The Subtle Beauty Page 9

  Birds scattered from the buttresses, stablehands stopped working below, and suddenly the gryphon appeared before her. Glory, startled, bellowed again.

  “What is it?” asked the gryphon, his talons digging into the stone, bracing himself against the great commotion. “What is wrong?”

  Glory ran a shaking hand through her hair, trying to recompose herself. “I am being punished by the Sun God.”

  The gryphon’s head cocked, and he blinked. “Bel is punishing you?”

  “Ever since I stopped going to the garden to greet the sun in the morning, dead things have been showing up on my windowsill,” Glory frantically explained. “I have surely angered the sun, and now I am being punished.”

  The gryphon’s beak ground with amusement. “Those are not dead things, Princess. Those are gifts.”

  Glory paced her room, her hands on her hips. “Who in their right mind would leave carrion lying around as a gift?”

  The gryphon’s feathers ruffled, and he preened himself nonchalantly.

  Glory shrieked. “You?”

  The gryphon winced, his talons digging into the wall again.

  “That’s disgusting! You great, blundering buffoon, what were you thinking?”

  The gryphon reached out a leg, snapping his talons at her. “Have you any idea how difficult it is to catch a tiny field mouse with feet this big?”

  Glory threw her hands into the air, as if to curse the gods. “You have got to be joking!”

  “It is no joke, Princess.”

  “Why in the world would you leave dead things as gifts?”

  The gryphon’s tail thumped. “Do they not hunt where you come from?”

  “Of course they do.”

  “Would something larger impress you? Eoghan is concerned you’re eating so little. There is a white stag I have— ”

  “No!” Glory stomped her foot. “Dead creatures do not impress me, Gryphon. Chocolates, flowers, those kinds of things are gifts. Dead creatures are not gifts. They are just dead.”

  The gryphon hissed, the fur on his back bristling. “Flowers are dead things, once disturbed, yet you say you like them. Ní thuigim tú9!” he squawked with frustration. “What will make you happy?”

  “Colin.”

  The gryphon scoffed. “Is it not clear to you yet, Princess? He is not coming. Surely he is tired of your pretensions and is only too glad to be rid of you.”

  “Do not be so sure,” Glory admonished.

  “Can you not see? Open your eyes, Glory. It has been a moon since you first came here. He is not coming.”

  Glory’s feet stopped moving. She mentally recounted the days. The gryphon was right. With a howl, she ran to her bed and grabbed her pillow. The gryphon seemed to know what was coming and scrambled to take flight. Glory flung the pillow toward him. It sailed through the window. There was an explosion of feathers. Glory was suddenly filled with a dread that she had somehow injured the creature. She ran to the window and leaned out, looking to see where the gryphon had gone. Instantly she was walloped in the head with a half-empty pillowcase and could hear the gryphon chortle with delight. Glory growled and yelled at him as he flew away. “Curse you, you infernal birdbrain!”

  The gryphon hovered in mid-air, the sun behind him, and called back to her, “I am afraid that it is far too late for curses, Princess.”

  ***

  Balthazaar’s steward grabbed Colin by the collar of his shirt and flung him from the room. The door slammed. Colin stumbled into the hall but caught himself. He paced and ran his shaking hands through his hair. With a roar he hammered his fist against the door and kicked it solidly. His nostrils flared. Colin swore loud enough for the entire castle to hear. He stomped down the hall. He returned to his sack of gold coins which he had hid well in the garden. He opened the sack and ran his hands over their shining faces. His jaw clenched at the sight of Balthazaar’s likeness. Colin pulled hard on the drawstrings and snatched up the bag. He began to think. How could he prove the old king wrong?

