Heart of Hythea

Chapter one The Innocent, Citchet (The Arkirish Dynasty, Eight)Geya sits before her silver mirror, outside of time and space. Carefully, she removes a worn sheaf of circular tokens from a silk wrapping and fans them out on the table in front of her, then selects three at random. After placing the tokens face up, she studies them for a moment. This is what she reveals...” The first token, a blue one, is the tenth from the estate of Naer, Beginning/End, in a standing position. The second, with a green back, is from the Tollyn. Geya sighs. It is Varing — the trackless marsh. The third card has a red back. It is The Innocent, Citchet, from the Arkirish Dynasty. * * * * The girl was crying and muttering to herself as she walked across the field, lugging a valise much too large for her small frame. The sun beat down on her chestnut curls, and she stopped for a moment to mop her face with a carefully embroidered handkerchief. Then she shaded her eyes with her hand, and looked this way and that, searching for some familiar landmark. She saw none, and the realization that she was well and truly lost brought a fresh welling of tears to her eyes. After setting the valise down on the ground, between two furrows, she sat down forlornly, and began to sob in earnest, her face buried in her chubby hands. “Well now, little Miss. And what seems to be the trouble?” The voice seemed to come from nowhere and the girl’s head snapped up in alarm. She had dropped her handkerchief, so she hastily dried her eyes on her pinafore before looking up at the boy who had spoken to her. He seemed very tall, but then she was only six, and small for her age. Her lip trembled, but she answered bravely enough. “No trouble at all, kind Sir. I am merely a stranger in this land, pausing for a moment’s respite before continuing on my way again.” The boy regarded her gravely, and did not laugh, as she had feared he might. His gray eyes were thoughtful. “And where are you bound, Traveling Lady?” he asked her. “If you do not mind my asking,” he added politely. The girl studied him for a moment before answering. He had long, very dark brown hair, cut haphazardly, so that it grew in a shaggy mass of curls down his back. His patched clothing and bare feet were worlds removed from the fine frock and sturdy leather boots she wore. She had half-decided to run from him — after all her mother had warned her many times not to talk to strangers — but then he smiled, and the gap between his front teeth utterly charmed her. “I am on my way to the country of Ruboralis.” She paused for a moment, uncertainly. Until just now, the girl hadn’t given her destination much thought. “To visit... the King!” she declared, triumphantly. “He has invited me to live in his palace and eat cake all day long.” She glared at the boy, daring him to challenge her, but he just grinned again, good-naturedly going along with her tall tale. “Well then, you’ll be knowing that the path you are on now leads directly to the worst den of robbers this side of the Bresla River, eh? Did you mean to come this way? You aren’t lost by any chance?” He squatted down beside her and removed an apple from his pocket. Digging his thumbs into the flesh, he tore it in half. The girl looked at him wide-eyed, much impressed by this casual display of strength. He handed her a piece of the apple and she accepted it graciously, trying not to show her hunger. It was well past dinnertime and she had been walking for what felt like many hours. “I am certainly not lost,” she insisted, when she had devoured her share of the apple. “I mean to fight the robbers before supper and take their booty as a tribute to the King. My weapons are hidden in this valise I am carrying with me,” she added, in case he should think to question her story. But the boy only nodded sagely. “Indeed. The King will be most impressed with you, Lady Traveler, I can see that. I think I should warn you though — the robbers are all out at the moment and won’t be back until well after dark. In the meantime, perhaps you would like to come home with me for awhile? I know it isn’t the sort of fancy place a rich lady like you would usually stay, but I happen to know Ma made a fresh seedcake this afternoon and I am sure she would give us some, and a drink of cold water from the well.” He stood and offered her his hand. “What do you say?” The little girl smiled and nodded. “Well, I am just the tiniest bit hungry. Perhaps I could stop, for a while. But then I must get back to my travels,” she firmly insisted. Then, remembering her manners, she said, “My name is Katkin. Thank you for your kind invitation, good Sir. Will you tell me your name?” The boy grinned again. “I am Jacq,” he said, pointing to his chest, “and Jacq is me. Will you allow your humble servant to carry this bag for you, my Lady? I am ten years old and very strong for my age, so it would be no trouble at all.” Katkin nodded, her eyes shining with admiration. As they walked across the bare, brown field, until recently planted in fodder for the cattlebeasts, Jacq asked her, “Have you traveled far today?” She nodded tiredly. “I left my home at Tintaren a long time ago. My journey has taken me many miles since then. I expect I have passed through Mardonne and Secuny already. Soon I will reach the ocean, and there I must find a ship to carry me across the Gulf, to Ruboralis.” Then she looked up at him, her green eyes wide and serious. “Can you keep a secret, Jacq?” He nodded gravely, and she continued, “I am running away from home. I hate my mother and father!” Jacq did not have the heart to tell the girl that she hadn’t even left the wide fields of Tintaren yet, so he asked her gently, “Why, Katkin? What have they done?” “I want a pony, and they say I am not old enough to have one. I am almost seven years old! That is plenty old enough.” To his dismay, her lip began to tremble again, and he quickly took her hand. “Don’t cry. After we have some cake, I will take you to the barn and show you Nestor. He used to be my father’s horse, but now he is mine. Would