The Coming Storm (6 page)

Still, she would be free to take such time away from riding circuit as judge in her father’s stead to see more of the Kingdoms as she’d been longing to do.

Although she’d ridden out with their own Hunters and the Woodsmen many times, she thought she might do well to ride with those of another Kingdom. Remembering always that she was Geric’s only Heir and couldn’t be replaced. Not that she ever forgot. She would also need to present herself to the High King. She thought she might also like to see the High King’s city of Doncerric again now that she was older. It would do her well to spend some little time among the High King’s Court.

In a way, such decisions weighed on her.

Easier to think that perhaps when she returned from the hunt she would go visit her grandmother. It was too much to be hoped she might get some more sword-training too when she was there but she hoped it anyway. Although her skill was better than most, there was still much that she would know. Considerably lighter of spirit at the thought, she enjoyed the banter among the Hunters and shared in it.

They found the boggins and there were more than one, as reported.

It took days to hunt them down and two escaped back into the borderlands but two didn’t.

Weary and frustrated, Gwillim looked at her. “Four of them. Days pursuing them. They led us a merry chase indeed. Last week a boggart. More than a week or so before that, a firbolg. I hope whatever is stirring them up will leave be. It will stop soon, else if that happens too often for too long we’ll be a tired band of Hunters.”

Again that weird shiver went through her.

Ailith shook her head, smiling reassuringly even if she didn’t feel it.

“It will, Gwillim.”

“An optimist,” he said, with a grin, “that’s what you are.”

Her eyes twinkling, shaking off her own misgivings, Ailith said with a smile, “Ever and always, Gwillim.”

Leaving him and the others at their camp, Ailith was more than glad to return to the castle and the bath she was looking forward to there. It would be heaven to sink into a tub of warm water and sluice off the dirt that cold mountain streams hadn’t. She was so looking forward to it she had to sidestep a man coming out of the main doors.

She hadn’t even sensed his presence, he was suddenly just there, bowing his head respectfully as he hurried past her.

There was little more than a moment for a brief impression of a thin nondescript man of sandy hair.

Ailith frowned after him, bemused caught for a moment.

Catching the blacksmith going by, Ailith said, “Dothan, who is that man?”

With a quick glance over his shoulder, the burly blacksmith raised his eyebrows and looked at her. “That would be Tolan, my lady. Your father’s hired him to assist him.”

Startled, Ailith said, “I wasn’t aware my father needed someone to assist.”

“Neither,” Dothan said, “did anyone else. Sommat impulsive of your father but the man seems efficient enough.”

Curious now, Ailith wandered back to her father’s office.

He was bent over tally sticks and bags of coins.

“Hello, father,” Ailith said, wandering in to give him a kiss on the top of his head.

Slightly distracted, Geric looked up and smiled. “Oh, Ailith, I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

Amused, Ailith said, “It’s been three days, nearly four.”

Leaning back in his chair, Geric shook his head and eyed her. “Where does time go? It’s good to have you back, sweetling. I’m guessing you’re for a bath. Tell me all about it at supper?”

“Certainly,” Ailith said. “I heard you hired an assistant.”

His fingers toying with the tally sticks, Geric seemed preoccupied. “What? Assistant? Oh. Tolan. Yes. It seemed a good notion, with all this borderlands activity, to free you up to ride with the Hunters or go on circuit for me.”

That seemed reasonable enough but Ailith still felt unsettled. There was something odd about her father but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Are you all right?,” she asked, suddenly.

With an absentminded nod, he said, “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just a little tired for some reason. We’ll talk at dinner, all right?”

“Fine,” she said, as he gave her a quick kiss.

As she left she looked back, to find her normally energetic father staring off  into space.

Her mother would figure it out. She also had to remember to ask if it would be all right if she took some time to visit her grandmother. It had been a while since she’d visited.

The sky above Jareth was a clear vault of blue, untouched by clouds. Warm, the sun beat down on his shoulders but the cool breeze chased away the sweat. A nearly perfect day, without a doubt. Except, of course, for the river. The winter had been mild and the spring even milder. There had been snow in the mountains which had begun melting in great quantities. The river was high and wild.

Jareth looked down at the little ferry bouncing on its lines at the mooring. He didn’t mind water. He didn’t mind swimming. He did mind if it was cold and this water was quite likely to be frigid, coming as it did from melting ice and snow. With the way the ferry bounced around, it was quite likely he might find out for certain just how cold the water was. Once more, he was likely to make Avila unhappy if she learned of his actions. Perhaps she wouldn’t hear of it but his luck never seemed to run like that.

In some odd way it seemed as if every time he broke one of her myriad rules, she would learn of it. A thousand things he could do right and hear no word. One oddness, one bending of her limitless protocols and regulations and he was in for another lecture.

What was the use of magic if you couldn’t use it? Except for official reasons, under official auspices, under official rules. He chafed beneath those restrictions. Like this one, not to use magic for personal motives. While he might argue he wasn’t, he was doing so at the request of the Elves – one in particular – Elon hadn’t ‘officially’ asked. So, he wasn’t acting under proper protocols. Elon would’ve backed him on it but he didn’t want to put Elon in that position.

He sighed resignedly as he approached the bouncing boat and the ferryman’s little cottage.

That man sat before his door, smoking a pipe.

