Into the Shadows by Linda K Hopkins

Chapter 3

Despite the late night, Lark woke early the following morning to the sound of a maid tiptoeing around the room, clearing the clothes from the previous evening. She mumbled a greeting and fled the chamber when she saw that Lark was awake, and a few moments later Neta entered carrying a tray. She looked, as she always did, as though she had already been at work for a few hours. In fact, Lark could not remember a time when Neta had been anything but perfectly dressed and ready for whatever lay ahead.

“Up already?” Lark asked.

“Of course, my lady,” Neta replied primly. “I am up before dawn every morning.”

“You work too hard. You should take a day off every now and then.”

“And leave you to manage without me?” She sounded shocked at the idea.

“I think I can survive one day without you. Perhaps you can get one of the maids to help me … or not,” she trailed off when she saw Neta’s look of horror.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with a day off,” Neta said firmly. “Besides, I have plenty of hours to myself when you’re occupied with other matters. Now, I have picked out a dress for your tea this morning.”

“Tea with whom?”

“Lady Brooke, my lady, along with the Ladies of the Crimson Guard. They put together care packages for our brave soldiers.”

“Ah! Anything I should know about Lady Brooke?”

“She has a son in the Crimson Guard and a daughter who is very disappointed not to be the next queen.”

“I see.” Lark reached for the hot chocolate from the tray that Neta had placed beside her bed and leaned back against her pillow. “What about this afternoon?” she asked, taking a sip of chocolate.

“A reception with the Ladies of Benevolence, my lady. They will be presenting you with a gift for your joining.”

“Any idea what it is?”

“A tea set, my lady. And this evening you will be the guest of honor at a performance by the King’s Players. But before that you have a fitting for your joining gown.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“There’s a fitting for your crown first thing in the morning. Lunch with Princess Fern, immediately followed by a reception at the art academy of which you are a patron. They have arranged a special viewing for you, my lady, and will present you with a piece of artwork by Sir Grouse.”

“Sir Grouse? But his paintings are ghastly!”

Neta smiled faintly. “Apparently they are quite highly regarded.”

“Really?”

There was a tap on the door and a maid entered the room. “Excuse me, my lady, but the mantua maker is here, and Madam Breena wondered if she could have a word.”

“Tell the mantua maker to come back this afternoon when the dressmaker is here,” Neta said, “and let Madam Breena know –”

“I’ll speak to Madam Breena,” Lark interjected.

“There isn’t much time before your tea, my lady,” Neta protested.

“There is plenty of time, Neta.” She turned to the maid. “Show Madam Breena in. I can talk to her as I dress.”

The maid curtsied. “Very good, my lady.”

Madam Breena was the owner of the Dragon’s Philipot, an apothecary shop in one of the winding back streets of Lenora. She had been attending Mother for years, coming to the palace once a week to check in on her. Of course, the court physicians would quite happily have attended the commander’s wife, but Mother declared them to all be quacks and refused them entry to her chambers.

Madam Breena followed the maid into the room a few minutes later.

“My lady, thank you for seeing me. I know you’re very busy, so I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.” She gave a small curtsey as a lock of silver hair escaped her cap. Her face was gently lined with wrinkles, but her blue eyes were clear and sharp. Her gaze dropped to the cuffs and she stared at them for a moment, before recovering herself and lifting her eyes to Lark’s. “They are very beautiful,” she said, and Lark felt both relief and disappointment that the apothecary had not recognized the magic imbued in them.

“Is it about Mother?” Lark asked, stepping into the dress that Neta held out for her.

“Yes, my lady. I came as soon as I received your note. As you know, her headaches grow worse and nothing in my ready supply of tonics is effective anymore.”

“What do you recommend?”

“The only thing that can help her now is dragonsbane, but it is very rare. There’s only one place I know of where it grows, and I’m afraid my tired bones can no longer travel the distance. I can send someone to collect it, but Lady Finch insisted that I discuss the matter with you, as she was sure you could find someone. But with your joining only a few weeks away, perhaps you would prefer me to manage it?”

