Fuzzy shapes waved over her head, drifting in a dreamy pattern to and fro. Gradually it dawned on her that she was looking at the branch of a tree. No, wait, it wasn’t. It was a wooden ceiling- wood that seemed as thick and alive as a living oak. She was lying on a bed, with a woven cover over her. The bed was too small for her frame, and her dainty feet were perched in the air, overshooting the bed to such a degree that her ankles rested on the end
She sat up, her golden hair rippling like waves on the ocean. A slight pressure in her head suggested returning to sleep, but she felt like she had already been gone long enough. She could hear a whispered conversation nearby, and turned her eyes to see what her ears had picked up.
There was a doorframe without a door, beyond which she saw a small sitting area. Alain was bent double to avoid cracking his head against the low ceiling, while Bickle Wa stood before him at full height, lecturing the big man like he was an immature child.
“She’s a nice girl, and a good one,” said Bickle. “I won’t have you hauling her all across Shard for your madcap scheme, you vagabond!”
“She came by her own choice,” said Alain. “If she wants to help, that’s up to her. And I’m no vagabond; I’m a prince, and the proper title is ‘your highness.’”
“Oh, getting all high and mighty on me now, your highness!” said Bickle, pounding his cane into the ground for emphasis. “I don’t care much for royal titles claimed by a prince without a throne. You want some new ones I could give you? King of Thieves? High Duke of the Highway? Baron of the Beggars? Bah! Darus Flour has more royalty in his pinky than you have in your whole person, and he claims to be master of a tavern, nothing more.”
“Good morning,” said Bridgette.
Bickle turned, his upset changing instantly to gleeful delight. “Bridgette!” he called out, with a wide smile. “You’re awake!”
“My lady!” said Alain, straightening up , only to bump his head against a tree branch built into the ceiling. “Ow!” he grunted, rubbing his head.
Bridgette covered her mouth to conceal her giggle, but in this motion she saw her smooth and slender arm, missing all the folds of flab that her real body was famous for. I’m back in the Dream Chest! She thought. And I never want to go back. Never, ever, ever!
“I am,” she said, smiling back. “I hope I didn’t miss anything.”
“Oh, nothing at all,” said Bickle. “I was just telling this lunkhead to go on his merry way and leave us alone. It’s only an hour to Tea, and I’d be more than happy to host you here in my delightful residence.”
“There’s no time for that,” said Alain. “They’re searching for me, and they will seek you out too. Like it as not, the Scarlet Tempest’s agents are already swarming Lewes. We need to escape before any more arrive. Come with me to Harling Bay. I have friends there that can help us find passage to Siram Port, and-“
“Bah!” shouted Bickle. “Spare her your mad adventures! Bridgette, following this rogue will get you killed. Stay with me. Captain Silpus is a friend of mine, and I can persuade him that last night was just a misunderstanding. None of his Guard will bother you. In fact, Silpus and some of my other friends are coming to play cards tonight and enjoy some spiced cider. We’d all love for you to join us.”
Rolling her tongue in her head, Bridgette decided it was hardly a contest. Bickle was sweet, but Alain made her heart pound. “That’s kind, Bickle,” she said. “But Alain needs all the help he can get. I will go with him.”
Alain smiled broadly. “Don’t worry, fair Bridgette. A great adventure awaits us, but I will allow no harm to come to you. And you’ll be saving Shard from the Scarlet Tempest’s cruel oppression.”
“Hmph!” said Bickle. “Well, if that’s your choice, so be it. I suppose I’d better get packed. I’m coming along with both of you.”
“With us?” said Bridgette. “I thought you said Tea-”
“Won’t be the same, won’t be the same without my pretty Earthling lass. And someone has to keep an eye on this so-called Prince.”
“I promise you sir, that my heart is as pure as the morning mists,” said Alain. He then turned to Bridgette with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but Bickle told me about your heritage. I will guard an Earthling with every fiber of my body and every beat of my heart.”
“Well if I had any doubts remaining, that sent them packing,” snorted Bickle. “Confound it! Adventures are such cold and uncomfortable things. Makes one late for lunch!” But like it or not, Lady Bridgette’s safety means more to me than the objections of a landless royal brat.”
Bickle shuffled towards his front door, and opened it up. He took a step outside, and retreated immediately, closing the door. “They’re here!” he whispered, his face suddenly an ashen grey.
“Who?” asked Bridgette.
“The Queen’s men?” asked Alain.
“No!” said Bickle. “The Queen herself!”
Cold fear gripped Bridgette’s heart, though she had no idea what she was in for. “How? Why?”
Bickle paced back and forth in thought. “She’s here because Alain was sighted. And Fricklan will recognize Bridgette. Once the Queen gives her speech, both of you will be wanted for treason. And if they find out I had anything to do with you, they’ll hang me for harboring fugitives! Hah! Do you see, you bare-headed king? You’ve made a criminal out of me!”
