Episode 58

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

Lilian’s eyes widened in surprise. Emma had just told her that Sage Fenric was about to embark on a long journey and not, as he had put it, go up to the Benlunar peak to live like a hermit. Lilian needed answers and so she pressed Emma with several questions all furiously scrawled onto a scrap of parchment.

It took the two girls the better part of an hour to work out Sage Fenric’s plan. Brother Thomas helped as well, although his help mainly consisted of fetching tea and biscuits. Their first job had been to work out on a map exactly where Sage Fenric was planning to go. This was easier said than done as Brother Thomas had no maps of the western countries and Emma had never left Benlunar. Lilian did her best to draw the outlines of various mountain ranges and forests and Emma would nod along in understanding, casting her mind back to the maps she’d seen laid out in Sage Fenric’s caravan. Lilian Filled in as many details as she could, hoping some landmark would spark relevance in Emma’s memory. She drew little towns, big rivers, farmsteads, lakes, villages and even cities, placing them as near as she could recall to their actual locations. When the hour was nearly up Emma suddenly tapped Lilian hard on the shoulder and snatched the quill from her hand. Lilian stepped back and looked at Brother Thomas while little Emma worked. Her shoulders were hunched over the makeshift map, and she was scribbling away with furious fervour. Brother Thomas’ eyes were wide, he seemed hopeful and for the first time in days, Lilian shared his optimism.

Finally, Emma stepped back. Her wobbly drawing was near the top left corner of the map. Lilian stepped closer to look at it.

There on the page was a rudimentary house, or perhaps a tower of some sort. Lilian had to twist her head to see it properly as Emma had drawn it roof side down. Above the triangle and square shapes that made up the tower was a sort of half moon. Emma stepped into Lilian’s view and tapped her drawing repeatedly. Lilian noticed then that the structure or symbol Emma had drawn was just northeast of one of her own drawings. Lilian took the pen and quickly scrawled a question on the map.

You’re sure it’s near here?

Emma grabbed the pen and scribbled her reply: Yes, she wrote, near the city. Near Freedos.

Lilian rolled up the map, patted the cat on the head and was half way out of the door before she turned around to thank Brother Thomas. A few seconds later she was outside and making her way across the town square, feeling the snow crunch beneath her feet. On her left was a perturbed looking Fritha who would probably have preferred to stay by Brother Thomas’ fire, even if it meant being around the cat. And on her right, trailing a few steps behind was Emma, a wide smile spreading across her reddening cheeks.

It took them three minutes to get to the Fox and Octopus. Lilian shoved the doors open and dove into the warmth of the inn. There were a few familiar faces scattered around the place. All of them turned to look at Lilian with a scowl as they felt the cold air rush in and disturb their hibernation. It was markedly quieter inside than most days of winter's past.

“Shut that door!” Liny yelled from somewhere in the back. Lilian quickly obliged. Looking round again she caught sight of the man she’d come to see. Doran was sitting in a booth by the window talking to an older man with a shock of spiky white hair. When the two girls and their feinhound came over, Doran saw the look of urgency on Lilian’s face and made his excuses to his new friend. The older man bade them all a good day and went to join a group by the fire. Lilian slid onto the bench opposite Doran and placed the rolled up parchment on the table with a thud. Emma joined her on the bench but became quickly distracted by Fritha pulling on the toggles of her coat. They proceeded to play and fall about the place much to everyone’s delight. But Lilian was not there to play.

“If I had to get this to someone in Freedos, what would be the fastest way to do that?” said Lilian.

Doran paused for a second before replying, “And good afternoon to you too Lilian Lausanne. Well now… uhm… is it the thing itself, or just the information on the page?”

Lilian considered this and then rolled the parchment out, “It’s a map. So technically the information, along with a note for context, would be enough.”

Doran studied the map for a moment, “did Emma draw this?”

“No,” replied Lilian, “I did. Why?”

“Oh, ahem, no reason. It’s… It’s very good.”

Lilian rolled her eyes, “It was done in a hurry. And I’m not trying to sell it, I just need someone in Freedos to see it. Or understand what’s on it.” Doran leant back in his seat and brought his hand up to stroke his chin. Lilian continued, “I could take Afaran, but before I do I just want to know if there’s a quicker way.”