you like to ride him? He is very big and can easily bear both of us on his back.” When she smiled, it felt to Jacq as though the sun had come out from behind the clouds again. He put down the valise and did a handstand. After she clapped and cheered delightedly, he impressed her further by taking several wobbly steps forward on his hands. “Can you show me how to do that?” she wanted to know. “Well... I could, but it takes a lot of practice. You would have to stop your travels for a good long while, and maybe even go back home. Then we could visit each other and I could teach you all sorts of tricks.” She shook her head decisively. “Oh, no. I couldn’t do that. It is such a long way. And I don’t...” Katkin did not want to admit she was lost. “Still,” she sighed, “it might be nice to go home again. Willow will miss me when she comes home from school. And Nurse might get in trouble if I am gone too long.” Jacq had a sudden inspiration. “After we go to my house, I will show you a magic shortcut back to Tintaren. Even though it took you many days of travel to reach this place, it will carry you home in just a few minutes. But Tintaren is a very big place, so you will have to show me which house you live in.” “The biggest one of all, up on the hill above the little cottar houses,” Katkin answered, with naive disdain. Jacq gave her a sharp look. “The Lord’s house? You live in Tintaren Manor?” She nodded in agreement. “The Lord of Belladore is my father.” Then, because Jacq had dropped her hand abruptly, she asked, “What is wrong? Don’t you want to take me to your house any more?” Her lower lip began to quiver. He gave her the gap-toothed smile again. “Course I do. You just surprised me, that is all.” He grasped her hand once more, and they set off across the fields towards Jacq’s home. “Did I ever tell you the tale of the pirate named Scallywag Pete, and how I fought him to the death on the shores of Ghiria?” She laughed. “Of course you haven’t, silly. We just met. But will you tell me now?” “Indeed I will. It was like this, see...” By the time they reached his cottage, Katkin and Jacq were laughing and talking like old friends, the brief moment of awkwardness between them forgotten. His mother made the lonely little girl very welcome, as he had known she would. Now as they sat together, happily munching seed cake on the sagging front porch of the house that he shared with his mother and three brothers, Katkin asked, “Where is your father, Jacq? Does he labor in the fields like mine does every day?” Jacq’s gray eyes flashed at this and he said resentfully, “Your father does no work, except to tell the foremen what to do. And my father is dead. He died in an accident two years ago.” Katkin defended her father loyally. “He does too! Every night he comes home muddy and tired. But he still plays his vielle for me, and sings songs. My father is the best daddy in the world. But I am sorry about your father,” she added. But Jacq would not let it go. “Do his hands look like this?” The boy had huge hands, and they were rough and calloused from field work. “I labor in the fields and so do Ma and Barlow and Nathan. Thad is still too young, but when he is older he will too. We all have to work, Katkin. That is what cottars do. But you don’t work, do you?” She seemed to accept this disparity without question. “No, I have lessons with Nurse in the mornings. In the afternoon I play by myself. I get very lonely sometimes, because Willow has gone away to school in the City. I don’t have any friends now. She sighed deeply and took another bite of cake, then carefully brushed the crumbs off her pinafore. After a moment she said thoughtfully, “Let me see your hands again.” Jacq held out his hands. She stared at them for a few seconds, and then frowned at the open blister weeping on the left palm. “How did you do that?” He shrugged. “Digging holes for the new vine stock. I don’t have any work gloves.” She looked so distressed at this that he spoke quickly to reassure her. “It is all right. It doesn’t hurt very much.” To his immense surprise she grasped his hand and kissed the palm softly, on the blister, then looked at him, her vivid green eyes luminous with unshed tears. “There,” she whispered. “Now I have made it all better.” Later, Jacq Benet would always say it was at this exact moment he fell everlastingly in love with Katrione du Chesne. After a moment he said quietly, “I will be your friend. If you want me to, that is.” She had smiled at that, through her tears, and said she would be very pleased to have him as her friend. Later, Jacq walked her home again, carefully avoiding the route that she had used, so she might not feel ashamed of her childish notion that she had passed beyond the borders of Beaumarais. Katkin said goodbye to him by the kitchen gate. “I will see you again tomorrow, Jacq. Don’t forget, you promised to show me where you saw the robin’s eggs!” She gave him her brightest smile, and then ran through the gardens, her braids flying. Jacq watched her go, and then walked back through the fields, whistling thoughtfully. He was going to find his mother and tell her he had just met the girl he was going to marry someday. * * * * Later that evening at dinner, her quarrel with them forgotten, Katkin was telling her parents of her adventures that day. Her mother looked horrified when told she had been to one of the cottar houses. She spoke sharply. “Katrione, such low persons are only our laborers. We do not associate with them as friends. I forbid you...” Katkin’s father Gaspard interrupted her. “Let the girl be, Anwen. I know that family. Jacq is Francois Benet’s oldest boy. He is a good lad and a hard worker. Katkin needs someone to look out for her now that Willow is gone.” He dropped his voice and the girl had to strain to catch his next words. “Gilles Savoyard told me some of the cottars down south have been raiding storehouses, stealing and looting. The Guard have put down the uprising for now, but who knows when it might start up again? We can’t keep an eye on the girl all the time.”