“It was our sincere hope that this city, with its wondrous history, would remember what it owes and to whom.”
–Andis Hawkwing
Friday had often viewed the palace as a sort of pleasant backdrop, knowing that it was where the queen took residence but never really imagining life inside of it. Being built on the only hill in Pyrengard for tactical reasons, it rose up above the rest of the city and was easy to spy from the inn. She had enjoyed looking upon it in the early morning light. It was made of white stone and its walls were full of ornate circular windows of various sizes and so it shone like a morning star over all the city. It was surrounded by a high wall of the same white stone and enormous gates provided passage. It was before these gates, breathless and small, Friday stood with her mentors, in awe of the beautifully carved story that decorated them. The car had stopped so that they could admire the view.
“Do they teach children the story of Pyrengard,” Andis inquired.
“I didn’t realize there was a story,” Friday replied as she ran her hand over the carvings in the gates.
“Oh, everything has a story, Friday,” Raine said, “And consequently we are all storytellers.”
“For instance, what is your story, Friday,” Andis asked, “You can understand out curiosity. What you did, handling the Black Dog, and not succumbing to its pressures is very rare. Indeed, when we set the task, we did not expect anyone to complete it. But you did, and alone. Who are you family?”
“I have none,” Friday said matter-of-factly, “Mr. and Mrs. Hays picked me out of obscurity to be a sort of handmaid to their daughter. I’ve done a maid’s work ever since.”
Andis’ brow furrowed, “That is all you know about yourself?”
“That’s all.”
The drive from the gates was at least half an hour, albeit on a winding road, but Friday could hardly believe how massive the place was. The outer part nearest the gates held orchards of flowering trees and deer, rabbits and other game roamed it freely. Then there was the lake, which held water as clear as the cloudless sky, and the informal gardens, full of old trees where young kings and queens had climbed and scraped their knees. The passed the entrance to the royal cemetery and the great, dark yew that towered in the middle symbolically. The approach of the palace proper should have engendered appropriate awe, as well, and would have, had it not been for the crowd that surrounded the entrance, picket signs in hand, grey in their jackets and hats and shawls and dresses. But four lonely guards stood in the midst of their noise, silent and upright.
“What’s all this,” Raine wondered aloud as the car halted right in front of the mass.
“There they are,” someone shouted.
And then screams attacked them from all corners. Accusation and words so full of hatred that Friday could barely understand them. The guards parted the crowd to allow the party to go through. Friday looked around into all the faces robbed of color, wide-eyed, mouths stretched open, like some grotesque painting. But even the tall doors couldn’t shut out the cries of “freak” and “unnatural” and “beware.” They were attended by servants. Raine took little interest in the welcome.
“Is General Luhan in residence,” she asked shortly.
“He is, ma’am,” replied a maidservant.
“Take me to him.”
They walked quickly, indeed Raine’s stride seemed almost preternaturally long and the poor maid struggled to keep up, and disappeared up a stair case and into an invisible hall. Andis was calmer and Friday took her cue from that, surrendering her small parcel of belongings to a manservant.
“Are those really picketers outside?” Andis asked, “Protesters on palace grounds?”
“Yes, ma’am,” answered the head servant, “They’ve been there for three days, at least. They came at night, at first, just a few them. But their number continues to grow.”
“Why have they not been pushed back, out of the gates?”
“The queen, ma’am, is very reluctant to use force against them.”
“Of course she is, good woman.” Andis turned to Friday. “Well, I’m sorry that your first impression of Pyrengard is so full of turmoil.”
“This is very grave,” Friday observed.
Andis smiled a little, “Yes, exactly. It is very grave and bigger, I fear, than any of us had thought. I think I must be off to see the general, myself.”
“I understand,” Friday nodded.
Andis also bounded up and disappeared. The vaulted ceiling and the shouts from without made Friday eager to leave the empty entrance hall. Yet another servant showed her to her room.
Stumble It!
