Happenstance Found (Books of Umber #1) (11 page)

Hap nodded, soaking up the history. “What happened to the sorceress?”

Umber put his elbows on the wall. “A sad tale. She was a friend to the kingdom for a long time, and even came to the palace once in a while to advise the king. It was always an event when she emerged, because Turiana was more beautiful than you could imagine. Men came to Kurahaven from all around just to get a glimpse of her. But while she would leave the Aerie occasionally, nobody was ever allowed to enter. Over the years she kept to herself more and more, until she was only glimpsed on the roof in the moonlight. Strange things started to happen. Terrible noises came from the Aerie: shrieks, moans, and animal cries. Sometimes a dark cloud hovered over this place when the rest of the sky was clear. And there were rumors of foul creatures that emerged at night and prowled the streets. The city was fine by day, but anyone who wandered outside after sunset was liable to disappear. Even the king’s guard wouldn’t venture out.”

Hap looked down on the vibrant city, imagining a time when everyone bolted their doors at night. “But why? Why did things get so bad, after she did so much good?”

Umber propped his chin on one hand. “I suppose magic is a little bit like invention, Hap. One can dive in with the best intentions, but it’s just as easy to get seduced by the sinister possibilities. Take fire, for example. You can harness it in a lantern, a kiln, an oven, or a furnace. Or you can use it to burn a village to the ground.

“Who knows exactly why Turiana went bad? I suppose she opened too many spell books, collected too many wicked talismans, and made contact with too many diabolical beings. I think her intent was to master dark magic and use it for good, the way she saved Kurahaven from the sea-giants. But finally the wicked side beckoned.”

Umber took a moment to watch the top of the sun melt behind the craggy western horizon. Oates had finished his song—or let it simply die away—and stared at Umber.

“This is the way things go, Hap,” Umber said. “When a weapon is created—whether it’s a war machine, or a wicked spell, or some chemical monstrosity—it’s bound to go off eventually. Turiana went off in the worst way. She cast unspeakable spells and murdered anyone who stood in her way. She demanded an enormous tribute of gold and jewels, and threatened to bring greater harm if her demands weren’t met. For a while, it looked like Kurahaven might become a ghost city all over again.”

“But it didn’t?” asked Hap.

“No. Someone showed up and defeated Turiana.”

“Who?” asked Hap.

Umber stood up and grabbed the lapels of his vest. “You’re looking at him. And as a reward, I was given the Aerie as my home.”

“You?”
said Hap. “You killed Turiana?”

“Do I strike you as a violent man, Hap? I didn’t kill her. I just defanged her.”

“But where did she go?”

Umber cleared his throat. “Nowhere, my boy. She’s still here.”

Hap wobbled where he stood.

“It’s true,” said Oates.

“Of course it’s true,” said Umber. “Perhaps you’ve heard me talk about our ‘guest’? That’s Turiana. She’s in the caverns behind the Aerie. Locked up tight for the good of the kingdom, but treated well enough. But enough history, Hap! The night is here—time to head for the palace.”

*     *     *

Hap followed Umber to the gatehouse. They could have used the smaller exit, but Umber opened the black door, delighted to show off the magic once again. One of the men who always guarded the entrance was holding the carriage door open. With his other arm, he held a squirming black cat with a splash of white on one paw.

“A cat, Dodd?” Umber asked with one eyebrow raised. “You know they aren’t welcome here.”

“Beg pardon, Lord Umber,” Dodd said. The cat dug its back claws into his side, squirmed loose, and ran under the horse. “Ouch! She wandered up this afternoon.”

Umber watched the cat slink from sight. “Let’s go,” he said to Hap, and climbed inside the carriage.

“Isn’t Oates coming?” asked Hap. He wasn’t sure Oates liked him, but he always felt safer with the big fellow near.

“Bringing Oates to the palace is dicey,” replied Umber. “I never know what important person his brutal honesty will offend.”

“Or what fine lady will slap him,” said Dodd.

“True, true,” Umber replied, laughing. “Hap, we’ll make do with my private guard: Wilkin, Barkin, and Dodd. As long as they don’t mind giving up their card game for a while. That’s not a problem, is it, Dodd?”

