The Mirror's Tale (Further Tales Adventures) (4 page)

“No,” his father said at last. Bert let out a long, grateful sigh. His mother began to protest, but his father cut
her off. “But that was the last act of foolishness I will tolerate. Tomorrow I’ll tell them they have one final chance. And if they misstep one more time, I will do exactly what you propose.”

A wide smile flowered on Bert’s face, and he straightened up, ready to return to his room. He was dizzy with relief.
That was a near miss,
he thought.
Will’s going to faint when he finds out.
For a moment their world had been like a crystal bowl teetering on the edge of a shelf, about to shatter into a million pieces. It seemed safe once more until a harsh voice called out from below.

“You there! What are you up to?”

It was a watchman in the courtyard. Bert’s chest was against the wall, and he twisted his torso to look down at the fellow, hoping the man would shut up once he saw it was only the baron’s son. He tapped his forefinger against his lips. And then his father’s head popped out of the window, like a jack-in-the-box, just a foot from his face.

The baron screamed. Bert yelped, and the fingers of his other hand slipped out of the crack that he was holding onto. His father tried to grab Bert’s arm as he toppled away from the wall, but only caught Bert’s sleeve, which tore and slipped through his fingers. Bert looked with wild eyes toward his brother who gritted his teeth and tightly gripped the rope in his fists. Bert fell, and when the rope went taut between them, Will was tugged neatly out the window as if he was diving
into a pond. Bert tried to scream again, but said only
“Ooof!”
as the knot around his waist bit into his stomach. He swung like a pendulum toward a point somewhere under his own room, bouncing and bumping along the rugged face of the wall. Will held the rope long enough to flip himself upright again, but lost his grip and slid down the cords length until he straddled Bert’s shoulders. Above them Bert could hear Will’s bed scrape across the stone floor, and they sank a few more feet until they nearly reached the courtyard, where the watchman approached them with his sword in his hand and a bemused expression on his face.

Bert had the urge to laugh until he heard the furious voice bellow down. “Spying? On your own father? That was the last straw! You hear me?
The very last straw!
”

“It’s only for a few months,” the baron said, when the wailing quieted to the point where he might be heard.

“No!” the boys shouted. They were standing against a wall when their father broke the news, but in their shock they slid down and hunched on the cold stone floor.

The baron glared at them. “Enough of your insolence. This decision will not be undone. I’ve sent word ahead to your uncle Hugh that Will is coming.”

Bert looked at his brother, who’d gone paler than he thought possible. “But why Will? Why not me?”

“I’ll go,” Will said. He sounded as if he was about to be sick.

“No!” shouted Bert. He stared at his father with fierce, round eyes. “You can’t send Will to that awful place. Don’t you know how frightened he gets?”

The baron palmed his forehead and groaned. “Bert. For the last time, there is nothing to fear at The Crags. The stories are nonsense. There are no witches, no beasts. Your uncle and aunt live there, for heaven’s sake. And if Will is so easily frightened, why is he never afraid to break my rules?”

“Because I talk him into everything, He’s more afraid of me leaving him alone than he is of breaking your stupid rules,” Bert said, “Don’t you see,
I’m
the one who causes all the trouble! It was my idea to sneak down to the map chamber, my idea to spy on you and Mother. All the bad ideas are
mine—
but you never talk to us except to scold us, so you’d never know that!”

The baron opened his mouth to speak, but the words spilled from Bert, like wine from a shattered cask. “And all Mother ever does is tell us we’re too disobedient, or too lazy, or too dirty, or we’re not fit to be heirs to the barony, because she’s just like you and she doesn’t really care—”

“Enough!” the baron roared, Bert fell silent. He and Will hung their heads as their father loomed over them. The baron stabbed at the air with a fat finger to
punctuate his words. “This decision is
final.
Blame no one but
yourselves.
The carriage leaves this afternoon, and
Will
shall be on it.” Bert raised his face and stared back defiantly. “And if you say another word,” the baron said, almost growling, “I’ll have you whipped like a common thief”

The boys climbed the last few steps to the watchtower on the inner wall, a round room of stone with a spire at the top and three windows shaped like narrow, inverted shields. It was deserted, as always. Since the outer wall had been constructed decades before, there was no need for anyone to come here. So it was the perfect place to meet—usually to hide or play or hatch devious plans, but this time to mourn. Will sat on the floor, picking up clay marbles and letting them roll off his hand into the pile of sand. Bert stared out the window at the landscape that surrounded the castle.

Ambercrest sat imperiously on a tall mound of earth. The land sloped away in every direction, so that even though the outer walls were built taller, the inner walls sat higher, and the old watchtower offered a splendid view of the countryside.

Beyond the outer wall the humble cottages and barns made the castle seem that much grander. It was early summer, and the distant forest had bloomed into its full green glory. Roads stretched in four directions, as if the castle itself was the center of a compass. Bert gazed
along the northern road: the one that would take away Will He turned to his brother. Will had his knees tucked against his chest and his arms around his legs. Bert thought he might be trembling.

“It’ll be all right,” Bert said.

“It won’t,” Will said. “Bert, you know me. I don’t like leaving the castle. When we go past the walls, I can hardly breathe.”

“But you and I have snuck out there a couple of times.”

“I know—when you’re with me, I can just barely manage it. It’s as if … I don’t know. As if you’re my courage. Because you’ve got enough for both of us.”

Bert sighed deeply. He sat cross-legged in front of his brother and rested his chin on his cupped hands. It was true about Will; the thought of leaving home always sent him into a panic. Once, when they were very young, their family went to The Crags for the wedding of Uncle Hugh to Lady Elaine. It was one of Bert’s oldest memories. Will cried the whole way there. It made their parents turn red with shame. And when they finally arrived at that grim, foreboding place in the shadow of the mountains, Wills histrionics only grew worse.

