The Snowy Tower (17 page)

‘Don’t worry, Roana,’ soothed Lily. ‘Sleep is probably the best thing for him now. He’s had a terrible ordeal.’

On the morning of the third day they woke at dawn, sleepily watching the sun peep over the horizon, staining the sky with a rich wash of scarlets and pinks.

‘We’re nearly there,’ the bargeman offered when he realised they were awake. ‘We should arrive at the docks in about an hour. Just in time for some toast and coffee for breakfast.’

The docks were located a short way upriver from the Jigadee Falls. When the barge pulled in, the children noticed a grubby-looking peasant woman dressed in rags, apparently asleep outside the dockyard shed. When the barge nudged up next to the marina, she stirred and glanced over at the barge load, then settled back to her nap.

The children quickly unloaded the horses and all their gear. Saxon and Roana saddled and loaded each horse. At last they were ready. Roana paid the bargeman his gold crescents and he hitched up two huge draughthorses for the long, slow haul back upriver.

Half an hour later, as the barge struggled upstream against the current, the bargeman noticed a light, fast canoe flying downstream. It was paddled by a small, stooped Sedah man, dressed in black. His face was pale and haggard, as though he had not slept in days.

How strange
, the bargeman thought.
That Sedah looks in a tearing hurry. I wonder what terrible mission he’s on.

He chirruped to his draughthorses to make them pull harder upriver, away from the menace.

Sniffer was concentrating on steering his flimsy craft in the fast flowing current. His eyes ached with tiredness as they scanned the banks on either side.
They must be close now
, he thought to himself.

At last he saw the dock, which was the last post on the River Bryn before it tumbled and crashed down the Jigadee Falls. With a deep sigh of exhaustion he paddled for the dock.

When the bargeman was out of earshot, the snoozing peasant woman woke up and strolled over to where Roana and Saxon were strapping packs behind Mischief’s saddle.

‘Lovely morning, ain’t it?’ she commented. ‘Looks like that horse of yours is foundering.’

Roana shot her a quick look, then glanced around cautiously. ‘No, she merely had a stone caught in her hoof,’ she replied, her heart beating rapidly.

‘Your highness,’ whispered the peasant woman. ‘Albert sent me to watch for you. There is grave danger in Tira. We must take you to safety. I will
send a signal to Albert and he will meet us at the new rebel camp in the south.’

Roana nodded her understanding. Behind the dock shed, the peasant woman pulled a mirror out of her pocket. She used the mirror to catch the light from the sun, then flicked it away, so the mirror flashed a reflection of light. She did this three times in quick succession, paused, then repeated the procedure. On a distant hill there was an answering flash as a flame was struck and a bonfire lit. Kilometres to the south, another watcher saw the bonfire signal and lit another fire. In a few minutes, the fire signal had made its way down several bonfires, many kilometres to the south.

The final fire was spied by Jed, the stable boy, from the attic of the White Horse Inn. He ran downstairs as fast as he could to give the news to Master Drummond, who was supervising the unloading of some barrels of ale.

‘The bonfire’s alight, sir,’ Jed panted.

‘Thanks, Jed,’ Master Drummond smiled grimly. ‘Come to my office in a few minutes. I have something I need you to take to Cookie at the palace urgently. I will be out of town on business for a few days. If anyone asks, I am visiting a new vineyard to the east, which has some promising wine.’

When Jed had gone, Master Drummond went to the kitchen of the White Horse Inn and selected a boiled egg. He quickly made up a mixture of alum in vinegar. Using a quill, he scratched a brief message on the outside of the eggshell. He let the egg dry and checked it carefully, to make sure there was no sign of the invisible writing, then buried it at the bottom of a basket, filled with brown speckled eggs.

Jed hurried off to the palace with the basket of eggs. He was naturally searched thoroughly at the palace gates – his basket, pockets and clothes, even inside his cap.

‘Careful,’ he protested to the sentries. ‘Mistress Cookie will be mighty cross if any of these eggs gets broken.’

‘On your way then,’ ordered the guard on duty.

