The Princess and the Hound (27 page)

“Ah,” said George.

“Do you understand me?”

“I understand you very well. And I am sure that whoever wears it will wear it with honor.”

“Yes, I expect so. Even if it is never used for anything other than to cut through thorns in the forest.”

George nodded gravely. “I thank you,” he said, on his own behalf, and Marit’s.

“And I thank you,” said King Helm.

He and George stared at each other a moment longer. Then King Helm yawned. “Time for bed now.”

George took the sword back to his own bedchamber and waited impatiently for morning. He had not forgotten what was to occur at his wedding, and he wanted to be sure he was ready for it.

Yet when he closed his eyes and tried to search once more for the dark vision of the animal world that he had seen on only one other occasion, it would not come to him. He rested and tried again, with the same result. He left his bedchamber and wandered through the castle and even out to the moat, then tried there, in the outdoors, where he could smell the animals in the air.

But he could not see their shapes in his mind or call to them in that way. Until the dawn came, and the first rays of sun hit him, crouched stiffly over the ground where he had so often buried the small creatures of his childhood. Then, suddenly, he could see again in that other way and speak silently, and with power.

He called to all the animals everywhere he could see. To deer and foxes, to mice and birds, to owls, to moles, to voles, to rabbits, squirrels, possums, wolves, hounds, and bears. And to exotic animals he had no names for, with stripes and large, drooping ears, and necks as tall as any tower George had seen made.

They answered him with raises of their heads and acknowledgments. And they began to come, streaming toward the castle at their own pace. The humans in the villages nearby were coming too, to see the celebration of a prince and princess married. But they were as nothing in numbers, compared with the animals.

George tracked one couple very closely, a bear and a hound, as they came ever closer, for what might be the last time.

“You are not even dressed.” George heard a voice from behind him.

He turned and saw Marit.

“Unless you plan to set a new style for princes to be married in their nightclothes,” she said, pulling at his hem.

George blushed. “I shall go now and be back in an hour’s time.” Sir Stephen would have a fit if he heard of this breach of propriety, for a princess to see her husband in this way before they were married.

“And when you return, shall we both find ourselves becoming the stuff of legend?” asked Marit. She stared deeply at the horizon, her eyes catching on the very place where her hound was.

“The stuff of legend? No. We are merely the end of it, that is all,” said George.

Cover art © 2007 by Larry Rostant

Cover design by Amy Ryan