“How can we know what to do when we are ignorant of our origins? Histories, that’s what we study. Ancient histories that uncover secrets we never even thought to be curious about.”

–Andis Hawkwing

Friday knocked on the door and then opened it and sat down on the now uncluttered desk a ham sandwich and a glass of wine.

Aurora looked up from her book on the history of Fantastics in the Forbidden Forest. “What? Are you serving now as well as cooking?”

“If I didn’t, I fully believe none of you would take the time to eat,” Friday replied with a mock-stern look.

“Well there may be some truth to that. We’ve all been… distracted these last two days.”

Friday sat down in a neighboring chair and looked again at the walls of books in the library. She looked, too, at the volume Aurora had set down. It was a history of Fantastics in the Forbidden Forest. A closer look revealed that it was written as a book of myths, legends, stories for grandparents to tell children before bed. It even included some rather interesting illustrations.

“Can such a book be useful?” Friday asked as she turned the pages.

“Oh, yes,” Aurora answered, “Even in the Forest there are legends, there are those Fantastics which have not been seen for centuries. That is why the work Andis and Raine do is so important to everyone. Folktales often have an element of truth and not all Fantastics are as friendly even as some like the Silverwinds. The bar for friendliness there, as you know, is not set too terribly high.”

Friday laughed. “No, it isn’t.”

She rose and began to run her hands along the spines of the shelved books and papers. Her fingers came across another history, that of the kings and queens of Oriana. The comment of Count Fenris ran through her mind.

“May I ask you… What did Count Fenris mean when he asked if the dark Fantastic might be related to you?”

“You really are the most perceptive young person I’ve ever met.”

Aurora put down her sandwich and drunk some wine. “It’s my shame. The first dark Fantastic ever in the line of the Kingdom. When the Forest houses heard it, they suggested ever so sensitively that I be suppressed, shall we say.”

Friday’s gaze was steady on the queen as she continued. ”It has taken years of tenacious willpower to prove that I could be more than what I am and that my darkness would not block out the Kingdom of the Dawn. It is still my stigma and once a year I go out to the western Forest and I transform into shadow to ensure that I am still able to control it. General Luhan accompanies me and has done since I was a child, taking with him a rifle with which he is an excellent shot.”

“I see,” Friday answered softly.

“Yes, I believe you do.” Aurora’s gaze was piercing and solemn. “So you can understand the consternation you engender. The opportunity you offer.”

“But you have come so far with such strength.”

“And I grow weary. But I don’t know yet what you are. I must be careful.”

“Yes, you must.”

#

The trees grew even denser in the Hawkwing flying grounds, if that were possible. Andis and Friday stood at the bow looking out.

“I’m concerned,” Andis confessed, “There are histories here of which we are not aware.”

“Wasn’t it you who said that our world is fraught with secrets?”

Andis laughed. “Yes, but up until now I’ve been privy to all of them. You constitute a real problem. First of all, as a Fantastic I must be concerned with the power you seem to possess. I can find no indication of anyone like you in the histories. Second, I don’t know how much Vale knows about you or why he is seeking you. For all we know, Fenris has sent him word of where you are. And third, a monarch has been for all intents and purposes dethroned and her enemy sits in her place. This is a mess.”

“Perhaps, then, we should not bring trouble into your house. Perhaps we should skip over the Hawkwing flying grounds. Try and find a Fantastic who might know about the kind of creature I am.”

“You may have a point. My instinct tells me that Fenris will have known were we were going. Even now… Yes, you may be right. I’ll talk to Raine and Aurora.”

Andis took a step towards her friends; just a step was all it took and then the arrows rained down from the cloudy sky, silently striking here the deck, there the balloons that made the dirigible float. And suddenly everyone was alive with motion, a queer sort of energy it seemed to Friday’s bleary eyes, running here and there, Andis transforming and soaring downward precisely, much like an arrow herself. A mass of Hawkwings erupted from the trees towards the source of the onslaught and still the air-cutting arrows rained on the Dirigible. And then, the cries of the Hawkwings echoing everywhere, the rain stopped. Friday looked down, dizzily, overboard but the dense trees blocked her view. She swayed because she couldn’t help swaying. And then she slipped over ever so easily, ever so gently. She heard the air rustling her clothes, she heard Rain and Aurora call her name, and for the second time, her world went dark.

#

The din was awful when Friday awoke. There were lamps all around, wherever she was, and people kept talking. She raised her hands to cover her eyes but saw the dark, black veins that now ran through the right one. She sat up quickly. Her left one was unaffected for now, but she felt sure that it wouldn’t be for long. A piercing pain attacked her shoulder as she tried to readjust herself on the bed on which she had been lain. Her right shoulder was covered in a bandage. The blood was beginning to soak through it. But the blood was black, too. Friday got to her feet, feeling dizzy again, and felt the walls towards the door and out towards the main room from where the noise was coming. She opened the door to find several honey-eyed wolves tied up to the columns that held p the wooden roof of the house. Raine, Andis, and Aurora stopped their conversation and looked at her. Several others populated the large room, sharp eyed men and women with short hair like feathers and sharp noses, Hawkwings. Friday leaned against the door.

Aurora was the first to speak. “Are you alright, Friday?”

Friday felt that if she were to speak, somehow her voice would be too powerful for the house to hold. She felt strangely powerful all over. She merely nodded. Her strength betrayed her just then. Herlegs gave out and she slipped down the doorway. Her friends rushed to prop her up.

“Don’t,” she bellowed. The house echoed with it. “Don’t,” she repeated more quietly, “I could hurt you.”

Somehow, her friends all understood immediately the implications of that. Friday spotted the young Fenris wolf that had attacked them in Silverwind territory. She rose and walked slowly towards him.

“Well, Fenris wolf,” she whispered, “Have you had your revenge?”

He spat at her. “Vale swore the poison would kill you. And I risked my life to be the one to shoot you with it.”

“Well he lied,” Friday replied her hand hovering quietly over his forehead, “But I could kill you. It would be so easy.”

Again the room was deathly still. Friday removed her hand and placed it by her side. “What have you done?”

“I’ve done my duty,” he answered spitefully.

Friday walked outside. The woods were darkening rapidly. Friday put her hands on a nearby tree to steady herself. She didn’t feel at all like herself. She felt strangely knowing and ignorant all at once. She felt ancient. Aurora had followed and stood now beside her.

“It began so simply,” Friday replied, “I was going to be the assistant to the foremost Fantastic researchers. That was all.”

“I truly am sorry that things have turned out in this way.”

Friday laughed. “I’m not sad or disappointed. In fact, these days I’m finding it difficult to feel such things. I am curious. I’ve spent my life as Friday the servant. And now I feel powerful and dangerous. I could have killed that Fenris wolf without any hint of remorse. I know I could have. Just a touch and I could have taken everything. Should anyone have this much power?”

“I’m one for thinking that there a reason for everything. And if you truly possess this incredible power to steal the lifeforce of Fantastics, someone, somewhere knows why.”

“It is possible. It is possible in this world to find something new under the sun.”

–Raine Silverwind

“But that’s extraordinary, Friday,” Raine exclaimed when she had heard all.