  It was said amongst the Twelve Kingdoms that “All Rumors Begin in Council’s Realm.” It was the hub of commerce and one of the most densely-populated areas in all of the Twelve Kingdoms. Colin thought if he could make his way there that he could garner information on Glory’s whereabouts. Surely, of all places, Council’s Realm would be abuzz with the juicy gossip of the princess’s betrothal. Especially when it had been originated and signed there. But Council’s Realm was a good three day’s journey on foot by the King’s Road. Colin peeked again at the coins in his sack. He didn’t want to spend the coins, save for his future with Glory, but he needed to find her quickly. It couldn’t hurt to spend a few, right? He could hire a palfrey horse. What would take him three days to walk would only be a few hours on horseback. But good horses did not come cheaply. Well, he didn’t want to buy the horse, he reasoned with himself, only to hire it for a day or two. He could get Glory back in that time… couldn’t he? Colin rose and squared his shoulders. He hoisted his bag of coins and strode toward the livery. He had to do it. It was for Glory!

  The cobbled road thumped under his boots. The stones glistened with twilight spring dew. An old draft horse plodded by hauling a cart heaped with vetch that was fragrant with delicate lilac buds. The horse’s breath plumed from his nostrils in cottony puffs. The last of the stars twinkled overhead as a thin line of fuschia eeked over the snowy, jutting peaks of mountains to the north that they called the All Father’s Spine. Winterholme’s blue-roofed white towers clawed the oncoming dawn. Colin saw none of it. His eyes fixated on the livery down the lane. The blacksmith was just beginning to hammer away at his forge. Horses whinnied impatiently as a livery apprentice accidentally spilled part of a sack of grain outside. Chickens scrambled to gobble it up. The livery master cuffed the apprentice for wasting the feed. Colin winced. He saw himself in the lad’s place being beaten by his own father. He shook his head to drive the memory away. He wasn’t that boy. He had made his own way in the world. He had changed his stars, and he would do so again by rescuing Glory and securing his happily ever after! He approached the livery master with a scowl on his face. “You, sir, how much for a horse to take me to Council’s Realm?”

  The livery master, a fat, squat, balding man, squinted at him. His wide lips pursed. “Wait a moment.” His thick hands tucked into the back side of his belt and pulled out a folded paper. He looked at it, then at Colin, then back at the paper. “No. Sorry, can’t help you.” He folded the paper and returned it to its original place and pushed past Colin.

  Colin pivoted. “Why not?”

  “Can’t,” said the fat man.

  Colin pursued him. “Tell me why.”

  The man produced the paper again and shoved it at Colin.

  Colin paused to unfold it and saw his own image staring back at him. Words were scrolled beneath his name. Colin’s lips moved as he read.

  “Let it be known that from the day of Her Royal Highness Princess Lucullia’s wedding, henceforth, the young man known as Colin Falconer shall not be aided, sold to, or consorted with within the boundaries of the four northernmost territories. Any violation of this decree is punishable by means found pleasurable by the king.”

  Colin’s grip slowly tightened around the paper until it crumpled into a rumpled mess. He threw it on the ground. Lucullia’s wedding was only last night, and the town had already been papered. It had to have been done before. Colin’s heel ground the paper as he realized Balthazaar had known all along. Colin tapped his fist to his chin and thought carefully. There had to be some way around this. The bag of coins weighed heavily in his fist. A smile crept to Colin’s face. He shook the bag, allowing the money to talk. Jingle. Jingle jangle.

  The livery master paused in the open breezeway of the livery.

  Jingle jangle jingle.

  The livery master’s shoulders rose to his ears. He turned and practically gravitated to the sack of coins. Colin proffered one to him with a haughty, triumphant look upon his face. The li
very master bit into the coin to make sure it was real. His thick, bushy, gray eyebrows rose with excitement. His eyes became the size of saucers as he held the bitten coin up against the rising sun. Colin offered another one. “Name your price.”

  The livery master clutched the coins. His hand shook feebly. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. He stared at Colin. Colin was sure he had a deal, no matter the cost. He’d soon be on his way to Happily Ever After!

  The livery master shoved the coins back into the sack. “No deal.”

  Colin nearly choked. “What?”

  The livery master turned away. “As much as I like your money, I like my head even more. You keep your money, and I will keep my head.”

  Colin’s shoulders slumped.

  The livery master walked into the stable and yelled at the apprentice.

