?”
“That be the wonder o’ Mithras’ fruit,” said Gwyd. “Though an ordinary apple by itself would only make a wee dram o’ brandy, one o’ the golden ones seems to entirely turn into brandy in the end-juice, peel, pulp, and all. Only the stem and pips and the very tip end at the bottom o’ the apple remain unaffected.”
“Pips?” asked Twk. “Why, if you have seeds, Gwyd, can’t you simply plant them and raise your own crop of Mithras’ fruit?”
“Ah, laddie, believe me, I hae tried that, but they dinna grow anywhere but in the soil o’ the garden where we go.”
Liaze shook her head and said, “Be that as it may, we at least understand the first four lines of Lady Lot’s rede.”
“We do?” asked Twk.
“Yes,” said Liaze. And she chanted:
Upon a bed ’neath ebon sky,
One plans for one to slowly die.
But if ye three are truly brave,
A golden draught will surely save.
“The ‘bed ’neath ebon sky’ of Verdandi’s rede is on the black mountain spoken of in her sister’s rede.”
“Her sister Skuld, you mean?” asked Twk.
“Oui, in Skuld’s rede,” said Liaze, “and I know where that cold mountain lies.”
“Aye, lass, go on,” said Gwyd.
“Then there is this,” said Liaze. “When Verdandi said, ‘One plans for one to slowly die,’ I believe she means that the witch who stole Luc away is the one who plans for him to die. Hark back to Skuld’s rede, where she said that one would die in the dark of the moon two moons from now, and that surely is the slow death of Verdandi’s rede.”
“Aye,” said Gwyd, “I see where ye are takin this, lass, f’r the third and fourth lines o’ her rede tell us we must be brave t’get the apple t’make the life-givin’ elixir.”
Liaze nodded. “That’s what I think as well, for she did say ‘if ye three are truly brave / A golden draught will surely save.’ ”
“Aye, and-whoosh now-we’ll hae t’be truly brave t’face the unsleepin serpent.”
Twk shrugged and said, “I do not question the bravery of the princess, for did she not face Lord Fear himself and triumph? As for you and me, Gwyd, perhaps we’ll manage in spite of the serpent. Regardless, even though it seems we have ciphered the meaning of the first four lines of Verdandi’s rede, what of the last six lines?”
They strode in silence a few more steps, but then Liaze said, “We’ve walked far enough; ’tis time to ride. Think on the rede as we press onward, and pray to Mithras that we resolve the quandary ere we reach the garden of the serpent. We cannot afford to yet be puzzling when we get there, for the dark of the moon comes toward us at a steady pace, and time dwindles even as we talk. Let us ride.”