Once Upon a Summer Day (38 page)

Absently, Borel nodded.

“My lord,” said Flic, “I think Chelle did the prudent thing, casting you out of her rêve.”

Borel looked up. “What?”

“Heed, Prince Borel: had Rhensibé found you in the dream, she is a sorcière and could have done you great harm through magie, whereas I think your arrow—being stone-tipped and not magique at all—would have done no harm whatsoever to her.”

Borel frowned and vented a hard sigh and said, “Perhaps you are right, Flic, but, oh, I would have spitted her neatly.”

“I’m sure you would have, my lord,” said Flic.

Borel sighed again, this time more softly, and he said, “Chelle’s last words to me were ‘Find me, Borel. Please find me. And hurry.’ ”

Borel looked out through the stone ruins of the tower at the yet clouded sky of dawn, and he turned and rummaged within the rucksack and said, “Let us break fast swiftly, and then away, for time grows ever more short.”

 

To make certain that they were on the correct line, they returned to the edge of the dip in the land where grew the cedar grove, and they found the stand trunk-deep in water. Buzzer flew up and, even though the just-risen sun was not visible behind the cast of the sky, she circled about and took a bearing and then shot off in the direction where the sun would set.

The prince followed at a lope, with Flic once again riding in his customary position in the prow of Borel’s hat.

Across the grassy, rock-laden highlands the prince ran, the cliffs always to the left, with the ocean far below, and still the waters were aroil from the storm, great swells crashing headlong into stone.

On he ran and on, and now and again they passed an isolated farmstead with farmers at work afield and livestock grazing upon the green grass and clover. Occasionally they could see a sailing vessel far out upon the churning sea, making headway either with or against or athwart the waves in the brisk breezes yet blowing.

But then the coastline began to recede as the sheer faces of the leagues-long cliffs slowly swung away, and after a candlemark or so, Borel could no longer hear the ocean surge.

Still he ran on, and the character of the land began to change, for now he splashed through streams flowing down to the sea. Now and then a thicket came into view, and then woodlands, and Borel found himself running through a green forest, and though Buzzer flew but twenty-five or so yards ahead of the prince, occasionally she returned to make certain the slow human was yet on course.

The overcast above began to break, and soon the sky was riven by great swaths of blue. But Borel did not pause to admire the firmament, but continued the long lope.

As the sun rose into the zenith, downslope through the trees Borel espied a glimmering ribbon of water ahead. “It seems we are coming to a river,” he said. “We’ll take our noontide meal on its banks.”

And as they ran down the long cant of land and neared the broad flow, “Uh-oh,” said Flic. “Look.”

Beside the run a child sat on the bank weeping.

“Take care, my lord,” added Flic. “This could be another one of those Fey.”

Borel laughed and trotted on down to the bank, and the child, a rather skinny, yellow-haired demoiselle, perhaps eight summers old, turned and saw him coming, and then began to wail in earnest.

 

“Demoiselle, why do you cry?” asked Borel, sitting down beside her.

Snuffling and snubbing, the girl looked at the prince, great teardrops welling in her light brown, almost golden, eyes, and she looked at the Sprite, and brightened only slightly, and looked at the bee, and cried, “
Eee!
Don’t let it sting me.”

“Hmph!” snorted Flic, but he said no more, for having been once burned, he was now twice shy.

But Borel said, “ ’Tis a very tame bee, my lady, and she would not harm even a fly or a flea.”

“Well, she can sting all the flies and fleas she wants,” said the little girl, “just as long as she doesn’t sting me.” Then the child began to wail again, and gestured at the river.

“What is it, my wee demoiselle?” asked the prince, “And by the bye, I am Borel. Could I have your name?”

“M-my n-name is D-Dandi,” snubbed the girl.

“And what is grieving you, my lady?” asked Borel.

Yet
snuck
ing a bit, the child got her sobs somewhat under control, and she said, “I came across when the river was low, but now, with the rain, it is quite high and swift and entirely too deep for me to wade, and—
snkk
—I do not know how to swim, and even if I did, it would—
hnk
—sweep me out to sea, and then I’d be lost and all alone—
uuu
—and probably end up on an island with monsters that eat young and tender things like little girls—oh poor me—and I’m hungry and my mother probably thinks I’m dead—poor Momma—or carried off by tigers and bears and Trolls and—
wahhh!
”

Borel put his arm about her. “Hush, hush, child. I will feed you and then carry you across, and you can then run swiftly home to your mother, and she will sweep you up in her arms and hug you and kiss you and no longer worry.”

Borel fished about in his rucksack, and he gave her some jerky and a hardtack biscuit, and as she chewed, he poured some honey into the jar lid for Buzzer and Flic. He saw Dandi’s pale brown eyes light up, and he motioned for her to hold out her biscuit and he dribbled a bit of honey thereon.

She gobbled it right up, and looked at Borel soulfully and said, “More, please?”

Borel grinned and set out another hardtack biscuit and drizzled honey atop.

They spent long moments sitting on the bank and speaking about this and that and the rain and the storm and the river and the drifting of the clouds leaving blue skies behind. But at last the meal was done, and Borel said, “Well, now, my girl, it’s time to take you across.” He turned his back and said, “Hop on, Dandi, and I’ll give you a ride.”

“The river is awfully deep,” she said timidly.

“But I am tall,” said Borel.

“The water is quite swift,” she said.

“But I am strong and sturdy,” replied Borel. He looked about and found a hefty stick to act as a stave. “And I’ll use this to steady me.—Come, come, girl, hop on.”

She climbed on his back and whispered in his ear, “I am quite afraid.”

“I’ll be brave enough for both of us, Dandi,” said Borel. And grasping her under one knee with one hand, and with the stave in the other, he waded into the stream.

