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  “How strange,” said Ruben. “This must have been planted on purpose, here — I wonder what the purpose was.”

  She lifted a hand to touch the leaves as her horse walked by. They were cool and rough and made her think of cats’ tongues.

  “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Anyway, I don’t suppose it matters,” she said. “We have a mission to get on with, you know.”

  “I know,” said Ruben, “I wasn’t going to get distracted.” He sounded defensive, but she was reasonably sure that he would, indeed, get distracted if she didn’t keep an eye on him. She didn’t know what it was about men, sometimes, but they needed such care and keeping! There was a reason why she had never chosen to marry; the last thing she needed was someone hanging on her and depending on her for direction. The legendarian’s next words proved her right. “What exactly is our first move, here?”

  “This is Graic’s village, and she has a number of family members still here. Her family has long been sympathetic to the November King and his daughter, especially since Graic worked for them and viewed Princess Irae as her own responsibility. We may find a sympathetic ear here.”

  They emerged from the trees at last into the little village — Lovesick, or whatever it was called. Lully wasn’t clear, and it didn’t much matter; all that mattered was that she knew where she was and what she needed to do.

  It proved more difficult than she thought, however.

  The peculiar silence of the village continued even as they entered it. It was not at all the bustle of everyday life that she would have expected — even for a small village. With perhaps not much more than fifty or sixty inhabitants, it was terribly silent. They saw faces peeking and peering out at them, from doors and window openings, but no one spoke to them or emerged from the safety of their houses. There were a few people going about their business outdoors, and even they rushed inside as soon as they saw the strangers.

  “What’s going on?” said Lully. “Why is everyone behaving so strangely?”

  Ruben made a doubtful face. “I wonder what can have happened. Here, let’s get down from the horses, at least, and be on the same level. Perhaps that will help.”

  He dismounted, and assisted first Graic, and then Lully down from their horses. His hands lingered a little longer on Lully than she would have liked, and she brushed them off briskly with her good arm.

  “I cannot wait until my arm is healed at last,” she declared. “I’m so tired of having to rely on others for getting on and off the horse.”

  “Are you a horsewoman, when you’re whole?” said Ruben, grinning at her. “I wouldn’t have taken you for such.”

  “Well, no,” said Lully, “I’d never been on a horse until the last month. Not much call for riding, when you live as a kitchen maid in the royal castle. But I’m quite sure that I can get good at it, given the chance.” She lifted her broken arm in its sling. “I wish I could find a healer, someone with the touch. I’m done being broken. I want to get back to work.”

  “You’re more of a force with one arm than many women are with two,” declared Ruben. “I shall try to stay off your bad side.”

  She spared a smile for him, since he seemed to be wanting one, and turned to the crooked little street with its haphazard cobblestones. It was the only street in the village that was not simply dirt, and the houses here had signs outside — the sign of a pig, clearly the butcher, and a poorly-painted sign of a loaf of bread that must denote the baker. She took the reins of her horse and led them all down the street.

  “Where do we go, Graic? Where does your family live?”

  But Graic was staring with a faint and distant frown into the windows as they passed the houses and the businesses as though nothing was the least bit familiar. Lully sighed.

  “I should have known that this would not be as easy as it seemed.”

  “Did it seem easy, to you?” said Ruben.

  “No,” said Lully, “not at all.”

  But they kept on.

  The first person that they had seen out and about, the first person who did not hurry to get away from them, was a middle-aged man in a dirty white shirt, sporting a sparse beard, with a wide-brimmed farmer’s hat and a shepherd’s crook. He was not prepossessing, but in the absence of any other body, he was a welcome sight to see.

  “Excuse me,” said Lully, who had been increasingly agitated as she could find no one to speak to her. She hurried to catch up with him, tugging the horse behind her. Ruben, an arm through Graic’s to help her and keep her from falling or wandering off, hastened behind her. “Excuse me!”

  The man stopped and glanced at her quickly, then again, a little more carefully this time. “Yes, miss?” he said, but added immediately, “I can’t help you.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help,” said Lully, frowning, then backtracked, realizing she was going to have to. “I didn’t ask for your help yet. I’m looking for anyone in the family of Graic or Grennic — Grennic is long dead, I am told, but her family is from this village.”

  “Grennic has been gone five years or more,” said the man, looking at her even more closely. “What do you want with that family?”

  Lully opened her mouth to answer, but his gaze had drifted sideways to find Graic, and his eyes widened in recognition.

  “Well, then!” he said, and removed his hat. Underneath it he had a surprisingly luxurious crop of thick black hair which sprung out as though glad to be freed. “After all this time! Auntie Graic!”

  Graic’s eyes widened as well, though whether it was recognition or simply being addressed was unclear. She focused on him, tilted her head first to one side and then the other, and finally said, “Bastard.”

  “Graic!” said Lully, sternly, but the man only laughed.

