Chapter 19 | The Tale of Two Kingdoms

That same night, Warin came up the path to the cottage, leading a horse laden with supplies. The first thing he saw in the faint moonlight was the door to the cottage, standing wide open. He tethered the horse, drew his long dagger, and carefully entered, stepping over three withered daffodils. The hearth was cold. He called out for Emmae, but she was nowhere to be found in or out of the little house. Then he caught sight of the words written in fading golden letters on the table top:

Warin lit a candle and saw a flare of reflected light: The tray, propped up against the cottage wall. He cried out in despair and picked it up, but no image appeared to him but his own.

He paced the floor, crushing the flowers underfoot. Emmae was gone. His brother had stolen her through the reflection he'd tried to guard against. He was sure of the full nature of her enchantment, and he feared the worst. His brother would certainly take advantage of it if only to wound him.

Warin stopped his pacing, staring sightlessly at the golden petals ground into the floor. The year after he'd reached his majority, he had sworn that he would never return to Tremont Keep, though it had troubled him to leave Hildin as the heir. For ten years he had kept that vow. Now, for Emmae's sake, he would break it.

Warin unloaded the horse, storing the foodstuffs and gently fingering the ribbons and linen he'd bought for Emmae before stowing them as well. He packed up the few belongings he'd need for the journey to the Keep and strapped them on the horse. He had no saddle, having intended to return the horse to the stable in town and reclaim his money, but he had been raised a skilled horseman and could ride without a saddle or even a bridle. When he was ready, he opened a false bottom in the cupboard and took out his sword. Reaching all the way to the bottom of the cupboard, he found a small box, put it in his pocket, closed the cupboard and left the cottage, taking his grandmother's tray with him and propping it against a tree.

"If the Traveler Queen is within sight of her reflection anywhere in my kingdom, show her to me now," he told his reflection. His image immediately faded, and the face of the old crone appeared. She grinned and beckoned. Warin's face darkened. Leading the horse behind him, he stepped into the tray, out of a mirror fastened to the door of a Traveler caravan, and into a clearing.

"Well!" said the Traveler Queen, "took you long enough, your highness!"

"I couldn't risk looking for you with my brother looking for me, and I couldn't leave the girl alone to search for you on foot, not with that enchantment on her."

"And which girl would that be?" said the Queen.

"Don't play with me, old woman, how else would you know I was looking for you?" said Warin. He raised his left hand and made a scooping gesture. Instantly flames from the campfire leapt into his hand, but did not burn him. He bounced them like a ball. "My brother, Hildin, has taken her, and you owe me--you owe that girl--an explanation and your help."

The old woman calmly replied, "I am the Queen of the Travelers, Prince Warin, do you honestly think my own campfire would dare to burn me?"

"Perhaps not you," he said, "but I am willing to wager that your wagons wouldn't be held in such high esteem." He bounced the ball of flames again, eyeing the caravans--the only homes the Travelers had.

"Calm yourself," said the Traveler Prince. "You are among friends, truly."

Warin looked at the young man closely. "Do I know you? Or perhaps your brother?" he said. "You are familiar, I am sure I have traded with you. And yet the man I knew--"

"Had crossed eyes, yes," chuckled the son. "That was me!" His words set the Travelers howling with laughter. "Oh! Oh, I am sorry, your highness. You shall understand soon."

"You had best be making me understand now if you wish me to be calm," said Warin sternly, bouncing the ball of flames again.

"Stop playing with the fire," said the Traveler Queen in irritation. "Connin, return that ball."

To Warin's great surprise, the Traveler Prince flicked his hand and the fire ball swept first to his hand and then back to the campfire. Warin drew his sword, and Connin stepped back, hands before him. "Friends, your highness. If we meant you harm, we'd have killed you in your sleep any number of times, or turned you over to your father and brother. We've always known where you were and who you were. Please, sit and eat with us, and we will tell you everything."

The old Queen offered him a bowl of rabbit stew and a hunk of brown bread to sop in it; Warin sheathed his sword, took the bowl and bread, and sat by the fire. The old woman nodded and gave a creaking sigh. "Prince Warin, you know I was at your naming, when you were a baby. Queen Sella, your mother, asked me to come and tell your future. And I did." She recited:

Warin stared into the fire until his eyes were dry. "I swore I would never take the throne, or a wife, if it meant that my father must be murdered for me to have either. I renounced my birthright, and took to the furthest forest of the kingdom."

"Oh, your highness," said the Traveler Queen, "your fortune will find you no matter how far you run."

Warin looked up, and where the old crone had been there was now a beautiful, dark woman with a round, merry face. He blinked, and the old crone appeared again. It must be the fire smoke, he thought. "I wish only to find my Emmae and return with her to my woods. She will stay with me whether we marry or no," Warin said.

"Emmae? That's what you call her? Well named, my prince," said the Traveler Queen with a sly smile. "No, no, I will tell you," she said at the prince's scowl. "Your woman, your Emmae--your suspicions are correct, you owe her to me." The old woman told the story of how Princess Edmerka had refused both payment and kisses, how the Traveler Queen had enchanted her in return, and how she had granted the princess the gift of amnesia in exchange for her virginity. "Her maiden blood we used to cure my son's eyes. Powerful stuff, you know. And I'm sure you noted the mark on her hip? No babies will come before the mark fades."

Warin was quiet, but the muscles of his jaw bunched and released. "Tell me, old woman," he finally said, "why I should not kill all of you this very moment?"

"I have aided your family, repeatedly," the Traveler Queen replied quietly, "though I have wanted nothing to do with the Tremonts. Everything I have done, your highness, I have done for love. I haven't had any choice but what I've done. We only have so much choice in this world, Prince Warin. The princess was meant to be enchanted in just this way. Her maiden blood was meant to cure my son's crossed eyes. You were meant to find her in the forest. And," she added, "killing my family will neither lift the charm nor bring you closer to your love, especially since I assure you I have the means to stop you." She tilted her grizzled head. "You do love her, don't you? Does she know?"

"No," said Warin hoarsely. "At least, I haven't told her in so many words."

She leaned forward and patted Warin's knee. "My prince, you must play your part in this story now. We shall take you the rest of the way to the Keep. It's still days away, but faster and safer with us than on your own."

"I thank you," Warin said sincerely. He finished the stew, though he wasn't hungry, and rose to get his bedroll.

"One last thing, your highness?" said the Traveler Queen, reaching out. "The Teacher--have you seen the Teacher?"

"Not since I left the Keep. You probably have more recent word of him than I do."

The Queen nodded her head slowly. "Of course. Good night, your highness."

Warin spread out his bedroll, thinking. Emmae was the Princess of Leutefloss. He had briefly hoped that he could spirit her out of the Keep somehow and return them both to their cottage in the forest, but that was never going to happen however much he wanted it, not if she was the only child of King Fredrik. He couldn't have both Emmae and his life as a woodsman. He had two choices : Forget about Emmae and return to his forest; or go on to the Keep and take both Emmae and his birthright back.

Just before he settled down to sleep, Warin took out the little box and opened it. Inside the lid was a mirror. "If Emmae is anywhere within sight of her reflection in the kingdom, show her to me," he whispered. But the mirror remained placid, reflecting only his own face. He closed the box and sighed, sad but a little relieved, for he had been afraid of what he might have seen.