The Sweetest Spell (23 page)

“So do you.”

We decided not to journey any farther that evening. The horses were tired and my legs ached from the ride. Griffin set the saddles on the ground. We could have hidden deep in the woods but Griffin thought it would be more dangerous in there, what with wild animals and thieves. Sleeping near the road, where other weary travelers had set up camp, seemed best since there was protection in numbers. Besides, no one was looking for a pair of brothers so we felt relatively safe in the open.

As I was about to lay my head on the saddle, a wagon rolled
past. I might not have paid any attention except that the wagon carried an enormous cage. Two men sat inside the cage, their shoulders slumped. Another man lay facedown on the floor, his brown curly hair catching my eye. Owen’s hair looked like that.
Stop thinking about Owen
! I told myself.
It does you no good.

One of the caged men raised his head, and when he did so, long red locks cascaded over his shoulders. I was about to cry out when Griffin said, “Hold your tongue.” He’d noticed the boy, too.

A humpbacked man and a soldier sat on the driver’s bench. They paid no notice, but we couldn’t tear our gaze away from the wagon as it rolled down the road with one of our own. “Did you recognize him?”

“No,” Griffin said.

“Where are they taking him?”

“Same place as the others. But we can’t help him. Not yet.”

Just like the day at the husband market, I felt totally helpless, watching as they carted another one of my people away. Griffin was right. This was not yet the time.

But it soon would be.

We smelled Londwin City long before it came into view. The scent reminded me of autumn days in Root when spawning fish were caught in the river and hung over the fire to cure. The smoky scent grew stronger as we neared, and a dark cloud bloomed in the sky. I wondered if the city was on fire. But no fiery glow appeared.

Then the chimneys came into view, hundreds of them, standing on the horizon like a metal forest. Streams of smoke spouted from the chimney tops like dragon’s breath, blocking the sunlight. I slowed my horse, hesitation grabbing hold of me and squeezing hard. We’d come so far, but the thought of actually facing King Elmer sent my heart racing. Griffin also slowed, staring slack-jawed at the massive stone wall that surrounded the city. “We’re here,” he said. Was that fear in his voice?

“We’re here,” I echoed, wiping my sweating palms on my pants. I pulled my hat low, as did Griffin, making sure every bit of hair was hidden.

Soldiers stood along the top of the wall, yellow stalks in a world of gray. A pair stood guard at the massive iron gate. “Where you from?” one asked as he stepped in front of our horses.

“We’re from Fishport.” Griffin did a pretty good job hiding his accent. He pointed at me. “That’s my brother.”

“You here for the Bestowing of Coal?” The soldier scratched beneath his feathered helmet.

“Yeah,” Griffin said. “That’s why we’re here.”

“You’ll have to pay the horse tax if you want to ride inside the gates. Covers the cost of cleaning up their dung.”

“We can’t pay,” Griffin said.

“Then leave the horses or go away. The choice is yours.”

At this point I could have made my true identity known. But Griffin and I had discussed this. What would keep one of these soldiers from claiming the reward, leaving Griffin in the cold? We had to get closer to the king before I revealed myself. Griffin would take the reward back to Root.

“These horses belong to the Baroness of Salt,” I told the soldier. “Can you make sure she gets them?”

“The king takes ownership of all horses,” he said. “That’s the law.”

So we left the horses. Someday I’d pay the baroness back. The soldier led them to a fenced yard where others had also left their horses. Then Griffin and I walked through the open gates into Londwin City.

We entered a world of stone. Narrow gray buildings lined the cobblestone road, their chimneys hard at work. Strange stone
creatures with pointed ears and forked tongues stared down at us from the roofs. It felt as if their carved eyes followed our every move. With each hesitant step we kicked up soot. It covered everything and didn’t take long to settle onto Griffin’s hat and face. I wiped some from my lips. My eyes watered as we passed through drifts of smoke. Though I knew it was mid-morning, the looming darkness gave the city a feeling of doom, as if the storm of the century was on its way.

A ditch, filled with thick brown sludge, stretched alongside the road. I plugged my nose. In Root we buried our sewage in deep holes. Here they let it run through the city. Disgusting. Seemed odd that they collected a tax to clean up horse dung. Why not clean up the rest of the gunk?