Doran nodded in understanding, “I understand,” he muttered, “One moment.” Doran then reached back and brought round a small satchell that he’d been partly leaning against. He opened it and rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out a leather bound notebook. Lilian watched Fritha and Emma play while she waited and resisted the urge to drum her fingers. The feinhound had snatched Emma’s woollen hat and was letting her get close before running away again and again.

“Ah!” Doran exclaimed, “Here we go. Homing birds.”

Lilian snapped her attention back to him, “what?”

“Homing birds,” he repeated, “It’s an old messaging system where you raise birds in one place and then take them far away so that when you set them free, they fly home. I made a note of the various outposts years ago, there should still be a working post in Seventrees.” Lilian considered this. She looked at the large map on the table and then back to Doran with raised eyebrows. “Well you’d have to make the map a little smaller obviously. But I should think a bird from Seventrees would take just under a day to get to Freedos. If it were me, that’s what I’d do. Afaran is fast but I haven’t seen wings on him.” Lilian was too distracted to laugh at the joke. If she could replicate this information on a very small piece of paper, a homing bird might just work. She knew where Seventrees was, it was a small town, about the size of Benlunar, just at the base of the mountain. But it was on the other side of the valley, technically in the opposite direction to Freedos.

While Lilian considered her options, Doran went back to studying the map, “what’s this for anyway?” he asked.

Lilian lowered her voice, “It’s Fenric. He says he’s going to climb Benlunar but he’s really going here.” She pointed at the shapes that Emma had drawn near the city. Suddenly, it occurred to Lilian that Doran might know something about that place, he was a traveller after all.

But Doran appeared to have anticipated this. He shook his head, “I know the area, just a bunch of little hills and horrible marsh. If you’re planning on going there Lilian you’ll need a guide. One wrong step and your horse is knee deep in bog and sinking.” Lilian shuddered. She’d be sure to include that detail in her note to Mr Attorcop.

Lilian looked out of the window and realised that the winter sun was setting already. She was running out of time. Lilian slid out of the booth and began rolling up the map. Doran looked surprised, “You… you’re not going now are you?”

Lilian shrugged, “when else would I go? He’s leaving tonight Doran.” She folded the map tightly and placed it safely in the inner pocket of her winter coat. She was about to leave when she remembered something, “Doran? Would you mind looking after Fritha for the night? She needs to eat something, Liny will have some meat somewhere, here.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small purse. She extracted some copper heads and left them with Doran who nodded and took them. Then she went over to Fritha and Emma.

The two tearaways were still running around, trying to see who could tire the other one out first. Lilian caught their attention and knelt in front of Emma. She hugged the little girl tightly and made the sign for home and sleep. Emma seemed disappointed but understood that there was work to be done that she could not be a part of. Lilian made sure to point to the map and repeat the sign for thank you several times. This produced a few happy gestures and a smile wide enough to show several missing teeth. Lilian grinned and then turned to Fritha. She hugged the feinhound then pointed to Doran and issued the stay command which she reinforced with a few sour berries from her pocket. Fritha wolfed down the treats and then licked Lilian’s face which made Emma giggle uncontrollably.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said. She knew that neither of them could understand her words, but that didn’t matter, they knew her intent and her feelings for them, and that’s what really counted.

With renewed energy, she made to leave. Then she doubled back, grabbed a pie off the counter, left five copper heads, and then really made to leave.

Afaran did not seem best pleased with having to leave the warmth of his stable, which he shared with Doran’s donkey, Caramel. But after Lilian saddled and bridled him he seemed to understand that there was no avoiding the departure. Lilian used the little steps just outside the stable to mount him easily, he was still just a bit too large for her to mount from the ground. Then she clicked her tongue, tapped her heels and the great dark steed was away.

