Hunter's Moon (11 page)

‘Dear God,' I said. ‘My stepmother – she planned it all so very carefully …'

‘Yes,' he said, gravely.

‘And so I have to be twice as clever and careful as she is if I am to defeat her. But I have right on my side, and I will prevail.'

‘That is not always the way of the world,' he said.

‘Then I will not go the way of the world,' I said, defiantly. ‘Justice must be done and I will do it, no matter what it costs. And nothing and no-one shall stop me. You of all people should understand that.'

‘I do,' he said, quietly. ‘But as to cost, it may be greater than you think.'

‘I don't care. I must do it.'

‘Well, then,' he said, quietly, ‘I have made some arrangements for you. Tomorrow, Lisbet will guide you out to a village on the western edge of the forest. The village
innkeeper, Darian Zymund, is a friend of mine. He will give you new identity papers, money, a coach ticket, and directions to a safe house in Lepmest. From there, it's up to you.'

I stared at him. There was a lump in my throat as I said, ‘Then you do not want to change my mind? To … To persuade me I must not seek justice against that woman?'

‘I do not,' he said. ‘You must do this. I know that. But if you will heed a word of advice: the deadliest weapon is the most unexpected one, hitting straight to the heart.'

The Prince's veiled eyes gazed directly into mine and for a moment I saw his gloved hands tighten against each other.

‘Each person has a weakness, and by that may be undone,' he continued. ‘Take care that your own weakness is not turned as a weapon against you. Take very great care … I would not want you to be harmed.'

I could not help a little shiver at these words, so like a declaration of love.

‘I will,' I said. ‘I will be very careful.' I hesitated and then added, in a rush, ‘But all this you are doing – it is more than simply not stopping me. You are helping me. Why? Why are you doing all this for me?'

‘You have been grievously wronged. You are in danger.'

‘So are the beggars of Lepmest,' I hazarded.

‘You are right. I have not done enough,' he said. ‘I have been trying to protect a little world of safety. Yet that is a selfish thing, for there will always be those who are outside it who will also need protection.'

I was struck to the heart by the sadness in his voice. ‘Selfish?' I cried. ‘There is no-one in the world more
unselfish than you! I know now why you are revered by all who live here, why they speak of you with such respect and love. I do not know why you choose to hide your face, but I do know that you're true and generous. Your heart wears no mask.' I hoped he understood the meaning behind my words, that he understood I knew who he was but respected his need for secrecy.

His voice was low and sad as he replied, ‘You do me too much honour. If you knew the truth about me, then –'

‘In no way would it alter anything,' I said, warmly.

‘You cannot know that.'

‘You must believe me when I say nothing –
nothing
– would change that.' I thought of what Emilia had said, about there being a curse on Lucian's family, and was suddenly sure the curse must be the source of his mysterious shame.

He sighed but did not answer. Instead he said, ‘One more thing before I go. If you ever need haven again, ask Master Kinberg at the safe house in Lepmest to arrange immediate passage. You are always welcome here.'

‘Thank you. I hope I will not need to intrude on my friends here again. Except that …' I hesitated, but then plunged on. ‘… I should like to see you again.'

Our eyes met and I caught, deep in the veiled glance, a golden flicker that instantly reminded me of the light in Lucian's amber-coloured eyes, those beautiful eyes I'd looked into on the night of the ball. A thrill went over me, from head to foot. Impulsively, I took a step towards him and held out a hand.

‘So might we not say farewell, but only until we meet again?'

But he did not take my hand. Instead, he took a step back.

‘I can make no such undertaking. I am sorry.'

‘Then if you cannot promise, I will merely hope to see you again,' I said, trying to keep my voice steady, ‘and when all this is over – when times are better –'

‘They will never be better for me,' he said, in a low, tight voice. ‘They can never be.' And abruptly, he turned away and strode out of the room without looking back.

‘What did you say to him?' said Grim when the outcasts, who had gone hurrying after him, came back, looking dismayed by his sudden departure.

‘Nothing,' I said, ‘except words to express my gratitude.'

I looked away so they would not see the tears in my eyes. I was sure the Prince – Lucian – had understood what I was trying to say. I was sure he knew I'd recognised him. I was sure he'd seen what I was feeling and that he felt the same, for the tension I had seen in him was the same longing that had tightened my chest and sent ripples of shivers down my spine. Yet he had turned away. He had gone, and I was left suddenly so bereft that I could have sunk to my knees and howled like a dog.

But the moment passed. I swallowed back the longing because it did no good. I had to be as strong as Lucian was. There could be no looking back.