“Eeeee!”
Dandi screamed.

Borel waded on.

Buzzer and Flic flew across, but then flew back and whirled and twirled in the air, trying to take Dandi’s mind off the water.

But Dandi paid them no heed, and she cried, “Oh, oh, I told you it was too high and swift and entirely too deep to wade.”

Now up to his waist, Borel sloshed on, and Dandi began to thrash. Borel tightened his grip under her knee, but her other leg was loose and kicking frantically.

“Oh, oh,” wailed Dandi, flailing about, “I do not know how to swim; we’ll drown.”

Borel clasped her even tighter.

“We’ll fall in and be swept out to sea!
Wahhh!
”

It was all Borel could do to hold on to her, thrashing about as she was.

“We’ll be captured by pirates,” wailed Dandi, sobbing and floundering ’round, “and they’ll throw us onto an island and we’ll be eaten by monsters and then chased by tigers and bears and Trolls and—”

Struggling to maintain his grip on her, Borel finally made it to the opposite shore, and Dandi had entirely collapsed into tears. He abandoned the stave and swung her around and set her down at the foot of an oak tree. “D-dry m-my eyes,” she blubbered. And Borel fished about in the rucksack and pulled out a cotton bandanna he had purchased in Riverbend. He knelt and reached forth with the kerchief.

At the very first touch, she grew tall and stood before him as a matronly mademoiselle with yellow hair and golden eyes. Somewhere nearby there sounded the clack of shuttle and the thud of batten of a loom.

“Told you,” shouted Flic, sitting on a branch nearby, Buzzer at his side.

Yet kneeling, “Lady Lot,” said Borel.

She nodded her head in acknowledgement.

“She Who Fixes the Present and Seals Men’s Fate,” he said.

Once again she nodded in agreement.

“Lady Verdandi,” he added.

“Yes, Prince Borel, those are names I am known by, and by many others as well.”

Borel stood and bowed deeply, and as he did so he reached out and took her hand and kissed her fingers.

“Ah, Skuld said you were quite the bold one, and now I see why. You would dare flirt with Destiny, eh?”

“If that’s what it takes to free my beloved,” said Borel, not a sign of guilt or fear in his eyes.

Verdandi laughed, and then sobered. “I want to thank you for freeing the lady in white at the ruined tower, for she has been throwing herself from that cliff during storms for summers beyond count. Yet the letter was left behind, and it kept drawing her back, would not let her leave this plane. Your burning it while saying a blessing was just the right thing to do.”

Borel smiled. “I am pleased that I did something right, yet I seem no closer to finding Chelle. Would you help me, my lady, as did your sister Skuld?”

Verdandi sighed. “List, Prince Borel, you have already missed one chance to find the Endless Sands, but you yet have—”

“I what?” said Borel.

“I said, you have missed one chance to find the Endless Sands,” replied Verdandi.

“Lady Lot, when did I—?”

“That is neither here nor there,” snapped Verdandi, “for it is already woven into the tapestry of time.” Then her voice softened, and she said, “Heed, you have one more chance, and I can give some small assistance, for you did aid me across the river and did not let me fall.”

“He fed you, too,” cried Flic from the branches above. “Just like he did Skuld.”

Verdandi smiled and looked up. “Indeed he did, and with honey, too.” She turned to Borel. “Even so, I cannot aid you unless you answer a riddle.” She frowned in thought a moment, then glanced at the Sprite above. “You are quite the flier, I hear, swift beyond many.”

“Yes, I am,” said Flic, thrusting out his wee chest. “There is none among the Sprites who is better.” Then quicksilverswift his face fell in dismay and he groaned. “Oh, my, this is not another riddle concerning my abilities, is it?”

Now Verdandi laughed and said, “Indeed it is, for my elder sister said that she put you in the riddle she posed, and I would do likewise.”

“Your elder sister, you say?” asked Flic. “Oh, no, we’ve not met Urd at all. ’Twas Demoiselle Skuld instead.”

“Skuld
is
my elder sister,” said Verdandi.

Flic shook his head. “Oh, no, my lady, for, as I said, she is but a demoiselle, whereas you are, um, er”—Flic searched for a polite way to say “older,” and he finally said—“more ripe.”

A smile flashed o’er Verdandi’s face, and she said, “Nevertheless, Skuld is my elder sister, whereas Urd is my younger.”

“Flic,” said Borel, “it is all in how one looks at time. I will explain it later. Yet for now I have a riddle with which to contend.” He turned to Verdandi. “Madame, I must warn you, I know the answer to the riddle of the Sphinx, and the riddles you and your sisters posed to Camille, as well as Lady Skuld’s most recent riddle.”

Verdandi smiled. “Skuld said you were honorable, and I see she is right, but none of those things will I ask you. Instead, here is my riddle:

“What? Me fall behind?”

“Quiet, Flic,” ordered Verdandi.

“Oh, oh,” cried Flic, waving his hand, but abruptly fell silent at a glance from Verdandi.

“He would swoon, Lady Lot,” said Borel, touching the brim of his hat in a casual salute to Flic, “from lack of air to breathe.”

Verdandi smiled. “Well and good, Prince Borel.”

“Now the aid, my lady?” said Borel.

Verdandi nodded and said, “There is but barely time to rectify the mistake you made, yet here is what I can say:

“And this I will tell you for nought: ask for the High Lord’s favorite horse, else you will not see the sands ere the full moon rises, yet beware, for the King Under the Hill is quite tricky, and you must recall what you know.”

Borel nodded and said, “My Lady Lot, I would that you—”

But in that moment the persistent sound of the loom swelled, and then vanished as did Lady Verdandi.