  “Don’t be afraid, I’ll take no offense,” he said. “It’s true, anyway. I’m the bastard son of her brother-in-law, who was married to Grennic for all his life practically. And now that you know the most important thing about me, I suppose you might as well know that I’m called Berren, son of no one who will acknowledge me.” He smiled at Graic rather fondly, considering. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen Graic, here. Would have known her anywhere, though. Quite pleased that she remembers me, actually!”

  “That’s fine,” said Lully, who did not much care about long-anticipated family reunions. “Where is the rest of her family? We have come in search of them.”

  “Oh yes?” He eyed her for a moment. “And who are you, may I ask?”

  She introduced herself, quickly, and Ruben as an afterthought.

  “Ruben, as she said, but my friends call me Ben. Bard and legendarian, at your service,” said Ruben, bowing deeply.

  “Bard?” said Berren. “What’s a bard doing here?”

  “He’s traditional,” said Lully. “Can you help us? We need to find Graic’s family. It’s very important.”

  Berren shook his head. “You won’t find any of them around here, anymore. They’ve been gone for a few weeks now. As to where you can find them, I might be able to help, but there’s no guarantee of it.”

  “Gone for weeks? What happened to them?”

  He narrowed his eyes, looking at her speculatively for a bit, sounding her out. Then, finally, he said, “Come with me, if you want to know.”

  He led them down the street and around the corner where there was a blacksmith’s shop almost entirely open to the air. The blacksmith himself was hard at work at the forge and cast them a worried glance. When he saw a nod from Berren, he put his head down and went back to the bellows. Berren led them to the side of the structure where there was a plain wooden bench set against the single outer wall of the shop. He gestured with one open palm for Graic and Lully to seat themselves, and stood over them, holding on to his crook.

  “You want to know what happened to Auntie Graic’s family, here. Well, it’s not a good story, but I’ll tell you.”

  “Yes, please,” said Lully.

  “A rally,” said Berren. “A
rally, quickly followed by a rout.”

  Ruben frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “They were loyal to the Princess Irae,” the farmer explained. “The news of her exile reached us not long after it happened, perhaps a week or so, and they decided to march on the castle and try to overthrow the December King’s reign.” He shook his head. “It was utterly foolish, of course. There was no way a little pack of nobodies from a tiny village near the Badlands could hope to make a difference. But they tried, because they believed they should.”

  Lully winced, thinking of them — perhaps armed with nothing more than pitchforks and spades, going to fight for a young woman who had disappeared, against a king and his advisors that had seized power that didn’t belong to them.

  “What happened then?”

  “Soldiers met them, before they got more than a day’s journey towards the castle. News can travel fast, when it wants to. There must have been some who were disloyal to the princess, here, and they sent their messenger immediately. There were enough who were in favor of the December King — there were enough who just didn’t care, one way or another. When power changes hands, it takes passion to fight it, and perhaps there just isn’t enough passion to go around.”

  “That can’t be true,” said Lully, fists clenching of their own volition. “Not when there is so much at stake.”

  “What’s at stake?” said the farmer reasonably. “The world is in a terrible state, no matter who is on the throne. Does it impact whether I keep my sheep alive through the winter? No. No king or queen can control the weather, keep the snows away. Oh, I’m not saying that I agree with what King Lev has done. The fact that it doesn’t impact me doesn’t make it right. But it’s hard to dig up passion unless you see the difference it makes.”

  Lully very much had a great deal more she wanted to say to this, but Ruben put a hand on hers. She moved her hand away, and he put it back on his lap with the other one, but it had served its purpose.

  She swallowed hard and controlled herself. “Where are they now, these that rallied?”

  Berren shrugged. “Scattered. Some killed. Some in the dungeons. That’s why the people here are so quiet, so frightened. They don’t know who you are, they don’t know what you want. It wasn’t long ago. The wounds are still fresh.”

  “And many of them from Graic’s family,” said Ruben. He looked thoughtful. “I wonder if any of them belonged to Thorn’s family? We never did find out for certain what happened to his parents.”

  “Thorn?” said Berren, alertly. “You’ve met Thorn?”

  Lully frowned at Ruben, who looked appropriately embarrassed.

  “Er,” he said, “maybe.”

  “Strange lad,” said Berren. “Thin. Big eyes, dark hair. Giant holes instead of ears. That Thorn?”

  “You know him yourself?” said Lully.

  “Ancient history,” said Graic. “Burn the books.”

  “I did know him,” Berren acknowledged. “When he was young, only a child, I was a young man myself, and I remember. Odd things happened, on account of he was Forged. At least, that was the rumor when he was an infant, and then it was proven later on.” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “The sort of story that a tiny village like this lives on for decades. It makes or breaks a village, having a Forged call it home.”

  “How was it proven?” asked Lully. “What did he do?”

  “Turned a dead dog into a plant.”

  She gaped at him. “He did what?”

  “Didn’t do the dog any good, though.” Berren sniffed and rubbed at his nose. “He was already dead.”

  “And when seven years went by,” said Lully, fascinated despite herself, “it turned into a dead dog again?”

  “Oh, no. He planted it in the middle of the house. His parents uprooted it well before it even had a chance to establish, let alone seven years go by.”

  “Fascinating,” murmured Ruben, who was positively starry-eyed at the sudden change in subject.