Afaran thundered over the snow leaving a cloud of white powder in his wake. The wind whipped past Lilian’s face, so cold it might have cut her cheeks. She gripped the reigns with white knuckles and focused solely on the road. Horse and rider clattered out of the Benlunar gates, just as they were being shut for the night. Lilian wondered if she would meet Sage Fenric on the road, but knew that if he had any sense, he would take a less obvious path out of town. It took them the better part of three hours to descend the mountain, Afaran had to slow down several times to navigate the winding way, but finally they reached the fork in the road. If Lilian went right, she would head west towards the fishing fields and Freedos, and so she went left. This road went round the base of the Benlunar, cutting through the narrow canyons that connected the surrounding smaller mountains. Lilian slowed Afaran down to a brisk walk. He’d done the hardest part, now she just needed him to keep a steady pace until they reached Seventrees. Thankfully, the snow down here was not quite so deep and when they reached the first canyon there was barely any on the ground at all. Lilian looked up through the gap in the rocks above her. The moon was not visible but its light still cut through darkness and bounced off the ice that clung to the rock faces in heavy blue clusters. Lilian closed her eyes for a few seconds and thanked the moon for her light and guidance. In that brief moment of pitch black the sound of Afaran’s hooves and his breathing grew suddenly louder. Perhaps it was the setting, or the fact that her body was so used to it, or perhaps the moon really was looking out for her, but Lilian’s body slipped easily into hyper focus.

She allowed herself to enjoy the feeling. There were so few sounds out here, not like back in Freedos where there was always some cacophony just a few streets away. She was about to open her eyes and snap out of it, when she heard the wheels.

Somewhere, up ahead, there was the unmistakable sound of wooden cartwheels trundling through the canyon. There was a horse too, or some large animal pulling the cart. Lilian could hear its heavy breathing up ahead. She pulled on the reins and brought Afaran to a complete stop. Something about that sound made her uneasy. Any traveller would be nervous at encountering someone on the roads at night, but the nature of Lilian’s mission made this meeting even more unfortunate. She opened her eyes and looked about for somewhere to hide. She squinted through the gloom for a recess in the rocks, or a cave or even just a large boulder she could guide Afaran towards. But the road was clear. The cliffs on either side of her stretched high into the air and were as sheer as castle walls. Her heart began to beat faster. She considered turning around and heading back the way she came, but she’d been travelling this way for twenty minutes and even if she made it out of the canyon first there was no guarantee of a hiding spot on the road.

Lilian steered Afaran to the very edge of the road, so that his flank was almost touching the rock face. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. She needed cover and if the mountain wasn’t going to provide any, she would have to make some herself. She closed her eyes again and slipped quickly into hyper focus. Then she went through that state and tried to access the lunar essence inside her arm. She winced at the sharp pain she felt as the essence awoke. She didn’t need much of it. This was not like transforming into the night spirit, it was just a quick favour from the moon. Lilian opened her eyes and looked up to the sky. She imagined that the canyon was growing darker, like a large cloud was passing over the moon. The pain in her arm lessened and the darkness obeyed. Just as the sound of wheels was coming round the corner, the black of night grew thick around her. It was as if someone had dragged a thick pall over the canyon gap. Lilian tried to keep breathing calmly and quietly. Afarn must have picked up on this as he seemed to calm down and kept quite still for the next few moments.

The sound of wheels grew close. Lilian had her eyes wide open. She could have held her hand in front of her face and not seen a single finger. She kept control of her breath and remained as still as her nerves would let her. The cart, or whatever it was, was very near now, Lilian could hear the sound of metal clanging and the rustling of materials. She heard muttering too, whoever was driving was complaining to themselves about the sudden darkness. It sounded to Lilian like they were searching for something, a lamp or torch perhaps. Lilian’s heart nearly beat out of her chest as the crunching, rattling cart passed right by her. It was pulled by a horse, driven by a man and contained many things of various shapes, sizes and materials. Could it be Sage Fenric? Lilian wondered. He could have easily gone the long way round, down the road less travelled to the base of the mountain. To know for sure, would be to risk exposing her plan. And so she kept quiet and let the cart pass.

A few seconds later it was away and Lilian could breathe easy. She turned to make sure it was not stopping and she caught sight of a little orange light struggling against the darkness. The driver had clearly lit it to aid their journey, but even a bonfire would struggle to penetrate this particular night. Lilian waited for the light to turn a corner and disappear completely before breathing out a large sigh. The thick blackness melted away and she was left alone again, with Afaran, in the pale blue light of the moon and ice.

The sky was just turning blue when Lilian left the winding pass. As the light of dawn crept down the mountains Lilian saw the thatched roofs and weathervanes of Seventrees appear in the misty distance. She’d been to this town before, many times. It was the nearest place that citizens of Benlunar could expect to find decent supplies or craftsmen and women that Benlunar’s limited population lacked. She’d trotted slowly through the mountain, not wanting to alert any other night time travellers to her presence, but now that she could not avoid being seen, Lilian kicked her heels and galloped away through the crisp morning air. She could hear the frozen dew crunch beneath Afaran’s steel capped hooves and despite the chill and lack of sleep she felt a new exhilaration brought on with the light and the sight of her goal.