The atmosphere for the rest of that day in the haven was both tense and dispirited, and the feast food that had been so lovingly prepared for the Prince's coming sat on the tables almost untouched. It was then I realised just how much the killing reported by Mattias had shaken the others. They did not ask me any questions about what the Prince had said to me, or what he'd brought for me, but instead gathered in quiet huddles in conversation in which I was not included. I wished I could do something for them but there was nothing I could do – and nothing I could think of doing – apart from making myself small and quiet for the rest of my time here.

Not that it was difficult to do so – I had so much on my mind. Foremost was the Prince or, rather, Lucian. It was strange how easy and yet how hard it was to think of those two as one and the same. Would we ever see each other again? I did not know and could not even dare to hope it might be so.

The deadliest weapon is the most unexpected one, he'd said. I had to find that weapon to use against Belladonna, the one that would strike right at her weakness, at her heart just as she'd aimed straight at mine. My weakness had been my love for her, my trust in her. Hers was – what? She was a mistress of deception, stealth, ruthlessness. She would not be caught by simple trickery … What mattered most to Belladonna? Power? Money? Status? All these things mattered to her, but how could I use them against her? She held them all in the palm of her hand and would be alert to any threat against them. And she loved nobody, cared for nobody except herself. She trusted Drago, but I knew she would not hesitate for one instant to sacrifice him if she had to. Even if I survived long enough to manage to gather an indictment against her, would that be enough? I was sure she would twist everything, make evidence – and witnesses – disappear. She might even find a way to construct a plausible reason for both my reappearance and my accusations, and turn the tables on me. She had a talent for making people believe in her lies, and I had no such gift. I had to find that weakness, that unexpected weapon, and find it fast.

Evening came but I found no answer to my conundrum. In the haven, there was also no real lifting of the general gloom. After dinner, Lisbet and Rasmus made a valiant attempt to lighten the atmosphere by singing snatches of old folk songs. They had lovely voices, both of them, his deep and rich, hers bright and silvery, and the songs were beautiful too, but the trouble was that sometimes beauty can make one feel like crying as much as it can make one joyful.

Because I felt for my friends in their wretchedness, and because I was in desperate need of a distraction, I also made an attempt to make things lighter – by offering to sketch portraits of everyone. To my surprise, not only did that serve to distract them, but also I found that I drew better that night than I'd ever done before.

‘Hmm, not bad, though perhaps a touch rushed,' said Grim, critically, when I'd finished his and he was looking at it from all angles.

‘Hark at the art critic!' Verakina snorted. ‘Don't listen to him, Bianca.'

‘I wish I could draw like that,' said Lisbet, wistfully. ‘Your drawings look as if they're alive – but they also make us look so much better than we really look.'

I shook my head. ‘No, they don't. I have drawn what is really there. You are beautiful, Lisbet, truly beautiful.'

Lisbet went scarlet. ‘You are just being kind.'

‘No. It is only the truth I tell.'

‘My mirror tells me otherwise,' she said, low.

‘Then your mirror is a liar and if I were you, I'd send it packing!'

‘Now there's a good idea,' said Carlo, with a grin. ‘Send all mirrors packing, wherever they are!'

‘Excellent idea!' said Tofer, warmly.

‘Fair is as fair does,' intoned Rasmus, with a serious air.

‘Hark at the philosopher!' laughed Grim.

‘And hark at the cynic who, because he thinks he knows everything, ends up knowing nothing,' observed Verakina, tartly.

‘Can't anyone say anything around here without being jumped on?' grumbled Grim, but he was smiling, and so
were the others, including Mattias, who for the first time that day looked as though he was not thinking about the dead man he'd found that morning.

It was only later, after everyone had gone to bed and I'd settled for the last time in my own bed by the stove, that an idea sparked into unexpected life. Beauty. That was what Belladonna truly cared about. Her own beauty, and the reflection of it in the eyes of everyone. Just as she'd killed my father, she was nearly certainly always planning on killing me. But it was seeing the front page of the
Mirror
, announcing that I had been crowned Fairest Lady in her stead, that had struck her to the heart and forced her hand, in the same way that discovering my father's investigation had precipitated her plot to kill him. That was her fatal weakness, and it would be my unexpected weapon. That was how I would undermine her. She thought I was dead. She thought herself out of danger. Now was not the time to reveal that I was still alive, but what if there was someone out there who was after her crown? Someone unknown to her? Someone she hadn't seen coming? She would be rattled. She would lose her cool. She would make mistakes.

I would create that someone else. I would send a shadow after her. It would be a creature of paper and ink and it would stalk her dreams of beauty. It would burst into the world of the
Mirror
and shatter it into fragments.

