Episode 62

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

The next day Lilian went back to the Fox and Octopus inn to meet Serena and Peter. When she arrived she was glad to see them both awake and looking close to their familiar selves. Peter was stuffing his face with bread and jam while Serena was sitting beside him, daintily placing morsels of sweet pastry into her mouth with a faraway look on her face. Lilian knew that she must be thinking of Mr Attorcop’s message. She knew that, because that was all she had been able to think about for the last ten hours. Fritha ran over to Peter and fixed her gaze on his breakfast while he patted her head in greeting.

“Morning!” he said as Lilian walked across the common room, “Thanks again for yesterday. Sorry we were in such a state. The plan was to get here and start work before…” he paused for a moment, nervous to say a name, “well, before he got back. I think we overdid it a bit.”

Lilian smiled, “Well, just so long as you’re both rested and better. Work can start when we’re ready. Although, I must admit, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Serena finally snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Lilian, “you too? I just can’t get it out of my head. I was tossing and turning for hours before I got to sleep.”

Peter picked up a bit of cheese and paused with it half way to his mouth. This proved too much for Fritha to resist and she leaned forward and began to nibble at it, “Oi! That’s mine Fritha. Well I don’t want it now you’ve licked it,” he let the Feinhound have it and turned back to the conversation, “Aye Serena said you had a look. I would have helped last night but I was out of it. What’s it say again?”

At that moment Xander walked in to check on his guests. The three of them stopped their conversation, each one agreeing without words that this was the kind of thing that needed to be kept secret.

“How’s it all going in here? Had enough? Need some more? Ah morning Lilian!”

Lilian smiled at him but Peter talked first,

“Xander my best friend, this bread is incredible. Please, I beg of you, give me your recipes. I can sell your bread in Freedos and make you rich!”

Xander chuckled at his enthusiasm, “Aah but if you made and sold my bread, then it wouldn’t be my bread.” This caused Peter to stop chewing and think for a moment, giving Fritha the opportunity to lick some crumbs off his plate.

“Fritha, stop that.” Lilian rebuked, “Xander thank you again, and thank Liny also for putting them up last night, I can find them more permanent beds today.”

Xander shrugged, “it’s no bother. It’s not as though we’ve hordes of visitors vying for rooms. I should think you could open most doors on this street and find a couple of empty beds.” He paused and looked solemnly around the large room. It didn’t normally get busy until around noon but Lilian knew that it would look like this for most of the day, if not the rest of the week. With a sigh he cleared the plates and left the three of them to chat again.

“What was that about?” asked Serena.

“Are you up to a walk?” Lilian could tell that Fritha was itching to exercise and she didn’t much want to sit inside and feel miserable all day. So they gathered their coats and scarves and set off into the cold.

Benlunar hadn’t had a fresh snowfall in a few days so the flagstones were mostly clear. They headed for the river. Lilian said she wanted to show her friends where she grew up but the truth was that the empty town made her feel strange. She told Serena and Peter everything that had happened up until their arrival the night before. How Sage Fenric and his bodyguards had duped the town into believing they were these mystical, magical people that held the answers to all their desires. About the promised garden that Lilian was sure did not exist. About the fight they’d had in the snow, about her humiliating loss and how so many of the town citizens had set up camp and lived in the glade just outside of town. Serena and Peter listened with heavy hearts. It was clear to them that Lilian wanted to show Benlunar off but did not feel very proud of her town that day.

When they reached Lilian’s house she gave them a tour and they grabbed a few apples from the store and took them to the river where they sat and discussed Mr Attorcop’s message. Lilian had not let it completely leave her mind all morning. She found that focusing on the riddle helped her avoid certain emotions. All in good time, first save Benlunar, then she would deal with that.

“Say it again,” said Peter. He was sitting on a large boulder overlooking the river, eating his apple and looking out over the running water like a philosopher king, “I can’t remember all the names.”

“If they even are names,” said Serena who was beside Lilian studying a piece of parchment. They had written the message down there so that Serena’s back could be bandaged and left to heal.