She, Friday, and Aurora sat in chairs in a bedchamber of Raine’s Ahroun home as Andis dressed behind a painted screen.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Raine continued.

“No, nor I,” concurred Aurora, “It was something to see. And I might admit, a little frightening. He couldn’t transform again. It’s as though this ‘revealing,’ as she calls it, rendered him powerless.”

“He will be able to transform again in a few days,” Friday piped up, somehow knowing that her words were true, “I could have taken the power away forever. But I didn’t.”

Raine sat back heavily and the stout wooden chair creaked. “Unaccountable,” said she.

“But the real question,” Andis said, coming out from behind the screen, “is whether or not you’ve ever been able to do this before.”

“No, I’d never even met a Fantastic before you all.” Friday stopped and smiled, “Or, at least, I don’t think I had. And I’ve certainly never felt the way I did when I looked at him. It was so clear. Please believe I haven’t hidden anything from you.”

“Oh we know that, dear girl,” Raine assured her, “but I would like to know more about this power of yours. Here’s what I think we should do: I should ask my father for an envoy to Fenris domain to see why you all were being tracked. That bothers me. Secondly, Friday, I think we should take you to see our augur. She will tell us what she can about your past and your gift.”

For the first time in days, Friday felt truly affected. Could it be possible that there was someone who could tell her about the blank of her past? She had lived with it so long. What would it be like to have the canvas painted in?

The party set out to hunt for a gift to present to the augur. They walked the five miles into the high street that led to a row of clean, neat shops, over which towered an old, small castle on a motte, home to the Duke and Duchess of the Silverwinds, Raine’s parents.

They were just preparing to go into a shop when the people going to and fro stopped suddenly and began to look northward and began to talk amongst themselves and, eventually, bow. A woman seemed to be the focal point of all the commotion. She was very beautiful, her deep blue gown flowing behind her as she proceeded down the street surrounded by a small guard. Her hair was white as white could be, and her eyes were an icy blue. The resemblance was unmistakable.

“Mother,” Raine greeted her affectionately.

“Ah, my dear,” the lady said smiling and taking her daughter’s face in her hands, “I was just coming to see you.”

The shop-goers, having done their duty, began to disperse and move about their business again. The Duchess’s guard were as unobtrusive as one might wish. But Friday noticed their golden eyes. The Duchess then turned to the rest of them.

“Your majesty,” she said to Aurora, “You are welcome.”

Aurora gave a nod of her head.

Her voice grew stiffer when she addressed Andis but managed to remain cordial. “And you, Lady Hawkwing, it is good to see you.”

“A pleasure, your Grace,” Andis replied.

“And who is this?” the duchess asked, her gaze falling on Friday.

“Mother, may I present Miss Friday Moore, our new assistant, and an excellent sort of person. Friday, my mother, the Duchess Silverwind.”

Friday curtseyed duly and felt those eyes studying her cautiously.

“You are very young, child,” the duchess said.

“I am, your Grace,” Friday replied.

“Still, we welcome you.”

“Thank you.”

“I was going to come to you and Father,” Raine began, “I have some things I wish to discuss.”

“Well you have ample opportunity, my dear. I was coming expressly to invite you all to dine with us this evening.”

“Oh, excellent. We will certainly be there.”

The shops in Ahroun were surprisingly commonplace. There was the butcher’s and the baker’s and the grocer’s. There was a bookshop and a printshop adjoining. The dentist and the doctor stood near each other. And then there was a crooked sort of place that seemed squashed between the more modern buildings. Friday left the older women talking and went toward it. She entered it and heard the light tinkling of a bell.

“Well, dearie,” said an old man from behind a giant desk, complete with giant, dusty ledger, “What’s it to be?”

“I was just browsing, sir, for a gift.”

“For your sweetheart, then.”

“No, for the augur.”

“Going to see her, are you?” His voice changed from bored to interested, “Then you needn’t bother with the junk on the shelves.”

Friday approached the desk. He put three items on the desk: a golden ball, a crystal glass, and a sapphire necklace.

“There’s a deal in this shop,” he continued, “Gifts for the augur come free for those who can choose aright. Those who choose wrong simply don’t get to see her. Do you accept it?”

Friday looked into the old man’s yellowy-orange eyes and nodded.

“Well then, dearie, take your pick.”

Friday picked up each of the items he had placed before her. They were each of them finely crafted and brilliant. And they were all desperately wrong. Friday let her gaze run among the shelves on the back walls until it settled unshakably on a bouquet of brightly colored glass flowers. They were bright and simple. She decided in an instant; she would take them.

“I’ll take your flowers there, if you please.”

“The flowers, young miss?”

“Yes, the glass flowers just there.”

He laughed from his stomach. “Well bless me. You’re a queer one.”

He retrieved a footstool and brought the flowers down. He wrapped them with care in thin paper and placed them in a box. “On the house,” he said approvingly.

“Where have you been,” Raine asked when Friday rejoined her party.

“I was getting a gift for the augur.”

“You are a marvel, Friday Moore,” Andis laughed.

#

The augur’s house was not very far from the high street, where the Forest began to thicken a little around the small city. Her house was little more than a cottage but gave the feeling of warmth and hospitality. The woman herself sat on a stool near her garden weaving a tale to a group of utterly enthralled children. She saw them coming. Her face revealed that she had been expecting them. She stood.

“Bid welcome to The Lady Silverwind, children,” she said. Her face was kind and motherly. Friday liked it exceedingly.

“Good afternoon, Lady Silverwind,” the children chanted as they bowed and curtseyed.

Aurora had been right. All of these in the Silverwind domain were most handsome group of creatures she had ever seen. There was not one plain child among them.

“Well, children,” the augur announced, “I have done for today.”

There was a general grumble of disapproval.

“Perhaps, if you all are very good, I will finish the story tomorrow. But remember, I shall know.”

She smiled again and they all clamored around to give her a kiss on the cheek before running away towards the high street.

“How are your honorable parents, my lady,” the augur joked.

“Very well, as you know, Ylva,” Raine returned.

“Still the sharp wit. I taught you well.”

Ylva embraced Raine. The she took Aurora’s hand.

“Your majesty, hard times, I know. But buck up. As you would say, the hour is changing.”

Then she turned to Andis. “You are a Hawkwing,” Ylva pronounced matter-of-factly, “But I know my Raine could not have a better friend. Your closeness in beyond houses.”

Andis smiled her thanks. Then again eyes fell on the unknown Friday.

“And you are the reason for the visit, are you not?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Friday presented her with the gift. Ylva took the box and unwrapped it. She seemed surprised which in turn surprised Friday, since she had seemed to know so much about other things.

“You went to Wolfram. His gifts, you see, I can never perceive. They are somehow blocked of my vision. I thank you for these beautiful flowers. But I am surprised that one so young could have chosen correctly on her first try. That is saying something. Come inside, all of you.”

She ushered all the women into her parlor and served tea and cakes. It felt much more like a social call than a formal visit to a soothsayer.

“Yours is a difficult case, Miss Moore,” Ylva began after a few minutes. “I have been trying to discover the intricacies of your life as soon as I know that you were coming to me. But they are veiled in heavy shadow. Your mother, I know, died after she saw you safe in an orphanage. She could not live after giving birth to you. And something most serious is happening to your heart. I hardly know what. The question on everyone’s mind has been if you are a Fantastic.”