“Where is everyone?” Griffin asked. “Why is this place so quiet?”

Except for the soldiers back at the gates we hadn’t seen a soul. Soot blackened the windows so we couldn’t see inside any of the buildings. A shiver ran down my spine as I looked up and into the glaring eyes of a stone creature. Its sharp teeth protruded from its chiseled mouth, and it looked like it might leap from the roof and bite me. I picked up the pace, with Griffin, for the first time, at my heels.

When we turned a corner, the cobblestone street branched in three directions. Fortunately a signpost, with a painting of a golden crown and arrow pointing to the center road, marked our destination. As we passed more gray buildings, the road gradually widened and another scent greeted us—the stench of unwashed people. Griffin and I would fit right in. As we turned the next corner, the
stench rushed at us like a bull in heat. I breathed through my mouth, which helped a bit.

A crowd had gathered—more people than I could ever count. They faced away from us, looking toward a golden fence that, even in the dusky light, gleamed like the rising sun. “What’s going on?” I asked a woman.

“Bestowing of Coal,” she said, clutching a reed basket. Soot had settled into her wrinkles so it looked as if someone had drawn all over her face. A thick line of soot ran down the center part in her hair. She didn’t look at me, her gaze fixed beyond the fence where the golden towers of the royal palace disappeared into the smoky sky.

“Follow me,” Griffin said. Then, in classic Griffin Boar style, he told the people who blocked our path, “Move out of my way!”

As he pushed through, I followed. With bodies pressed so closely together, no one seemed to notice my limp, the only part of my identity I couldn’t hide. No one complained as Griffin elbowed and shoved his way deeper into the crowd. The people stared at the fence with blank expressions, like owlettes dazed by a full moon. I plugged my nose. Didn’t anyone in this city take a bath?

The people of Londwin were oddly dressed. I’d expected that those who lived in the royal city would wear fancy clothes. But they were as ragged as anyone from the Flatlands, maybe more so, with loose hems and ripped sleeves. Dark stains covered their clothes, which were made from cheap, coarse, colorless fabrics. Worse, though, was the hunger that revealed itself in their hollowed cheeks and dark circled eyes. We Flatlanders were familiar with bouts of
famine, but we looked robust in comparison. Griffin was twice as wide as any man here and a good head taller. How could people who lived this close to the king know hunger? And why were they all holding empty baskets?

When we finally reached the edge of the crowd, I took a deep breath. The fence was only an arm’s length away. And just beyond, across a golden courtyard, stood the palace.

A man scurried along the fence, wiping soot from the golden posts with a rag. Another man stood at the top of a ladder, polishing the posts. Back at the dairy, Missus Oak showed me a bowl that was plated in gold. She said it had been handed down through her family and was one of her most precious possessions. But here was an entire fence made of gold. Though the royal palace was built of stone, the windowsills and balcony railings were golden, as were the towers and roofs. Two golden swan-shaped sculptures stood on either side of a massive golden door. As an old man with a hunched spine polished one of the swans, a bitter taste filled my mouth and it wasn’t from the soot-filled air. Is this why my people were slaving in the mineral fields? So King Elmer could live in a golden world?

“How do you want to do this?” Griffin asked. A line of soldiers blocked the entrance to the palace courtyard.

He was asking my advice?
Everything
in my world had changed.

“Tell them we’re here to see the king,” I said.

We held each other’s gaze for a moment. I couldn’t hide all my fear, but neither could he. He had deserted the king’s “army.” If his true identity were discovered, he’d be hanged. When I reached out and squeezed his hand, he didn’t pull away. “You can still leave.”

“No. We’re the only hope for our families.” Then his eyes flashed and he spun around. “Hey,” he called to one of the soldiers. “We’re here to see the king.” The closest soldier stepped forward.

“No one sees the king.”

“It’s important,” Griffin said. “We need to—”

The soldier pointed his sword at Griffin’s throat. “No one sees the king without a royal invitation.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. I smiled sweetly, even though I was so scared I felt like I might vomit. “The king will want to see me. I’m—”

A horn blasted, startling me silent. Murmuring arose, the crowd waking from its daze. “Coal, coal, coal,” voices whispered. The people raised their baskets above their soot-coated heads. “Coal, coal, coal.”

