Chapter 5

New Version as of 2/08/20:

Her fears were not soothed by Sarah, who stood with her arms crossed and was glaring at Jane. "Welcome to the family?" she said, witheringly.

Georgie laughed. "Classic Jane."

Jane wasn't sure what that meant, but she was relieved that at least Georgie didn't seem mad.

"We should beg Kate to borrow the heat of her ovens for a moment", Rufus said.

Jane hesitated to look up at him, but it was better than looking back at Sarah. As one of the men who had helped rescue Jane from her father, Rufus would be more invested in her destiny than most people in town. But he didn't look angry. He just looked determined to get out of the rain. He led Sarah and Georgie through the alley, to the back door of Kate's bakery.

Bear stayed behind for a moment, looking Jane up and down. "You okay?" he asked.

"I think so," Jane said. "I feel weird, but not as bad as I think I should feel."

"You're in shock," Bear said. He put a reassuring arm around her. "You'll be fine."

She slipped an arm around his waist and matched her steps to his as well as she could with her flapping boot. "You don't seem worried anymore," Jane said, as she and Bear walked together through the alleyway.

"Did I seem worried?" Bear asked.

Jane snorted. "You did earlier. Why are you so relaxed now that my destiny has been destroyed?"

She looked up just as Bear flashed her a grin. "Beware the false moon," he said.

"Ugh!" Jane said. "What does that mean?" she demanded, just as they caught up with the rest of the group. Bear looked surprised by Jane's outburst, but they had reached Kate's back door, just in time to see Sarah being engulfed by a Kate hug.

Kate was a large woman; tall and fleshy with rosy cheeks. She was the shoulder on which anyone in the town could cry, and often did.

"I'm all wet," Sarah protested, laughing.

"I'm not afraid of a little water," Kate replied, but she let go and nudged Sarah toward the ovens. "Jane!" Kate said, pulling Jane into her kitchen and then into a hug. A Kate hug felt and smelled like being enveloped by a loaf of bread, still warm from the oven.

"Beware the false moon," Kate whispered in Jane's ear. She stepped back and grinned at Jane. Before she could respond, Kate said, "Come on in. I've got the ovens on. You all should be dry in no time. Go ahead and take off your outer layers."

Kate's kitchen took up both floors of the back half of the building. The front half was Kate's storefront, and above that was her living space. In the kitchen, three brick ovens were lined up opposite the back door, flanked by stoves. On either side of the stoves were swinging doors that opened into the storefront. The rest of the walls were lined with counters and cupboards, except for the large sink next to the back door.

A black, wrought iron chandelier took up most of the ceiling and sported faux, oil-powered candles on top. It was also used as hanging storage for copper pots and pans. A huge wooden island took up the middle of the room, under the hanging pots. The floor was red-tinted cement that was rinsed and scrubbed every night by a small army of apprentices.

Jane had never seen Kate's kitchen without any apprentices in it, or without anything actively baking, until now. She supposed they'd been dismissed for the meeting but she was surprised that they hadn't come back.

Jane joined Sarah, Georgie, and Rufus in front of the ovens. She peeled off her too-small coat, as Kate pulled Bear into a hug. Kate was one of the only townspeople who actually noticed Bear.

Bear had a particular affection for Kate. As she released him from the hug, the violet hollows of his cheeks took on a pale magenta hue and his smile turned bashful. Jane had once asked Bear why he liked Kate so much. "I don't know," he'd said, thoughtfully. "She reminds me of someone I miss a lot. I can't remember who, though."

The others had opened cupboard doors near the stoves and hung their coats up. Jane did the same. She also lay her boots and socks out between Georgie's and Rufus' on the floor in front of the middle stove.

"Let's go upstairs," Kate said. "I've got blankets."

She led them through the swinging doors into the storefront and then up the stairs to the second floor. Jane allowed herself to fall behind the others, breathing in the scents of fresh bread and fruit and cloves and cinnamon and honey. The storefront was as decorative as the kitchen was utilitarian, with turquoise walls and ornate, cream-colored furniture.

The largest display was set between the swinging doors, featuring cakes varying from a full 3-tiers to the most adorable petit fours. Cookies, doughnuts, sweet pastries, and candies lined the walls to the left, savory breads and pastries to the right. Tables and chairs took up all available floor space, and during Kate's operating hours, it was rare for a table to be empty for longer than a minute or two.