“Yes, Ylva,” Raine said, “Can you tell us that?”

“I think you are not, Miss Moore. I do not know what you are, or where your power comes from.”

Everyone’s brow was deeply furrowed at these revelations that only served to uncover more questions.

“I am very sorry not to be able to be of more help to you.”

“It’s alright,” Friday replied. She was no different than she had been before; her past still lay blank behind her.

After finishing her cup of tea, Friday rose to leave and the others followed suit. Raine embraced Ylva again before they exited the cottage. Ylva stood out to watch them on their way.

“Raine,” she called out as they were walking away, “Try not to be too angry with your father.”

Then she went inside and closed the door.

#

Once again they left in the middle of the night, beginning the three day journey west to Hawkwing flying grounds, and once again they went sleepless as Raine’s anger affected them all. Her face had been full of hurt only two hours ago, while they dined with the Duke and Duchess; now it was set hard as stone. Friday thought she had never seen anyone look quite so injured before. And it had been a surprise when they had arrived to find the Count Fenris sitting at the table. Raine’s mother had looked suitably uncomfortably but unwilling to cause a scene but Raine’s father’s jaw was set stubbornly.

“You must be the one,” the count had said without much ceremony when he saw Friday.

“I beg your pardon?” Friday answered.

“My best soldier, my own son, comes walking home to his father, naked, unable to transform as is his natural right, robbed of his power by some w—”

“Mind your tongue,” Aurora had said quietly, danger sounding in her voice.

“This is the one Vale wants, Bardolph,” the count continued addressing the duke, “He’s been scouring everywhere for her. The price on her head is absurdly high. We could hand her over easily and maybe Vale would stay out of the Forest and we could avoid a fight.”

“You are overly confident, Count Fenris,” Andis had replied.

He snorted his dismissal.

“You knew,” Raine accused, “You knew Fenris had decided to hunt down my friends.”

The Duke set his jaw again. “You do not seem to understand the seriousness of the situation, daughter. Your friend, there, has lost control of her kingdom, the very one closest to us and not a day goes by when this Vale and his Protectorate doesn’t attack a Fantastic here. What has your friend done about that? Abandoned her palace to her enemy.”

“Only because she is too good a woman to attack her people when she firmly believes they are out of their own control.”

“Then she’d be right. We have found that Vale is using a Fantastic of some kind to his advantage, a dark one.”

“Relative of yours?” the count asked nastily, looking at Aurora.

Her slap was quick and hard on his cheek. He bore his teeth, snarling viciously, prepared to pounce.

“Fenris,” the Duchess yelled, “Don’t you dare.”

He settled back in his seat lightly, anger shooting from his eyes. Raine’s anguished eyes had never left her father’s face.

“So you defend him because you are frightened that some people may come and poke at you with their sticks. I never knew you were a coward.”

The Duke shot up, making the table screech as it scraped against the floor, and the Duchess, likewise, placing a hand on her husband’s arm.

She made a visible effort to control her voice. “You had better leave, Raine.”

“You’re right. I should. You all make me ashamed that I know you.”

Raine had turned on her heels and walked out of her parent’s house in anger, in disappointment, wounded and bleeding. Friday felt it.

The sun rose finally, muted by clouds but closer than it had ever been to Friday. Aurora had been right. They had all kept vigil through the night, their heavy coats wrapped around them as they traveled further north. They had talked, and paced, and listened, and pondered the awful finality that pierced them in the revelation that Vale’s Protectorate now had Pyrengard under his eye. Friday understood that this trip to Forest houses meant asking, possibly pleading for help. It meant an assuaging of tempers and diplomacy and danger. And it meant something else she felt beneath the surface of all, something of which she felt certain no one was aware. She volunteered to cook breakfast and Andis led her to the galley and showed her where the food was kept. It was the first time Friday had gone below. She took in the vastness of how the ship had been refitted, so much so that it was like a flying cottage with every required comfort. They passed the forecastle with three beds that looked much warmer and more comfortable than the one Friday had been used to, and the library, which was a thing of beauty and surprisingly large, with large desks covered in papers of all sorts and chalkboards covered in drawings. Friday took her time in the kitchen preparing eggs and toast and sausage and potatoes. It was warm after the deck in the air and it reminded her of the kitchen in the Lion and the Unicorn. She realized then that it had been days since she has thought about that, Vera and Mr. Hays, and Anne, and Geoffrey. And when she thought about him she stood still, not because of any sudden pain or sadness or regret, but because of the complete absence of any such feeling. This was the young man who a few days since she had allowed herself to admit that she loved, who had often filled her heart to bursting. Where was it now? She found herself feeling the most commonplace, shallow emotions lately: surprise, amusement, gratefulness, even some paler shades of sadness or fear. But true wonder and joy and love seemed to have fled her. There was a change occurring deep within her but she did not know what it was, nor could she give it a name. It gnawed at her consciousness like a thing she had forgotten.

A few hours after breakfast in the captain’s quarters, it had gotten very cold indeed and Andis began the process of securing the Dirigible. She sent Othniel down with ropes over a thick clump of oaks and bean to let the air out of the balloons. They descended among the loud hisses of air escaping and settled creaking in the rustling leaves and branches of the trees. A rope ladder was let down to help them descend. Being among very old trees, they were soon able to let the ladder go and walk on the thick, sprawling branches down towards the flat ground. They brushed themselves free of debris and began a trek headed in a northwesterly direction on a well-trod path of deep brown dirt, fallen leaves in autumn’s array, and twigs. Othniel travelled slightly ahead.

“Now the Silverwinds are highly ceremonial,” Andis told Friday as they walked, “So when we enter Ahroun-proper, I think it would be best for Aurora to enter first, followed by me, and then you Friday. In order of animosity, you understand.”

“Surely there is no hate now.”

Andis and Aurora laughed. “No, I told you, Friday,” Aurora answered, “Fantastics have a capacity for grudges that surpasses understanding.”

“All too true,” Andis continued, “They will hate Aurora less because of her royal status, and I’ve told you they are quite formal. They despise me but their sense of dignity only allows them to show the most restrained dislike. And you, being an utter stranger, will undoubtedly arouse their suspicion.”

They continued together along the dirt road. The sky, when they could see it, threatened more rain, but never made good, so in spite of the grayness of the day, they remained dry. Whereas traveling above, the Forest had seemed impenetrable and solid, the interior so far north proved airy and roomy, the ancientness of the trees meeting the order of the Fantastics that cleared, and built, and planned among them. But shadow remained.

They had been walking perhaps a quarter of an hour when Othniel stopped his forward progression, planted his ghostly feet in the ground and unsheathed his Claymore. Andis was quick to take in his actions and she stood still and silent, her hawk’s eyes piercing into the trees for any sign of movement. Whatever was there moved like a native, with knowledge and incomprehensible silence. Then, there it was in the middle of a path, a great brown and grey wolf, brown eyes alight and white, sharp teeth bore in a snarl.

