Wizard's Masquerade, page 13
Finally, the guards indicated that they could approach the gate. Budsworth trotted forward eagerly, her broad chest pushing past the jester. To Leyna’s annoyance, he found a way to keep pace.
“Do you mind?” he asked Grace, leaping up deftly to sit sidesaddle on her horse.
Leyna tried to face ahead as they passed through the city gate, but with Grace riding by her side, she was only too aware of the masked man perched on the white horse, staring at her with an impish smile plastered across his face. Even with the distractions of the packed streets ahead, it was almost impossible not to glance his way, and when she did, his smile widened. She gritted her teeth. It didn’t help that Grace was hopeless at hiding her giggles.
“You look a little mad,” said the jester to Leyna, after the guard told them to wait for their escort.
She didn’t reply, doing her best to ignore him as she adjusted her leather cloak, trying to let out the heat that was trapped underneath. She was dying to take it off but was determined to wear it for the ride through Royad; the Guild tunic she wore underneath was not nearly so remarkable, the small insignia on the chest being the only indicator that she was a wizard. The long, dashing cloak was far more likely to draw the approval of the city folk.
Jester nodded at Budsworth. “So? What’s the horse’s name?”
She didn’t answer.
“I’ll just guess then, shall I? Shouldn’t be too hard with a yellow horse. Is it called Sunny?”
Leyna didn’t answer.
“Butterscotch?” he tried. “Goldie? Sunflower? Daffodil?”
Silence.
“Sundrop? Marigold? Sandy? Custard? Yellow? Lemon?”
It was Grace who answered, perhaps realising that Leyna had resolved to ignore the entertainer. “Budsworth.”
The jester chortled. “Budsworth?”
Leyna shot him an affronted look but remained silent.
“Budsworth?” he repeated. “Budsworth? Why, I’m all astonishment!”
“What’s wrong with ‘Budsworth’?” she asked, breaking her vow of silence.
“Why, nothing at all,” said Jester, making no attempt to hide his smile. “Very dignified, indeed. And, may I enquire, for future reference…is your Budsworth a ‘mister,’ perchance? Or a lord? Or perhaps a sir? Goodness, I don’t suppose he’s been knighted?”
“Budsworth is a her,” Leyna said stiffly, patting Budsworth’s mane.
“Ah,” said Jester. “A her. How very modern.”
“It’s a surname. I named her after my father’s favourite poet.”
“The great Lord Franklin Budsworth? My, my. Well, I’m sure that Lord Budsworth would be honoured to know you named your horse after him.”
Leyna couldn’t tell if he was mocking her, but at this point, it was safe to assume that most of what he said was in jest.
“And speaking of Budsworth the poet,” said Jester, scratching his nose, “did you know he was also a playwright? I rather like his comedic works.”
She stared at him. “Comedic works? Franklin Budsworth wrote tragedies.”
Jester shrugged. “Yes, well…I suppose that depends on your interpretation.”
She uttered a sound of disbelief, but before she could argue, the city guard returned with their documents, followed by two guards from the castle who wore the Rutherford colours of blue and gold over their armour.
“Straight ter the castle?” one of the castle guards asked, eyeing the long line of wagons and caravans uncertainly. “All of ’em?”
“That’s what the papers say,” said the city guard, pushing the papers back at Leyna.
“Right ya are, then.” He gestured at Leyna to follow. “This way.”
Once they were clear of the lower streets, they merged onto a wide, cobbled road, which was framed with buildings and houses on either side. Excited to return home, she raised her head and squinted against the sun at the distant castle.
The city was spread across the vast hillside, and the main road was straight and steep, climbing higher as they advanced. Far away at the end of the road, Rutherford Castle towered over the city.
Behind the castle, the Maidstone Mountains formed an immense backdrop of blue and purple that stretched up to the clouds. While not visible from so far away, the mountain river flowed down to the castle and through the city, where it provided precious water to its citizens within the walls and out into the farmlands beyond. Leyna couldn’t wait to see the gardens and fountains on the castle grounds and the waterfalls in the mountain’s foothills. Those had been her favourite places to explore when she was young.
