Casimir's Journey (11 page)

“I can see I have no choice. When shall I leave?”

“Whenever you feel ready. I have all the time in the world,” she answered, still not looking at him.

“Then I shall leave today. May I have provisions again?”

“Of course. Ask Ingrith in the kitchen. She’ll get you what you need.”
Thump, thump, thump
as the pestle ground the herbs down.

He nodded and left the room. He could barely control his anger; anger at her for keeping him, anger that she was right about his obligation, and at what she implied if he ignored the obligation. Damn the woman.

In the kitchen, Ingrith was bent over scrubbing a pot. He cleared his throat, and she jumped and faced him.

“Might I trouble you for some food? I am going on a journey for Catrin and need perhaps five days of victuals.”

“Of course, sir. I will put it together for you now and bring it to you.”

“I thank you. I will be in the stable.” He stalked from the kitchen. Yelling at a girl who was already nervous would get him nowhere. He went back to his room, avoiding looking into the stillroom where he could hear the thump of the pestle.

There was not much to ready, but he packed all the clothing he could find and took a linen from the bed as well. Given his propensity for getting wounding, he’d need something more than what was left of his spare shirt. He also looked in the saddlebags. The mixture for darkening his skin was still there. Not that he looked anything like himself anymore.

He walked back down the hallway and out the kitchen door to the stable. Toly whickered at him as he entered.

“Yes, it’s me again, boy.” He patted him on the nose and checked to see if he had been cared for. Catrin had not lied. Toly appeared well kept. He looked around and found the saddle he’d been using and lowered it into Toly’s back.

Then he added the saddlebags. As he was cinching them tight, Ingrith came out with a good sized bundle. He took it from her, pleased at the heft of it. “Thank you, Mistress Ingrith. I will be even more thankful as I travel.” He bowed to her, and she curtsied and scurried from the stable. What did Catrin to do inspire such timidity and fear in the girl?

He shook his head. That was a mystery for another time. He led Toly out into the small yard and finished securing the food to the back of the saddle. Mounting, he turned Toly toward the road.

“Once again, off, like an errand boy.”

“At least you leave,” said a gravelly voice.

Casimir whipped his head around to see the speaker. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Least you’re leaving. Not all do,” said the man, walking to the stable. This must be the one taking such good care of Toly. “If you have to come back to this cursed place, you better make sure you can still leave once you get here.”

“What are you talking about?”

The man didn’t respond, but disappeared into the stable. Casimir was still for moment. All these hints that Catrin was even worse than he assumed...he felt a chill creep over him. Shaking himself slightly, he turned back to the road. Creepy she might be, but he had no choice at the moment. He needed to see this through. It was, however, one more reason to be wary and very specific with her.

There was no one on the road when Toly stepped onto it. He’d never enjoyed traveling alone before. He wouldn’t say he was enjoying this, but he certainly moved from place to place faster without a full retinue along.

Turistin was a simple ride, although Casimir was getting the impression that nothing would be simple. It was merely another trick that Catrin played. Allowing one to be lulled into security and then yanking the security away.

He passed a few people on the road, and they exchanged nods as they moved by one another, but unlike the previous journey, nothing delayed him. By late in the afternoon, he had reached Turistin. It was a good size, but not too big. Catrin had said that he needed to ask where Melasine’s home was. Hoping she had not set him up for some sort of failure, he stepped into the tavern.

It was not overly busy. Many of the villagers would still be in the fields, and Casimir was glad that there were not many people. He approached the bar where a man was standing, eying him.

“Good day, sir,” said Casimir.

“’Day,” said the man. He was not unfriendly, but reserved.

“I am Yates. I have taken on a commission for a lady near the border, and I am to visit a woman named Melasine to pick up some items for the lady. I’m told Melasine lives in this area. Can you point me to her home?”

The man’s eyes widened momentarily before settling back into his usual, blank expression. “She is that way,” he said, pointing out the door and away from the village. “She’s not the friendliest person.”

“Given the lady I am commissioned to assist, I am not surprised,” Casimir said with a twist of the mouth. The tavern keeper snorted a little, but kept from smiling. “I thank you, sir. Perhaps I shall stop in after I am finished.”

“Luck to you,” said the man. Casimir waved a hand as he walked back out the door. The direction that the keeper had indicated lead down a side road leading from the village proper. He was glad that the tavern owner didn’t appear shocked that he would visit this Melasine. He was impatient to get this done and get home.

He set Toly onto the small track, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

Suddenly, a hut rose in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere, so well did it blend into the plants. The track led down to a marsh by the plants and reeds that surrounded the hut.

He swung a leg over Toly and hopped off. “Well, here I go again,” he said to the horse, patting his neck. “Stay here. Please. I might need to leave quickly.” He inhaled deeply, squared his shoulders, and went to the door.

After knocking, he stood back to see who would come out. He was surprised when the door opened, and a tiny little woman stared up at him.

“What do you want?” She asked. The tavern keeper was right. She was not friendly.

“I come from Catrin. She asks most kindly that you release her cup and platter to me.” He bowed, hoping fine manners would smooth things over.

It didn’t work. “Don’t care. If she wants it so badly, she can come herself.” The woman stepped back and made to shut the door. Casimir stuck his foot in just in time to have her slam the door on it.             

“Madam, I greatly desire that you should work with her. I can see,” he said, leaning in as she attempted to shut the door in spite of his foot, “That you are disinclined to be obliging. Perhaps you would take pity on me, the messenger. Perhaps,” he leaned harder into the door, forcing her to open it and to stop crushing his foot, “You and I might come to an agreement, without regard to who sent me.”

