The Wizard's Curse (Book 2) (48 page)

Tarkyn frowned a little, “If you are so certain we are going to kill you, why are you not planning to try to escape?”

“How do you know we’re not?”

The prince shrugged, “You don’t feel strung up in the way a person does before action. You’re worried, String more so than you, but you’re not tensed up, waiting your chance.”

Bean shook his head, “You’re right. I’m not planning any heroics. We’ve been around a long time. We’ve been in worse situations than this and come through. Besides, your mates are all around us outside. If we rushed out of here, we’d be dead before we made the cover of the first tree.”

String steadfastly concentrated on untying a battered old tin can from the side of his pack. When he had it free, he carried it to the mouth of the cave and held it out in the rain to fill it. Tarkyn thought this was likely to keep him occupied for quite some time.

“Did you see them?” asked Tarkyn.

String nodded unhappily from the doorway, “More or less. We just saw a blur of movement but we knew what it was. Most people wouldn’t have even noticed.”

Tarkyn considered. “Perhaps we should invite them back in, since you know they are here anyway. What do you think?”

A look passed between String and Bean. Then Bean shrugged. “Yeah. Why not? Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb.  If we’re going to die for knowing about them anyway, at least we could meet them. I have always wanted to but …. Well, too dangerous, as you know.”

String nodded. He seemed to have calmed down completely and be resigned to his fate. “Yeah. Actually, that would be pretty exciting. Takes a bit to get us excited these days but that would be really something.”

“I will need your oath that you will not try to harm them.”

“Huh, that’s rich,” snorted Bean, “It’s not us who’s the threat. It’s them,”

“Nevertheless….”

Bean sighed, “Yeah, fine.”

String also nodded from the doorway. “It would be a bit pointless to attack them, anyway. It would just make our deaths even more certain.”

“Very well. Just a minute.” Tarkyn sent an image of the woodfolk arriving in the cave and sitting with the four sorcerers.

A moment later, three damp woodfolk appeared, brushing themselves down and glaring balefully at the two interlopers.

“Would have been good if you had reached this point sooner. Then we could have been in here next to the fire,” scowled Rainstorm. “It’s bloody miserable out there.”

“Never mind,” rumbled Thunder Storm, “We’ve brought better provisions this time and Waterstone and Autumn Leaves will be here in a minute with some extra wood. Your little one is with them.”

“And what about Lapping Water and Summer Rain?” asked Tarkyn.

“No,” replied Rainstorm, “they’ve headed off to join the others in a bigger cave further up the mountain. North Wind, too.”

Tree Wind stared at the trappers, “So, Your Highness, what makes you think we might want to sit around and chat with outsiders rather than kill them off?”

“And how did they come to know we were here?” asked Thunder Storm. “I am assuming you two did not tell them.”

Tarkyn raised his eyebrows, “Good of you to assume that.”

Rainstorm chortled, “There it is again. That expression.”

“Oh stop it, Rainstorm.” Tarkyn relaxed, “I am not being disdainful. Well, not quite. Thunder Storm is trying to wind me up, though.” He turned to the trappers who were looking on with great interest. “Let me introduce you to String over there in the doorway collecting water for our tea…at least he was. He seems to have forgotten what he is doing…” String immediately raised his arm so that the billy was once more catching water. “and Bean.”

Bean nodded his head, “It is a pleasure to meet you after all this time. I know the cost may be high, but it is still a pleasure.”

“You’re a calm sort of a character then, if you know the cost,” observed Rainstorm, whose voice had a tendency to blend in to the noise outside if he walked too close to the mouth of the cave. “I am Rainstorm.”

Bean shrugged, “I only put energy into things I can change. In this case, my only hope lies in gaining your friendship.”

“Well, there is no hope of that,” declared Tree Wind flatly. “We don’t mix with outsiders. My name is Tree Wind.”

“And yet,” replied Bean mildly, “I see at least one outsider here who obviously knows you.”