“Aurora, give Friday your cover,” Andis whispered, never blinking and never taking her eyes off the wolf in front of her, “Othniel and I will dispose of him.”

“No,” Friday said. Aurora and Andis were so surprised that they turned to look at Friday. It was all the wolf needed. He pounced and, in the same instant, Andis transformed, not in the calm way Raine had, but in a sort of explosion, her wingspan stretching wide, her call shrill and piercing. She flew up and prepared to claw the attacker, but somehow, without thinking, almost without moving, Friday was there before her, standing in the path of the leap and stretching out her hand to touch the wolf’s chest through his fur. In the very instant her fingers felt their target, the wolf stopped as solidly as if he had run into a wall and on the path laid a naked man, his sharp teeth visible as he opened his mouth to sound his pain, and clutched at his chest with this broad, long-nailed hands. He scrambled to his feet, looking with venom at Friday.

“Better give it up, Fenris Wolf,” Friday said to him. She didn’t know how, but she knew him, she saw him as clearly as one saw oneself in a mirror; in a moment, looking into his eyes as she had been, she knew everything about him. “You will accomplish nothing here, today. Go back and tell your count to send no more.”

The strain on the man-wolf’s face was visible. He tried and tried again to transform but was unable.

“What have you done to me, witch?” he spat in a panic.

Andis, offended for her friend at this most awful of names, dove toward the man-wolf and scratched at his back as he ran away. She stood then, naked in her human form, and Aurora gave her her own coat.

“What was that?” Andis asked immediately, wrapping the coat around her form.

“I don’t know,” Friday answered, truthfully, “And yet I do know. I saw him. In an instant, I saw everything he was. And I revealed him. That’s what I did, I revealed him.”

The two older women looked at each other.

#

Raine greeted them jovially at the edge of Ahroun. The village beyond was bustling and noisy.

“What happened?” Raine asked with a smile, “I’m sure I thought you all had been set upon. I almost set out to look for you.”

Again, Andis and Aurora exchanged a look that did not go unnoticed.

“Andis?” Raine said questioningly.

“I’m in need of some clothes,” was all the reply she got.

“You transformed? Whatever for?”

“We’ll have to talk about that in closer quarters.”

Raine’s eyes reflected her understanding. “Of course. Well let’s get you dressed.”

“We are what we are. Do not blame us.”

–Andis Hawkwing

In spite of what they had left, Friday found the night sky above the Forbidden Forest beautiful. Magical, though magic was something that she didn’t know much about. Andis had brought up a woolen coat for her from below deck. It was a wonderful thing to be flying through the air in a ship. Of all the things she’d read abot, this had never been one of them. How had the doctors kept something so huge such a secret? But here then, they were masters at that. Andis had said that there world was fraught with secrets, but as it was turning out, the world seemed made of them, constructed and cemented in hidden truths. Perhaps no one knew them all. But this was the domain of the Fantastics. Friday turned from her view on the deck to approach the queen who sat, wrapped in her black shawl near the frontmost balloon. The balloons floated massive above the deck, lit up like paper lanterns by the fires beneath them. Friday sat next to the queen, her eyes on Andis at the wheel, and Othniel who lured specter-like beside her.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen the forest at night,” the queen began.

“No, your majesty,” Friday answered, “But I was just thinking how it seems magical.”

The queen’s voice was genuine. “It’s Aurora here, please. There isn’t much room for a Queen of Oriana in the forest.”

There was a silence and the sound of howling reached the ship. Andis laughed to hear it. Aurora smiled to and returned her attention to her young friend.

“We’re closing in on the Silverwind house. But we still won’t reach it until morning.”

“It doesn’t look as if Andis will leave the wheel. Will she stay awake that long, do you think?”

“We all will. We won’t be able to help ourselves.”

Friday looked at her. “Really? Why is that?”

“Necessity. Some might even say magic.”

“You know, I was just thinking that about the Forest at this hour. That there was something magical about it.”

“Smart girl. Yes, there is some magic here. It is not a word we use often and it is not a presence we are able to feel most times. But the night stillness helps.”

Andis approached them, stretching as she walked. Friday had always thought she had looked like a bird, and now finding out that she actually was one made her ever more appreciative what a remarkable situation she was in.

“Did you hear the wolf,” Andis asked as she neared.

“We did,” Friday answered.

“Not Silverwind, I think,” Andis continued, “One of the lesser houses, perhaps. We are above Fenris domain.”

“The Silverwinds are one of the great houses.”

“Aye,” Aurora answered in an amused tone, “and the Hawkwings. You walk among very important women.”

“And Andis and Raine are both nobility, I suppose.”

“We are by birth,” Andis answered, “but we gave up those privileges long ago.”

“Why?” Friday asked.

Andis’s eyes were soft. “To gain the right to be with each other.”

“The Lord Phoenix,” began Aurora put a heavy strain on Forest houses when he created and blessed the Kingdom of Oriana. There were those who thought he did wrong to give over the world of Fantasics to those who were once mere humans. The Silverwinds were among them. The houses of the bird ones sided with the Phoenix, including the Hawkwings. So, you understand, deep rifts were formed centuries ago, and they remain stiff and unchanging.”

“The the world of Fantastic and man are not very different.”

“No, but look.”

Aurora rose and looked over the bow of the ship, southward. “They may be satisfied now. See how the palace is lit like a bonfire in the distance. It’s been taken, and Oriana has fallen.”

“When in doubt, stay up on your digits.”

–Raine Silverwind

“Dear Friday,” Andis smiled as she saw her assistant, “I was wondering when curiosity would tempt you to brave these cavernous halls. We have not been able to treat you very well, I’m afraid.”

Friday shook her head. “No, I understand, truly. Whatever it is that we are in now, it sounds very dire.”

Raine laughed without amusement. “My young friend, we are bordering on the tragic.”

“Come, sit,” Andis said gesturing to a chair beside her. Friday obeyed. “Do you remember the story we told in the Forbidden Forest, concerning one Henry Vale?”

“Yes, the owner of the rundown house where the Black Dog lodged.”

“Precisely so. And I suppose we said that no one knew where Henry Vale was?”

“You did.”

“Well that wasn’t quite true. It is Henry Vale whose rather powerful and persuasive hand is behind this Protectorate.”

“How could such a man, whom no one ever liked, and who could like no one, be able to persuade so many people?”

“How, indeed,” Raine said harshly, “He’s like a damned magician or a hypnotist. He moves like a ghost across the country, here and there, infected people with his hate in numbers larger than we could have imagined. And even now he is here in the capital city raising an army of his members. We will not be safe for long, not even in the palace.”

“I overheard the queen say that she would not close the gates to protect the palace,” Friday replied thoughtfully.

“She has refused,” Andis concurred.

“Well, then, what does that mean for us now?”

“It means, if the blind mob outside is anything to go by, it means soon, very soon we will have to leave Pyrengard and take the queen with us.”

“The queen will come with us?”

“We’ll force, if necessary,” Andis said evenly, looking into Friday’s eyes, “You see, it’s her he wants. It’s her he’ll always be after.”

