The Robin and the Princess
Alpha Reader Version, 06/18/2024, Prologue–Chapter 3
“I’m getting old, Stavelain.” The old man studied his reflection, prodding the deep bags under his eyes.
“Nonsense, my lord.” Stavelain shut the door behind him and found an armchair to lounge in. “A hundred years is nothing for a wizard. They say the Fourth lived to be three times that.”
The wizard finally turned away from the looking glass and down at the tall man in fine robes who had made himself at home.
“My lord,” he scoffed. “I am no lord. I hold no title in this kingdom nor any other.”
“But you should,” Stavelain said sharply. “You have done more for Yanthas than all of its nobles combined. And its precious king.”
The wizard grunted as he sat down, then looked hard at Stavelain. “I’ll not have you insult your king while I am a guest in his palace.”
“If these people understood all you’d done for them. All the wars you’ve prevented and diseases stopped before they could even—”
“What difference would it make?” the wizard interrupted. “How would inflating my vanity change the work I am called to do?”
“I don’t speak of vanity, but of power! Respect! If you would just—”
The wizard held up a hand to silence him. “It doesn’t matter now. My time is coming to an end.”
Stavelain stood. “It doesn’t have to. You can do so much more. Help so many more people! You have to try.”
“There is no point in arguing.” The wizard shook his head. “It’s not up to me. I can feel it. The power is already slipping away.”
“How can the most powerful being in the world be so unafraid of weakness? How can you accept it so easily?” Stavelain stalked to the door. “If you want something, take it. And hold on to it with everything you have.”
Gylshia settled the yoke onto her shoulders. She stood up carefully, steadying the sloshing milk pails on either side. It was heavy, but she was strong from years of farm work, and found it satisfying to carry the weight in from the barn.
“Oh, good, it looks like they were productive,” her mother said as Gylshia lowered the pails onto the floor of the kitchen.
“Are you trying something new with the cheese?” Gylshia peaked into a pot on the stove with a lumpy orange-y liquid.
“I’m using carrots to dye it. It should come out a little more yellow, which always sells better.”
Gylshia laughed. “I suppose there are worse things than carrot-flavored cheese.” She took out two bottles and filled them with the fresh milk, then poured the rest into a big metal basin on the table that her mother was using.
She went back outside to the henhouse and filled her apron with eggs. Her father was out in the field, hitching his sturdy old horse to a plow. She waved at him with her whole arm, but was careful not to drop any of the precious eggs.
Inside, she put half the eggs into a basket with the bottles of milk and the rest in the larder.
“Have some breakfast before going to your grandmother’s,” her mother said. “Your father already ate.”
“You know she always feeds me when I’m there.” Still, Gylshia sat down at the side of the table not covered in cheese-making paraphernalia. She had a slice of bread with butter and jam and some excellently greasy pieces of bacon. For good measure, she had a cold slice of yesterday’s apple pie.
“That’s funny,” Gylshia said, looking out the window.
“Hmm?” Her mother wasn’t looking.
“This bird outside, I keep seeing it around.” A little bird was hopping around in the grass. Its wings were a mousy gray color, its face was a rusty orange, and its belly was white.
“Oh, that’s just a robin.” Her mother looked up and came to the window. “We don’t see them here very often, but they’re common enough.”
“Huh.” Gylshia watched the bird a little longer. It must have built its nest somewhere on the farm.
“I think it’s a female; the coloring is a little more subdued. Now, don’t be late, I’ll need your help this afternoon.” Gylshia’s mother added a loaf of bread and a pie each wrapped in cloth to the basket, then kissed Gylshia’s cheek as she headed out the door.
The village of Thannwood barely qualified as a village. Most of its residents lived on farms so far out from the village center that they could just as easily walk to the next village over as walk into Thannwood. But there were a few shops and cottages in the middle that made a pleasant little town square.
Gylshia’s grandmother lived in one such cottage. She kept a small garden, and made her money by sewing and taking other odd jobs that she could do from home. Gylshia’s mother wanted her to move to their farm, but Gylshia’s grandmother had spent her whole life under that thatched roof and had no desire to leave it.
“Good morning, Granny!” Gylshia called out. She pushed through the wooden gate and walked up the path.
“It’s much too early for that, girl! Keep it down!” Her grandmother opened the cottage door and stepped out, still in her dressing gown. Though her words were barbed, she had a big smile on her face. Gylshia knew she was always happy to see her.
Her grandmother held the door open for her and Gylshia set the basket down on her kitchen table.
“What am I supposed to do with all these eggs?” her grandmother whined playfully. “Am I just supposed to bake all day?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something, Granny.” Gylshia kissed the crotchety lady’s cheek.
Her grandmother poured them both tea and handed Gylshia a simple seam to sew, while taking up some more complicated embroidery. They both knew that her grandmother could get it all done on her own, and would probably do a better job, but Gylshia loved having a reason to sit and chat. The woman kept her ear to the ground in the village and always had stories to share.
“The miller’s girl, Fira; she’s getting married to a boy from another village.”
“Really? Good for her, she’s a lovely girl.” Gylshia knew where her grandmother was going with this, but acted oblivious. She didn’t want to encourage her.
As it turned out, her grandmother needed no encouragement. “You know, you really should think about getting married, Gylshia.”
“Granny, please.”
“How old are you, anyway? Like thirty? I was married for over ten years by then.”
Gylshia plopped her sewing down in her lap. “Granny, I’m twenty!”
Her grandmother brushed it off. “Oh, well, you know I can’t remember these things. Who’s that boy at the big farm? Alberic. You like him.”
“Sure I do, he’s nice. But you know I can’t leave my parents alone.”