Getting up, I lit the lamp and, taking up my pencil again, began sketching the first three scenes of an illustrated story, the kind that is often published in instalments in newspapers and magazines. The story started with a picture of a woman, seen from the back, standing before
her mirror. The woman had a crown on her head and in the mirror was reflected a face of rare yet sinister beauty. The face had some resemblance to my stepmother – and yet not quite so much that it was definite. Under that first picture I wrote these words: ‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?'

The second picture was just of the mirror. I had represented it as a tall gilded thing, topped with a curly carving that mimicked the font used for the
Mirror
magazine masthead: ‘You are the fairest, oh Queen, the fairest lady ever seen.'

The third picture was a picture of a crooked crown and on it, a scattering of words made up of what looked like broken jewels: ‘Fairest, but for how long?'

I signed the three illustrations with the name Syrena – an Aurisolan name – and a tiny crest, the mermaid symbolising Aurisola, with her trident. It would look as if the artist came from Aurisola, the city at the heart of all my stepmother's dark secrets.

Sitting back, I surveyed my handiwork. The shadowy rival that would haunt my stepmother's dreams and be my advance guard in the attack on her defences had just been born. The
Mirror
's main rival was the
Ladies' Journal
, and that was where my story would go. Tomorrow, I would begin my campaign.

We set off very early the next morning. Dawn was only just breaking through the forest canopy when Lisbet and I emerged into the chilly air. We were both warmly but plainly dressed: Lisbet in her usual workday costume of serge trousers and a sailor's jersey, me in a plain dark woollen skirt and a matching jacket and coat, clothes that had been rustled up from the bottom of a chest, smelling of mothballs. They were the kind of clothes a respectable but poor young woman would wear – not a beggar, but someone struggling somewhat to make ends meet. But it was more than the clothes that transformed me: my skin had been rubbed with walnut juice to make it darker, my long wavy hair had been cut to the nape of my neck and a powder had been rubbed through it to change its colour from jet black to a kind of dusty brown. The final touch was a pair of steel-rimmed plain-glass spectacles produced from somewhere by Verakina, who declared that now even my best friend would not recognise me.

‘It's not her best friend she needs to worry about,' growled Grim, ‘it's her worst enemy!'

‘That too,' said Verakina, without missing a beat. ‘I've washed and patched your other dress as well,' she added. ‘I thought you might want to take it with you.' And she handed me a neat brown-paper parcel.

They were so kind that though I was eager to be on my way, I almost asked if I might stay longer, if I might be allowed a little more time to make sure of my own resolve. Almost – but not quite. The uneasy words that hovered in my throat were never said and instead, we exchanged hopeful words of farewell and ‘Till next time we meet', though we all knew there was a good chance we would never see each other again.

At first, Lisbet and I walked through the forest in silence, each of us busy with our own thoughts. The path we took was easy to walk on and though at first it was still fairly dark under the trees, we made good progress. I'd not had a lot of sleep the night before, but I did not feel too tired, and every step I took away from the haven made my earlier unease fade into the distance behind me. I'd told Lucian – the Prince – yesterday that I would prevail because right was on my side. I must believe in that with all my heart and I would make it come true. And it did seem as simple as that, on that steadily brightening spring morning, as the rising sun chased away the darkness and the fear.

After about an hour, we stopped for a short rest so that we could eat the snack prepared by Verakina: an omelette wrapped in bread to keep it warm. Washed down with clear spring water from Lisbet's flask, it made a fine breakfast. As we sat, we talked. About simple things: the goodness of
the omelette and the bread, the warmth of the sun, the bird calls starting all around us as the sun rose higher in the sky. Lisbet could name every bird, tell what kind of nest they built, what size their eggs were, even what their calls meant.

‘When I was little, I used to climb trees just so I could see into the nests,' she said, when I remarked on how good her knowledge was. ‘Not to rob them, you understand, but because I wanted to see how they lived. Do you see?'

‘I do,' I answered, smiling.

‘I made things from feathers and bits of eggshell and twigs that I found. Little decorations. My mother called them my spells, because whenever I hung them in our window, the birds would come calling. Dozens, sometimes many more, wheeling around our cottage. They would settle on our windowsill, on our roof, in our garden, and they would sing, like a great choir. Can you imagine that?'

‘Yes,' I said, moved by the extraordinary image she conjured and by the faraway look on her face.

‘It was so beautiful, Bianca! Sometimes I thought they were angels come to earth in the shape of a bird, just for us, just to bring us joy. I felt blessed. Truly blessed.' Her face darkened. ‘How can people do that, Bianca? How can they look at such a beautiful thing and turn it into something wrong, something wicked?'