There was something magical about Kate's bakery. Nothing ever looked less than perfect and every bite tasted better than the last -- and better than anything else Jane had ever tasted. Also, nothing made ever lasted in the bakery for longer than twenty-four hours. To be fair, there was no magic to this; apprentices were allowed to take home anything that was left over at the end of the day.

No doubt, Kate had intended to re-open the shop after the meeting but the news that the basis for the entire town was a mistake had taken the heart out of everyone. Kate's apprentices would probably still return later and scavenge a lot of what was left, but it was unnerving to see Kate's bakery empty but with shelves still full of food.

Jane couldn't help but feel responsible, even though she'd been as much a victim of the mistake as anyone else.

Jane walked up the stairs to Kate's apartment. Kate's apartment was divided into two rooms; a large living room/bedroom, and a bathroom. Kate was the only one in town aside from The New Commissioner with inside plumbing. Jane found it a bit unhygienic to share a home with one's personal evacuations, although she had to admit to some envy in winter, when she'd find herself running to the outhouse in the middle of the night. She didn't quite understand how plumbing worked, but Kate's bathroom certainly smelled better than Jane's outhouse, so maybe Kate was onto something.

In the living room, a small fireplace shared a chimney with the downstairs ovens. Windows lined the the outside walls. Under the windows, large, built-in window seats lined the walls, which were covered in various jewel-toned cushions and pillows. She kept the windows open year-round, but she'd drawn the white, ruffled curtains closed. They fluttered against the walls like clouds in a turquoise sky. Kate didn't have a traditional bed. She tended to either sleep on the window seats or to pull the cushions down onto the plush, emerald green carpet and sleep there.

Rufus and Kate sat together on a ruby-red cushion across from the fireplace. Sarah and Georgie were sitting in front of the fire, facing Rufus and Kate; Sarah on a large orange pillow, Georgie on a bright green one. Both were wrapped in plush, tan blankets. Bear was perched on the window seat in the corner, cross-legged on a purple cushion. Kate handed Jane a pillow and a blanket and then sat back down next to Rufus.

Jane joined Sarah and Georgie on the floor, but faced the fire. She was acutely aware of the silence in the room, and cringed inwardly. She pictured herself diving headfirst out of one of Kate's open windows, spinning in the air, and landing gracefully on her feet in the square. Then she'd run, and keep on running. More realistically, she wondered how long she would have to stay before she could pretend like she was dry enough to leave.

"So." Rufus said, breaking the silence first. He cleared his throat. "Beware the false moon."

Jane turned to see everyone in the room nod. Everyone except for her. "What does that mean?" she asked.

Everyone looked at her, surprise evident in their faces. "Beware the false moon," Georgie said, as though that were an explanation.

Jane shook her head.

"Beware the false moon," Sarah said, emphasizing each word.

"I can hear you," Jane said, emphasizing her own words carefully. "You're all saying, 'beware the false moon. I just don't know what that means."

Everyone continued to stare at her, disbelief replacing surprise.

Even Bear shook his head as though he didn't believe her. "It's the last two lines of the prophecy," he said. "Beware the false moon, which will arise too soon."

Jane shook her head. "I've never heard that before, and my mother used to recite the prophecy to me every night before bed. What does it mean?"

"The prophecy says that three red moons will indicate that your quest is about to begin. Most people believe that the 'false moon' means that there will actually be four red moons total, but the first one will be an illusion. Scholars have actually speculated that the last two lines of the prophecy indicate a trick to keep you from setting out on your quest, such as an impostor."

"That's a leap," Jane said. "How do we get from 'false moon' to 'impostor'?"

Bear shrugged. "It has something to do with the way that it was translated from the original Naltaian that Esomha wrote it in."

It took a moment for this to sink in. "Wait. So you all still think that I'm supposed to save the world?" Hope flashed through Jane, quickly followed by terror, then back to hope. Then terror. Jane swayed, the jolting back-and-forth of her emotions making her dizzy.

George reached out a hand to steady her. "Duh," she said, gently.