#

The days became dark with the sound of a growing mob of people now surrounding the palace. They were so strange. Their passions raged and yet it seemed not to be their passions, as though something else used them for a mouthpiece. They were devoid of color and they stole the sweetness from the air. Friday knew that it could not be long at all before the doctors would implement the plan they had spoken of the night before. Friday stood at a second floor window and watched them. She had managed the first two days fairly well, spending her days in the royal library, looking up about this Fantastic or that. She’d begun to read about the great communities, the houses of the Forbidden Forest and elsewhere. But soon the noise had grown so solid that sleep and rest seemed to be an impossibility day or night. She had stood underneath the portraits that stared at her in the parlor of her apartments with the curtains withdrawn and only a candle beside her and she had listened to the drone that had ceased to be human.

“Does it break it your heart as it does mine?” someone asked behind her.

It didn’t and it was strange that it didn’t. Friday turned round and found herself face to face with the Queen of Oriana. “Your majesty,” she said with a curtsey.

“And you are Miss Friday Moore, are you not?”

“I am,” Friday replied with a small smile.

“I’ve heard marvelous things about you.”

The queen approached the window and her sadness was palpable. She pressed her fingers to the glass. “I have been with this people since before I was born. They’re mine. And I know them. So you mustn’t judge them, Miss Moore. They are not themselves.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Friday agreed quietly.

The queen moved her hand from the window. “I don’t suppose you’d contemplated this when you agreed to be an assistant.”

“No, I didn’t, ma’am.”

“Of course not. But we shall all be among the Fantastics soon. They are beyond talks now. Powers shall have to be consulted. We are coming to an end of the beginning.”

Friday nodded but she didn’t understand. The queen sounded strange.

“How old are you, Miss Moore?” the queen asked suddenly.

“Eighteen, your majesty,” Friday replied, “I have on occasion felt much older.”

“Yes. I see it. Are you ancient as the rest of us?”

“I don’t understand, your majesty.”

There was some amusement it the queen’s eyes but the longer she studied Friday’s face, the more it drained away. “Do you really not know?”

“Know what?”

“My word. How extraordinary. But I suppose they haven’t told you. That may prove to be a bit of a shock.”

“Good morning, your majesty, Friday,” Andis said as she approached them.

The queen looked at her friend with a furrowed brow. “You haven’t told her, Hawkwing.”

Andis turned somber immediately. “No we have not.”

“Well, don’t you think it’s time? The hour is changing.”

The queen turned and walked away. Friday managed a quick curtsey and Andis bowed.

Friday tried to make light of the situation. “So I assume that there is some other mystery of which I am not aware. That makes several, now.”

“Oh, Friday, our world is fraught with secrets.” Andis ran her fingers between her fiery bronze braids. “I don’t know if we will ever manage to get you the whole truth.”

“Then I must settle for it in bits and pieces.”

“Yes. We all must.”

Andis sighed and opened her mouth to speak. The light sound of running footsteps interrupted her. Friday would not have believed that the running person could have been so close had Raine not appeared bodily before them in mere seconds with a sack in her hands. Friday wondered how she could possibly be so quick and so silent.

“We’ve had intelligence,” Rained informed them, not the least bit out of breath, “He’s had them marching towards us, at least a thousand strong. He means to take the palace by morning, I’m certain of it. The queen must leave. I am for the Dirigible and then to my father. Will you alert her majesty and the general?”

Andis nodded quickly.

“And Friday,” Raine said more gently, “You’d better put on some travelling clothes.”

She prepared to run off again but Andis caught hold of her hand and embraced her tenderly. “Be careful, Raine,” she said softly.

Raine smiled warmly at her, a genuine smile. “We’ll meet each other soon.”

She turned on her heels and suddenly was transformed into an enormous, beautiful she-wolf with a coat as silvery-moon-white as Raine’s hair had been. She turned her head for a moment and her eyes flashed and then she was gone silently and quickly as a snuffed-out flame. Friday stared after her, only partly amazed. The rest of her was quiet as though she’d seen this every day of her life. Andis put her hand on her shoulder.

“Come, Friday,” she said in her calm way, “We have much to do.”

#

Friday waited beside the queen in her almost completely dark bedroom. The moon was the only thing that streamed in through the window, a cloudy sort of light. Well, the moon and the now unbearably loud shouts of the crowd that filled the front courtyard of the palace and beyond. Both Friday and the queen had changed into trousers so they could move more easily when it was time. The queen had spent minutes touching everything in her room, whispering to it, like prayers. She had spent the longest in front of the portraits of a previous king and queen that hung beside each other, peaceful and silent. And they seemed to give her peace because she was still now, sitting in a gilded, plush chair.

“You saw the Silverwind change, did you?”

Her question rung out in the dark air. “Yes, ma’am,” Friday answered.

“Marvelous. The Silverwinds are particularly beautiful, I hear. Even I’ve only ever seen her do it once. Granted, she’s never seen me transform.”

“You, too?” Friday asked, surprised.

If she could have mustered up the energy, the queen should have smiled. “Yes, I, too. And every monarch of Oriana since the blessing was given by the Lord Phoenix.”

“And Andis?”

“Yes. Does it bother you?

“No. No, it doesn’t bother me at all. It is very strange, but I feel as though I’ve known all the time. I am having the oddest feelings here. Nothing seems to surprise me, or not very much.”

“And you were an orphan?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

The outer door opened. Andis and General Luhan entered the dark.

“The Dirigible has arrived,” Andis announced.

The queen nodded and rose.

“Even now, they have not moved,” General Luhan continued in his soldierly voice, “Someone down there is addressing them. It may even be Vale, himself. They are quieting, like the sky before lightning strikes. I will be glad to have you safe.”

The queen touched her general’s hand. He bowed with deep respect and kissed her ring.

“Luhan, no one need die here. The palace need not be the last stand. I do not want my people killed. They will not destroy Pyrengard. I know this.”

He nodded. She turned and took another look at the portraits. “But if you must leave,” she continued, “Take these portraits of my mother and father. Keep them safe for me.”

“Of course, your majesty. The Lord Phoenix watch you all.”

He turned and exited.

“Alright, Hawkwing,” the queen said, “Let us go.”

The halls were surprisingly easy even though all light had been put out, the electricity cut to startle the invaders. Andis held a candle in front of them and they climbed the staircase two more flights to a musty, old chapel-like stone room with a double door made of two pieces of stained glass that formed the picture of a large red bird, its wingspan stretching from one edge to the other. Andis opened the door to a terrace and a plank of wood that stretched from the edge of the stone to a wonder. A wooded ship floated in the air, white sails billowing from several masts in the night air. Movable wings were on either side of the hull, the rudder was oversized and two huge balloons blocked out the moon.

“Ladies,” Andis said, “The Dirigible. You first, your majesty.”

Othniel swam in the air. In his measured movements, he sheathed his sword in the sheath he wore on his back and offered his hand to the queen. She took it and walked across to the ship.

“Friday,” Andis said, indicating that she was the next to go.

Friday looked down to the ground which she couldn’t see.

“Don’t be afraid,” Andis assured her, “Othniel won’t let anything happen to you.”