She let go of the door, and he fell into the hut landing hard on his knees. “Well, you’re sweet with your words.” She walked away from the door, and he took that as a sign he could follow. He scrambled to his feet and hurried to catch up to her. She led him to the back of the hut where a fire blazed merrily in a small hearth. A brief glance around showed the owner to have a disposition towards death, as every corner was filled with some sort of creature—stuffed birds flying from strings dangling from the ceiling, insects encased in glass, fish stuffed and mounted to the walls, and snakes forever poised to strike. It was a veritable dead menagerie.

“Sit.” She gestured to a stool as she sat on another. “What has Catrin told you?”

“That you have a cup and a platter, and she would like them back. She respectfully requests that you surrender them to me so that I might bring them to her.” He had considered on the way here how to address Melasine. In spite of Catrin’s warning, he decided to be honest. He didn’t get the impression that they were friends. Regardless, he felt that honesty would work best for him. Although, if she were as twisted as Catrin, he was offering himself to her on a platter, but that could not be helped.

“I do have them.” This confirmed that she was Melasine, at least. “I will give them to you, young princeling.” At her words, he started. “Oh, I know Catrin, and what she is about. No worry for you. I will speak of it to no one. Who would I tell?” She gestured around the hut with a smile. “No one here will speak of it either.” She chuckled at her own wit. Judging by the decor, Casimir felt certain he was dealing with someone with a similar outlook as Catrin. He probably should be concerned.

“Then I will take them, and thank you.” He inclined his head.

“Not so fast, Princeling. I will give them to you after you pay the price. Nothing is free. You should know that.”

“What do you mean, pay the price?”

She laughed again, and this time it brought back the chill. “Poor, poor boy. You’re used to a different sort of life, aren’t you? Where all you need to do is beckon and whatever you want is provided. That is not how it works outside the palace walls. Have you not learned that yet?”

She laughed harder at the look on his face. He was well aware that his learning curve regarding life outside the palace was steep. “What do you have to offer?”

“Not much. I can offer you service.”

She shook her head. “No, I have what I need. What I want is something more…personal. How about,” she leaned back, tapping her chin. “Your best memory?”

“What?”

“Think about the best thing you can remember. Take a moment,” she held up a hand to stay anything he might say. “Think about it. In all your life, what is your best memory? What makes you the happiest, most complete to think about?”

His mouth fell open. “You want the best thing I can remember? The thing that makes me happiest to see in my mind’s eye?”

She nodded, a smug smile on her lips. He resisted the urge to slap her. “Why do you feel you have a right to it?”

“You have something I will enjoy, I have something you need. It’s merely a matter of trade, nothing more, but I will only trade for something I actually want.” She shrugged. “Take a moment and think on it, but don’t try to trick me. I will know if you are not true in your thoughts.”

“What if I do not agree?”

“Then our business is done.” The shrug again.

Casimir felt deflated. The best thing he could remember? The awful piece of this was that the best thing came to mind immediately.

He and Thea were walking in the woods behind the castle. They had just been allowed to spend time together without a chaperone immediately nearby. He took her hand, and she let him. He squeezed their palms together with excitement at being this close to her and able to touch her. He had been struggling with wanting to touch her for weeks now, to the point that it interrupted his sleep and invaded his dreams.

He held her hand up to his face and inhaled. Her lilac scent was like a spring day. He caught her eye, and she looked down, actually blushing. The demure cast of her eyes, in a face normally bold and open, inflamed him, making his very blood feel hot.

“I love you, Thea.” She looked upward at him again. He leaned into her, dropping her hand so that his could cup her face. Gently placing his lips on hers, he lingered for a moment, reveling in the passion and emotion she stirred in him. He pulled back, unsure of his control if he continued the kiss. When he looked into her dark, shining eyes, to see if she felt the same, if she felt it too and was holding back as he was, he was lost. There was no other woman for him ever. “I love you, Casimir.”

He—he sat back, and stared at Melasine. “What were we speaking of?”

“Of me giving you the cup and platter you’ve come all this way for, young man.” She heaved herself to her feet and shuffled back to the side of the hearth. He could hear her clanking various objects. His head felt as though he had a cold, stuffy and unclear, as though he walked through mist. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Here you are. Take them to Catrin, and with my compliments.” She smiled, and he could not help but recoil at her smile.

“Is that it? Catrin said—”

“What did she say?” The grin widened.

“That I would need to negotiate with you.”

“You have and well. We both have what we want.”

“But I gave you nothing.” Why could he not think clearly?

“You gave me what I consider a fair trade,” she said firmly. “Now you must go. I am sure Catrin is waiting.”

Still feeling bemused, he allowed her to push him towards the door. Out in the sunshine the air felt cleaner, crisp. The foggy feeling dissipated.

He turned to her. “We are fairly met?”

“In sooth, we are. I would not lie to you, Princeling. Be on your way. If you ride through, you will make Catrin’s by late evening.”

He tucked the cup and platter, which did not look at all remarkable, into his saddlebag. He mounted Toly, who was oddly restless, and said, “I thank you, madam.”

Melasine hugged herself. “No, Princeling, I thank you. You are a fair trader.”

He turned without speaking. He was missing something, but he could not tell what it was. Something had occurred, and he had no inkling of what it might be.

As he made his way back through Turistin, the tavern keeper was sweeping out front. He looked up as Casimir rode by, and lifted a hand in greeting. Casimir returned the wave, but did not stop. He was anxious to return to Catrin and be done. Being around magic and the dealings of sorceresses, for Melasine was a witch if ever he saw one, made him nervous. He didn’t like it. He continuously felt that he was being given the bad end of a bargain, but he couldn’t manage to discover how. He knew it, but had no evidence, no hard proof. That made the feeling of unease worse.