Lilian cleared her throat, “Think of Tellis in Dermador. Treyant in Custer and then remember Horbling. It’s strong but loves a bargain. Then all that’s left is Brava’s army.” They all considered the words again for the hundredth time that morning, but hearing them once more still offered no insight.

“I don’t get it…” said Serena, “if the message was meant for you,” she pointed at Lilian, “then why write something that you don’t understand?”

Lilian shaded her eyes from the sun and chewed the final bite of her apple. She knew Mr Attorcop well enough to answer that one.

“I think it’s more about my ability to work it out, rather than knowing exactly what it says straight away. Cromwell is always… was always thinking about people’s potential, rather than their current abilities.” The three of them brought their hands up in unison to shade their eyes from the sun which had just poked its face out from behind a cloud. It was a nice day but none of them felt as though they could appreciate it fully.

“Alright then,” said Peter, “what would your next move be?”

Lilian had been wondering the same thing. “Well,” she replied, chucking her apple core over to Fritha who caught it mid air, “I’ve already asked two people I trust and they haven’t been able to help, so I think my next move would be to ask a third person.”

Serena chuckled, “It’s funny to talk like that. Like you’re trying to guess your own instincts. Alright then, who do we go to next?”

“Someone intelligent,” said Lilian, “someone who has studied a lot and who Cromwell knew I would go to for help.” It only took her a few seconds to be sure. Finally, she said, “I think we should go to the Stave church.”

They found Brother Thomas sweeping the central hall with Brother Ulnar. After a proper introduction Lilian asked if they could go into his office so that they could discuss a private matter. Brother Ulnar smiled and waved them off before going back to his duties and the rest of them piled into the Stave back room. Brother Thomas had to move a few books, stacks of parchment and a disgruntled cat off some chairs but eventually everyone found a place to sit.

“There we are,” said Brother Thomas, getting comfortable in his own chair, “now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

They chose to avoid mentioning how they came by the riddle, framing it as an intellectual pursuit that was currently fashionable in Freedos. Brother Thomas’ eyes lit up when he read it. Either he adored puzzles, thought Lilian, or he was just pleased to think of something other than Sage Fenric for a morning.

There was a short silence while he read and reread the note. It was punctured intermittently by the rhythmic ticking of a large grandfather clock in the corner, its brass pendulum swaying side to side like it too was trying to see the problem from as many angles as possible. The only other sound was the purring of the cat who had decided to settle on Serena’s lap and was currently prodding at her thigh and drooling a little bit.

“Well, I’m not sure about all of it,” said Brother Thomas, finally, “but I know who Dermador is.” This sent a jolt of hope zipping through the room and Lilian, Serena and Peter all sat bolt upright scaring the cat.

“Really? Who is it?” Asked Lilian.

“He was a writer. He wrote books, stories, poems. I think I have one of his somewhere…” Brother Thomas got up and went over to a bookshelf. Lilian was amazed at how he would be able to find anything in this jumbled jungle but sure enough Brother Thomas was able to locate the book within just a few moments. “Here it is, it’s a bit worn but the ink should still be readable.” He handed the small, leather bound book to Lilian who opened it up to the title page.

“The Cormorant by Theobald Dermador,” she read aloud and then looked at Brother Thomas with raised eyebrows.

“It’s rather good if you like that sort of thing. His style is a bit verbose but I think that was what was popular at the time. He uses a lot of flowery, overly complicated descriptions which can be a bit tiresome but the story is good and the characters are very memorable.”

“And Tellis?” Asked Peter, “Does that name feature in the story?”

Brother Thomas furrowed his brow in thought, “It’s been a long time since I read it but that name doesn’t ring a bell I’m afraid.” Everyone slumped back into their chairs. Lilian felt a strange desperation rise up inside of her, a sense that solving this riddle was of the utmost urgency and needed to be done right this instant or else more people may get hurt. She felt her heart begin to beat quickly, Fritha looked over at her from her spot across the room. The feinhound looked as though she was about to tip her head back and utter her loud gong sound that signified fear. Lilian didn’t want that, she didn’t want everyone to know how she was feeling. Thankfully, at that moment a distraction arrived in the form of a little girl.

