Tree singer, p.14
Tree Singer, page 14
Again, the king raised his hands and the children quieted. Judging by the serious look in his eyes, this man knew what had happened to their woodsman. He was also aware of the very real dangers his son might encounter. “I trust you will do everything in your power to protect the prince. That said, if something out of your control were to happen, I would not hold you responsible.”
The prince grinned so wide it seemed his face might split. A thrill ran down Mayten’s back. When he smiled, he was almost handsome with the same charming space between his front teeth his father had. He should try smiling more often.
Adven lifted his glass to the king in acknowledgment, but she knew him well enough by now to see that his smile did not reach his eye.
“Now that that’s settled,” the king clapped his hands, “let’s eat!”
The door behind him burst open and servants streamed in, bearing heaping platters of meat, fruits, and vegetables. Mayten’s mouth watered. The sight of fresh fruits and vegetables made her heart glad and her stomach growl.
Save for the clinking of glasses and the scraping of fork against plate, the room fell silent. Mayten lost all of her nervousness about which fork to use for what and ate until she could eat no more.
She sat back in her seat with a sigh just as the king tapped his spoon on his water glass. “Friends, I’ve promised the young ones an opportunity to ask one question of each of our visitors before they must go off to bed. Who will go first?”
All four little ones waved their arms in the air with a chorus of “pick me!” and “I will.”
The king held up his hand, and they quieted. “We’ll go by age. Thomasina the Third, Lemmy. You’ll go first.”
The twin to Sir Underbrush’s right didn’t hesitate. “We heard you came with a dog!” she said to Mayten. “What’s his name? Can we play with him?”
The king laughed. “Just like you to sneak in extra questions, Number Three.” He turned to Mayten. “I had the opportunity to meet your canine friend earlier. He is quite an impressive fellow and seems gentle. Some sort of mastiff, is he?”
“That’s what the trader said.” Mayten nodded. “He was a puppy when we got him, and we had no idea how big he would grow.”
“Is it all right with you if the children play with him in the morning?”
“Of course,” Mayten said. The king seemed aware of everything going on in his castle. “His name is Anatolian, and he is great with children. I have brothers and sisters too, and I’m sure he misses them.”
The children cheered.
The king opened his hand to Limey, the younger of the twins, who turned to Mayten as the rest quieted. “Are you really a singer? How did you get to be one? Can you teach me to be one?”
Her father laughed. “You two are stretching the rules! But I know you’ve been waiting to ask Mayten about her ability to sing to trees ever since you heard she was coming.” His face grew serious. “We’ve never met a singer before. What can you tell us?”
Why didn’t the castle have singers? she wondered again. Her face grew warm as all eyes turned toward her . . . and not all the eyes were friendly.
Where on earth should she start?
“In our clan,” the eager smiles of the children set her more at ease, “we each receive a calling when we turn fifteen. I was called to be a tree singer . . . I’m from a family of singers . . .”
She thought a moment. “And a quester, for now anyway. In our clan, questers are held in high esteem, as are healers. Singers aren’t thought of as anything special.”
Adven coughed.
She scowled at him and continued. “Most people are called to be what their parents were, but occasionally someone from outside is called to be a singer or healer.”
The children watched her with rapt attention, their faces lit, eyes shining.
Mayten couldn’t stand it any longer. “But please, Your Majesty, why doesn’t your clan have any singers?”
The king shifted, stroking his beard. “That’s a long story for another time. Let’s hear more about singers. I believe Limey asked if singing was something you could teach?”
Mayten swallowed her questions and continued. All four children were curious about her singing and she talked until the king clapped his hands and sent the young ones to bed.
Why had the king dodged her question? she wondered as the children filed out. Surely the western forests needed the management of singers. Singers saw to the health of the forest, and the king’s forests were vast.
No wonder the blight started here.
This was it, Mayten realized. The first piece of the puzzle. If she could find out what happened to the castle’s singers, she’d know why the blight was spreading.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After dinner, women wearing white aprons over their dresses came to collect the younger children. Mayten assumed they were the children’s nannies, taking them off to prepare for bed. King Redmond led the rest of them down the hall to the room where he had greeted them earlier.
“To strategize,” he said when the prince asked why they were back in the library.
Finally, Mayten would find out exactly why they were here. Her heart leaped when Anatolian loped in followed by the young boy Sir Underbrush had sent him off with. The dog looked cleaner than she’d ever seen him and he smelled better too. Someone had tied a red triangle of scarf around his neck. Mayten bent to give him a good rubbing and he greeted her with a face wash of kisses.
“Come in, old boy. You’re a part of this too.” The king smiled and gave Anatolian a scratch.
A fire crackled in the fireplace, and the smell of pine and cinnamon warmed the air. The overstuffed chairs and couches had been drawn into a semi-circle around the fireplace.
And the books! Mayten could not get over so many books.
She’d be happy to stay here forever, she decided. Curled up by the fire, Anatolian at her feet, and a book in her hand. The castle had no singers; maybe she could be the first.