“Exceptional circumstances,” she replied shortly.

String, who seemed to have completely recovered his equilibrium, said casually, “If you don’t mind me saying, there is something quite exceptional about His Highness being woodfolk as well. He obviously wasn’t born woodfolk and I am guessing he can’t do your disappearing act or he would have, as you did, when we arrived.”

Thunder Storm’s eyes narrowed, “Did you see us leave?”

String shrugged, “More or less. Probably less than more, actually. But we still knew what we had seen.”

Thunder Storm nodded shortly as he digested this, “I gather you have known of us for quite some time.”

“Yeah, a little while,” said Bean laconically, “What would you say, String? Maybe twenty, twenty-five years?”

The three woodfolk stared at them.

“So who else have you told over that time?” demanded Tree Wind.

Bean shrugged, “No one. We knew what the penalty was for having seen you. We’ve seen people killed.”

“So why now do you finally admit to knowing about us?”

Bean considered her for a moment, gauging her intelligence and her mood. Finally, he smiled and said, “I will tell you the one thing you don’t know and you work out the rest.”

As Tree Wind frowned, Tarkyn put in, “They love riddles.”

A slow smile dawned on her face, “Go on.”

Bean glanced over at Tarkyn, “His Highness said he wasn’t used to having strangers around his firesite.”

“And they are dressed as we are and you saw us leave,” Rainstorm butted in enthusiastically. “So you knew they knew.”

Bean nodded, “Exactly.”

“Precisely,” agreed String. He peered down into his billy, “This is still only quarter full. We’d never have said anything otherwise but curiosity got the better of us, I’m afraid. Haven’t told a soul for twenty-three years…. It’s twenty-three years, Bean … And now look at us. Up to our necks in it.”

Thunder Storm held out a water flask, “Here. I can’t stand the torture of watching you collect water so slowly. I am Thunder Storm.”

String grinned, “Thanks. I don’t normally travel around with an empty water flask but it started raining when we were at the stream, so we just made a dash for it.” He looked at the flask in his hand. “Nice. Well made. Deer hide. Did you make it?”

Thunder Storm shook his head, “No. The forestals made it. They’re good at craft work…with the possible exception of young Rainstorm here.”

Rainstorm scowled, “You’ve been listening to Falling Branch too much. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“You people are refreshingly normal,” observed Bean dryly, as String took his filled billy over to the fire and settled it in the flames between two burning branches.

Rainstorm frowned, “I don’t see how you can be refreshing and normal all at once.”

“If you’re expecting something complicated and unusual, then the norm becomes exotic,” explained String over his shoulder.

“Whoa. You two have been out on your own for too long, with too much time to think.”  Rainstorm laughed, “Anyway, of course we’re normal. I would say your lifestyle is a lot weirder than ours.”

“Of course you would,” replied Bean. “You’re used to yours.”

Just then, Waterstone and Autumn Leaves arrived bearing armfuls of wood. Midnight was right behind them sopping wet but happily dragging another large bough. He walked into the cave and shook himself. Then he spotted the trappers and did a double take. Just as Tarkyn was ruing the fact that he hadn’t thought to warn the unruly little boy, Midnight astonished them all by breaking into a beaming smile, dashing over to Bean and throwing his arms around his neck. Bean wrapped his arms around him and gave him a big hug.

“Hallo Midnight. How are you keeping? I haven’t seen you for ages.”

Midnight leant back and smiled at the trapper, knowing he had spoken but only able to guess what he was saying. He pointed to Tarkyn and himself and then wrapped his hands around each other in his sign for friendship.

Bean raised his thumb and smiled, “I’m glad you have a friend, Midnight. You’re a great kid.”

Everyone had stopped what they were doing and were staring at Bean and Midnight. Bean ignored them and pointed to String. “Go on. Say hallo to String. He misses you too, you know.”