“Lilian?” Serena’s voice caught her attention, “who is this?” Lilian looked up and over at where Serena was pointing. A shy half face was peering round the doorway, Lilian could see one big, brown eye staring at everyone and assessing the scene. Lilian smiled and gestured for the figure to come in.

“This is Emma,” she said, “she lives in town.” Emma entered the room slowly and then ran over to Fritha to give her a hug. Fritha’s tail wagged and she licked Emma’s face a few times, causing her to giggle. She then wanted to do the same with the cat but the put upon feline was having none of it and jumped to a high shelf before she could be touched. A little disappointed, Emma walked over to see Lilian, avoiding eye contact from Serena or Peter. Lilian did the signs for ‘hello’ and ‘how are you?’ and watched Emma give her a nervous thumbs up. Lilian smiled, “She’s shy I think, because she doesn’t know you. She can’t hear but I’ve been learning these signs with her mum so that we can talk.”

Peter nodded his head, “there’s a school in Freedos where you can learn them. I only know a few, my mum knows more, she has a friend who speaks with them.” Peter waited until Emma was facing him before doing a couple of signs that Lilian recognised as ‘I like your dress.” Emma’s face turned bright red and she buried her head into Lilian’s lap in embarrassment and delight. Everyone smiled.

“Looks like I have some competition,” said Serena with a wink at Peter.

Lilian tapped Emma on the shoulder before crudely signing, ‘why, here?’ Emma laughed and shook her head and Lilian’s attempt. She showed her the correct way to sign the question ‘why are you here?’ before suddenly recalling the reason for her visit. The little girl then forgot everything that was around her and began to quickly sign several things at once. Lilian tried her best to keep up but only caught things like ‘over there’, ‘this morning’ and one sign she knew meant ‘today’. The bulk of the message was unfortunately beyond Lilian’s current abilities and so she grabbed a quill from Brother Thomas’ desk and gave her the closest piece of parchment to write on. Emma rolled her eyes as if she was tired of having to dumb everything down for this audience of imbeciles. Then she grabbed the quill and quickly scrawled a message in wobbly handwriting. Lilian then took it from her and read aloud:

“He’s back.”

The words brought a strange atmosphere into the room. It was like a cloud had passed in front of the sun and the world grew momentarily darker. Lilian turned to look at the door. A large part of her wanted to run for it, head out of the Stave Church and straight across town to the glade, find Sage Fenric and do everything within her power to hurt him as much as she could. Her heart began to beat strong and fast in the anticipation of it, her body sensing her mind’s intentions. Serena must have sensed them as well.

“Lilian,” she caught her attention, “I know how you must be feeling right now…” Lilian wanted to snap at her, to yell that no one could possibly know, that she had every right to act however she wished, but Serena continued before she could speak. “The thing you want, it will come, but we need to prepare. He’s stronger than you know and if we rush in blindly…” she did not finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.

A small and quiet part of Lilian’s mind, the rational part, knew that she was right and thankfully her advice was enough to awaken that part of her and bring her back to the present moment. She looked at Emma who was staring at her with wide eyed concern and then to Brother Thomas who had a grave expression on his face. He was an intelligent man, Lilian knew he would work everything out eventually. They had not told him that Mr Attorcop had sent the message because they hadn’t wanted to go through everything that had led up to its sending.

“Lilian,” he said softly, “I’m sorry for everything Sage Fenric has put you through. But I agree with Serena, and not just for now. Violence is never the answer. I’m happy to help you as best I can but I won’t if it means you causing harm. This message, I’m sure whoever gave it to you,” he emphasised the words to let her know that he’d guessed the rest, “did not mean for you to throw your life away recklessly in the pursuit of revenge.” Lilian had to hand it to him. He’d guessed quite a lot. Brother Thomas had never approved of Lilian’s friendship with Mr Attorcop, but that didn’t mean he was heartless. He looked down at his desk at continued, “this message you’ve shown me, surely it has the key to solving the problem of Sage Fenric without resorting to vio…” he stopped himself mid-sentence. Lilian glanced over at him and saw that he was looking confused. “Where is it?” he asked.