“Do you have a backdoor?” asked Alain. “One that doesn’t face the street?”
“Oh, of course,” snorted Bickle. “And the wine cellar in my basement has a secret passage that leads a mile out of town. Of course not! I have one door, and only ever needed one door. Until today. What do you think I am? A criminal?”
Now they heard sound. Pounding drums, accompanied by the stomps of marching boots. Trumpets piped, announcing the arrival of some great patron. Bridgette’s hands shook.
“I can’t be seen,” said Alain.
“You’ll stay in here and hide,” said Bickle. “When the town is gathered in the square, find a way to run off into the woods. I have a scarf to disguise Bridgette. She and I will mingle through the town meeting while you run.” He looked at Bridgette. “Is that acceptable, my lady?”
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Bridgette nodded, as she had no better plan.
“There’s a clearing in the forest to the northeast,” said Bickle. “Can you find it, your majesty?”
“I’ve traveled through the woods, not just the roads,” said Alain. “I can find this clearing, little man.”
“Little man!” said Bickle. “Oh, listen to your tongue! Well, get out. Get out now and see if you can elude the Scarlet Tempest herself. If you can, you will prove yourself a King. King of Brigands, at least.”
Alain threw his cloak on, complete with the hood that concealed his features. Once again, he was the mysterious stranger who had crept into Darus Flour’s Windsong Tavern. Unfortunately, this made him even more conspicuous. He went out the front door and disappeared from sight.
“Will he be okay?” asked Bridgette.
Bickle shrugged. “If not, he won’t be at the clearing, and we can have tea after all. Here, don this scarf.”
He handed the garment to her. Crouching to see herself in Bickle’s looking-glass, she saw her reflection: a dazzling blonde with shimmering hair gazed back at her. Her heart pounded with enthusiasm, seeing that she once again presented an image more perfect than she ever could have imagined before. It seemed a shame to conceal it with the scarf. Still, she wrapped her hair and chin in the strip of cloth, yet seemed just as adorable as before. “I’m ready,” she said.
Bickle nodded. He slung a small pack over one shoulder, and picked out his favorite walking stick, and even a silk handkerchief. “I suppose I can leave my home locked for a week or two without too much duress,” he said. “As long as this isn’t one of those long adventures, where I come back and find my in-laws have looted my worldly possessions. Well, here we go.”
They opened Bickle’s front door and stepped into the streets. Alain was long gone. Instead, throngs of people were slowly marching towards the town square. “The Queen! The Queen!” she heard them whisper, gasp, and murmur, one by one as if in awe of an angel that had come down from on high.
Curious, Bridgette followed the crowds, touching Bickle’s hand. He joined her after firmly locking his front door, and together they joined the rest of the population of Lewes.
On a makeshift stage stood a woman of dark and mysterious beauty. She wore an extravagant dress of red. A golden tiara studded with rich, red rubies adorned her forehead. The gemstones were so bright that Bridgette had difficulty making out her face. But her expression was cool, a detached absence of passion that could preface the cruelest of commands.
Beside her were her guards; stoic men-at-arms with as much discipline as the soldiers who protected the Queen of England. On the breastplate of their armor was inscribed an image Bridgette recognized from the banner in the Windsong: a woman surrounded by flames with storming rainclouds above. A mix of fire and water.
The Scarlet Tempest.
One other man stood near the stage, a man about Bickle’s size with a face full of fur. Bridgette scrutinized from this distance, and realized he wasn’t like a cat. He was a cat. Pink nose, whiskers, and a tail that stuck out from the back of his black robes of office. He fiddled with some record book before speaking to his Queen. From this distance, Bridgette had no idea what he said.
The Queen approached the front of the stage, and turned fully to address the massed throngs. Spreading her arms wide, she seemed to bathe in the glory of adoration. People dropped to their knees. Bridgette fell too, cursing herself as she did so. Why would she kneel to this woman? If she were to rejoin Alain, she had to remain undiscovered, and there was no better way to be seen than to be the only woman standing while everyone else knelt.
She turned her eyes to Bickle, only to see the little man was similarly on his knees. But more to her surprise, his face reflected the blank adoration of all who were with her. Bridgette looked back at the Queen, puzzled. The woman was attractive, but by no means did she mean to worship her. Did the Scarlet Tempest command loyalty of the peoples of Shard? Did she use magic? Was she, as an Earthling, immune to this power?
The Scarlet Tempest swept her gaze over the kneeling throngs. Bridgette thought she might speak, but it seemed the Queen saw no need to. What words would she need to give, when her very presence demanded loyalty? She did not need to cajole, command, or threaten. Her very presence made her the object of worship.