I pressed against Griffin, watching over his shoulder as a wagon, pulled by a glossy black horse, appeared around the side of the palace. Five men, dressed head to toe in black and carrying shovels, ran behind the wagon. The horse stopped in the center of the courtyard. A hill of small black rocks filled the wagon’s bed. “Bestow the coal, bestow the coal,” the crowd chanted, voices rising with excitement. They began to push forward. “Bestow the coal.”

I tried to stand my ground but the crowd’s momentum swept me up and moved me into the courtyard. Memories of being carried away by the river washed over me and I panicked. “Griffin!” I yelled. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me from the current.

As the people of Londwin City held out their baskets, the
black-clad men filled them with shovelfuls of coal. Children grabbed stray bits that tumbled from the shovels. But the coal quickly disappeared and most still held empty baskets. “There’s not enough for everyone!” someone shouted.

“We need more!” another voice yelled.

One of the black-clad men stood in the wagon, his hands cupped around his mouth as he hollered at the crowd. “There’s no more! Go home!”

“We paid our coal tax.”

“How can we cook without coal?”

“There’s no more!” the man repeated.

Fights broke out as those without coal tried to take baskets away from those who’d been lucky enough to be first to the wagon. Soldiers tried to stop the fighting, but it spread as quickly as smoke.

“They won’t notice us,” Griffin said. “Let’s go.” We crept around the wagon. Though the palace door waited just across the courtyard, the distance felt like a vast chasm. I cursed my foot for slowing us down.

“Halt!” A soldier leaped in front of us, his sword drawn, his helmet askew.

“I need to see the king,” I pleaded. “It’s very important.” Screams and shouts erupted behind us as more people joined the fighting.

“No one from the outside gets to see the king without a royal invitation,” the soldier said. “Now get back to where you belong.”

We’d come all this way. With each passing moment, time was running out for my father. Each moment in the mineral field
meant another breath of the poisonous yellow air Griffin had told me about. The guard pressed the sword’s tip against the soft spot at the base of Griffin’s neck. “Get back!”

I knew no words would convince the soldier. So, with a sweeping gesture, I pulled the cap off my head. As my hair fell free, the soldier’s eyes widened. He gasped. Silence descended over the courtyard. I knew, without turning around, that everyone was looking at me.

“You’re—”

“That’s right,” I said, holding myself as straight as possible. “I’m the Milkmaid and …” I tried to remember exactly what the new poster said. “The king is expecting me.”

Griffin smirked as the soldier lowered his sword.

In the Flatlands we are told that after death the Thief of Sleep leads us to the everafter where all is peaceful and beautiful. As Griffin and I walked down a grand hallway, I could have sworn we’d entered the everafter, even though I didn’t remember dying and even though our guide was dressed as a royal soldier. But still, the place felt not of this world.

The white marble floor was perfectly clean, which is probably why a servant had washed the soot from our boots before entering. Our footsteps echoed off a ceiling painted like the sky, complete with puffy white clouds. Two more golden swans waited at the end of the hallway, a golden door set between then. The soldier whispered to another soldier who stood outside the door. They both pointed to my hair. Then, after gawking at me, the new soldier opened the door. I squinted as beams of dazzling light shot out, as if they’d been held prisoner in the room beyond and were eager to fly away.

The room we stepped into was so big and so crowded I couldn’t see where it ended. Golden wheels, each holding dozens of lighted candles, hung from a domed ceiling. Spicy perfume replaced the smoky, unwashed stench of the city. I wanted to plug my nose but didn’t, since that might offend the people who’d stopped dancing and were now staring at me.

These were not the tattered, hungry masses like those in the courtyard fighting for chunks of coal. The people inside this sparkling room were an entirely different sort. White powder covered the faces of both men and women. Red stain colored their lips as if they’d all just gorged on strawberries. The women had painted red circles on each of their cheeks and wore feathered hats. Their long dresses dipped so low their breasts nearly spilled out. And the dresses were cinched so tightly at the waist I don’t know how they were able to breathe. The men had thick sideburns, trimmed in different shapes. Their shirts were covered in ruffles and their pants reached to their nipples. How did they walk in those long pointed shoes?