Suddenly, everyone was looking for the piece of parchment that they had written Mr Attorcop’s riddle on. To lose such a thing, to have it fall into the hands of Sage Fenric, even if by accident might cause him to get one step ahead of them and regain the advantage. Lilian felt a slight panic creep into her but she realised quickly that Emma was busy looking at the small piece of parchment she’d written her own message on. She had turned it over and was reading Mr Attorcop’s riddle. “It’s fine,” said Lilian, breathing a sigh of relief, “Emma’s got it.”

Lilian moved herself to the edge of her seat and tapped Emma’s wrist to get her attention. She thought about what signs she knew and how she might use them to communicate a question. She was about to use the sign for ‘give’ when Emma thrust the paper into her palm and began pointing at it. She was pointing at one of the names written there with such gusto that the parchment crumpled at her point of touch. Lilian’s eyes widened and for a moment she forgot all about Sage Fenric.

“What is it?” Asked Peter, craning his neck to see.

“She’s pointing at the word Brava. I think she knows who that is.”

A short while later they were at Emma’s house. Her mother, Esther, had been busy making scones which she kindly offered to everyone after introductions. Lilian, her mouth full of bread and salted butter, explained why they were there.

“We’re trying to work out a sort of, puzzle. A riddle with a list of names. When Emma saw it she pointed to this one, Brava.” She showed Esther the full riddle and waited while she read it. After a few seconds she smiled and nodded.

“Yes Brava’s army, do you not know the story? We have a picture book here somewhere with it in. Emma learned to read with stories like that.”

“May we see it?” Asked Serena. Esther shrugged and disappeared into the next room for a few moments. Peter, Lilian and Serena shared looks of hope while they waited. Emma used the distraction to sneak another scone to share with Fritha. Fritha’s coat turned into a dazzling array of grey and blue at the site of the sweet treat. This caused Emma to laugh and gave the whole game away. Esther returned a second later with a small book in her hand. It was not a leather bound tome like Brother Thomas’ book by Dermador, but a small collection of stories covered by thin bits of wood and bound with twine. The wood had a picture of a goose on it and the words, “A Collection of Tales” written in swirling yellow letters. There was no author. It was a sweet thing, cheaply made and well loved. Emma reached for it as soon as she saw it in her mother’s hands. She wanted to be the one to show Lilian the story. She flicked the parchment pages, stained by years of foody fingers and found a story called, ‘The Fable of King Brava’. She showed it proudly to Lilian who took the book from her and made the sign for ‘thank you’ (a brief touch of the chin with a flat hand). Then, she began to read.

King Brava was known by all to be the strongest warrior in the land. It was his strength in a hundred battles and a thousand duals that made him fit to be King. So confident was he in his abilities that he proclaimed many times that anyone who could best him in a fight, could take his throne and crown and become ruler themselves. Fighters from all over the world would come to visit King Brava, not to fight him, for they did not wish to rule, but in the hope that he would grant them the highest honour a fighter could have. To become a personal bodyguard to the king. Eventually, the number of fighters that King Brava awarded this honour to became so many that a special tower was built to house them all. King Brava lived at the very top and anyone wishing to claim his throne would have to defeat every bodyguard and ascend every floor before fighting the king himself. A few people tried, some even reached the very top, but the thought of having to fight the strongest fighter in all the land after running such a gauntlet was enough to put them off vying for the throne. But one day, many years after the tower was constructed, a young fighter attempted the tower. He was fed up of King Brava’s decisions as king and knew that with his brains and training he could do a better job of running the land. And so he attempted the tower. The first few floors were easy enough but by the time he was half way up he was very tired. But still, he fought on, fighting better and better opponents and besting every one. Finally he reached King Brava’s door. He was bloody and bruised and exhausted from the countless duals. He considered turning back, fearing this fight more than any other, but he braced himself, opened the doors and faced the warrior king. But instead of a great fighter, he found a frightened old man.