“I wish it was me they were sending,” Bert said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing The Crags again. That’s even closer to the Dwergh. Maybe Uncle Hugh would let me go out on the patrols. If there’s a fight with those tunnel rats, it’ll start there.”

Will had tucked his face between his knees. Bert heard him sniffing. He rolled his eyes. His brother was his best friend, but he could be a baby at times. How could his father even think of sending Will to The Crags?

“It should be me that goes,” Bert said. Wait, he thought. “It
can
be me.”

“What are you talking about?” Will’s head rose. He rubbed a sleeve under his nose.

Bert chuckled. He was smiling again. “It’s so obvious! I’ll go in your place. It’ll be easy to fool them; they can hardly tell us apart as it is! Here’s what we’re going to do….”

“Good-bye, Bert,” said Bert.

“Good-bye, Will,” replied Will.

They’d said their real farewell an hour before. This one was just for show. They hugged and thumped each other on the back.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” whispered Will. “Parley says he’ll be going to The Crags soon.”

“I’ll write, and so will you,” said Bert into his brother’s ear. He straightened up, winked at Will, and walked over to the carriage where his father and mother waited. It was a small carriage with broad wheels, drawn by a pair of horses. Four people could have fit inside, but the only passenger for this journey would be him.

The driver, Matthias, was occupied with the reins. A
small escort of four mounted soldiers waited nearby. Their horses tossed their heads and pawed at the ground.

“We thought you’d prefer the carriage, Will,” his mother said. Her voice was as flat as the castle pond on a windless day. “I’m sure Bert would have insisted on riding a horse if it was him that was going.”

You’ve got that right,
Bert thought, suppressing a smirk. “Of course, Mother. Thank you,” he said with all the meekness he could manage. “I’m sorry about what happened. About everything.”

“You can prove that you’re sorry by behaving yourself at The Crags,” his mother said.

“Exactly,” the baron said, opening the carriage door. “In you go, Will.”

Bert stared at the ground and let his shoulders slump, doing his best impression of his brother. His parents were fooled completely. It made him feel triumphant and sad at the same time.
How can this be so easy?

The door closed. His mother walked away, and a moment later his fathers head poked in through the window in the carriage door. “Will, before you go … I realize this won’t be easy for you. I know it scares you to leave home.”

Bert forced his bottom lip to tremble and pretended to wipe a tear from the inner corner of his eye. “I’ll do my best, Father,” he said.

“I’m happy to hear it.” The baron frowned at the driven “Matthias, give us a moment,” he called up.

“Yes, my lord,” the driver said. He hopped down from his seat and wandered over to talk to the escorts.

The baron leaned even farther into the carriage. Bert sensed that he was about to hear something important.

“Will … There are two things I need to tell you before you go. First, I have a mission for you.”

“A mission?” Bert asked. He had to fight to keep his enthusiasm in check. “What kind of mission?” he said, letting his voice crack.

“I want you to keep an eye on your uncle Hugh. I’ve gotten the sense that he might be up to something at The Crags.”

“Up to what, Father?”

“You must know that Hugh has always been jealous of me, how the king favors me, and how I became baron instead of him—even though he’s the older brother. And he was furious when I ordered him to occupy The Crags as an outpost. He considered it a kind of exile. I sometimes fear that he may be trying to set up his own little kingdom up there.”

“Really?” Bert’s heart pounded, and his legs bounced on the seat. This was the most exciting thing he’d ever heard.

“Keep your voice down, Will. And don’t be afraid. There’s probably nothing to it—I wouldn’t let you go if I thought it was real. But I still want you to observe.
Count how many soldiers your uncle has—it shouldn’t be more than eighty. See if he’s stockpiling weapons or horses. Just watch, that’s all. I don’t want you to do anything stupid or rash—if I wanted that, I would have sent your brother.”

Bert winced and sank back into his seat. “I’m sure Bert would have done a good job.”

The baron shook his head. “Your brother’s too reckless. He never thinks, he just acts, and never worries about the consequences. I’m not ignorant, Will—I know which one of you causes all the trouble. And that brings me to the second thing.”

Bert put a hand on his stomach. Suddenly he didn’t feel well. His words came out thick and slurred. “What is it, Father?”

The baron spoke even more quietly this time. Bert could see a thin smile through his sparce, black beard. His father’s eyes twinkled. “I know everyone believes that Bert will be baron one day. But I wouldn’t assume that if I were you.”

Bert’s mouth dropped open. He felt like a cold dagger had been thrust into his gut.

His father winked. He must have figured the surprise was a pleasant one. “Being a baron isn’t about running around with a sword, looking for fights. A strong brain is just as important as a strong arm. And I know you’re the wiser of the two. Smarter, and more sensible.”

Now the dagger was being twisted.

“But … Father …” Bert sputtered weakly. If he spoke too loud, he thought he might throw up.

“Nothing’s decided yet, Will, so don’t go off thinking the barony is yours just yet. But consider this as a test. If you handle yourself well … if you can find your courage out there at The Crags … you know what I mean.” The baron offered an encouraging, toothy grin.

“Of course,” Bert said quietly.

“That’s my Will,” said the baron, clapping Bert on the shoulder. He turned to shout. “Ready, Matthias!”

CHAPTER 4

W
ill dashed around the back of the keep as soon as the carriage left. He ran to a corner of the inner wall and into the dark doorway that led to the stairs. Bert and he would always race to the top, and Bert would always win. Will felt a pinch in his heart, keenly aware of his brother’s absence.

He bounded up—three steps at a time until his legs weakened, then two steps, then one, until he finally arrived in the neglected watchtower. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, openmouthed. He leaned out the window and peered out, shielding his eyes from the sun.