Lark suppressed a sigh. As much as she wanted to hand the task to Madam Breena, Mother’s wishes were clear. “You can provide instructions on where to find it?”

“Yes, of course. It grows behind a waterfall on the Teesbeck, a little upstream of where it meets the Cambria. It must be collected before noon, or it loses its effectiveness.”

“Very well. I’ll find someone to fetch it as soon as I can.”

“Very good. They will need to collect the entire plant, my lady. And be sure to warn them to be careful of the leaves. They have very fine barbs that will numb a hand to the point of uselessness if touched.”

“Does it wear off?”

“Eventually.” Madame Breena gave a wry grin. “It hurts like hell as it does so.”

“I’ll be sure to pass that information along,” Lark said with a smile. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Neta will start beating me with a hairbrush if I don’t allow her to do my hair.”

Madam Breena smiled. “Good day, my lady,” she said as the maid showed her out. Neta pointed to the chair before the mirror, waiting as Lark sat down, then proceeded to yank the brush through Lark’s long locks.

“Is this my punishment for seeing Madam Breena with my hair undone?” Lark asked in amusement. She reached for the small celeste studs that she usually wore and slid them into her ears. They had been a gift from Pip on her eighteenth birthday.

“Your mother should not be burdening you with this.”

“It’s nothing. I just need to find someone to send. Any thoughts?”

“I couldn’t say, my lady.”

“Lieutenant Rill is in Lenora, perhaps he could go.”

“While recovering from an injury, my lady?”

Lark glanced at the handmaid in the mirror; from the set of her shoulders, she was clearly piqued. “Perhaps one of the footmen?”

“They cannot leave their duties, my lady.”

Lark sighed at Neta’s contrariness, then rose once the last lock was pinned in place. “If you think of someone, be sure to let me know,” she said, as Neta handed her a cloak and ushered her out the room.

The rest of the day passed in a whirl of activity; people wanted to discuss the upcoming joining, and more than one person admired the cuffs. Lady Brooke asked Lark to remove them so she could examine them more closely, but Lark replied with a laugh that she had promised Val she would keep them on, and who was she to break a promise to the prince.

The question of whom to send to collect the dragonsbane did not occur to her again until that evening. She had thought of no other possibilities, and she resolved to discuss the matter with the commander in the morning. With hundreds of men at his disposal, she was certain that someone could be found to retrieve the necessary herbs. She sat down at her desk, and reaching for a stack of papers placed there by Neta, she appended her signature to the first on the pile.

Lark woke the next morning to light streaming across her bed as Neta opened the curtains. She raised her hands to ward off the sun, then winced when the cuffs clanged together. With a huff of annoyance, she sat up and threw off the covers and reached for her morning cup of chocolate.

“Good morning, my lady,” Neta greeted her. “The jeweler has already arrived to do the fitting.”

“Fitting?” Lark repeated dumbly.

“For your crown,” Neta explained. She went to the wardrobe and withdrew a dress.

“Remind me again what I have on today.”

“You mentioned last night that you wish to see the commander this morning. Lunch is with Princess Fern, and directly after lunch –”

“Of course, the commander.” Lark placed her feet on the floor. “Do you know if my brother is around?”

“Lord Iron? He left with his unit.”

“Not Iron. Pip!”

“Of course!” Neta laid the dress on the bed and turned away. “I believe he’s already left the palace, my lady.”

“What a nuisance! I was hoping to speak with him.” She had not seen him the previous day and was anxious to know if he had found any trace of the magic maker. Neta held out a dress decorated with tiny seed pearls across the bodice and embroidered swirls of silver over the skirt. As Lark waited for Neta to fasten the buttons, she considered the day ahead. She was anxious to discover a means of removing the cuffs, but her first priority was to find someone to run Madam Breena’s errand.