“Please,” said King Brava, “you who are so strong and brave, hear me. You have bested my bodyguards and have every right to claim your place as king. But I will offer you something better. Become my strongest bodyguard and you will live a life of luxury. I will pay you handsomely and you shall have everything you wish for. It will be just like being king, only you will not have the burden of responsibility.” The hero considered the King’s offer for just a moment before raising his blade once more and claiming his place as King. Before the final blow was struck he said, “To serve the land as King is its own reward.”

Lilian put the book down. She’d been reading aloud for the benefit of Serena and Peter, but little Emma had been looking over her shoulder and dragging her finger along the sentences to follow along. Once the story was finished she smiled broadly and turned the pages to the start of another. Lilian let her have the book and turned back to her friends.

“Did either of you get anything from that?”

Peter’s face was scrunched up in thought, “well,” he said, “it seems as though there’s a common theme here. Brava is a character in a story, and Dermador is a writer so that means the rest of the names are probably characters and writers as well. So…” he began to pace around the small living room gesticulating with his arms as he went, “that means that Treyant would be a character in a story by someone called Custer and Horbling is probably a character in a story as well.”

Serena piped up, “so we need to find all these stories and then figure out what they mean.”

Lilian nodded, “Not just the stories though. I think it’s specifically the characters involved and what happens to them in the order of the message. Look,” she got the piece of parchment out from her trouser pocket and flattened it out on the small table near the fireplace. “They’re in an order and see here, it says ‘and then’ remember Horbling. ‘Then all that’s left is Brava’s army’ he’s giving us a set of instructions.”

All this theorising had caught Esther’s attention, she came over to have a look at the riddle. It was quickly becoming clear to Lilian that keeping this thing a secret was going to be impossible. She did not know any of these writers or their stories so she would have to rely on others to guide her. Her best hope would be to get pieces of the puzzle from anyone who had them, and then put the picture together herself.

“What is this?” Asked Esther. Serena and Peter looked at Lilian.

“It’s a message. From a friend. A sort of code. We’re hoping that solving it will tell us how to get rid of Sage Fenric.”

This revelation did not seem to shock Emma’s mother. She simply sighed, “Well, here’s hoping. Although I should think getting rid of him would be just the start.”

“What do you mean?” Said Peter, looking round from where his pacing had taken him.

“Well,” Esther shrugged, “It’s not just him is it? It’s everyone. All the people who follow him. What will they say if he just disappears one day? He’s probably over there right now saying, watch out for little women with red hair, if I die then you can be sure it’s them to blame. Or something equally ridiculous.”

Lilian knew she had a point. But she would cross that particularly complicated bridge when she came to it, first, she would deal with Sage Fenric. She would help the people of Benlunar, even if it meant they hated her for it.

Serena breathed out a weary sigh, “so where to next? Who do we know who knows a lot of stories?”

The idea came into Lilian’s head so quickly that she was halfway to the door before she had time to speak it fully. “I know just the man,” she said as she stretched her arm out to reach for the door handle. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of him sooner I just…” she stopped mid sentence and mid stride. A knock at the door had interrupted her flow and suddenly the feeling of excitement that had energised her exit turned into feelings of fear and dread. She turned and whispered to Eshter, “Are you… expecting anyone?” Esther shook her head and moved her body instinctively between the door and her child. Emma was still reading, blissfully oblivious to the knock or the tension that had just come over the room. Serena and Peter went to stand either side of Lilian, their fists raised, ready to attack anyone that came through the opening. Lilian turned back to the door and reached for the handle. In one swift movement she pulled the door open and brought her hand back to her body in a tight fist ready to defend herself.

Standing in the doorway was a dark figure. The sun was just beginning to set but this person seemed already to be shrouded by night. A chill wind whipped through the doorway heralding their arrival with a ghostly whistle. For a moment between heart beats, Lilian thought that it might be Mr Attorcop. But she realised quickly that this person was too short. The figure stepped forward solemnly and removed the hood that was covering their head. The motion revealed an old woman with a kind and wizened face. Her expression was serious and as she stepped wordlessly across the threshold Lilian lowered her hands and head in deference. As was custom when meeting a town elder.

“Lilian Lausanne,” said Mrs Thoreson, “We should speak.”