Midnight looked around at String and gave him a wave. When String beckoned him, Midnight jumped up and went over to hug him, not quite as effusively as he had hugged Bean but warmly nevertheless. String bent over and swung the little boy up into his arms. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small, carved, wooden animal of indeterminate species. He held it out to Midnight and nodded encouragingly. The little boy accepted the gift and gave him a shy smile. String patted him on the head and let him down.

Midnight ran over to Tarkyn and held out his little wooden animal. The prince smiled and sent a query about the trappers. A short silence ensued while Midnight showed him images of Bean and String walking through the mountains and sitting around a fire with his mother and him.

Bean, who was watching them intently, exclaimed, “You’re talking to him! I can’t hear you but you are, aren’t you?”

Tarkyn smiled and nodded, “More or less. We’re sharing images, not words.”

“That’s great. Poor little bugger. He’s been so lonely since his mother left him with the mountainfolk.”

Tree Wind frowned, “And what was his mother doing, keeping company with you? She has broken our bond of silence.” She did not sound very pleased.

Bean put up his hand hastily. “No, she didn’t. We knew about you woodfolk for what...?”

“Fifteen years,” supplied String.

“…fifteen years before we met Hail.”

Suddenly Thunder Storm loomed over Bean, “You’re not the person who’s been beating him, are you?” he rumbled threateningly.

“He’s hardly going to admit to it if he is, with you standing over him like that,” Rainstorm pointed out.

Thunder Storm glared at Rainstorm but remained where he was.

Bean ignored the woodman and asked his friend, “String, is that tea ready yet? A man could die of thirst waiting.” When String filled a cup and headed towards him, he hissed, “Not me first. Give His Highness a cup of tea first. Then worry about the rest of us.”

“Oh yes, good point.” He swung around and gave the steaming cup of tea to Tarkyn instead. “Sorry about that, Your Highness. Not too good at these social niceties.”

Rainstorm chortled, “Welcome to the club. The only person around here who has any idea of what to do, or any wish to do it, is Danton…. Besides Tarkyn, of course.”

“Interesting, isn’t it, Bean?” said String, handing his friend a cup of tea.

“Very. We’ll have to think about this.” Bean sipped his tea before finally meeting Thunder Storm’s eyes. “And no, I did not beat young Midnight. Neither did String. His mother did often enough, though.”

“So, if you knew her, why did you do nothing about it?” demanded Thunder Storm.

“We did.” Bean stared up at the woodman, “Now, are you going to sit down and relax while we talk to you or would you rather I stood up? It feels very uncomfortable having you standing over me like this. We promised His Highness not to harm any of you and frankly, we’d be mad to try. So feel free to relax.”

Waterstone nodded briefly and sat down. The others followed suit. String pottered around providing cups of tea for everyone before sitting down himself.

“Go on then,” said Waterstone, “What did you do about it? I am Waterstone.”

“We talked her into giving him to the mountainfolk to mind.” Bean scratched his head, “I’m not sure that that was such a great idea, in retrospect. They haven’t been very kind to him either.”

“We couldn’t keep him, you know. She wouldn’t let us.” String sipped his tea, “Not, mind you, that we were busting to, much as we like him. Big commitment for a couple of confirmed bachelors. But we did offer.”

“Woodfolk are not usually so unkind,” said Thunderstorm thoughtfully. “I can’t believe she would treat her own son like that.”

Bean sipped his tea and looked over the rim of his mug at Thunder Storm and said conversationally to his mate, “Should I bother to continue, do you think, String? If we are to be disbelieved, I can see little point.”

Thunder Storm gave a slow smile, “I beg your pardon. I did not mean it like that. Perhaps I should have said that I find it hard and distressing to believe.”

String frowned at Bean, “Stop being so pedantic, Bean. You knew what he meant.”

“Just wanted to set the ground rules, String. We are, after all, in a reasonably sticky situation from our point of view.” He returned his attention to Thunder Storm, “Hail hated that kid. From the moment he was born.”

“No, Bean. Get it right,” interrupted String. “From the moment he was conceived.”