  Colin grit his teeth and marched after him. He knew it wasn’t his place to tell the old man to leave the boy alone, but he had to do something, even if it was two-ply by distracting him with another offer. He flicked a coin and hit the livery master in the back of his bald head. The livery master’s sausage-like fingers rubbed his head, and he turned with a scowl.

  Colin leaned against the open breezeway arch and folded his arms with his sack of coins clearly visible. “How about I give you the money, you give me a horse, and no one has to know? It wouldn’t be the first time straw was mysteriously spun in to gold.” Colin winked.

  The livery master’s lips pursed. “That’s an old wive’s tale.”

  “Is it now?”

  The livery master was quiet. His chin quivered. “Yes.” He picked up the coin and pocketed it. “Now get out!”

  Colin rolled his eyes and walked away, trying not to appear too dejected. He stood by the side of the road and wondered if there was any other way to Council’s Realm. A light breeze kicked up, and the crumpled paper with his image and the decree on it tumbled past. Colin sighed. He was going to have to walk. He might as well get moving while the day was young. He returned to his father’s cottage where he raided the larder for a small wheel of hardened cheese and a hunk of bread. He hadn’t thought he would need it before because his plans had been so different. Yet here he was hording the food in to a burlap sack like a pauper. He put his bag of coins in there as well to not attract attention to himself along the way. The King’s Road was well-maintained and patrolled, but it was still dangerous. He closed up the house and slipped the key into a pocket underneath his shirt. He headed back into town and followed the signs to Council’s Realm.

  Colin covered nearly a solid league his first day. When dusk came, he took refuge in a small clearing of nearby trees. His feet ached. He wished he had stopped ten miles earlier when The Paladin’s Flask tavern had peeked over a hill. People laughed inside the warm orange glow of the place. The small smoking house in back was hard at work and made Colin’s stomach ache with hunger. He had paused to eat and wished he could go inside the place, but he was still within the northern territories and knew no help would be found, not even for the sake of his thirst. Guards patrolled the King’s Road sporadically and generally minded their own business as Colin walked along. He kept plodding on and now made camp with the aid of a flint and a small amount of tinder. He carefully rationed a portion of his bread and cheese and ate again. He curled on his side next to the fire and watched the flame dance. He thought about Glory and how the golden licks reminded him of her. Her warmth, her charm, the way her middle thinned and swayed like the flame…. Colin’s eyes drooped. He dreamt of his Glory. Of their Happily Ever After. They’d build a home somewhere together. He’d provide for them through his falconry trade, as well as plowing their own fields, and selling the produce of their land. If the gods were kind and saw fit, they would bless Colin and Glory with perfect blonde children who played in their home and snuggled close to their parents. Colin’s heart said he would be a good father with a rare hard hand, unlike his own father had.

  Colin woke the next morning damp and chilled. He felt foolish for allowing the firelight to die during the night. He kicked dirt over the ashes and snuffed out the last of the embers and continued on his way. His day was uneventful. Occasionally a carriage would pass or another pilgrim on their way to this kingdom or that. Colin covered a little less today than he had the day before. His legs tired more easily and had started out stiff anyway that morning from not having moved much during the night. He retired early enough to set a few snares around his roadside camp. They could protect him or provide him a decent meal the following day on the other. His bread and cheese were running low. He put his back to a tree and a fire before him, keeping a hand close to his hunting knife. He managed to doze periodically while keeping watch.

  In the morning, he doused the fire again and got on his way. A hare had found its way into one of his snares during the night. Colin thanked the gods for this bounty before sending the hare’s spirit to the After World and bagging its body. He would have a decent meal when the sun reached its highest point. He knew today would be a hard stretch. He felt compelled to make up the distance he didn’t travel the day before.

