Thursdays with the Crown (13 page)

Below them Wizard Bratsch hobbled across the broken stones of the courtyard. Celie guided Rufus down to walk alongside the old man.

Bratsch left the ruins and went into the encroaching forest. Only a little way in was a small wooden house. It was one room; the three of them barely fit inside. The only furnishings were a bed and a rough fireplace made of rounded stones. Celie thought this very strange. There were cut stones from the Castle all around, so why hadn't he built a stone house, or at least used them for a chimney? But when she asked the wizard, he just shook his head.

“I cannot take the bones of the Castle,” he said.

“I guess that's a good idea,” Celie agreed. “I woke up the
other tower just now, and I was trying to wake up the one where you found me.”

“Brave girl,” the wizard said. “Good girl. It will pain me to see the last of the Castle go far away, but I think it is time.” He sighed. “Bones and stones, gone and gone and gone.”

“Can you help me wake the other tower? And the other parts, too?” Celie's heart pounded. “And then send it all to Sleyne?”

The old man sucked at his teeth and rocked back and forth, sitting on the rough hearth. “Gone the bones, gone the stones,” he muttered. “Sleyne Sleyne Sleyne. Why not?”

“You can?”

“Yes, that will be simple.” He looked at her with eyes that appeared quite lucid. “As simple as finding your own foot.”

Celie smiled at him and ignored this last comment. “So you'll help me get my brother and sister and our friends away from the Ark — from Wizard Nathanal?”

“Here is some hot tea,” the old man said evasively, ladling something out of a pot on the fire. He handed the wooden cup to Celie, and a smell of rose hips wafted from it.

“How did you learn Sleynth?” Celie asked, blowing on the tea to make sure it was cool enough to drink.

“I did not just send the Castle any which place,” Bratsch said indignantly. “I went to many worlds before I chose yours. Sleyne was no more than a dot on the map, some farms in a forest, with their foolish unicorns frolicking in a
meadow.” He winked conspiratorially. “Our people would find it easy to prosper.”

“But didn't you worry that the griffins would try to eat the unicorns?” Celie shifted uncomfortably and took a sip of tea; though she was a little pleased at the way he'd said “our people.” “Because they did. If you were wondering.”

“Did they?” Bratsch didn't look all that interested. Instead he busied himself getting a bowl of water for Rufus and a blanket for Celie. “Hmph. But the unicorns could not eat the griffins, that was the concern. The griffins were the concern. All the concern. The root of the problem. The root.” He pursed his lips. “The root. The heart. The eye.”

“What did you say?” Celie asked.

“I said the griffins could not be eaten by unicorns,” the old man retorted.

“But they all died,” Celie felt compelled to say. “The griffins and their riders still died from the plague or curse or whatever it was.”

“Did they?” Bratsch's face went rigid for a moment, and he stared off into the distance. “Well. But the Castle survives. And this one survives.” He pointed at Rufus.

“Yes,” Celie said. “And … and we found two more eggs. One's already hatched. We're going to take them back to Sleyne.”

“No.” Bratsch shook his head. “No, they should stay here. They die here, they die there, does it matter?”

Celie stared at him, feeling out-of-sorts. Didn't he want the griffins to have a chance? Rufus was healthy and
happy — that was obvious to anyone who looked at him. Didn't Bratsch want the same for the other griffins?

“Their time has passed,” Bratsch said. “They are better off here in the forest, if what you say is true.”

Celie immediately wished she hadn't said anything about the unicorns or the plague. “But the Castle needs them,” Celie protested.

“Nonsense,” Bratsch said, clucking his tongue. “The Castle doesn't need anything! I designed it that way myself! It's best to have a strong man of our people to keep it under control, of course, but even that is unnecessary.” Bratsch gazed off into the distance, a smile playing about his creased lips. “It needs nothing.”

This annoyed Celie to no end. She loved the Castle. A year ago she would have said that she loved the Castle as much as her family. But now she had Rufus and Rufus's family. Lulath had Lorcan, and they had the orphaned egg. She couldn't leave them, and she doubted very much that the Castle would want her to. And if Bratsch had designed the Castle, then whose tomb had she robbed? She shook that thought off for a moment, however.