She tapped her pocket to make sure the folded parchment was still there. She’d done this a hundred times throughout the journey, but she could not risk losing it. As the road grew more worn Afaran’s feet began to crack the ice on puddles of mud. The town was close now, close enough for Lilian to see curtains in several of the glass paned windows up ahead. The buildings here all had a similar look. Plastered white walls with exposed wooden beams and thatched roofs. In the spring the window boxes would have little pansies peeking out at visitors, but now they were just empty boxes waiting for spring to bring them back to life and colour. The first of the seven trees from which the town got its name was here on the right as you entered the town. It was an oak tree, old as the hills and nearly as tall. There were six more great trees scattered about the town and in Autumn the locals all held a small festival where they swept up the leaves and used them to smoke meats and various delicacies as they sang and danced. It was their way of saying goodbye to the Summer and ushering in the cold and shorter nights.

Lilian slowed Afaran down as she passed the great oak. Trees like this did not survive the altitude at Benlunar and so she was always pleased to study it whenever she passed. The branches were bare and when the breeze blew through them it was like the tree was shivering. The mud beneath it became stones and the grass along the road disappeared to make way for paving and buildings. Lilian did not know where the homing bird post was located and so went to ask the first local she came across. It was still early so it would be some time before anyone would brave the chill of the morning. Lilian took the opportunity to feed, water and brush her trusted steed as well as quickly pick any stone or mud out of his hooves, lest it freeze and force the poor beast’s foot to crack. She found a local inn and brought Afaran to the stable. The chestnut mare which was already inside was wary at first but Lilian tied Afaran up with a short rope so that he would not bother her.

The sky was light but the sun would not appear for another hour. Luckily Lilian spotted an early riser as she walked across the cobbled market place. This town centre was quite like Benlunar’s only there was no Stave. At the centre there was a great fountain, adorned with sculpted woodland creatures, flittering birds frozen in time and fish poised mid jump as they breached the surface of the water. The thing made use of the constant flow of underground rivers coming from the mountains, forcing them into man made pipes and causing perpetual eruption from stone trees, flowers and even the mouths of frogs. The stranger that Lilian had spotted was emerging from a small side street that lead onto the square. The buildings in Seventrees were packed closer together than in Benlunar, so close that neighbours on opposite sides of some roads might stretch their arms out from their bedrooms windows and shake hands in greeting when they awoke. Lilian shuffled across the square and waved when the stranger looked up to see her. It was an older man with red cheeks and white hair. He had a large, soft orange hat on that looked as though it had been dropped onto his head and allowed to droop and spill down the side of his face. He smiled when he saw Lilian.

“Good morning, you’re up early, young miss.”

“Morning. Yes, I travelled through the night.”

The man’s friendly features fell, “in a cold such as this? Ooh, rather you than me.” He looked closer at Lilian’s clothes, studied the fur lined boots and coat and smiled in understanding. “Ah, I think you’re one of the mountain folk. So I don’t suppose the cold bothers you quite so much!”

Lilian smiled, “you’ve a keen eye. I hate to bother you on your constitutional but could you tell me where I might send a message using the homing birds? I heard Seventrees had a post.”

The gentleman nodded and pointed to the street from which he’d come, “oh yes, we’ve a post. Just head down there and bare left until you come to the steps. Climb up and up and you’ll see it.” Lilian thanked him and darted in the direction he had pointed. She knew she was making good time, but that did not mean she could afford to dither. The light dimmed instantly as she rushed into the gap between the houses. As she wound her way in and out of the slender passages she was reminded of Freedos. She felt an unexpected warmth at the memory. It had been a chaotic and dangerous place, but she had loved exploring all the little streets and alleyways there. You never knew what was around the corner and even after all the time she’d spent in the capital, she felt as though there was still more to discover.

The steps that the old man had talked about appeared after three or four minutes of hugging the left walls. Lilian rounded a corner and saw a zigzagging set of stone steps that crept up the back of a large building like ivy. Lilian’s legs ached at the sight of them. She felt last night’s journey catch up to her suddenly and had to fight through a wave of exhaustion to push herself to start climbing.