Leading the procession along the busy road, it was clear that the streets had not been designed with such a large population in mind. After the war with Kormend ended thirty years ago, the mountain river had been redirected to flow down through the castle grounds to Royad, and the city had subsequently boomed, enjoying decades of expansion and prosperity. Though efforts had been made to improve the infrastructure, the roads remained congested with citizens, merchants, and visitors.
The crowd parted to let their procession pass, some of them cheering and waving, others retreating into shops or down alleyways to avoid being crushed. The cheers grew louder, and Leyna waved to the crowd. She was pleased with the attention, at least until she realised that the crowd was not cheering for her, but for the acrobats who were juggling and doing cartwheels behind her.
She dropped her hand quickly.
The jester caught her eye but said nothing, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Once they reached the wealthier districts higher up in the city, the streets quietened, but the musicians still attracted a crowd with their lively music. The bawdy songs made her lower her chin to hide her face, self-conscious as people in fine silks stopped to stare. The nobles and wealthy merchants, however, did not seem to mind, and soon began to smile and clap. Even Budsworth was swinging her tail happily, and Leyna relaxed, patting the horse’s mane.
A young girl called out from the crowd: “Look, Mummy! A wizard!”
Leyna turned in her saddle to offer a friendly smile to the little girl, who was holding her mother’s hand shyly.
She nudged Grace, who followed her gaze and smiled before conjuring a small glowing butterfly in her palm. Leyna followed suit, and the two wispy illusions fluttered towards the little girl, one of them landing on her arm, the other on her nose. The butterflies batted their wings gently before vanishing in a puff of gold dust. Leyna and Grace grinned as the young girl squealed in excitement and clapped her hands happily, her enthusiasm reminding Leyna of how much she had loved magic as a child.
The guards led the way up the main street towards the castle, bearing the prominent Rutherford banners, and Leyna’s chest swelled with pride as she followed behind, head held high.
But her jubilance deflated as a familiar side street caught her eye, and a bittersweet memory that had long been tucked away now flared up, seizing her heart, mind, and soul. Sensing her distress, Budsworth flicked her ears and halted.
Leyna sat frozen, peering down the side street. Grand houses of white stone, with neat hedges and rosebushes, beckoned. The street curved, hiding the house where the ghosts and memories of her childhood lived…
Do I have the courage to go and look? Will my sister be there, waiting beneath the oak tree?
The large tree in the front yard would be in full bloom this time of year, with leaves of bright and dark green. A soft breeze brushed her face.
“Leyna?” asked Grace, her voice breaking through her reverie. “Why did you stop?”
Leyna gave her head a quick shake, blinking away the tears that had formed. Even after all these years, it was still hard to believe that her sister, Tash, was gone. Would she be proud to see Leyna now? In many ways, it was Tash who had inspired her to become a huskarl, and it seemed fitting that she remember Tash on the day of her inauguration.
“Are you alright?” asked the jester, his voice soft and sincere.
“Fine,” she muttered, sniffing and turning away from the side street. But the jester had noticed her looking at the street of white houses.
“Nice neighbourhood. What’s down there?”
The house where I used to live, Leyna thought. But that information was too private to share with the jester.
“Nothing. Just memories. Let’s go.”
As they drew closer to the castle’s gatehouse, more guards rode out to meet them, flanking their procession and escorting them through the gate.
The portcullis was raised. The heavy grating had not been lowered since the wars ended as a sign of confidence in the peacetime that had been achieved. Instead, the gatehouse was always heavily manned by guards, and this had been sufficient to keep out intruders.
As they passed through the gatehouse, which formed a long, arched tunnel, Leyna leant in towards Grace to point out the disused tricks and traps hidden in the walls.
“It’s all designed to make it difficult for enemies to enter the castle,” she explained. “But we haven’t had to worry about that since before I was born.”
“Don’t you get nervous being under them?” asked Grace, eyeing the murder holes above.