The little cat man spoke instead. He stepped forward and shouted, seemingly unaccustomed to raising his quiet voice to such volume. “People of Lewes!” he shouted. “Your liege, the Scarlet Tempest, is pleased that you demonstrate your loyalty! She seeks the rebel, Alain Trueheart! He is a traitor, who will be punished by death. Any who aid him are traitors, who will also be punished by death! Any who share what they know will be highly regarded by your Queen! Who shall speak?”
“I will!” shouted a voice. As its owner rose to her feet, Bridgette recognize the old crone from the Windsong Tavern, the one who had praised Darus Flour’s hard work. “That brat Alain sought service from Darus Flour! He fought with the Queen’s soldiers, and was aided and fled with some strumpet!”
“Who are you?” asked the cat man.
“Alys Stoneturner,” said the old woman. “And I’ve lived in Lewes since I was a young girl. We don’t want traitors like Alain in our village. Do we?”
“No!” shouted the mob, in one ferocious roar. Bridgette wrapped the scarf tighter around her face.
“Can you describe this girl?” asked the cat.
“Aye!” said the old woman. “Young and too beautiful for her own good. Hair like yellow silk, and eyes as blue as the ocean at sunset.”
The feline swept his gaze across the crowd, as if he would pick out this girl from among the hundreds of villagers. Failing, he addressed the old crone. “You will be rewarded, Alys Stoneturner,” he said. “Anyone else? This Darus Flour perhaps?”
Darus Flour rose to his feet. Bridgette realized that he might associate Bickle Wa with her… they came in together, ate together. Would Darus betray her dear friend? The innkeeper cleared his throat, and spoke clearly: “I have nothing to add,” he said. “All this lady told you is true.”
One of the Scarlet Tempest’s hands clenched into a tight fist, a most unnatural action from the well-formed and manicured fingers. “Find them!” she cried, in a dreadful and cruel voice. She had no need to speak more, as all who heard her voice shuddered in terror. Even Bridgette- who did not find herself ensorcelled by the Queen’s charm- nevertheless had no wish to invoke her anger.
“You heard her!” Purred the feline minister. “If we find any of you are harboring these traitors, you’ll be hanged! And your spouse! And your children! And your parents! And your neighbors! And your friends! And your animals! And anyone you ever met! Now clear out!”
The people didn’t move. They knelt, enraptured, still gazing at the Queen. The Scarlet Tempest swept her gaze from person to person, looking into the spellbound eyes of those assembled. Bridgette stayed as still as she could, somehow feeling that this crimson woman could read a person’s innermost secrets from their vulnerable, open eyes. Would her face be as easily read? Would she and Bickle be caught by the scrutinizing gaze of this Sorceress? She never found out; the Queen, apparently satisfied that none in Lewes knew Alain’s location, turned away and left the raised platform. Her soldiers fell into formation behind her. No longer seeing her spellbinding face, the citizens of Lewes slowly returned to their senses.
Bickle and Bridgette waited until things fell back to normal before they made their way outside of town. “What did she do back there?” Bridgette asked her companion.
Bickle shook his head, ashamed. “She is a dreadfully beautiful Queen,” he admitted. “It is very hard to refuse the Scarlet Tempest what she wants, when she is standing right there. Folk only speak openly of her when they’re away from her presence. I fear I’m not much different than most, dearest Bridgette.”
“Is Alain immune to her sorcery?” asked Bridgette.
“I don’t know,” Bickle admitted in a small voice. “His father certainly wasn’t. His father’s men weren’t. Maybe in his adventures he has learned a way to resist her powers. He’d be an uttermost fool not to.” Bickle shrugged. “But maybe he is a fool. The boy didn't seem very bright to me.”
“I didn’t feel it,” said Bridgette. “I only knelt because everyone else did.”
Bickle smiled a little and took her hand. “Earthlings are wily creatures. Many are unaffected by the magic we have here in Shard. Alain may well have chosen better than he deserves. I’ll confess: I never thought the Scarlet Tempest could be overthrown. I chose to stay happy in spite of her tyranny. I only hoped that Lewes would be so small and remote as to be beyond her immediate notice. But perhaps... perhaps you can help Alain restore the good old rule of the Trueheart line.”
“I’ll certainly try,” said Bridgette.
Bickle smiled at her and added in a hushed voice: “But do me a favor, and don’t tell Alain I said that? The last things princes need is to have their ego stroked, and it’s my job to make sure he keeps his feet on the ground.”
Bridgette laughed. “I promise,” she said.
“Good. Now let us get to the woods and see if our friend is as good a woodsman as he boasts. For all we know, they may have captured him already, and we’ll be having tea with Captain Silpas after all.”