‘I don't know,' I said, sadly. My mind went back to the moment we had shared in front of the statue of St Fleur: Lisbet had been accused of witchcraft and I understood without being told that this must have been why she'd been accused of being a witch.

‘I don't either,' she whispered. ‘I would have shared my decorations with them if they'd let me. And I would have
told them what the birds speak of: what their calls mean, what they know … They know so many things we cannot know: the paths of the sky, the freedom of the air … If only they'd listened …'

‘You told them?' I said, staring at her, the skin of my neck prickling with goosebumps. ‘You told them you knew the language of the birds?'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘I wanted them to understand. But it was I who did not understand. I who would not be warned, who did not listen to my mother when she said that I had been given a great gift by God but that it must always stay a secret between us. How could I believe her, when it was such a joyful thing to have been granted that knowledge? I thought I could teach it to others, so they would be glad, too.' She was silent a moment, then she went on. ‘Now … Now all I hear in the calls of the birds is the same as what everyone else hears. Nothing more.'

There was a lump in my throat as I said, ‘You mean … your gift … it is gone?'

‘Gone. It vanished the day of my mother's death and has never returned. I was punished for my pride and foolishness.' She spoke quietly, in a steady voice, but I could feel the bleak sorrow in it like a cold wind.

‘I'm sorry,' I said, gently. ‘I did not mean to bring back bad memories for you.'

‘Oh no,' she said. ‘I have not spoken of those things for such a long time, for fear of the bitterness. But you – you are a friend, and in telling you I have remembered something precious – the feeling of joy the birds used to bring me.' A smile lightened her whole face.

I was so touched that it was hard to keep my voice from breaking as I said, ‘When I am in Lepmest, I will light a
candle for you at the shrine of St Fleur and pray to her to not only bring back your gift, but to bring you the greatest of happiness with it, forever.'

‘Oh, Bianca!' cried Lisbet and, throwing her arms around me, she hugged me tight. ‘You are so kind and all I wish is that we will meet again, in better days.'

‘And I wish that too,' I said sincerely, hugging her back.

We set off again, then, at an increased pace and with a lighter step. Less than an hour later, we reached the outskirts of the forest and emerged onto a narrow path that led to the village the Prince had told us about. Up until then we had met nobody, but only a short distance along the village path we came across a woodcutter and his son, and then a mushroom gatherer and her daughter. They looked at us a little curiously but greeted us with a cheerful ‘Good morning'. It was only when we were past them that I noticed Lisbet was a little pale.

‘I'm not used to meeting new people,' she said, seeing my questioning expression, ‘that's all.'

But I knew it was more than that and when, a little further along, she told me that the mushroom gatherer – large, with soft features belied by a determined expression – had reminded her in looks of one of the ringleaders of the mob who had turned against her, back in her own village, I understood her reaction.

‘It just gave me a little bit of a turn,' she explained. ‘Sorry.'

‘Don't be,' I said. ‘Look, Lisbet, if you would prefer, I am sure I can find my own way now into the village. I'll ask for help at the inn. You do not need to go any further if you do not wish.'

‘Oh no,' she said, ‘I promised the Prince I would take you to our friend, and that is what I will do. I have been to the village before, just not in a long time.' She gave me a crooked smile. ‘Besides, if I turn around now I might bump into that poor harmless woman again!'

She spoke lightly but with an undertone which told me this possibility was not really a joking matter for her. So I smiled back and did not comment and we went on our way.

We reached the village a short while later. It was a reasonably sized village, with about a hundred houses gathered around a church and a small central square. Along the outsides of the square were a few shops: a grocery, a bakery, a smithy. I also saw the inn, which was our destination. It was called The Blue Lion and was a long, low, neat thatched building that looked well cared for. I liked the look of it at once, and also the look of Darian Zymund, the innkeeper, a grey-haired gentle giant of a man with a big moustache. He clearly had met Lisbet before – they were quite easy with each other – and her earlier jumpiness faded quite away.

Just as the Prince had said, Zymund had everything ready.

‘I had to make this up in a hurry, so I hope it will do,' he said, handing me a large flat wallet.

In it was a travel document in the name of ‘Jana Maria Sebastian'; a rental reference from Mormest, ‘which is where you've supposedly been living in the past year,' he explained with a wink; a photograph of an old man and woman, ‘Your sainted grandparents who came from here and who brought you up,' he grinned; a ticket for the mail coach to Lepmest and some money.