“The Castle is so amazing,” Celie said hastily. She tried for flattery, to get some answers. “I never thought I would get to meet the man who built it! And now I'm here talking to you, but —”

“I didn't
build
it!” Bratsch snapped. “How old do you think I am?”

Celie felt her cheeks burn. “Um, old?” She wished Lilah were there. Lilah was much better at getting what she wanted from people.

Bratsch snorted. “My
grandfather
built the Castle! I merely altered it so that it would recognize our people once the Arkower attempted to take control.”

Celie ran frantic fingers through her dirty hair, desperate to understand. “But the … Who are you … if the Arkower … Who is the Builder?”

If Bratsch was saying that he was a Hathelocke, and his grandfather had built the Castle … then was everything the Arkower and his nephew Arkwright told them a lie?

“I don't understand you,” the old man scolded her. “Ask one question at a time!”

Celie tried to clear her thoughts. “Who built the Castle?”

“I told you: my grandfather did,” Wizard Bratsch said, clearly annoyed at her inability to understand. “He was its first king, the one whose tomb contained the very crown you're holding, but everyone just called him the Builder.”

“But he wasn't from the Glorious Arkower? I mean, here?”

“This is not the Glorious Arkower, no matter what that fool has told you,” Bratsch said in a low, rage-filled voice that sent a rill of terror down Celie's spine. He glared at her from beneath his wild white brows. “This is
Hatheland
.”

It was too much for Celie. She put her head down on her knees for a moment and breathed deeply. Rufus nuzzled her hair, concerned, and she threw one arm around his neck. She felt as though she was trying to walk through oatmeal, or that her brain simply wasn't working properly.

“What is wrong with you? Are you ill?” Wizard Bratsch fussed around her, not quite touching her and offering no real comfort, just more of the bitter, too-hot tea. “She's ill. It's not the plague, I see no blisters, but what if she dies in my house? Bad luck! Bad luck! And then the griffin? What will it do if she is dead?”

“We didn't know,” Celie wailed. “Do you understand me?
We didn't know there were real griffins!
Then I hatched Rufus, and I hid him, I was so scared … and Arkwright came … he told us the Castle came from the Glorious Arkower, that his people had been griffin riders but the griffins
were dead … that the Castle was asleep and needed to stay asleep … then we came here and there's more griffins, and you say this is Hatheland, not the Glorious Arkower, and nothing we thought we knew is true, and I just don't know what to do.”

Somewhere in the middle of her outburst, Bratsch had frozen, her half-full mug of tea in one hand. He was staring over her head, and his face was the color of clay. Then it very slowly began to fill with color until it was dark purple.

“Arkwright lives,” he whispered. “Is that what she said?”

“Y-y-yes,” Celie said, pulling Rufus closer.

“The young fool who nearly destroyed the Castle,” Bratsch snarled. “The young fool who broke the Eye. The young fool who led the rebellion. He lives.”

“Yes?” Celie was starting to feel sorry for Wizard Arkwright. The terrible expression on Wizard Bratsch's face was scaring
her
, and she wasn't a liar and a villain, as he was.

“And does he control the Castle?” Bratsch's eyes locked on Celie, and he looked perfectly lucid once more.

“No,” Celie said, feeling relieved that she could offer that much consolation. “I told you: my father does.”

“But does Arkwright control your father?”

Celie bristled. “No one controls my father,” she snapped. “He is the king! None of us even knew Arkwright until a month ago. He's been avoiding the Castle for years.”

“Ha! His guilt consumes him,” Bratsch said with relish. “And he doesn't have a griffin?”

Celie shook her head.

“Then he has nothing!” Bratsch howled with vicious laughter. “No Castle, no griffin! Nothing!”

Celie opened her mouth to ask him to explain, not that she thought it would make the situation any clearer, but someone beat her to it.

“I think I missed most of that,” Rolf said from the doorway. “Could you start from the beginning?”

“Rolf!” Celie flung herself at him.

Wizard Bratsch also flung himself at Rolf. “Who are you? Get out of my house!”