The others laughed, diffusing some of the tension in the room. Jane shook her head, smiling faintly and fighting down nausea. It was nice to know that no one had actually stopped believing in her, but she was honest enough with herself to acknowledge the relief she'd felt when James Anthony Sawyer had claimed her destiny as her own.

She'd always expected, even known, that when it was time to save the world, she'd feel ready. In her fantasies, she was so sure of herself and her mission. She had mastered every weapon and martial art, she was witty and eloquent and, not to be superficial, but well-dressed.

She sat barefoot on Kate's carpet, wearing her mother's oft-mended hand-me-downs, her hair in desperate need of re-braiding, and feeling as ill-equipped to save the world as ever.

"Okay," she said. She forced herself to breathe. "So was James Anthony Sawyer the false moon? Or is there supposed to be a real false moon? And is he my brother? He has to be…" she said this last part to herself. James Anthony Sawyer had looked so much like her father. Or, was that an illusion, too? She shook her head.

"Mmm…"

Jane looked up to find Rufus in front of the window. He'd pulled the curtain back and was looking out. Jane clambered to her feet and joined him. For a moment, Jane thought that the sun had reversed direction. Earlier, it had nearly been set. Now, it hovered much higher than where she'd last seen it, even though the orange and pink remnants of the sunset still glowed through the clouds on the horizon below.

It took a moment to realize that she wasn't looking at the reverse of a setting sun. That was the moon. It glowed a bright, fierce red in the still-darkening sky.

Jane was grateful that Kate always kept her windows open. That made it so much easier to lean out and puke up her guts.

"Oh, my --" Georgie said. "She just threw up. Do you think she's pregnant?"

"Pregnant!" Sarah scoffed. "Have you ever seen an eligible male anywhere near this town?"

"Don't look at me," Bear said. "I'm old enough to be her great-great-great-great-great-great…"

Jane gulped in deep breaths, and pulled her head back inside. "I'm sorry," she said, covering her mouth and glancing apologetically at Kate.

"…great-great-great-great-great-great-great…"

"Don't worry about it," Kate said.

"..great-great-great…"

Rufus handed Jane a handkerchief. Janie wiped her eyes and then her mouth.

"…grandfather," Bear finished.

"You guys are hilarious," Janie said, from behind Rufus' handkerchief.

Old Version:

I'm stiff from the long hours of being jolted around in the wagon, and from being tossed onto a pile of chain mail, but I'm almost thankful for the discomfort. I allow my body's complaining to drown out the doubts and fears that threaten to take over.

I suppose, at my core, I'm relieved. I mean, I'm still not convinced that I'm the one destined to save the world -- I may go down in history as the world's greatest decoy while James Anthony Sawyer is off saving the world for real -- but at least in a couple of weeks, we'll all know the truth. This prophecy has been a life-long burden. I can't remember a time in which I wasn't aware of being swirled around in an epic battle against some sort of nameless, faceless evil. I feel as unprepared as ever, but at least it'll all be over soon, one way or another.

We stop and rest a few times, but it's not until well after nightfall that we take a real break. Bear finds us a clearing near a brook. I shrug off my pack, and almost float off of the ground with relief from my burden. I stretch, letting my back pop and crack its own appreciation of being free.

I see that Sarah is putting together another firepit and I start gathering wood. The ghost of the earlier fire that we built together floats between us with a reminder of how that peaceful moment ended. While we're working, Bear goes off and comes back with full canteens. Similarly, Kate leaves and comes back with fresh, ripe raspberries. Bear rummages through my pack. Apparently, I'm carrying large amounts of dried meat. Bear hands some out to each of us. We're all too tired to do anything but eat, silently, accompanied by the snap of the fire, the babbling of the nearby brook, the occasional screech of the night owl.

Bear is to my left, Kate to my right, Sarah opposite me. None of us look at each other. If we make eye contact, we may feel obligated to speak and for the moment, terror and exhaustion has beaten the will to speak out of us. That said, the silence is not uncompanionable. We're all in the same stupor, I think, or at least similar ones; missing our families, staving off worry and guilt about the people we abandoned earlier today.

When we're done eating, we set up our beds for the night using blankets we each have attached to our packs. For the first time, I appreciate the work that the townsfolk put into getting me ready for this journey. I've spent my entire life avoiding thinking about this moment, but it seems that everyone else in town has been actively preparing.