“No passage today, milord,” he said, taking a long pull on the pipe and letting the smoke curl from his nose. The thought of that made Jareth’s eyes water. He liked a pipe himself now and then but that would’ve made him cough and sneeze. “River’s too high.”

Since he wasn’t dressed in ‘official’ robes, Jareth couldn’t fault the man for not knowing him for what he was. No, he was only wearing basic trews, a common shirt and vest and his everyday cloak.

He sighed again and fished a coin from his pocket. “This for the effort and a touch of magic will get me across.”

If he was to make any time, he had to cross here. The next ford or ferry was leagues out of his way for where he needed to go. A bridge was even farther.

The ferryman scoffed, “Wizard, eh? You’re no wizard. Where’s them fancy robes those folk wear these days? Eh?”

Those robes were stifling, a new affliction from Avila, that mandatory garment.

Provoking Avila even more, Jareth avoided wearing them as much as possible.

Wearing them, though, actually seemed to cause her more distress. For some reason he couldn’t discern, he could never keep them looking proper. Or any of his other clothes for that matter. His foster mother had despaired of him on the same point. No matter what he wore, within a short time it looked badly in need of washing and pressing. He cared little but it had mattered to her who had taken him in and it mattered to Avila. Not for the first time he wished his people were more like Elves. Those folk didn’t care how you were dressed, it was who you were and what you did that mattered. Sadly, though, he’d never met a badly dressed Elf. They always looked immaculate.

“I don’t like them,” Jareth said, honestly. “Uncomfortable, those are.”

Removing his pipe from between his teeth, the ferryman gave him a sharp look and then laughed sharply.

“Well, they would be with them high collars and all that stiffening. They’re a stiff-necked breed anyways and that collar just puts their nose a little higher in the air is all.”

Jareth gestured and the water around the little ferry became as still as a duck pond. Just around the ferry and across to the other side. In that narrow area not even a riffle of breeze marred the smooth surface. On the upstream side the river leaped and splashed all the more violently for not being able to pass and for a little ways downstream it flowed a little more calmly.

The ferryman looked at the river and then at him for a moment. He slapped his knee and laughed again.

“Well, ahn’t you a one? Welladay, the jest’s on me. I shoulda known better’n to judge by appearances alone. Welladay, milord, I guess I need to get you across the river. Although why you don’t just spell yourself across I don’t know.”

As a matter of fact, Jareth couldn’t, no wizard could. You could spell the things around you but not yourself so well. It wasn’t that he couldn’t float, rather it was keeping himself upright and moving forward both at the same time that was difficult. Nothing to push away from. There was the weight of the horse as well. The energy it would take to get it over would’ve left him weary for hours.

“The horse,” Jareth explained, “doesn’t like it much.”

They didn’t either. Not having all four legs on the ground tended to make them unhappy. Especially elven-bred, although Zo had gotten somewhat used to it.

It was still easier to take the ferry.

“Well enough, milord, well enough.”

The ferryman got up, caught the coin neatly and walked across to unhook the rope that barred access to the boards.

A little push undocked them from the shore and two quick pulls on the rope sent them far enough out that the ferryman could make use of the oar. With steady strokes back and forth, the man drove them across the river.

“Heard tell of anything odd hereabouts?” Jareth asked.

With the pipe clenched between his teeth, the ferryman cocked his head.

“Odd, you say?”

He gave it due consideration.

“Odd as in two fisherman going missing a few miles up the river, or odd as in sommat that what killed half a brace of old Stugarn’s geese?”

Cocking his head, Jareth raised a brow. “Odd as either, I guess. Any idea what happened to the fishermen?”

“Naw,” the man said, around the pipe. “Odd it was though. Both good people, not the layabouts who sometimes put lines in water to make it look like they is doing sommat. Naw. They found their poles, four or five of them and a string of et fish. Naught else. Now, old Stugarn’s geese? They was sommat else. What a mess that were. Heard tell there was parts of them geese – their feathers and feet and bills – all over the place. Old Stugarn was in a right fury.”

“Where was this?”

“The fishermen, they be upriver two three leagues or so. Mebbe more. Wilder country up thereabouts. Not too many folks up that way. More on this side of the river we’re goin’ to than what we left. Puts the river twixt them and the far side. Now that’s wilderness up that far above the big bend and a branch of the borderlands comes down that way between us ’n some of them Elves. Those ones that live way far up in the mountains, you see. Now, King Daran, he sent ‘round an edict some time ago telling people they shouldna go so far into the wildernesses, there were plenty of unsettled lands about the interior. Which is true enough. ‘Twasn’t fair to the Hunters, he said, who should be the only folks up that way, to have to watch for them while trying to do the duty what they was paid for. Nor would he send the Woodsmen. Nor should anyone look to the Elves for such, ‘twasn’t the duty of Elves to look after foolish men. But you know some folks just haveta be different.”

“So, he set markers. But you know some folks, being told they can’t just makes ‘em want to do it the more. Others just don’t like being around their own kind much.”

“Old Stugarn? He’s up that way, mebbe a little less far. Above the bend in the river but just. Tole me about it when he came through to market. Why you ask?”

Jareth remembered when the boundary markers had been set. That had been a good twenty years or more ago.

He had good reason to remember. It was
before Avila
.