“You are an orphan, Sieur Luc?” asked Zacharie.
Luc shrugged. “My blood parents, alive or dead, I do not know, hence I could be an orphan, but then again not, though an orphan I might as well be. My foster father-Leon-tells me that he found me in the woods one day. And none in the nearby villages knows ought of who my pere and mere could possibly be.”
Remy sighed and said, “Though I briefly knew my parents, I am an orphan, too. Slain by Redcaps, they were.”
They sat a moment in silence, and then Liaze said, “Go on with your tale, Sir Luc.”
Luc smiled and said, “As to riding into your demesne, I am simply arove, yet I am so glad that Leon and I chose this way for me to go.” Again Luc’s indigo eyes caught Liaze’s of amber. He held her gaze for a moment, and then looked away toward Remy.
“And as to the Goblins and Trolls I fought, I know nought of their mission, or even if they had one. However, shortly after I rode into the Autumnwood, I sensed someone trailing me, and it happened to be that band. Thrice or mayhap four times they assaulted me, but, in spite of their being Redcaps, I think they were not after blood. Instead, I believe they were out to capture me, though as a hostage I deem I would prove to be of little ransom worth, foundling that I am, and my provisional sire nought but a woodcutter.”
“We thought as much,” said Remy. “-About them being out to capture you, I mean.”
“And why might you think that would be the case?” asked Zacharie.
Luc shrugged. “As I said, ransom could not be the reason.”
“Unless they knew who your true pere might be-or your mere,” said Liaze. “What do you know of them?”
Luc turned up his hands. “Nothing.-Or wait, almost nothing.”
“Almost nothing?” said Liaze.
Luc fished the amulet out from under his shirt. Liaze winced, for when he had done so, she could see dark bruises where he had been beaten.
“Only this,” said Luc, looping the chain over his head and holding out the pendant to Liaze.
As the princess drew back, Remy’s hand fell to the hilt of the dagger at his side, but he did not draw it.
When Liaze hesitated, Luc said, “I give it to you freely, my lady. It will do you no harm.”
Tentatively, Liaze held out her hand, and Luc dropped it into her palm.
It did not sting, but instead felt chill.
She turned it ’round in her fingers and studied it closely. It seemed to be nought but a sapphire in a silver setting on a silver chain. There were no markings on it, and the chain had no clasp.
“My sire, my foster sire Leon, that is, told me it was around my neck when he found me. I was then but a wee babe, and for some reason, the chain was shorter then-it seems to have grown as have I. Regardless, when he tried to remove it for safekeeping, it nearly killed him. It seems that I must give it freely, else it will do great harm.”
“A magic talisman, then?” asked Liaze, handing it back.
Luc nodded, and looped the silver chain over his head, dropping the amulet down the front of his shirt.
“My foster father says that it must have come from my real parents.”
“Have you taken it to a mage, a seer, to find out what he could tell you?”
“Non, Princess. Though on my errantry I hoped to do so.”
“Were you swaddled in blankets?” asked Liaze. “If so, what of them? Were they fine or coarse? That might tell you something of your origins.”
Luc shrugged. “Fine or coarse, that I do not know, my lady. For by the time I knew to ask, they were no longer about.”
In that moment the servant returned, followed by several more, and they brought platters of breads and meats and cheeses and grapes and an assortment of melons and fruit, along with scones and jellies and jams and clotted cream and a large urn of tea. And there were two bottles of hearty red wine, as well as one of white.
Along with utensils and napkins and various porcelain and glassware, they set it all on the sideboard and decanted the wine and then withdrew.
As Luc started to rise, Liaze said, “Stay where you are, Sir Luc, and ease your hurts. I will serve you up a trencher myself. What would you have?”
As soon as everyone had settled, ’round a mouthful of bread Remy asked, “And, as the son of a poor woodcutter, where did you come upon your fine steed and clothes and weaponry?”
“Ah, that is a mystery, indeed,” said Luc, cutting off a chunk of beef and popping it into his mouth. He chewed a moment and then said, “My foster father had trained me in weaponry. It seems in an earlier time Leon had been an armsmaster. And so I learned my lessons welclass="underline" the bow, the lance, the blade. He had a small collection, you see. Epees, rapiers, foils, sabers, spears, shields and bucklers, and other such gear, two of each, it seems. Yet he only had a single steed, and so my training ahorse suffered somewhat.”
“You took his only steed?” asked Remy, taking up the decanter of red wine and offering it about, pouring a goblet for Luc and himself. Zacharie and Liaze continued drinking tea.
“Oh, no,” said Luc, taking a sip of wine and setting the goblet down. “And here is the mystery to that: one day, not long past, a horse-the black-appeared at my foster pere’s doorstone. It was accoutered with a fine saddle and trappings, and laden with clothes and arms and armor and a silver horn and a small pouch of gold. In one of the saddlebags we found a note written in a fine hand saying that the goods and the horse-Deadly Nightshade is his name, for he is trained for combat-were for me. Whence they came, I know not, nor did my foster father, it seems.
“Leon then taught me just what a combat-ready steed can do and the commands to give, and after a bit more training-me and the horse together-he insisted that I go and seek my fortune, faring forth on errantry. As much as I hated to leave him alone, I did so, riding with my back to the sun, as Leon did advise.”
“What did you do with the note?” asked Zacharie, taking up a bit of cheese to clear his palate.
“My foster father kept it, saying that he would one day set forth on a journey to find the benefactor, but that I was to ride this direction, he said, for perils lay along the other, and I needed more seasoning ere I took them on.”
“Hmm…” mused Liaze, spreading clotted cream upon a scone. “I suspect he knew more than he told you.”
“I thought so, too, but who am I to question my sire, foster or no?”
“Regardless,” said Zacharie, now pouring himself a goblet of wine, “we are glad you came, for if the Redcaps and Troll had been on their way here, and they just happened to see you as a victim of opportunity, then your fair warning no doubt saved lives.” Zacharie raised his glass in salute.
“I wonder,” said Luc. “Oh, Goblins are Goblins, but why would they be on their way here? Have you wronged them in some manner?”
“Not directly,” said Liaze. She took a sip of tea, then said, “But we have clashed with their masters-or mistresses I should say.”
“Mistresses?”
“Oui,” said Liaze. “Have you ever heard of Hradian, Rhensibe, Iniqui, Nefasi, or Orbane?”
“Orbane, certainly,” said Luc, “but he is a man, a dark wizard. These others, they are all women?”
At Liaze’s nod, Luc said, “Regardless, I know nought of them. These clashes you spoke of…”
“There are, or were, four sisters, four witches, four acolytes of the wizard Orbane, all sworn to set him free from his imprisonment in the Castle of Shadows in the Great Darkness beyond the Black Wall of the World. These witches blame my sire-King Valeray, who was a cunning thief at the time-and his companion-Lord Roulan, a swordsman of considerable merit-for Orbane’s eventual downfall.”
Liaze paused to take a bite of scone and a sip of tea, and Luc said, “I thought it was the Firsts who entrapped Orbane.”
Liaze nodded. “Oui. You are correct, but they did it through Orbane’s own wizardry.”
“How so?”