For the first time, I'm curious about exactly what all we're carrying. The silence between us is too thick for me to break, so I open my own pack. Fatigue makes my movements slow. I am desperate to lay down the way that Kate and Sarah already have, their backs to the fire, but I need to take stock of something, even if it's only the contents that I'm carrying. My cloak is tied to the top of the pack, Bear had left it that way when he'd rummaged through it earlier.

I untie it and set it on my blanket. The chill of the evening is working its way through the layers of warmth built up from the physical exertion of the day, but the fire combats it, along with the food in my belly, so I don't need it for now.

 Bear has neatly re-wrapped the large brick of dried meat, and I set that down next to my cloak. Next is a sewing kit, a small, sheathed hunting knife, some thin rope, and at the bottom of the pack, a Sarah's chain mail, a fresh tunic, fresh underwear, and fresh socks. I set all of these neatly on the blanket as I unpack them. The final item is a book. That's a thoughtful touch, I think, although an odd one. Not a lot of room for boredom on a quest to save the world, right?

Still, reading often helps me sleep and I could use the distraction from my own thoughts,so I re-pack everything except for the knife and the book. I look over at Bear who is staring thoughtfully at the fire. I know that he'll keep watch. The shadows under his eyes indicate fatigue but he rarely sleeps, and the fatigue, I think, is from being around so many humans for so long.

He catches me looking at him and smiles reassuringly. "Get some sleep," he says gently.

I arrange the pack as a pillow and slip the knife underneath it with the hilt facing me. I arrange the cloak around me and lay down. I think I might be too tired to read, but then images of blood and terror crowd my mind. I close my eyes, trying to shake them off, but that makes it worse so I open my eyes and examine the book.

It's bound with a heavy, brown leather. The title is etched into the fabric, and it takes me a moment to make it out. "Red Moons," it's called, and suddenly, I can't breathe. I'm trying to escape my stupid destiny and now I'm holding it in my hands. I remember The Librarian trying to give this book to me when he first came to town, and me refusing. I also flashback to the book that Rufus had on his rocking chair, which he very swiftly moved before I sat down.

I remember returning to town to find Rufus leaving his house with a sack full of -- what? The meat in my pack? The book? What else? And where was he going? To Kate's house, where everyone was already gathered and no one was surprised to see me? Finding out that a person you trust is conspiring against you is terrible, no doubt, but finding out that people have been conspiring for your benefit is an odd, bittersweet kind of betrayal.

I am less angry than chagrined. Of course the town was forced to get me ready for my journey -- I wasn't going to do it. They'd watched me deny my destiny for my entire life. Of course they had to make me clothes and boots and prepare dried meat and bread and companions. I sigh. My whole life, I felt the burden of having to save the world, but the town around me watched and waited for me grow into their savior, and I never did.

Welcome to the family. I cringe at the memory of blithely handing my destiny over to some stranger after an entire town had invested their faith me for their entire lives -- indeed, since before I was born. What a disappointment I must have been to them. I can't help but smile a little bit. Serves them right, all of their kindness and patience with me was just pre-payment for services I'm on my way to render. I shake my head, my face rubbing against the rough pack. I hope I was worth it.

***

I suppose I've put off my responsibility for the town off long enough. I open the book cover. The first couple of pages is blank. The full title reads, "Red Moons: An Exploration of King Abydos' Visions and Prophecies in Particular Regard to and with Particular Emphasis on the the Prophecy of Binyne as Written by Phillip K. Myer". Good gods, if the title is this long-winded, I don't have much hope for the rest of the text. Also, of course The Librarian wrote the book he's been trying to hand me for three years. I roll my eyes. I flip through the Table of Contents and spare a glance at the maps before finding the foreword. I generally skip forewords, but this one is only a few paragraphs, so I give it a shot.

***

FOREWORD

It is my esteemed pleasure to be writing this book about the Prophecy of Binyne with the intention of handing it directly to the Sawyer scion, in hopes that it will be used as preparation for and understanding of her journey. I had the pleasure of seeing The Scion once as she toured a city I happened to be passing through. Her stature and bearing were that of a Hero, and as soon I saw her, I recognized her as the Hero of Prophecy, as did everyone else. I was one of Thousands in the crowd, yet I felt her gaze like a touch. I believe that everyone in the crowd did, for as she looked at us, a static charge seemed to connect us one to each the other. Each area of the crowd she happened to be looking at increased its cheering for that moment, as well. Myself, a young scholar at the time, barely twenty years of age, raised my own voice in Recognition, although the act was involuntary on my part.