Pogue stepped forward and caught the old man's shoulder, keeping him at arm's length.

“I'm Crown Prince Rolf of Sleyne,” Rolf shouted. Wizard Bratsch was berating Pogue in several languages. “I've been looking for my sister!” He pointed to Celie.

“Oh! You found me!” Celie hugged Rolf again. Then she hugged Pogue, who was finally able to release Wizard Bratsch, and gave her a crushing hug in return. “Where are Lulath and Lilah, though? Lorcan? And the egg?”

“We came back to get you,” Rolf said. “Lilah and Lulath stayed in the forest. The big griffin is hiding them. Or something. He won't let them leave the clearing where he took us, anyway.”

“He … took you?” Celie asked.

“When the Arkower appeared, he grabbed me in his talons — the griffin, not the Arkower — and lifted me off into the trees,” Rolf said. “It was terrifying. He dropped me, but not very far from the ground, then flew off, and the next
thing I know, he and his mate are back with the others, hiding us in a thicket in the forest until the Arkower left, I suppose.”

“We tried to get him to take us back to the tower once it was safe,” Pogue said. “But he brought us here instead.” He looked around. “Clever animal.”

“They are not animals, they are griffins,” Bratsch said stiffly. “The girl said that one of you bonded with a griffin. Which of you was it?”

“Neither. It was our friend Prince Lulath of Grath,” Rolf said. “He's hiding in the forest with our other sister, his griffin, and an egg. We need to get to them.”

“Of Grath? Where is ‘of Grath'? Another griffin has bonded with another stranger?” Wizard Bratsch looked disgusted. “Complication after complication! After so many years of quiet!”

“All right,” Rolf said slowly. “You can see why we need to get back to them. But first of all, I really must know: Who are you, and what in the world were you just telling my sister?”

“There's another one of you wandering the forest with an egg?”

Wizard Bratsch didn't look at Rolf, but at Celie for confirmation. Celie nodded. The wizard turned to Rufus's father, whom he had earlier called the king of the griffins, and let out a shrill cry that raised the hair on Celie's arms.

Lord Griffin raised his wings and took several dancing steps forward. The elderly wizard spoke to him in some
other language, something with lots of
th
sounds, and Celie wondered dazedly if it was the language of the Hathelockes. Lord Griffin set off into the night, and the wizard beckoned them back into his hut.

“Is he … sane?” Pogue muttered to Celie as they filed through the low door.

“I don't know,” was all she could say.

She believed that Wizard Bratsch was telling the truth. But she didn't understand half of what he was saying. And not only that, she didn't like him. For a brief moment she'd thought he'd be better than the Arkower, and she'd started to think of him as the “good wizard,” because anyone who wasn't the Arkower had to be good, or so she assumed. But in his own way he was just as selfish and possibly as evil as the Arkower, or Nathanal, or whatever his name was.

Bratsch made them as comfortable as he could. Celie ended up sitting on Rufus's back in order to make room, and Rufus was resting his head in Pogue's lap. The wizard gave them each a crude mug of extremely hot tea, and then settled himself on a stool that was practically
in
the fire, though that didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.

“If you don't mind, sir,” Rolf said in his most polite voice. “We would very much like to know anything you can tell us about the Castle, the Glorious Arkower, Hatheland, and anything else you judge important.”

“There is so much,” Wizard Bratsch said, shaking his head. “Hundreds of years have passed since most of my Castle left this land.”

“All the more reason to start at the beginning and tell us everything,” Rolf said.

Wizard Bratsch gave him a cold look, and Rolf smiled back winningly.

“My grandfather was the Builder of the Castle,” Wizard Bratsch said, diving in despite his annoyed expression. “It was to be a refuge for our people and their griffins, and so it was for many years. Our people and the griffins had been tied together since the dawn of the world, which made many jealous. We needed a stronghold to protect ourselves from our enemies, enemies like the Arkish.

“They were cave dwellers, savages,” Wizard Bratsch snarled, and then spit into the fire. “They tried again and again to take the Castle, to take our griffins, and they failed and were beaten back into the mountains time after time. They tried to train the wild griffins, but they will not bond with a man the way our griffins will.”