“There’s no one up there.” She laughed, following Grace’s gaze to the holes in the stone ceiling. “But during the siege, our soldiers would throw down rocks at enemies or pour boiling water onto them.”
“Oh no, that’s terrible,” moaned Grace, shielding her face with a hand as if expecting boiling water to come raining down on them at any second. “I don’t want that to ever happen to me!”
They emerged from the gatehouse, and Grace’s jaw dropped as she stared up at the cream-coloured castle, which stretched high above them.
“Oh my gosh. It’s incredible!”
Round towers loomed above, connected by enormous walls. The castle had been rendered a friendly, creamy colour that made it look more like a palace than the fortified grey-stone fortress that had preceded it.
Though masked by the recent wall rendering, the ancient castle had stood the test of time. Beneath the facade, the original grey stone remained, and though much of the castle had been refurbished inside and out, its outward appearance was misleading, and it was the same rugged castle it had always been.
News of their arrival had drawn a small crowd of castle folk, many of whom she recognised. In normal circumstances, she might have revelled in the glory of it, but she was still thinking of Tash, the sister she had lost.
“Wow.” Grace had slid off her horse, and still holding the reins, was turning in a circle, staring up at the castle, apparently oblivious to the way the reins twisted around her, forcing her mare to walk in a circle. “Did you really grow up here?”
Leyna’s mouth had gone dry, but she made an affirmative sound as she followed Grace’s gaze up to the slender stone towers. The windows gleamed white in the sun, and the pale cream mortar and slate-grey roof tiles were striking against the clear blue sky. It was good to be home.
Chapter eleven
Rutherford Castle
A servant left them to wait on a polished bench in the Foyer. She was perspiring from the journey, and the large cool room was a welcome relief after the baking sun. Grace stood beside her, gaping with astonishment at their surroundings.
The decorations in the Foyer were new for Leyna, too. She had last visited the castle six months ago, and everything had consisted of dark wood with red furnishings and drapery. But now, the Foyer was brighter, and the creamy wall panels made it airy and full of light.
The suits of armour and mounted animal trophies were gone, and in their place were elegant white sculptures and renaissance art. Instead of the heavy curtains that once shrouded the tall windows, crisp lace sheers glimmered in the sunlight, and the repainted ceiling now boasted a crystal chandelier. Even the flooring had been replaced by glossy tiles, which featured a modern geometric pattern. Everything about the large room signalled a new era.
The lord steward, Marek Volak, rounded the corner.
“He’s here,” Leyna muttered, and they both jumped up from the bench as he marched towards them. The wide sleeves and layers of his black coat flared around him, and the green-and-yellow doublet did little to brighten the dark expression on his face.
The steward did not greet them. Instead, he looked them up and down with narrowed eyes. Leyna was a sorry figure beneath his scrutiny, uncomfortably aware of the hair strands plastered to her flushed cheeks. A glance at the gilded mirror on the wall showed that her long wizard’s cloak was dusty; the embroidered emblem of the Wizarding Guild was no longer white, the bright-purple trim faded.
“You’re late,” said the steward, his thick accent betraying his Kormendian heritage. “What took you so long? Report.”
Leyna didn’t mind the order—it reaffirmed that, at least in the steward’s eyes, she was already a huskarl. She drew herself up and recounted the events of the day, trying not to stammer. The steward was an imposing figure with the same black hair and eyes as Quinn, and had bequeathed him his hollow cheeks and curved, eagle-like nose. The father and son even shared the same thick surly eyebrows that sat low. But unlike his son, the steward wore his hair longer to his shoulders, and his long cleft chin contrasted with Quinn’s square jaw.
When Leyna finished recounting the details of their mission, the steward clicked his tongue. “Well, this is inconvenient.” He eyed the state of their clothes and hair. Even Grace looked dishevelled. “You’ll just have to be presented to the king as you are. There’s no time to clean up.”
Leyna’s stomach turned. “Now?” She became panicky, and her eyes snapped to the mirror as she assessed her appearance more intensely. Was that dirt on her face? She glanced at her hands, which were dirty and clammy. The worst were her nails, which had accumulated black grime.