In this book, as the title states, I will explore the prophecies of King Abydos, particularly in regard to the Prophecy of Binyne. It is a unique circumstance in which a prophecy can so accurately pinpoint the exact location and identity of its hero. Additionally, it is equally unique  for any prophet to describe the exact time in history in which these events will take place. Most prophecies are vague, as they are in general, please forgive my frankness in saying so,  written by frauds, and then left to be forever interpreted by charlatans.

King Abydos was unique in that his visions came from neither madness nor the desire to exploit the fears of his people. Quite the opposite, in fact. King Abydos was not only a beloved, but a benevolent Ruler. He Created the Empire that spawned and shaped every society in our current civilization. His Wisdom and Generosity are felt to this day from  the Libraries to the Orphanages scattered across the world that bear His Name and execute his Humanitarian Ideals. In many ways, King Abados is the Father of us All.
In this book, I will explore the origins of the Prophecy of Binyne along with many other prophecies written by King Abydos that have already proven true throughout the past Thousand Years since his Reign ended. I will describe the past and current state of Binyne as a city of lost hope and degredation, and I will inform The Scion of the Trials and Tribulations that are set in store for her. On an admittedly Unscholarly level, I must admit to a certain sympathy I feel for The Scion. Although the stress of it did not show when I saw her, to be raised with the  knowledge that one is the world's only hope has to be a burdon beyond imagining.

If I could offer a word of hope to The Scion, I would like to say that she is not Alone. Although she is the Vessel through which the world will be Saved, it is Prophecied that she shall travel to her Destiny with a small group of Trusted Companions. I hope to be considered a Part of that group someday, but perhaps that is Hubris. In any case, I do hope that this book shall serve as a Guide and as a Source of Hope for The Scion.

***

I exhale. I feel guilty for being so cold and dismissive toward The Librarian these past three years. He just always approached me so eagerly, and the weight of being the Savior was too much, so I had to get away from him. It hadn't occured to me that he had any sort of understanding of my fears and insecurities. I suppose I vaguely understood that he was trying to help, but I really just saw him as another fervent worshipper. That sort of thing has always made me uncomfortable, which is one of the reasons Imogene pretends to be me.

I can't help but be amused by The Librarian's description of Imogene as me. All of those people instantly recognizing that she's the prophesied one just comes down to good looks and charisma. If I had to choose which of us looked more like a savior, it would be her every time. Even knowing who she is, that she'd kill for her family (or money) but once spent three weeks nursing an injured bird. She is as close to a storybook image of a hero as James Anthony Sawyer.

I wonder what that guy's deal is. I wonder if there's any mention of a false scion in the book. I'm not one to skip ahead, tempting though it may be. I'm also a little afraid of the promise of trials and tribulations. Isn't waking life enough of a series of trials already? My own father tried to kill me when I was four. How much worse can it get than that?

I shake off the thought and turn the page. The first chapter is called, "King Abydos' Empire". Based on the Foreword, I already don't like this king. Nobody is that good, for one thing, and more importantly, he basically set me up to be a target for my entire life. If he could see this far into the future, couldn't he see that pinpointing exactly who I was would be an act of cruelty? So much for his wisdom and generosity.

***

I wake up with terror icing my veins and my heart beating like a hummingbird's wings. Through the branches, I can see the sky lightening into day. My body is still paralyzed from sleep but I can hear the soft breeze chiming off of Bear's horn. I lie, breathing, calming the rapid beating of my heart. I know it was whatever dream I was having that is causing my stress because if there was real danger, Bear would have warned us. Eventually, my body wakes up enough for my muscles to work again, but I don't want to move. For the moment, I don't have to. I can tell by Kate's soft breathing and Sarah's muffled snore that they're still asleep. Finally, I get a second to myself.