She should have been afraid, but like all of her other emotions, Friday just wasn’t feeling what she knew she ought. She took Othniel’s ghostly hand. It was warm and steady and sure. She walked the plank of wood carefully to the lighted deck and hopped down. Andis was over in a trice and she and Othniel brought over the plank. Andis walked to the steering wheel and the wood lurched as they turned and headed for the closeness of the Forbidden Forest. Their view of the palace closed as they moved away from it, as if forever.

Friday was left alone all through the day, all through the moving sun and the shifting light in her windows, all through the lighting of the electric lamps and the starting of fires and through the maids that brought her dinner and expressed apologies that the Doctors were still in conference and the ones that asked if she would like to have a bath. The rooms were still and quiet as they sat darkening in spite of the lights.

The hallway was deserted but Friday wandered it anyway. Friday thought amused that if ghosts existed, surely they would haunt these quiet places. She walked and walked along the galleries that held portrait after portrait all bright and colorful against the white walls. Above the slightly open doorway at the other end of the gallery was a magnificent work that stood out from the rest even in brilliance. It showed the figures of a crowned man and woman, their faces peaceful and their hands raised in blessing and between them a magnificent red bird with a crown and holding a scepter. The lights issuing from the room beyond were dim and Friday heard voices. She pressed forward, her tread not making a sound.

“We must push them out now, while they are still manageable.” Raine’s raised voice was clear in the stillness of the gallery. “Surely you can see the necessity of that, Aurora.”

A man’s voice was the next to speak. “He has spread his evil far more quickly than we ever could have calculated. The fact that he is even here in Pyrengard is proof of that. The last time we heard of his whereabouts he was in Lampton, 400 miles south. This will be a direct attack on you.”

Friday approached near the crack on the door and saw a woman slumped in a high-backed wooden chair. She cradled her head in her hand and covered her eyes. Tiredness emanated from her every slow breath. “I will not send the soldiers against the people when they are not in their own control.”

“It is precisely because they are not in their control that you must send them away. They are dangerous,” Andis said soothingly.

“They haven’t done anything outside their rights.”

“Your majesty,” the man replied, “They are growing in number daily. When they do decide to act it may be too late to defend the palace.”

The queen removed her hand and sat up in the chair. Her black eyes revealed that she had not slept. Her air was exhausted but her tone was regal. “I will not send the soldiers against them.”

Raine was angry, “It is for your own protection—“

“I will not act against my own people,” the queen interrupted with passion, “And I must beg you not to importune me further.”

She rose and from the scraping of chairs on the floor, the rest of the company must have rose as well. Friday retreated as the queen left her chair.

“Will you at least close the gate,” Andis asked.

The footsteps halted abruptly. “That gate has not been closed in over a century. I will not be the one the shut it.”

The footsteps resumed and a door opened and closed somewhere within. Friday felt a deep disturbing at this conversation. There was something here of great importance, and she was somehow caught in the middle of it, just since this morning, when she had still been a servant at an inn.

The man sighed. “She is set in her ideas. We had better leave it be until she has rested. In the meantime, I will move the army closer to the palace, and tell them to be ready for anything.”

He walked quickly towards the gallery door. He stopped when he noticed Friday. He stared at her intensely. This, Friday thought, must be the general. His hair was still black but streaks of gray ran through it. His posture was erect and rigid.

“Who are you,” he demanded.

“Friday Moore, sir,” she answered, “Assistant to Dr Silverwind and Dr. Hawkwing.”

He looked her over before relaxing a little. “Well then, you’d better go into them. It would be wise in these times not to walk the halls at night.”

He left her to navigate the gallery which now resembled nothing so much as a long mouth waiting to swallow him up. Friday went in to the doctors.

“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.

He loved her. Foolish girl, she should have been elated, she should have been thanking the heavens that he had told her so, but it only hurt her. And not the way one read in novels either. Some steady crushing hand gripped her heart. And yet what a thing it was to admit it. Yes, she loved Geoffrey. Yes, he loved her. But she was sure it shouldn’t hurt like this.

“You left me,” Benjamin accused when he found her.

“With Anne,” Friday retorted, trying to slow her breathing.

“Who presently felt the need to assuage your tall, angry friend, Mr. Eliot,” Benjamin replied, “Who is he anyway?”

“He’s… a friend of the Hays family.”

“And a friend of Anne’s, I presume.”

Friday gave him an apologetic smile. There was Benjamin to think of, beside herself.

“Whatever else I am, I suppose I’m not stupid. The trouble is, she’s in the same boat I am.”

“How do you mean?”

“She’s after someone who’s after someone else.”

Friday did not deign to answer but rose and busied herself pacing back and forth.

“He likes you, I’m sure,” Benjamin said, “He was eyeing me with particular animosity. And I think that you like him, too.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Benjamin,” Friday replied quickly. He was taken aback. She softened her tone, “I’m sorry. I don’t like to talk about that.”

Benjamin prepared a riposte but was never allowed to fire it. The kitchen was presently entered in great confusion by two women in khaki followed by a whole horde of scholars with mouths open.

“If you please, gentlemen,” said a familiar voice.

The women turned around and both Benjamin and Friday quickly stood by each other, hoping to either convince each other of this vision’s reality or fiction. But they weren’t sure which it was. Raine Silverwind and Andis Hawkwing were standing in the kitchen of the Lion and the Unicorn Inn, brows furrowed and looking very much annoyed until they saw the two young people.

Raine saw them and her face smoothed into a smile. “Ah, Andis, the young lady herself. And Mr. Davis. How do you do, my friends?”

The two friends were still thunderstruck and said nothing.

“Excellent,” Raine replied.

“It shows wisdom to keep such good friends near,” said Andis with a serene look.

“I fully agree. To business, then. We have decided that we’d like to offer you the post of our assistant, Miss Friday Moore, should you like to take it.”

Had there been a seat behind her, Friday would have unceremoniously sunk into it, but at the unfortunate lack of one, she was forced to grab Benjamin’s arm with ferocity. Benjamin smiled widely and kissed her.

“I told you,” he cried.

Geoffrey and Anne walked to the kitchen’s back door just in time to see this enthusiastic gesture. His eyes locked with Friday. The pain returned, stronger this time. Friday put her hand to her heart.

“What on earth is all this,” Anne asked.

Raine looked around her. “Upon my word, this is the busiest kitchen of its size I ever heard of.”

“Will you accept the position, Miss Moore,” Andis asked.

“Yes,” she answered gravely, “Yes I will.”

Geoffrey turned immediately and walked out the kitchen door. Friday looked after him. Anne stared at Friday, realization passing slowly over her face until she, too, left the kitchen.

Raine walked forward and shook Friday’s hand robustly and then Andis did the same.

“Well chosen,” Andis said warmly, “We have much to do so we would wish you to come with us today, but we will not be leaving the city for a while so you have proper time to day goodbye to all your friends. We’ll return for you in two hours.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’ll be Andis from now on.”

“Let’s leave by the back door, shall we,” Raine suggested.

And then as quickly as they had come, they were gone again. The gawkers and onlookers shuffled out of the kitchen and there were only two left.

“You don’t seem happy,” Benjamin observed.

“I’ve spent my life here,” Friday said leaning against the wall with an ironic smile and tears in her eyes and a mind so full of contradicting things that she wished she could smother it. “There’s nothing to show for it. It’s a strange thing to feel, Benjamin.”