  Colin grimaced when he came upon a fading sign that pointed the way to Council’s Realm a solid league away. A small knot formed in his stomach that the sign hadn’t been painted in a while. One of the nails was loose on a marker, and the sign hung limply. Some of the boards were cracking on the others. Colin looked down at the ground and noticed the road was a bit more broken here. Weeds overtook some of the stones. Rubble formed other stepping places. Colin looked around and couldn’t see a guard tower for miles. He reckoned he must be in the middle of the northern territories where the peaceful rulers under Balthazaar did not feel an expediency to guard the area as tightly.

  Colin’s hand went to the hilt of his hunting knife to reassure himself. If Brigands were about, he would be ready. He steeled his courage and pressed on. The countryside was open here with miles of rolling hills and fields. Windmills turned slowly in the distance. Farms occasionally dotted the landscape. As he walked, Colin was glad it was not summer for there was little shade to be had in this stretch. His mind changed quickly, however, when silver clouds knit together and fattened with rain. He slogged through the chilly wetness and kept one foot in front of the other despite the tiny rocks of ice that pelted him in the spring storm. He found it amusing how the little white balls bounced off of the stony road and reminded himself to purchase a travelling cloak as soon as he reached Council’s Realm. He told himself what an idiot he was for being so ill-prepared. He had been so eager to chase after Glory that he hadn’t thought things through like he normally would have. He had spent years planning and saving for the moment they would run away together, and he could not even remember to bring so much as a hat or cloak!

  Colin’s shoulders rose to his ears as he hunkered down under the hail. The storm got worse as he got closer to the middle of it. A forest appeared as he crested a hill. From this vantage, he could just make out Council’s Realm. He had to squint in the sheet of rain, but it was there. He only had to get through the forest. It would be a good respite from the storm, but he was sure other dangers lurked in its place. A shock of lightning struck a nearby fence post. Colin jumped. The forest was sounding like a better place to be than out in the open. He hurried toward it, lest he remain the tallest and most appealing thing for the lightning to strike next!

  Once inside the forest, he stumbled more on the road. It was ill-kept here, overgrown with roots and vines that twisted and smashed stones in their unforgiving path. The rain fell more softly, however, buffeted by the towering firs and redwoods. Colin had to slow down and pick his way along carefully. He knew if he could get to the other side, that Council’s Realm would only be a few more hours of walking. He could be there by nightfall. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of a roaring fire at The Fox And Wolf Inn, hot food in his belly, and a bed to sleep in. He would willingly part with a gold coin or two for a luxury like that tonight!

  Colin remembered the
hare in his sack when he thought of the hot food. He convinced himself that if he continued for a few more miles, he would stop to enjoy it. The thickest part of the woods was nearly dark under the storm. Colin’s skin prickled. He kept a hand on his hunting knife. A rustle in the bushes made him turn. A squirrel darted out and scampered up a tree. Colin shook his head and breathed with relief. A young doe ahead snapped a branch. A crow dropped acorns on the stone road. Each made Colin jitter, but he shook it off until he finally noticed the forest getting lighter. The trees no longer grew together as thickly. Colin realized he was moving faster. The road was better maintained. Not much, but enough to really move again. He could make Council’s Realm out in the distance. He sighed and slumped down by the side of the road. He felt this was as good a place as any to enjoy the last of his bread and cheese and that lovely hare. Here he had shelter from the storm that was letting up. He could get warm and gain his second wind. He got a fire going and stoked it well before he skinned his kill and began roasting it. He gnawed on the hunk of bread as he waited for his meat to cook. When it was done, he enjoyed the hare with the last of his cheese. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back against a tree stump. The fire warmed his aching, wet bones. He listened to the rain slow to a gradual, serene drip. Birds began singing overhead. The air smelled so clean. Rich with the scent of moss and earth and pine needles.

  Colin closed his eyes and thought of Glory. She would like this. His breathing slowed and deepened. She would like this very much. His muscles relaxed. His hands slipped from behind his head to his sides. His chin bent to his chest. A pop of the fire made him jump awake. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and blinked. His eyes grew heavy again. He couldn’t resist the lull of a brief nap. He would be back on the road shortly, he told himself. It would be alright. He was safe here. He could see Council’s Realm and guard towers and farms and houses and…