My stomach cramps with hunger pains and I need to find a privy. What delight to experience both needs at the same time. I sigh and sit up. Bear quirks his lips. "There's a good tree for it, thataway about a hundred feet," he says, pointing.

"Thanks," I mutter. I get up, groaning, and stumble into through the trees. After I relieve myself, I find the brook and wash myself as possible without removing any clothes. The water is freezing and the brisk air makes sure that I don't spend too much time playing in the water. When I get back, Kate is gone, and Sarah is packing up her stuff. Bear lifts up my pack and sees the knife on the ground but doesn't say anything. He pulls out the dried meat and hands some to me and Sarah. Kate comes back, wiping her wet hands on her clothes, and takes the meat that Bear offers. I hold the meat between my teeth as I roll up my blanket and tie it to my bag. Kate does the same thing next to me. 

"What's that?" Sarah asks.

I follow her gaze and blush. "It's a book about me," I say around a mouthful of meat. I pick it up and stash it in the bag.

She snorts. "Of course it is." She shakes her head and laughs a little.

Kate's eyes widen when she sees it, but she doesn't say anything.

"Have you read it?" I ask. Kate shrugs sheepishly. I look at Bear. "And you?"

"I didn't need to read it," Bear says, his expression and tone purposely bland. "We should get going."

I tie my cloak to my pack and sling it onto my back. I slip the knife in my boots because it sounds like a cool thing a hero in a story would do, but it's super uncomfortable, so after a few steps, I stop, stash it in my bag, and then catch up with the others. I tear off a strip of meat and chew on it. Bear and Kate are in front, chatting quietly, then Sarah, then me. The sun is starting to come up behind us, sending shafts of light down from the tops of the trees, permeating the air and creating a wet haze which we walk through. I finish eating and take a sip of water from my canteen.

After a while, Sarah hangs back a bit to allow me fall into step with her. "So what's in the book?"

"I'm surprised you haven't read it," I answer with a touch of bitterness.

Sarah leans over and whispers conspiratorily, "My mom was supposed to come, not me."

I process that. "So your mom has read it?"

Sarah nods. "She didn't tell me what it was, but when she was done, she took it to Tailor Tomlinson."

"What, are my measurements in here, too? Damn, that prophecy was too specific."

Sarah giggles. "I think if the book is about you, Tailor Tomlinson probably wrote notes about you in the back."

"Oh, god," I say. Humiliation burns my cheeks. I'm really glad I didn't skip to the last page. It's so odd that so many people had such intimate information about me, without me even knowing. I have even more trepidation about reading the book than I had before. What do they know about me that I don't know that they know?

"So what did you read so far?" Sarah asks.

I sigh. "I fell asleep in the middle of the second chapter. The first chapter was just about how great King Abydos was and how we're all basically related to him. The second chapter, so far, is just a bunch of stuff that King Abados predicted, that all came true."

"Everyone knows that stuff," Sarah says. "He predicted the fall of the Moran empire, the volcanic eruption of Suivusev, the sinking of Sit--"

"Yes, but there's all this other stuff," I say, little things, like the score of the ulama game between Elponitnatsnoc and Aisrep on a specific day a hundred years ago."

"Now it's Lubnatsi, not Elponitnatsnoc," Sarah said.

"Yes." My blister hasn't healed because of all of the walking we did yesterday, but my new boots have prevented new blisters from forming. My feet are sore, though, and the tops of my legs feel like their about to come apart from my hips. Bear and Kate are nearing the top of a steep hill. They're about a hundred years ahead, but I can't force myself to move faster in order to catch up. I don't know how we're supposed to walk all day like we did yesterday. My legs feel like they're about to come apart from my hips. 

"So what else is in the book?" Sarah asks.

"I only glanced at the Table of Contents," I say, as we start up the incline. "But I think it said something about trials and tribulations and something about my companions..."

"Ooh, I wonder if I'm in it," Sarah says. "If King Abados was so good, he'll know it was me, not my mom who came."

"Oh, right. What happened to your mom?" I ask, trying not to sound out of breath. We're not even halfway up.

"Sprained ankle," Sarah says.

"I'm sorry," I blurt, needing to apologize about our four-year-old fight.

"It's okay, it's nothing serious, just bad timing."