The air between them turned solemn.

#

The hours that wasted were so quiet that they almost stood still. Friday packed her few belongings, said goodbye to her nook and to Cook and to Mary. Mr. Hays shook her hand and Mrs. Hays gave her a distant embrace. Anne didn’t come down. Friday hadn’t expected her to. Benjamin stood with her outside until the Doctors came again to pick her up in a car. Then she embraced him too. Then a door was closed. The car moved away from just a building, not a home. Life went on without a hitch. It was a strange thing to feel.

]]> http://studyoffantasics.wordpress.com/2008/06/14/chapter-six-b/feed/ 1 queenmab04 http://studyoffantasics.wordpress.com/2008/06/12/chapter-six-part-a/ http://studyoffantasics.wordpress.com/2008/06/12/chapter-six-part-a/#comments Thu, 12 Jun 2008 11:56:32 +0000 queenmab04 http://studyoffantasics.wordpress.com/?p=20 ]]>

“Patience is a virtue. Boldness is a strength. Friends are a godsend.”

–Raine Silverwind

“You may as well set you’re mind to it, Miss Friday Moore. In a little while you’ll be leaving friend and country to travel the world with two insanely brilliant cryptozoologists. So there.”

Benjamin sat on a crate in the kitchen of the Lion and the Unicorn, stuffing his thin frame with the autumn apple harvest. Friday smiled and approached the window. It was a clear day and she reveled in feeling the sun on her skin. The pale and sickly look that she’d had for some days had gone and her tremors had subsided. And if going back to the life of an orphaned servant at an inn was a little bit dull, she found she didn’t mind.

“But you know, Benjamin, I’m not sure I’m all that I should be for the job. Every time I think about that Dog…” She could not finish the sentence.

“Well, what of it? If you needed some help, that’s no big defect. Surely even the Doctors themselves rely on each other some of the time. And the main thing is that you made it anyway.”

“You are very good to say so.”

He gave her a small, shy smile.

Benjamin had become a regular face in the kitchens in the weeks since their return and, being a fair-haired and handsome young man with uniform features, white, straight teeth, and, it was assumed, a private fortune, even if he was too tall and thin, the two friends had to endure friendly teasing about their being sweethearts from Vera and even Mr. Hays. Anne, of course, was another issue, entirely.

Friday was sure that the young woman thought Benjamin too high a prize to be caught by a dependent. And so, in spite of her prior preference for Geoffrey, Anne always managed to appear pretty and smiling and with dark shining marcel waves, and looking every bit the fashionable woman whenever Benjamin was around. Friday was also sure that Benjamin liked Anne. It might have been the fact that he always sat straighter when Anne was come round. Or it may have been the way his eyes lit up when he saw Anne. Or, Friday laughed to herself, it may have been the fact that, when she’d asked him, he’d blushed profoundly. And though she pitied his poor judgment, she assumed that all the things she’d ever read on the strangeness of love must be true.

Anne came in then in a new deep blue dress. As was her way, she pretended not to see Friday and greeted Benjamin.

“Mr. Davis,” Anne said brightly, “I didn’t know you had come.”

“Didn’t you, Miss,” Friday replied, “Only I was sure I heard cook tell you.”

Anne gave her a sideways look and continued her conversation. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m just keeping Friday company,” Benjamin returned with another shy smile, “until she leaves us for more exciting parts.”

“Have the Doctors already made their choice?”

It was a thing of great interest to Friday, this art of flirting. Anne could seem so interested and even knowledgeable at times on subjects about which she held no interest and no knowledge. She’d seen Anne’s strategies used on Geoffrey. But with him they did not seem to work so well as with poor smitten Benjamin.

“They have not yet announced their decision,” Benjamin said, “But I know they’ll choose Friday.”

“I’m sure you’re too modest. I’ve heard that you were very brave as well. Of course I’d count anyone a hero who dared to go into the forbidden forest.”

Friday was half laughter, half nausea at this display and so she excused herself to check on the linens hanging on the line. There were always those linens. She remembered how she had forced herself to think of them, at the dark time when she had approached the Black Dog. She walked around outside slowly for Benjamin’s benefit, loving the way the white sheets looked in the soft wind. She closed her eyes, enjoying the noise they made as they fluttered to and fro.

“Miss Moore,” said a tentative voice she knew well.

She faced Geoffrey, “How do you do, Mr. Eliot.”

“You looked so peaceful,” he said, “I almost didn’t interrupt you.”

“It is no interruption. I should be doing my work.”

She grabbed a basket and began to take down sheets and fold them with intense focus, not wanting to think about why she couldn’t just stand there and look into his eyes. Geoffrey shifted from one foot to the other.

“I’ve meant to come for a few days now to come and inquire about your health. The college is still alive with talk of the ‘interview’ in the Forbidden Forest.”

“Oh yes, I am quite well. Thank you, Mr. Eliot.”

There was more awkward silence.

“Miss Moore,” Geoffrey began, “I wonder if I might—“

He sighed, uncertain of how to continue. “I am always very clumsy with you.”

“I should be getting to work,” Friday said, turning towards the kitchen again, her safety.

Geoffrey grasped her arm. “Just a moment,” he said. His eyes were dark and serious, “You’re always running away.”

“It isn’t proper for me to be here with you and alone, Mr. Eliot.”

“Just a moment,” he said again.

Friday felt the hand that remained on her arm. It would be so easy, so exquisitely easy to imagine herself in both Geoffrey’s arms, unafraid, unhidden by the sheets that fluttered in the wind. His eyes were demanding that she look into them. She couldn’t help it; she didn’t want to.

“Is it so difficult to tell how much I love you?”

She had not expected this. She shook her head at the shock of it. The words, spoken so softly, were loud enough to her to wake the dead. Her breathing was ragged. The wind took it away.

“No,” she said as she pulled away, “No, you can’t.”

“Friday, I don’t care about family. It’s never mattered to me in the slightest.”

He sought to move closer to her, but she recoiled. Even his touch now hurt her, seemed to burn.

“Friday,” Benjamin called.

Anne was attached to his arm. Friday felt the world spin.

“We wondered what kept you,” Benjamin said.

Geoffrey still glued his intense gaze on Friday.

“Well, good day, Mr. Eliot,” she said quickly and took the sheets in. Yes, there were always the sheets.

“Go boldly. Go trembling. Go slowly. Go swiftly. Just as long as you go.”

–Andis Hawkwing

The troop had gathered their things again and walked a little further into the forest until they came upon another clearing. They now faced, strangely enough, a very fine Gothic house, or what had been one some years ago. Now it was covered in ivy and trees grew out of the crumbling walls. Every kind of dense vegetation had found a home around it, except for the complete absence of flowers. The unstated question hung above everyone’s heads: who would make a home here?