  Lully eyed him askance. “How so?”

  “Well, I never heard of a Forged who could change nonliving matter. It’s only been living creatures that can be changed as far as I know. As to what it does for them, I suppose that remains to be seen. There are very few verified reports as to what happens after the seven years are up and the Forged creature changes back to its original form.”

  “This is the problem with legends,” said Lully, “the details are all muddy.” She turned back to Berren. “What was the point of him changing the dog, then, if it couldn’t save him?”

  “Don’t suppose he knew what he was doing,” said Berren, heavily. “He was just a child. An odd, strange, unnerving one, from the first, from what I recall. But a child nonetheless, and I never did meet a child that I would put blame to for cruelty, the way I would an adult.”

  “And that was how they knew he was Forged,” said Lully. “They chased him into the woods after that?”

  Berren shrugged, but it was clear that he was unhappy to be discussing it. “Never sat right with me, but I wasn’t around much. When I did speak up, who would listen to a farmer who slept out with his sheep, not even a house to show for his name, with no family to speak of?” He diplomatically did not glance over at Graic. “I was barely a part of the village myself.”

  “It’s terrible that they would do such a thing to someone so young,” said Lully.

  “I took food to him, now and then. Whatever I could spare, whenever I could spare it.” He folded his arms. “I like to think I wasn’t the only one, that there were more scattered amongst the villagers who knew in their heart that it was wrong to set a young one loose on their own, Forged or no. He didn’t know it was me, I don’t think. I left it in the woods.”

  “And then — what changed?”

  “What changed?” He looked down at the ground, shook his head, smiled. “What changed was Thorn, and Elseth changed him. Local girl, daughter of our former baker. She turned sixteen. She was always a sickly girl, never very strong, but kind and good-hearted, and a pretty thing ever since she was a rosy-cheeked child. Always had a smile for others like her and would swing a stick at anyone who teased a dog or was cruel to another. She took in every unfortunate she came across. Somehow, she came across Thorn.” He shook his head again, heaving a sigh, and leaned on his stick. “I don’t know what happened. She took him under her wing, but then her sickness grew — bad. She was like to die. He came for her and took her out of her bed to the woods, maybe thinking to heal her, if he could. Though I don’t know how he expected to make it happen. In the end, all he had was this.” He held up his right hand. “The glow.”

  “The Forge,” murmured Graic.

  “Turned her into a sapling, out in the woods.” He gestured with a thumb towards the way they had come.

  “We saw her,” blurted out Ruben. “We saw her in the woods.” He tugged at Lully’s arm, excitedly. “It must be getting close to seven years. Are you watching? Who is keeping track of her time?”

  “No one,” said Berren. “I know — it’s sad. It’s getting close, but she will wake up to no one, if she wakes up at all. Her mother died years ago, of an illness unlike any I’ve seen. Her father was killed by highwaymen last winter. She has no other family, and the villagers as a whole have tried to forget what happened.” He gave a half smile and raised his shoulders in a shrug. “After all, the Forged are cursed. How much more so are those who are changed by a cursed one? How can you escape the golden touch?”

  Lully shook her head and leaned back against the bench. “It’s horrible,” she said. “Wouldn’t it almost be better just to be asleep, or a tree — alive, at least, growing and happy, and not caring whether anyone cared for you?”

  She looked up to catch eyes with Ruben, who was looking at her kindly. She turned away from him and caught the same glance from Berren.

  “Well,” she said, slapping a hand on her knee, “I suppose we will have to decide what to tell Thorn about that, when next we see him. Perhaps
he would like to be here when she wakes, if he remembers the date.”

  “Maybe,” said Ruben, making a slight face, “maybe not. If he doesn’t know whether she will return to life in her original shape —”

  “I don’t want to think about that,” said Lully decisively. “I want to think about good things. Now.” She turned to Berren. “Perhaps it’s time that I told you our story.”

  Behind the sparsely growing beard, there was a definite gleam of a toothy smile, and he looked suddenly much younger.

  “Please,” he said. “I haven’t heard a good story in years.”

  8

  The Alchemists

  The sunrise over the Badlands saw them waiting just outside of a curious settlement, a handful of buildings huddled together in a little pocket, backed by sheer desert cliffs. The houses themselves looked to be hewn out of a tawny yellow stone, much like gale stone. The path that the black carriage had taken rose up a slope towards the buildings, so the inhabitants could see all who approached. The obvious caution that had been taken in the placement of the settlement, the black carriage swathed in silencing cloth, the traveling at night — all of it added up to something alarming to Thorn. And to Irae, apparently exhilarating.

  She was wearing a smile that put him on edge. Usually it gave him a secret pleasure to see her look so happy, but at this point, it seemed almost unnerving.

  “What?” he said. “What is it?”

  “Keler lies just on the other side of the cliffs,” she said. “This must be the alchemists. We have ended up exactly where we needed to go! And without another close escape.”

  He understood then that the smile was one of relief — she had brought them through, led them to where they wanted to go, and no one had gotten hurt or killed.