Cherry excused herself to check on the queen. Sir Underbrush excused himself as well. Like as not, the secretary was always attending to one thing or another, though she hadn’t a clue as to what those ‘things’ might be.
That left the king, Nan—the daughter studying botany who seemed to have taken a dislike to Mayten—Prince Thomas, Cather, Tray, Adven, and Count Monroe. A surly looking man joined them at the last minute.
The surly man met her eyes and gooseflesh crawled up her arms. There was something familiar about his eyes, something haughty. And his scowl reminded her of Adven.
She didn’t even know this man. Why would he—why would anyone—dislike her as soon as they met her?
Tray grabbed a seat next to Cather as everyone sat—or curled, in Mayten’s case—in a chair or on a couch. The prince glanced at the pair with a scowl, then settled in a chair next to Mayten.
The king leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I didn’t want to frighten the little ones, but the situation with our forest is quite dire. Trees to the north of us are dying and we don’t know why.”
Nan sat next to her father. She pulled a notebook from the small table next to her chair. She flipped a few pages as though refreshing her memory, then gave a quick nod.
“I’ve run every test I can think of to determine the cause of the deaths. There are no beetles, no imbalance in the soil or weather to cause such a drastic change. But the trees are dying.” Nan’s voice was slightly nasal, as though she’d breathed too much dust.
“It’s almost like they are standing, but empty of life. They are not hollow. I’ve had several cut down so that I could inspect them and there is no apparent rot or sign of drought or disease, but when a big windstorm comes in, they just fall over. They look perfectly healthy on the inside and the outside, but they fall over dead.”
Mayten gasped. What would cause healthy trees to fall over like that?
She glanced at each member of the group in turn, wishing with all her heart that her mother had been the one sitting in this chair instead of her. Mother would know what to do, how to figure out what the problem was and how to solve it.
“We must figure out what is causing this before the winter storms come back,” Nan continued. “Last winter we lost over one thousand trees.”
One. Thousand. Trees.
Mayten could barely breathe. Her clan harvested about two hundred trees a year. She couldn’t picture the loss of a thousand. Something like this could devastate a forest—an entire economy—in no time. Why hadn’t they asked for help when they first noticed the problem?
“Of course, they weren’t a total loss,” Nan said with a shrug. “Father brought in loggers to salvage what they could, then ship the logs off to several ports, including yours.” She nodded at Tray.
“Excuse me,” Mayten said hesitantly. “I can’t help but wonder if that was the best decision? What if the trees had some unknown sickness that might spread to the trees in the ports where they’d been shipped?”
“The wood was still good,” Nan snapped. She turned back to Tray. “We built furniture and other items with the wood before exporting it. Everything has remained sound. Then we inspected each tree before it was shipped.”
Her face flushed and her voice rose in pitch. “There is much more at stake here than the loss of the trees. The entire forest system will become imbalanced—if the trees die, the plants and insects that live in them will die, the birds and other small creatures that live off those insects will die, the larger animals that live off of those insects will die. The entire island, and possibly the entire world could become imbalanced, shifting the weather patterns and changing the seasons until we are all just a barren desert!”
The king laid a hand on his daughter’s arm. “One thing at a time, Nan. One thing at a time.”
Nan took a breath, crossed her arms, and leaned back in her chair. The storm boiling inside her showed on her face. Her eyebrows met in a seething glower, her face flushed red as though burned by the sun.
She’s been carrying this burden too long. Though Mayten still had no idea how long. The girl was probably relieved to finally get some help.
“Nan tends to look on the dark side of things I’m afraid, “ the king said with a sigh. “I’m sure the singer can help us figure this out.”
Nan slapped her notebook closed and clamped her lips together, glaring at Mayten.
I guess I’m not the one she was hoping would come.
Where did all this animosity come from? Did the girl resent Mayten for being a singer? Perhaps—not having grown up around singers—she felt science should have revealed an answer. If that were the case, perhaps she also felt those gifted with a calling were nothing more than frauds performing magic tricks.
Though something the princess said stuck in Mayten’s mind. She mulled the words over. Something about the seasons changing . . .
The oak tree she had last sat on had tried to show her that too. Just as the tree tried to show her that something threatened the very life of the forest—quite possibly all of their lives.
“Mayten,” said the king, and from the sound of his voice, it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to catch her attention.
“I’m sorry, King Redmond. What did you say?”
“I’d like your team to start out tomorrow, after the noon meal. Take the evening to rest up and restock your provisions. I’m sorry I can’t let you rest longer. I don’t imagine this will be a long quest—no more than a week or so. You should be able to at least get an idea about what is happening so we can make plans to correct it.” He looked at her hopefully.
Suddenly the room felt less like a library and more like a room for a war council. Mayten nodded, struggling to look confident even though she was quivering like a raw egg inside.
How was she supposed to know if she could figure out what was happening in a week, let alone what they could do to fix it? The question weighed her down like a heavy blanket.