The fitting with Master Goodgold took longer than Lark expected. He had brought an assistant to help with the measurements but had then insisted on redoing them himself to ensure their accuracy. He had also brought a number of precious stones for Lark to examine, including a pair of celestes as large as robin’s eggs, but as she was making her selection, it occurred to Goodgold that her crown should match the prince’s, and Neta was dispatched to find Val’s personal attendant to retrieve the crown. By the time they were finished, half the morning had passed. She beckoned to the page who stood at the door.

“Go see if the commander can receive me now,” she said. The young lad scampered away and returned with the news that the commander was waiting for her, and with a nod of thanks, she made her way from her chambers and headed towards the east wing where the commander had his offices.

A guard was waiting to grant her admittance, and he showed her into an office where the commander sat behind a large wooden table, strewn with papers. A map of Valoria covered the wall behind him, with red pins clustered around the northern provinces, close to the mountains, and more scattered across the center. The commander pushed aside a paper and looked up at his daughter.

“Snowlark, what’s this about? Now’s not a good time, so keep it brief.”

“It’s about Mother, sir.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Well?”

“Madam Breena says her headaches are getting worse.”

“Nothing that a little exercise wouldn’t fix.”

“There’s a herb called dragonsbane that she thinks may help. The problem is, it only grows in one place, and she has no way of collecting it. I said I would find someone to collect it.”

“That was foolish of you. I suppose you’re hoping one of my men can go.”

“That’s right.”

“And where exactly is this dragonsbane to be found?”

“On the banks of the Teesbeck. She will provide directions.”

“I’m afraid I can’t spare anyone at the moment.”

“But sir, if it will help Mother –”

“Our country’s on the brink of civil war, Lark, and I will not send my men chasing around the countryside in search of a plant. Send someone from the palace. That boy from the stables – I’m sure he can go. Or speak to Val about sending someone. A footman, or a guard perhaps. Now, is there anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Then if that’s all, I have serious matters to attend to.”

“Yes, sir.” Lark rose as the commander turned back to his papers. She was disappointed in his response, but not particularly surprised. The commander’s only love in life was the Crimson Guard and the force that they represented. She considered his suggestion of seeking Val’s help; while she doubted that he would be interested in assisting her, his secretary might be willing to find someone who could complete the errand. His office was in the same direction as her chambers, and she decided to seek him out immediately.

She had just stepped into the passage when her brother came careening around a corner.

“Pip,” she called. She hastened her step when he turned. “I’m so glad to see you! I need to speak to you.”

“What are you doing in the east wing?”

“I had a request to make of the commander. But I really need to speak with you.”

“Lark, I have –”

“Please?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “My sister, the future queen, is begging me,” he teased. “Very well, let’s find a private place where we can talk.”

He led her back to the central hall and down a side passage to a small sitting room where she sat down with relief. It was warm in the palace, and she could feel the perspiration gathering on her brow. Pip sat down across from her, and she studied him for a moment. At seventeen he was a gangly youth, without the brawn of his older brothers. But where they had brawn, he had brain, and from the time he was little, he had been filled with an insatiable curiosity. As soon as he could walk, he would disappear for hours at a time, exploring the palace, making friends with the guards, and discovering long-forgotten tunnels and hidey-holes. By the time he was a teenager, his explorations had expanded to take in the city, and when he could sneak out undetected, the countryside beyond. There was not a place in Lenora that was unfamiliar to him, and everywhere he went, he was greeted like an old friend.

“Did you find out anything about the magic maker?” she asked as she leaned into the cushions behind her.

“No. He’s vanished like a puff of smoke. He told no-one that he was leaving, and his neighbors assure me that he had no friends or family beyond the walls of Lenora.”

“Did you ask the gate wardens if they saw him leave?”

“I did. The warden at the north gate thinks he remembers a man leaving during the night with a cart sometime last week, but he couldn’t be sure. And even if he did, do you know how many roads lead from the north gate? He could have gone anywhere.”