‘When you get to the safe house in Lepmest, there'll be a little more money for you,' he said, and then gave me
directions to the house. Lastly, he handed me a shabby carpetbag. ‘You can't get on the coach with just that brown-paper parcel or questions might be asked. Put your parcel in the bag. I've taken the liberty of adding in a cloak of my late wife's, just to give it a little weight. I hope you don't mind.'

Mind? How could I possibly mind such extraordinary generosity?

‘Oh, this is all wonderful,' I exclaimed. ‘Thank you so very much. I should like to pay you for your trouble but …'

‘It's all been taken care of,' said the innkeeper. ‘There is no trouble.'

‘But …'

‘You come from a friend, and that is all I need to know. Now come, both of you, and share some coffee and some bacon sandwiches with me before the coach arrives.'

The bacon was thick cut and tasty, with a deliciously crispy rind. The coffee was hot and strong, and the company was most pleasant. All too soon, the mail coach drew up outside the inn, ringing its bell, and it was time to take my leave from them both, for the coach stopped for no more than a few minutes – just long enough for the driver to swallow a cup of coffee, drop off and pick up letters, and buy a packet of bacon sandwiches from Zymund.

At the last minute, I took the pearl earrings from my pocket and pressed them into Lisbet's hands. ‘I'd like you to have these as a token of our friendship, and to thank you for trusting me with your story. Please, take them, for my sake,' I added, when she tried to refuse.

For the second time that day I saw her face light up as she thanked me, shyly but with sparkling eyes.

Hoisting my bag into the coach, I climbed in and found two other passengers in it already: a majestic elderly lady dressed in showy red and blue, and a lanky, big-nosed middle-aged gentleman in a fur-collared coat. The lady and her collection of boxes had taken up most of the room on one bench seat so I sat on the other, next to the gentleman. He seemed shy and only nodded at me before closing his eyes and nodding off to sleep – or perhaps he was only feigning sleep, trying to get a little peace, for as I soon learnt, our fellow passenger was not in the least bit shy.

‘Are you going all the way to Lepmest?' the lady demanded to know, as I sank back into my corner of seat.

‘Er … yes.'

‘But I heard you telling the driver you came from Mormest originally?'

She has sharp ears, I thought. ‘Er … I do, but I … I have been visiting relatives here in the village.' To back this up, I showed her the photo of my ‘grandparents' that the innkeeper had given me. The lady looked at it without much interest, and nodded.

‘I … I lost my job in Mormest,' I went on. ‘I'm hoping I'll have better luck in Lepmest.' The lies rolled off my tongue.

‘Hmm,' she said, eyeing me critically. ‘What kind of work have you done?'

‘I'm … er … I've been working in a draper's shop. But my employer got sick and the shop had to close and –'

‘Yes, yes,' she said, waving a hand, impatiently, ‘I see. Well, there are lots of drapers' shops in Lepmest. You could even try that department store, what's it called again?'

‘Ladies' Fair,' I said, quietly, feeling my throat tighten a little as I spoke the words.

‘That's the one. They're huge, and they'd be sure to always need staff. Try there first, is my advice.' She said this with the air of conveying a huge favour.

But though I could not help being amused at her haughty tone, the fact was that it wasn't such a bad idea. If I got work at Ladies' Fair – in a very lowly position, well away from Belladonna's sight – I could better keep an eye on what was happening in my enemy's world. I'd be close, but not too close.

I nodded. ‘Thank you. That is good advice.'

‘But of course,' she said, cheerfully. ‘I'm well known for that.'

I heard a quickly suppressed snort beside me, but the woman took no notice and went on.

‘In fact, that is precisely the goal of my own trip to Lepmest …' She broke off, expectantly. She was clearly angling for a question, so I obliged.

‘Oh, what will you be doing in Lepmest?'

‘Making sure the right protocols and procedures are followed. You see, my son's daughter is to be engaged. My son is Master Georgy Tomzin. You have probably heard of him. He is a very important man.'

‘Oh, yes, Master Tomzin is most well known throughout the land,' I said, lying through my teeth. I had never heard of him.

Preening herself, she answered, ‘Yes. I like to think I had some hand in that: he has been brought up properly, in the old customs, not these new ways where anything goes! Anyway, I said to him and my daughter-in-law that
it is important everything be done right. And how can it be if I am not there? My son's wife understands nothing of our customs, and my son will not tell her. He may be a lion in business but he is most certainly a mouse at home! It's been like that ever since he married her. Why he ever married a girl from the city when he could have had his pick of girls from home – of good custom and behaviour – beats me! This woman he married, she has no idea! Heavens, she did not even know it can
only
be water from Nellia's Spring that can be used to sprinkle on the engaged couple! Imagine!'