“Adven, you will lead the team, of course,” the king continued. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep Tray here and send Thomas in his place. I’d like my son to have a chance to see what a quest is like before he decides to join you on a longer adventure.”
The prince grinned, that beautiful smile Mayten had seen only once before. He had the king’s charm when he smiled like that, the gap between his front teeth visible again. For a moment, she could not look away.
Adven nodded, although she could tell by the set of his jaw he was not happy. She supposed there was only one way to reply when a king made a request.
Tray’s wide eyes showed his shock and dismay. Mayten could tell he wanted to protest, but he clamped his mouth shut.
“Cather Healer, may I ask you to please stay with the queen?” the king asked. “She found your visit this afternoon quite comforting. With more time, perhaps you’ll be able to discern the problem.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Cather said, dipping her head. Her dark hair glistened in the firelight.
She belonged in the castle, Mayten realized. Much more so than a ruffian who rushed to dinner half-dressed and didn’t even know how to curtsy properly or which fork to use.
Tray’s shoulders relaxed and a slight smile creased his face. He put his arm on the top of the couch above Cather’s head, as if to claim his territory.
“Also, I’d like to have Nan join you. She has done a great deal of research that may be helpful to you.” The king smiled at his daughter, a smile that Mayten didn’t share.
Dread dragged at her stomach, churning the evening’s lovely meal into heavy mud. Might as well fill the entire team with I Hate Mayten members.
Adven cleared his throat. “King Thomas, we’ve lost our woodsman—” His voice broke.
Mayten’s eyes burned at the mention of their lost teammate.
“Of course.” The king raised his hand apologetically. “I heard of your loss and am deeply sorry for it. One of our best woodsmen has volunteered to accompany you.”
He turned to the one person Mayten didn’t yet know. “This is Rafe.”
The surly man dipped his head.
Adven nodded back.
Two grumpy peas in a pod. This trip gets more fun by the second.
“Thank you, sire,” Adven said, his manner stiff as a fireplace poker.
“And Count Monroe.” The king nodded at the older gentleman sitting next to Nan. “The count is a respected historian. He’s traveled far and wide and knows more about these lands, on a historical level, than anyone I’ve ever met. He might be of particular help to you, Mayten. He has asked to go along, and I have granted his wish.”
Mayten breathed a sigh of relief, but Adven’s eyes darkened. He likely thought the older man would slow them down, but she didn’t mind. At least there would be one person who didn’t hate her along with them.
A quester who hated singers, a prince who would prefer the company of her best friend, a scientist who thought—who knew what Nan thought?—and a scary-looking woodsman. What could possibly go wrong?
She glanced at Count Monroe, and he gave her a reassuring smile. It helped a little, but she doubted she’d be getting any sleep tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Contrary to Mayten’s fears, she slept deeply in the soft bed, Anatolian on the woven rug on the floor next to her, so deeply she didn’t wake until the breakfast bell rang.
She yanked on her borrowed dress as she dashed down the stairs, Anatolian at her heels. Edward was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, calling Anatolian outside as she hurried into the dining room. Cather showed up a moment later, looking just as rushed and harried as Mayten felt, her hair billowing in a disheveled cloud around her.
The same group gathered together for breakfast. Still no sign of the queen.
The children were so excited to get to play with Anatolian that they raced through the meal. Mayten’s stomach was too bound up in knots to eat much even though the cooked oats and fruit looked delicious. As she started to get up and retrieve the dog, the king touched her sleeve.
“I’m wondering, Mayten, if we might walk a bit in the garden before you start your packing? Edward can get Anatolian for the children when they’re done eating.”
“Of course,” she said, curious to hear what the king had to say. Perhaps she’d figure out a way to get more information from him before they departed—like the story about what happened to their last singer.
She followed him out of the dining room and down the long hall, turning into a wide doorway that led to the kitchen.
“I hope you don’t mind taking a shortcut,” he said, voice raised above the kitchen noise. “As you can tell, I’m not one to stand on ceremony.”
“Not at all,” she said, looking around at the bustling staff. The chaos reminded her of home, though this kitchen looked nothing like her da’s kitchen.
They stood at one end of a large room with a table running down the middle. Large pots and ladles hung along the walls and a huge fire burned in the fireplace against the far wall. The pots were made of gleaming brass, covering the walls like beautiful artwork.
The king led her along one side, then slipped out a side door leading into the gardens. They walked in silence, her ears ringing after the noisy kitchen. The sandy path crunched softly with each step and she found herself admiring flower beds luxurious with spring flowers of fuchsia and red intermixed with the enormous ornamental bushes she had seen from the lake.
The air had a bit of a nip, but the sun was up, and a sweet aroma filled the air. Up close, the garden’s beauty took her breath away. There were plants she’d never seen and she committed them to memory, determined to tell her da every detail when she got home.
The king walked silently next to her seeming to sense her need to take it all in. It was the quietest she had seen the man.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “You wanted to talk to me, and here I am gawking at the garden. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life and my da is a master gardener. He would love to see this.”