Once she reached the second turning point she looked up and saw the homing bird tower. It wasn’t much of a structure, just a circular wooden thing that looked like it might topple over and fall off the roof at any moment. Its most distinctive feature was a bright orange roof peppered with little holes. Lilian had seen roofs like this in Freedos but had never known what they were for. After a brief break to catch her breath, Lilian rallied herself again and made the final leg of the journey.

The door to the tower was locked, not surprising given then early hour. Lilian slumped down onto the floor with her back against the door and watched the birds coming and going from above. She briefly thought about finding shelter just in case a bird decided to deliver its own message onto her hair while she waited, but she was too tired to move.

Suddenly Lilian felt a sharp nudge on her leg. She opened her eyes, not having realised they were closed and immediately put her hand up to shield them from the sun. The air was warmer and the sun was bright and white in the sky. Lilian glanced around in confusion.

“Oh thank the stories, I thought you might be dead,” A woman’s voice brought Lilian back to reality. Apparently she had been asleep and had just been kicked awake. Lilian stood up, brushed her clothes down and looked at the newcomer. She was perhaps three or four years older than Lilian with dark brown hair and a slightly upturned nose. She wore a thick woollen skirt and a shawl over her head and shoulders. In her left hand was a brass key and in her right was a small pouch which Lilian presumed held grains and seeds.

“Sorry!” Lilian exclaimed, “I er…” the sharp awakening had left her confused, “I need to send something. A message. To someone in Freedos.”

The young woman’s face softened now that she saw Lilian was neither dead nor dangerous. “Well,” she said, “you’d best come in then.”

Many hours later a young boy zips through the streets of a great city. He keeps his pace up weaving in and out of groups of grown ups as he goes. Sometimes he’ll bump into someone or narrowly dodge a horse and cart. The curses follow him down the street but he’s gone before he can pay them any mind. In his hand there is a note and on his mind there is the shiny copper piece he will be paid for its safe delivery. The delivery game in Freedos is run by older boys and so he’s careful to slow his pace when he sees a group he recognises. If they suspect him of delivering something they’ll chase him down and rough him up until he coughs up the note and name of its recipient. Thankfully they’re too busy playing marbles to care. When he’s safely around a corner he breaks out into a run again.

He’s headed up hill, which is thirsty work, but he doesn’t mind. The exercises will warm him and he can buy a hot cocoa and more with his earnings. Eventually he crests the edge of the old volcano and his path evens out. The gates to the old palace court are open and the boy squeezes between a guard and a woman. The guards here held halberds once, now their weapons are stored away and they greet people with smiles and advice rather than threats and searches. The boy knows where he’s going though and so does not stop. A red door belonging to the sixth house from the old palace steps looms close. The boy pauses before knocking to listen at it. There are sounds coming from inside. It sounds like the clacking of wood on wood, like someone is hitting a bench or table with a wooden spoon. The boy lifts and drops the knocker and the sound stops. Seconds later, an old man opens the door and looks down.

“Yes?”

“A message…” says the boy in between big breaths, “from the rookery. A message for Cromwell Atto… Attor…”

“Attorcop.”

“That’s the one.” The old man grabs the little note and reaches into his pocket. He thrusts something into the boy’s outstretched hand and shuts the door before he has time to thank him. The boy looks down, opens his palm and his eyes widen at the site of not one, but two copper heads. Today was going to be a really good day.

After shutting the door behind him, Mr Attorcop studied the little piece of parchment carefully whilst walking back to the training room. His two proteges were collapsed on the floor panting heavily, sweat dripping down their red cheeks. Their training swords were tossed to one side, gleefully discarded. Mr Attorcop tsked, these young people had no stamina. The young woman, Serena, looked up as he reentered the room.

“What’s that?” she asked. By now Mr Attorcop had carefully unfolded the tiny piece of paper and was studying its contents.

“A message,” he replied.

This caught the attention of the young man, Peter who heaved himself up onto his shoulders, “who from?”

Mr Attorcop ignored him for a moment while he read and then reread the message. His countenance changed from relaxation to tension. Serena and Peter looked at each other in concern.

“Cromwe…” Serena began but Mr Attorcop cut her off.

“It’s from Lilian. Grab your things. We need to go.”