Jed delivered the basket of eggs to Cookie in the palace kitchens. Cookie took the eggs into the privacy of her pantry, where she carefully examined each one. She took each egg and spun it slowly on the bench, stopping it lightly with her fingertip, then removing her finger to see what happened. Most of the eggs kept slightly spinning, as the raw liquid inside kept moving.

One egg, however, spun much more quickly, then stopped completely when she removed her finger,
so Cookie knew it was hard-boiled. She picked this egg up, cracked it gently then peeled away the shell to reveal the egg inside.

There, written in spidery letters on the white surface of the egg, were the words,
Children returned safely
. Cookie muffled an excited shriek. Her heart singing with joy, she quickly ate the egg, destroying the evidence.

Meanwhile, Albert saddled his fastest horse, and cantered for the eastern city gate. The guards took no notice of him.

Two hours later, Albert arrived in the new forest camp of the rebels, just a few kilometres from the city, his horse sweating and panting after its headlong gallop. Here Albert was overjoyed to find Ethan, Lily, Roana and Saxon sitting around a campfire eating bacon and egg sandwiches, drinking tea and chatting to Fox about their adventures. Sitting beside them was a young boy, dressed all in black, with white blond hair standing up in tufts.

‘Prince Caspar,’ breathed Albert. ‘You did it. You found him!’

‘Master Drummond,’ cried Roana joyfully, jumping to her feet. Everyone leapt up, hugging and talking all at once.

‘I have news,’ Albert said seriously. ‘In two days, on the night before the full moon, Lord Lazlac plans to force your mother to marry him.’

Princess Roana and Prince Caspar went pale with shock.

‘M-marry him?’ stuttered Roana. ‘But that is impossible. Mama would never marry that murdering barbarian.’

‘He threatened to kill Prince Caspar if she refused,’ Albert explained.

‘But we have Caspar safely here,’ crowed Roana. ‘She can refuse now.’

Albert nodded gravely.

‘It is true that Caspar is safe, thanks to you four,’ Albert agreed. ‘But Lord Lazlac has threatened the lives of all the prisoners, including Lily and Ethan’s parents. The battle is not over yet. We need to make plans to storm the palace.’

A ripple of fear shimmered around the camp fire.

‘Let’s discuss our options in a moment,’ Albert suggested. ‘I must also tell you, we think we know where the Sun Sword is now, but we have been unable to retrieve it. One of my spies followed one of Lazlac’s men in the middle of the night and saw him secretly throw a large sword down a rubbish
well in the south of Tira. We lowered one of our men down the well into a huge cavern filled with rubbish, but he was unable to find the sword. He was pulled back shaking with fright, muttering about the horrible creatures lurking down there.’

All four children immediately thought back to the cavern full of rubbish that they had discovered underneath the city of Tira.

‘I think we know the cavern you mean,’ said Ethan, his face alight with excitement.

‘I think we know the horrible creatures he saw too,’ added Lily with a rueful smile.

Albert, Fox and the children stayed up late into the night sharing knowledge, making plans, writing lists of equipment, drawing maps, arguing tactics, revising, refining, improving and finalising their strategy.

Ethan’s mind flashed back to the tactical meeting in the caverns near Kenley, when the children had been completely ignored and dismissed. Now their ideas were listened to and discussed respectfully. By midnight everyone was happy that they had decided on a good plan.

Sniffer dragged himself out of the canoe onto the dock. He did not bother to moor the canoe. It was sucked out into the current, then swept downstream towards the rising mist and muted thunder of the Jigadee Falls, where it fell two hundred and fifty metres down the falls and was smashed into tiny fragments.

Sniffer lay on the warm timber of the dock for a moment with his eyes closed, soaking up the heat of the sun on his damp clothes and aching body. Finally he rose with a groan. He had a bloodied rag wrapped tightly around the arrow wound on his leg.

His eyes flickered around the dock area. There was nothing much to see on the splintered timber boards, but a few metres away in the dust of the track, he could see a scuffle of prints. Automatically Sniffer went to investigate. Five horses had passed this way very recently, moving quickly. There were other prints overlaying the hoofprints. One was that of a large dog, while the most recent set was of a person on foot. Judging by the shape of the prints, it was a woman.