“Certainly not,” said Dodd, the guard holding the door.

“He would say that,” said Barkin, who climbed to the driver’s bench to take the reins. “Since he always loses.”

“Though my sword has some repute, cards were never my strong suit,”
recited Dodd. A laugh came from the rear of the carriage, where the third guard—Wilkin, Hap deduced—mounted the back of the carriage. Wilkin had dark hair to his shoulders, Barkin’s mane was wiry and the color of rust, and Dodd was hairless except for the rectangle on his chin. They bristled with athletic confidence and were well armed, so Hap’s mind eased a bit. He heard Barkin call to the horses and snap the reins. The carriage lurched and rolled.

“Oh!” said Umber. As an afterthought, he flashed the black-stoned ring at the door, and uttered a word that Hap knew meant
close
. The black door swung shut and sealed itself tight.

They rattled onto the causeway at a greater speed than any previous trip. Hap clutched a strap that dangled from the ceiling.
They think Occo might attack,
he thought as he rocked from side to side.

“Hap, did I mention that Dodd is a poet?” Umber said. He shouted out the window. “Isn’t that right, Dodd?”

Dodd clung to the side of the carriage. He put his face in the window and touched a hand to his forehead, saluting.

“Give him a topic and he’ll compose a rhyme on the spot,” Umber said. “Come on, Dodd, what do you have for this occasion?”

Dodd scratched his chin for a moment. Then he began, raising his voice so the others could hear over the clattering wheels:

“Recently our good Lord Umber
 Added to the Aerie’s number
 A fine young chap, a lad named Hap
 The green-eyed boy who knows no slumber.

“Now they ride beside the sea
 With presents perched on Umber’s knee
 Off to the palace to drink from the chalice
 And meet the royal princes three.

“One prince loves to fill his glass
 One we are sure is a snake in the grass
 The other royal is steadfast and loyal
 But frankly a pain in—”

The recital ended abruptly as they hit a bump in the causeway. Hap popped off of his seat. Umber thumped his head on the roof. “This is bracing!” Umber said, rubbing the top of his skull.

*     *     *

The road curved with the harbor wall for a while, and then they turned up the long slope that led to the palace. Hap leaned out to watch the great structure growing before his eyes. It was even more beautiful in the dark, with tiny lanterns burning like stars in the highest windows.

They rolled across the wide wooden bridge that spanned a ring of water surrounding the castle walls. “Moats are usually foul, but you could drink from this one,” Umber said. “It’s fed by the spring at the center of this palace: the Heartspring.”

Hap nodded. But even a glimpse of deep water pinched his heart with cold fingers.

The carriage rumbled through a tunnel in the outer wall. They veered onto a paved circle of stone and jerked to a stop. Dodd opened the door. “After you, Hap,” Umber said. He handed Hap a colorfully wrapped box. “Carry this for me, would you?”

Hap stepped outside. The hiss of falling water caught his ear, and he saw a fountain in the center of the courtyard. It was three tiers tall and populated with sculptures of sea-creatures that fired jets of water. “Does the Heartspring make that water go too?”

“Right you are,” Umber replied.

Around them a parade of carriages disgorged their passengers and rumbled away. Hap watched the giddy guests walk toward a tall open door. The men puffed their chests and the women tugged long dresses an inch off the ground. Hap found his head tilting up, up, and up again as his eyes followed the lofty lines of the palace, all the way to the illuminated face of the enormous clock.

“Careful you don’t fall over,” Umber said, stepping up beside him. “I’ve seen it happen.”

They went past a gauntlet of guards, up a wide set of stairs, and into a room that seemed as broad as the sea. Clusters of flowers hung on strings from the soaring ceiling, with petals fluttering down like snow. The chatter of hundreds of guests filled the air, and a pack of musicians in one corner added sprightly music. Servers buzzed among the crowd like bees with drinks and delicacies.

Umber attracted people the way lanterns drew moths, and soon was busy shaking hands and making conversation. Always he would introduce Hap, and always the person could not avoid staring at Hap’s strange green eyes. Hap felt his face turn red. He wished he’d found a way to stay back at the Aerie, or at least that Umber had allowed him to wear his hat.