“Well, there must be others like him, practicing magic secretly.”

“I’m sure there are. The trouble is finding them.”

“If anyone can find them, Pip, it’s you.”

“I’ve already started making some discreet enquiries, Lark, but it won’t be easy. Especially with all the fighting up north.”

“I know. But I’ll do whatever it takes to get these wretched things removed.” She looked down balefully at the cuffs, then shoved her hands behind her back, hiding the reminder of her humiliation. “Lieutenant Rill said that the Rhymers have new allies.”

“He told you that? What else did he say?”

“Nothing. Who are these allies, Pip?”

“All I know is what I’ve heard on the streets.”

“Which is?”

“They’re called Shadow Warriors.”

“Where do they come from?”

Pip shrugged. “No-one knows, not even the commander. It’s why the information is being kept so secret.”

“So, what do you know?”

“They’re like shadows,” Pip said, “creeping up on our guards and killing them before they even know they’re in danger.”

“And they fight with the Rhymers. Why?” Lark’s tone was incredulous. “They’re just a bunch of looters and thieves.”

“Again, no-one knows.”

“What’s your theory?” Lark asked.

“Who says I have one?”

“You always have a theory!”

Pip grinned appreciatively before answering. “I think they’re linked in some way to the Ancient.”

“The Ancient? Why?”

“Well, think about it. The first time the Shadow Warriors were seen, it was in the north near Arach’s Gate. That’s where the Ancients lived before, and it makes sense that the one who returned lives there now.”

Lark considered for a moment. “But the Ancient returned at least ten years ago. More even. And that doesn’t explain where these Shadow Warriors come from.”

“We don’t know what the Ancient is capable of. Besides, the Shadow Warriors are said to be hideous creatures, and the Ancient’s not exactly pretty.”

“That doesn’t prove anything!” Lark said with a laugh.

“I don’t know. All the evidence points to the Ancient having something to do with this.”

“Okay, but why? What would the Ancient gain from creating an army? And why would it want to help the Rhymers?”

“Maybe it hates us for killing its brethren.”

“The Ancients started the war, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean much when your entire clan is dead.”

“You think this Ancient was around during the war and escaped somehow?”

“Do you have another explanation?”

“No, but I do wonder why the Ancient returned.”

He was silent a moment. “You know,” he said slowly, “I did hear something else about the Shadow Warriors.”

“You always hear interesting things,” Lark said with a grin. “What did you hear?”

“They’re searching for something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe –” The door opened and Neta entered the room.

“There you are, my lady,” she said.

“No escaping Neta,” Pip said in amusement.

Neta sent him a sharp look, then turned back to Lark. “You need to get ready for your lunch.”

“Let me know if you discover anything useful,” Lark said to Pip before rising and exiting the room, Neta on her heels.

“Do you remember the day the Ancient was first seen over Lenora?” she asked Neta as they walked.

“The Ancient? Why in the dragon’s name are you thinking about the Ancient? You’ve managed to muss your hair and it’ll have to be fixed before your lunch with the princess.”

Lark was silent. She remembered the day the Ancient returned as clearly as if it had been yesterday. She had been outside, tagging behind Val and her brothers and begging them to allow her to join in their game, when the Ancient had flown overhead, slowly circling above the city. People had begun screaming, running for shelter, while she and the boys had just stared up in shock, their jaws hanging open. Iron had been the first to recover. “Get the arrows,” he’d shouted, but the Ancient was already turning away, leaving the city and heading north. For the next few weeks there had been reports of dragon sightings around the ruins of Citadel, but then it had headed to the mountains, and it had seldom been seen since. Slowly the event had faded from people’s minds, and as sightings became fewer and farther between, people had stopped thinking about the creature altogether.

Lark thought through her discussion with Pip; his theory held a kernel of sense. But if the Ancient had created an army of Shadow Warriors, what exactly was it up to?