“Yes, of course now,” said the steward impatiently. “There won’t be time later. Wait here.” He stalked away, leaving them alone.
Leyna turned to Grace and offered an apologetic shrug. “Welcome to Castle Rutherford.”
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m actually here!” said Grace. “And it’s nice to finally meet Quinn’s father.”
Leyna frowned. “Is it?”
Grace did not reply, gaping instead at the expansive ceiling. “Is this the ballroom?”
She repressed a chuckle. “It’s just the Foyer.”
Suddenly, Grace gave a small shriek and ran over to a far wall.
“What is it?” Leyna followed her, alarmed.
Grace stopped in front of a wall of trellis windows and pressed her face against the latticework. The light filtering through the screen pockmarked her face with specks of golden light. “Oh, it’s gorgeous,” she sighed.
Beyond the trellis, the lush landscaped gardens greeted Leyna’s senses. Tall hedges bordered a green lawn, which proudly displayed a large white-stone fountain in the centre of an expansive circular basin. The water shimmered as droplets danced across the surface, and the perfume of the floating water lilies eased Leyna’s soul. She was suddenly aware of how thirsty she was and longed to plunge herself into the cool, clear water.
“I’m never leaving,” whispered Grace, her delicate fingers tracing the trellis.
“I’ve missed the gardens so much,” admitted Leyna. The wild pine forests of the Guild had their own wild beauty, but she had often fantasised about walking through the majestic palace gardens. It was the most beautiful place in the world.
She heard the pattering footsteps of a servant and tried to get his attention. She was desperate for a drink of water, but the servant was in a hurry, and he disappeared down the corridor while balancing a teetering tower of fruit on a tray.
“And I love these walls,” Grace continued, walking over to touch a wall panel carved with swirls of leaves and grapevines. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Y-you won’t,” said a friendly voice behind them. “They’re unique to the castle.”
Leyna turned and was relieved to see a familiar face. “Lord Chamberlain,” she greeted, giving a respectful bow.
Grace followed suit.
“Welcome back to Rutherford Castle, Lady Leyna,” said the chamberlain, adjusting his spectacles nervously before offering his hand in greeting. Today, his attire was the colour of whitewash, which in combination with his pallid skin and silver hair made him fade into the background of pale walls. “Congratulations on attaining your qualification! We are honoured to have you back to serve the Royal Guard, especially as a wizard.”
Leyna shook his hand, pleased that a royal official should extend a gesture of equality, but his hand was moist and limp in her grasp, and she fought to stop the smile from slipping off her face. Compared to the steward’s powerful figure, the young chamberlain looked delicate as he clutched a mess of parchments to his chest.
The chamberlain controlled the castle’s purses, and despite his clumsiness, he was adept with numbers and kept a close record of the estate accounts. The steward, meanwhile, was in charge of the royal council, overseeing prominent court cases and law-making. While both men were on par in terms of rank, it was clear to Leyna which of them wielded more power. Whilst she found Chamberlain Percy to be more likeable, Steward Marek was easily a more impressive leader.
The chamberlain turned to Grace. “And, Grace Wakefield, a pleasure to see you again.”
Grace returned the greeting before turning to point at the cream panels. “The walls are so beautiful!”
“Ah yes,” said the chamberlain with an approving nod. “They really do lighten up the room, don’t they?
“Yes, I imagine so,” said Leyna, distracted as she picked at her dirty travel clothes. “Excuse me, Lord Chamberlain…but may we freshen up before meeting the king? The steward said there may not be time, but I was hoping—”
“There’s no time, I’m afraid,” he said. “But please do not worry. The ceremony won’t take long. In fact, the proceedings will be as follows: we shall present you to the king, at which time you can pay homage and pledge your allegiance, and then His Majesty, with the powers vested in him, will—I am certain—accept and grant you your huskarl title. But we’ll need to forgo the usual formalities, unfortunately…the entire castle is in an uproar for tonight, so the event will be expedited.”