Sniffer followed the prints at a slow pace. He was exhausted and in pain. He came to the fork in the track, the left-hand track leading to the forest, while the right-hand track led back to Tira in the
south. The hoofprints led to the right, heading south. Sniffer studied the hoofprints for a few moments, considering his options. He took a deep breath, then made a decision. Limping heavily, he started walking.

Lily and Roana strolled through the forest carrying baskets and daggers, with Aisha snooping at every rabbit hole and crack. Lily’s eyes darted around her, checking the hundreds of different plant species growing in the clearings, under fallen logs and beside the stream. Lily spied a low-growing ground-covering plant with shiny dark green leaves. Curiously Aisha gambolled over to investigate.

‘No, Aisha,’ warned Lily sternly. ‘Leave that one well alone.’ Aisha obediently left the plant and raced across the clearing, chasing a bee.

‘Adder’s Tongue, also known as snakeroot,’ Lily murmured, with satisfaction. Carefully she dug up the creeping roots and leaves, keeping a fistful of dirt clinging to the roots. Gently she wrapped the whole plant in a damp cloth and gave it to Roana to lay in her basket.

After two hours of searching, the girls had two baskets full of herbs and leaves.

‘I hope that’s enough,’ Lily said. ‘This will hopefully make a powerful brew.’

Back at the camp, the final preparations were being made. There were now twenty-four hours left before the marriage ceremony. It was time to start moving.

One of Albert’s spies – a pretty young woman in a crisp white apron and mob cap – carried the baskets of herbs into Tira and up to the palace. She was stopped and searched several times – security was tight on the day of the governor’s wedding to the former queen.

She smiled sweetly at each sentry, revealing a dimple in her cheek and a cheeky sparkle in her eye. Happily she removed the wet cloth covering the basket and showed off the plants she carried.

‘Wild thyme, marjoram and forest mushrooms,’ Jess explained. ‘For the palace kitchens. The ’erbs from the garden ain’t good enough for the wedding feast. The wild ones from the forest ’ave a special flavour, ’ead cook says. I’m sure I couldn’t tell the difference but that’s royalty for you, ain’t it?’

The Sedah guards snorted in disgust and let her through. It was with a sigh of relief that Jess delivered the basket finally to Cookie, who was
shouting orders at an army of pot boys, scullery maids, apprentices and spit boys.

‘’Ere they are, Mistress Cookie,’ Jess shouted cheerily, so all could hear her. ‘The forest ’erbs you ordered for the soup – wild thyme and forest mushrooms.’ Cookie looked at the disguised messenger sharply, then at the unusual plants peeping from the basket. They were unlike any herbs Cookie had ever cooked with.

‘Thank you kindly,’ Cookie responded, whisking the basket away before anyone with any herb lore could notice them. ‘I’ll lock those in the pantry until I’m ready for them.’

Jess bobbed a curtsey and disappeared into the crowd, quickly forgotten by guards, servants and lackeys in the business of the wedding preparations. Also quickly forgotten was a young page who brought Cookie a message. It was a recipe for a spicy soup, which apparently Lord Lazlac wished prepared for the wedding feast.

‘I wish he’d told me sooner,’ muttered Cookie angrily under her breath, until she recognised the distinctive loopy handwriting of her brother. The recipe read:

Cookie memorised the recipe and tucked it away, noting the reference to lemon juice. Later in the privacy of her room, she held the recipe over a candle flame. The heat from the flame singed the paper and gradually a second set of words appeared in the margin, in pale brown script. A secret message had been written on the page with lemon juice, which was invisible until it was held over a flame. The brown letters read:

Cookie threw the scrap of paper into the hot embers of the fire, where it burst into flames and was gone. Cookie started work on the new soup course with renewed fervour, chopping the herbs herself and setting the stock to simmer on the coals.

Later she washed her hands very carefully and went to talk to Marnie about cherry wine for the feast the next day.