I'm relieved to hear that Sarah sounds out of breath too. "No," I say. "I mean, I'm sorry abour your mom too, but I'm sorry for what I said to you four years ago."

"I started it," Sarah says. "I was jealous."

"Me too," I say. "I hated that you looked more like a peasant farm girl in a story that was supposed to someday save the world than I did, and you're stronger than me and you can hit metal with metal," I say between pants. The top of the hill is just a few feet away I push on, the apology almost harder than the physical exertion. "The jealousy had been building for a long time just kind of --"

"Exploded," Sarah said. She nodded. "For me too. I was so sick of everyone always making a big deal about you and whispering about you and talking about how smart you were..."

"I hated all of that," I say. She laughs and nods as we finally crest the hill. "I finally figured that out when The Librarian came to town and you did everything you could to avoid him. That's when I realized that I was being dumb and started thinking about how it would feel if everyone I met expected me to save them."

We stand there, catching our respective breaths, looking down a a small copse of trees, and beyond that, city of the kingdom of Muska.

From where we stand, the entire city looks like an island made up of a massive castle surrounded on all sides by waterfalls, but I remember from my one visit that the actual palace is in the center of the city, surrounded by three layers of battlements and towers. The outer layer is pastures and farms, the middle layer is craftsmen; tailors, weavers, smiths, etc. Immediately surrounding the castle are houses that belong to the kings friends, gentry, and the wealthiest merchants. An enormous bridge stretches from the castle to the cliff just past the copse of trees that Bear and Kate have disappeared into. The breeze carries a hint of fish.

I remember this exact view and smell from when my mother brought me to see the king when I was nine years old. Then, the sight was magnificent and overwhelming. Now, that feeling is overshadowed by confusion and humiliation. I shake it off, and we start down the hill.

"You stopped being mad at me three years ago?" I ask.

"Yes. When did you stop being mad at me?"

"Around the same time," I say. "We could have been friends this whole time."

***

Sarah laughs and takes my hand. "We're so stupid." We grin at each other and walk, hands swinging, into the copse of trees. I can hear the breeze pinging off of Bear's horn. The sun is barely overhead, but I hope we can take a break--

It takes a second to process what is happening because it's so unexpected, but one moment, we're surrounded by trees, and the next by swords. For one confused moment, I think the trees are attacking us but then my eyes are able to make out men dressed in browns and greens. Sarah lets go of my hand and jumps in front of me, which is very sweet, but we are surrounded on all sides. I count fifteen swords before the man in front of Sarah steps forward and lowers his sword. He is of average height, and built well despite the gray hair creeping in at the temples. He wears it short, defying the current fashion. From his bearing and the way that the men surrounding us silently defer to him as he steps forward, it's easy to assume that he's in charge. "Janie, we presume," he says affably, peering around Sarah, at me.

I think about lying, but what's the point? They're clearly waiting for me. I can hear Bear nearby but can't see him, and I have no idea where Kate is. "I'm Janie," I say.

The man grins. "Excellent. We're here to escort you to the castle."

"The word 'escort' suggests some sort of a choice," I say caustically.

"Does it?" The man asks, arching an eyebrow.

I smile. There's no reason I should but I kind of like him.

He grins back and then turns away and starts walking. Sarah and I shrug at each other and then follow, the men with swords falling into line next to and behind us.

Outside of the copse, Kate stands next to a carriage with two armed 'escorts' of her own. About a dozen saddled horses dot the grass between the copse and the bridge, grazing.  Bear stands nearby, not invisible, just unnoticed.

"Janie! Sarah!" Kate calls out, relief evident in her voice.

 I sigh inwardly. I guess it's good that I didn't lie about who I was. Kate is so eager to identify me. Oh well. She looks unhurt, at least. Her pack is on the grass near the back wheels of the carriage.

"Your packs please," the man says. "Sarah and I slip ours off and hand them to waiting soldiers.  The man in charge holds the carriage door open for us. Kate enters first, then Sarah. I hold back a moment to allow Bear to slip inside.  "Why are we being taken to the castle?" I ask the man.

"The king wants to talk to you."

I snort. "That's new."

The man looks like he wants to say something, but he holds back and offers me a tight-lipped smile.

I climb up and inside. Kate and Sarah sit with their backs to the drivers. Bear sits opposite and I join him.