“This was, once upon a time, the home of Mr. Henry Vale, by all accounts, a very vile sort of person, and his wife, Charlotte.” Raine spoke at first with her back to the applicants, the sharp nails of her hand grazing the crumbling stone of the outer walls before hastily removing it and turning to face them. “Charlotte’s family had married her off to him because, as you will have guessed, Mr. Vale was quite exceptionally rich. Hating people, he built his house out here, in the forest, where none of her friends or family were likely to bother him. His wife was very unhappy. No one actually would brace the darkness of the Forest to come and visit her, and she and her husband went but rarely into town. Still these trips were frequent enough for Charlotte to find herself in love with a young captain of the army. They made their own plans and, within two years of his marriage, Mr. Vale’s wife had left him. His hate infested this place until, one day his lawyer arriving on business, discovered the place to be quite vacant.”

She paused in her speech. The passing wind rattled the leaves and made the window panes shudder and clink together. Friday couldn’t help thinking how it felt nothing like the breezes that blew through the laundry. The air was strange.

“No one knows, of course, what happened to Mr. Vale, and no one was particularly interested in finding out, but what interests us here today is that another life form took up residence in this house. The Black Dog is one of the most spotted, and the most feared Fantastics. It quite literally grows out of the darkness and the blackness that clings to a place. Appearing to lone travelers, on lone roads in the deep of night, the Dog excels at filling its victims with fear, despair, and misery of the kind that adheres to the soul to such a degree that even the instinct to self preservation is lost. And though it has never been known to attack a person physically, its effects are so pernicious that some never recover.

A Black Dog waits inside. Injured, it would appear, in a fight with another animal, you may observe its blood.” Here she gestured to a thick black liquid, like tar on the ground. Then she went up to the door and opened it. “Will you go and tend him?”

“This is the test, then?” asked a red-haired young man.

“This is the test.”

Andis produced a case and set it inside the door.

“Inside that,” she said, “You will find bandages and salve, enough for all of you.”

Then the doctors stood back and watched with their strange eyes. Their ariels looked like ghosts then and only added to the gloom.

#

Most, when they had ventured inside, went straight up the stairs, to search the bedrooms and attics. Friday had wanted to follow then, because upstairs meant being closer to the sun and warmth, and there was no warmth in this house. But instinct told her that the Dog would have gone down, to a cellar or a basement, somewhere where the dark would be absolute. She carried her bandages and her salve close to her like amulets to remind her of her mission.

She wandered into a parlor. Her eyes were drawn above the mantelpiece where hung two portraits, their subjects facing each other. Friday thought they must be Mr. and Mrs. Vale. They were now much covered with dirt and grime but they were still discernable. Mrs. Vale had been a handsome young woman, and her face spoke clearly of how much mirth she could have felt. But her tones were now grey and her face now somber. Her eyes were sand and had no sparkly. As for Mr. Vale, Friday was surprised to find him a much younger man than she had expected, though the cruel severity of his features aged him. And as for his eyes, well they reminded her of something. Suddenly the parlor door opened, and Friday turned round quickly. She couldn’t have said what she expected to be there but at the doorway stood a tall and thin man with ground glasses and a gentle face. Friday calmed herself.

“I am sorry,” he began, “I only just came from a hallway. This house is enough to spook anyone.” He approached the portraits. “Is that the couple?”

“I believe it is,” Friday replied.

He gazed at the portraits and gave a shudder. Then they stood together, unwilling to part from company towards the lonely search in the silence.

“I’ve an idea the Dog may have hidden itself below,” Friday stated.

“That sounds reasonable,” he returned.

“I know we are meant to be competing but would you like to search together?”

He sighed with relief. “Oh, thank you for asking. I’m Benjamin Davis, by the way.”

“Friday Moore,” she said shaking his hand.

“Well, Miss Moore, I am very glad to know you.”

The pair moved on from the parlor slowly, taking each room they found downstairs, and it was a great many rooms. They kept up light conversation as the gazed under couches and tables and felt the walls for panels that might open. The kitchen proved full of holes and cabinets, dust and beetles. Every time she opened something, Friday expected the Black Dog to jump out at her. Her mind grew distracted. She found herself thinking of the most melancholy things, unaccountably. Benjamin had also seemed to feel whatever depression was pressing at them. He stood near the counter touching the rolling pin that had been left out.

“My father’s a terrible man,” Benjamin said suddenly.

Friday looked at him and he returned her gaze with sad, glassy eyes. “Oh he is,” he assured her, “He’s always been a terrible person. He hunts for the thrill of it. He even tries to hunt Fantastics. I don’t speak to him. I wanted to be a cryptozoologist to save creatures from him. But I’m a failure. I hate him.”

“Well, never mind that,” Friday said, confused by this sudden confession, “Let’s continue.”

Friday had almost given up hope that her hunch hand been correct and thought that someone else must have certainly found the creature. After all, the footsteps that had been running to and fro above them had quieted. They exited the kitchen into a narrow hall. The air here was even more chill, if that were possible. Friday drew her coat more snugly about her.

“It’s freezing, isn’t it, Mr. Davis,” she remarked as she looked at him.

But her voice stopped short as she observed her companion doubled over as if in terrible pain.

“Whatever is the matter?” She touched his shoulder. He recoiled from her as thought she had burned him. He shrank against the wall, his breathing coming faster and faster, his eyes growing wild. She knew. Friday turned around to the wall behind her and felt it. Finding a small doorknob, she turned it and opened it unto a stairway that looked as though it could have led into the mouth of hell. That was where they must go. She left Benjamin and returned from the kitchen with a lit lantern.

“Come now, Mr. Davis,” she said, forcing her voice to be steady and soothing, “We must not fail now.”

She took his hand firmly and began to lead him down. He pulled back sharply.

“Please don’t make me,” he cried. Tears spilled from his eyes. Looking at him, Friday felt as though she were being cruel to a child.

“Rally yourself, Mr. Davis,: she continued, pulling him along, “We must not be afraid. We must think of other things. We must think of Pyrengard during the April festivals. You attend them, of course. They are so full of color and light and sound. I remember well the one I went to last year. It was delightful. People are so friendly to each other during the festivals. And you know, there were plays in the dark. Comedies, Mr. Davis. How they made me laugh.”

Friday would never have allowed herself to rattle on, usually, but now, nothing was so necessary. At last they reached the bottom of the staircase. Friday shone the lamp about the room. Her eyes caught sight of what looked like a pile of black fur, shaggy and matted, but as the light hit it, it opened its yellow eyes and bared its teeth. It lay too weak to move, a puddle of its tar-blood forming at its side. Friday’s heart almost stood still. She thought, as the creatures eyes pierced hers, of every awful think Anne had ever said to her, every nightmare she had ever had seemed to come upon her. And still she rattled on about spring and festivals and balloons, talking as though her life would end the minute she stopped. She pulled Benjamin near the creature and made him kneel next to it. His whole body was in tremors. He was like someone paralyzed. She shuddered too. Her hand shook severely as she applied the salve. Her voice quaked as her heart was flooded with a terrible sense of loneliness, stretching out her whole life until a black death, unloved and unwanted, forgotten in an unmarked grave. And still she talked of ribbons and of flowers and oh how she used to love running out to the street as a child, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young queen when there was a parade. She talked because she could not stop.

And then, somehow they were moving away, up the stairs, back through the kitchen and the study and the parlors, always talking, pulling Benjamin along. Until the front door was opened and finally she could speak no more and her body hit the ground.