During a lull in the onslaught of well-wishers, Umber positioned himself in front of Hap and spoke quietly out of one side of his mouth. “Best behavior now, Hap. You’re about to meet one of the princes.”

Hap looked over Umber’s shoulder and saw a broad-shouldered man approach. The man walked stiffly, hardly moving above the waist. His face was as cold and chiseled as a tombstone, with eyes turned down at the corners. His hair was thinning and tied back from his face, while his eyebrows grew wild. There was a silver cape draped over one of his shoulders.

“Prince Argent! How good to see you.” Umber lowered his head, spread his arms, and stuck one leg before him, with the heel on the ground and the toes pointing up. “And may I introduce my young friend, Happenstance?”

Hap performed an awkward copy of Umber’s bow. “Good evening, Your Highness,” he said. When he looked up again, the prince was staring at his eyes. Argent didn’t show surprise or unease like most, and a moment later he turned and spoke to Umber as if Hap were not there.

The prince did not bother with pleasantries. “We have things to discuss, Umber. First, I have reviewed your suggestion for what you call ‘fire departments’ stationed throughout the city. I think the idea has merit, and would like to see a more detailed proposal. Likewise with your tidal mills; building those on the coastline makes perfect sense.”

Umber dipped his forehead. “Absolutely, Your Highness.”

“Also, I saw the new device that you sent to the palace. Some sort of press for creating documents?”

“The movable-type printing press, Your Highness,” Umber said with an eager smile. “There are only two in the world right now—yours, and the one I will use to reproduce my books. It speeds the production of all manner of printed materials—more than two hundred pages in a single hour!”

Argent’s flinty expression never changed. “We are glad to have it for our proclamations. And I have no objection to you using such a thing for those books of yours. But is it true that you plan to make these movable … whatever you call them … widely available? So that anyone at all might be able to use one?”

“True, Your Highness. It will take time, but a press in every town is my goal. It’s for the good of the kingdom, I assure you. Consider what will happen when people throughout your land can share their ideas and—”

Argent abruptly raised a hand. “That is exactly what I am considering. You and I see the world with different eyes, Umber. You seem to think that every man, woman, and child ought to express himself and think freely. But that is not what people really want. They are content to live their humble lives and let the wisdom of kings and princes be their guiding light. Too many ideas flying about will only confuse them. And, incidentally, Umber, those wonderful presses of yours can print foolish and rebellious ideas just as easily as pragmatic and useful ones.” The prince’s voice had begun to rise, and he paused to temper himself. “I want their production stopped at once.”

Umber tried to maintain his smile, but he looked as if he’d taken a bite of something foul. “But really, Your Highness—”

“Another thing, Umber,” interrupted the prince. “Many months ago, my father asked you for suggestions to improve the kingdom’s defenses. We are still waiting for your response.”

Umber tugged at his collar. “I apologize, Your Highness. Unfortunately my talents don’t lie in the military direction.”

“Be careful that you don’t lie in
any
direction,” Argent said, as his expression darkened. “Come now, Umber. Don’t pretend there are limits to your inventiveness. Surely you know how to improve the reach of our catapults, the strength of our swords, the flight of our arrows. Don’t you care to ensure the safety of the nation that you’ve worked so hard to enrich?”

The thought made Umber’s mouth cinch tight. “My prince,” he replied, putting a hand over his heart. “Shouldn’t ingenuity be spent on higher purposes than a better way to maim or kill a man?”

“Not if that prevents the death of one of
my
people,” Argent said. He thrust his jaw forward. “We’ve allowed many of your innovations, Umber, and we are a stronger, happier kingdom for it. But there are rivals and warlords that look upon our prosperity with jealous hearts. And you are partly responsible, because all the good you’ve done has in fact made us a target. So the ‘military direction’ matters. I hope one day you will see the truth of that.”

There was a cascade of laughter nearby. Argent suddenly remembered that he was at a party. “One last thing, Umber,” the prince said, tugging at his clothes to straighten them. “Regarding this afternoon’s incident in the market: I hope this isn’t another case of you stirring up magical things that are best left alone.” He glanced in Hap’s direction, and Hap gulped by reflex.