“Alone? They have each other! That’s the whole point of this marriage thing, you know.” Her grandmother winked at her.
Gylshia laughed and took up her sewing again. “You know what I mean, Granny.”
“Yes, yes, you’re very sweet, dear.” She patted Gylshia’s hand. “Alright, I can take a hint, we can speak of other things.”
Finally Gylshia could ask what she really wanted to know. “Have there been any traveler’s passing through the village? Or any merchants?”
“No, no one with anything interesting to say. Just a few quiet folk who have kept to themselves.”
“That’s too bad.” Gylshia loved their stories. One chatty traveler spending a night in the tavern was enough to keep all of Thannwood entertained and informed of the goings on of the wider world.
Her grandmother sighed. “All anyone can talk about lately is poor Princess Anrevala. It’s been almost exactly a year now since she was taken.”
“Has it really been a year? It must be torture for the king and queen.”
“Yes, I can only imagine.”
“I can’t understand why the Wizard hasn’t found her yet.” Gylshia stabbed her needle through the wrong place in the fabric, but didn’t bother to fix it. “No matter who took her, surely no one in the world is capable of hiding from him.”
Her grandmother shook her head. “The Seventeenth Wizard is certainly powerful, but his duty is to help all the world's kingdoms. Not just Yanthas, but far away places we’ve never heard of. We’re lucky that his lands are so close to our own, but that does not mean he can solve all of our problems.”
“Still, shouldn’t it be easy for him? He can do anything.”
“I don’t know about anything, dear. He is not the only creature in the world with powers, even if he is the only human. And even non-magical folk can prove to be quite an obstacle if they put their minds to it.”
“You think he could have already tried and failed?” Gylshia frowned.
Her grandmother nodded. “I think it very likely, though I hope it is not so.” She got a far away look in her eyes. Gylshia changed the subject back to Fira’s wedding, and how it would likely disrupt when their wheat could be milled.
Thinking about the lost princess was enough to make Gylshia more sure than ever that she could not leave home. Marrying a boy on the other side of the village would already be far, but what if she ended up moving to another town? Or further than that? No, she could not do that to them. She was happy how she was; it was where she belonged.
Gylshia spent that evening in her favorite way; she stayed up late and read by candlelight. She tucked her feet up under a blanket and leaned back in an old sturdy chair, picking off pieces from a delicious muffin her mother had made and eating them absentmindedly. The window was cracked and the cool breeze of an early summer night washed over her. Truly, there was no better way to end a day.
A little chirp startled Gylshia out of her relaxation. The bird from that morning, the little robin, was perched on her windowsill.
Gylshia had never seen a bird so bold. It was so close she could have reached out and touched it.
“Hello,” Gylshia said in surprise. She thought it would fly off, but it didn’t, it just looked at her.
Cheep-cheep!
“You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” Gylshia said in a half whisper to avoid waking her parents. The bird tilted its—her—head slightly.
Only, she wasn’t looking at her, Gylshia realized; she was looking at the muffin. She broke off some crumbs and scattered them on the windowsill. The little robin hopped happily from crumb to crumb. When she had had her fill, the bird spread her little wings and flitted up to the top of Gylshia’s wardrobe, where she settled on an old shawl.
“Oh, that was Hesalia’s,” Gylshia said. “Although, I don’t know why I’m telling that to a bird.”
Gylshia stood up and watched the bird. She had nestled comfortably and had no intention of moving.
I suppose she’s not bothering anyone. Gylshia made sure the window was propped open wide enough for the bird to get out, blew out the candle, and climbed into bed.
The bird was gone in the morning, but Gylshia had a feeling she’d be seeing more of her. After her chores, she found an old milk pail in the back of the barn. When her parents weren’t around (not that they’d mind, it just felt a little silly), she took it to the garden and scooped up some soil into the bucket. Then she started turning over rocks, hunting for earthworms.
In the evening, Gylshia brought the bucket of worms to her room and waited by the window. The bird appeared even earlier than it had the night before.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Gylshia said out loud to the bird. Then she dipped her hand into the bucket and pulled out a long, wriggling worm covered in flecks of soil. She set it on the windowsill in front of the bird.
To Gylshia’s surprise, the bird was uninterested. In fact, she even seemed disgusted, if it was possible for a bird to express disgust. She hopped a few inches away, and shook her head.
Shook her head? Gylshia must have been mistaken; she couldn’t believe a bird was capable of that. She put the worm back and pulled out a smaller one. But the response was the same! The bird actually shook her head no!
“What a remarkable creature you are. Wait here.” Gylshia brushed the worm and its dirt into the bucket, then tip-toed into the kitchen. She cut a wedge of bread from a fresh loaf and hurried back to her room.
“How’s this?” She tore small pieces and laid them out, and the bird gobbled them up. “You have awfully refined tastes.” Gylshia thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you have a name, little friend?”
The bird just stared at her.
“Hmm…” Gylshia got up and shuffled through some books at the bottom of her wardrobe. “Here we are!”
She dusted off the old primer where she had first learned her letters and flipped to a page that had the alphabet written out in big colorful letters. She held it open in front of the bird.
“Can you understand this?” It was a long shot, but it was worth a try. The bird just cocked its head from side to side. Gylshia couldn’t tell if that meant anything. She set the book down flat. The bird hopped up onto the page and jumped around a little, but Gylshia still couldn’t tell if that meant anything. She definitely wasn’t spelling anything.
Finally the bird landed on ‘D’ and stayed there. She tapped the book with her beak.
“‘D’? Does your name start with a ‘D’?
The bird tapped the book again. Gylshia wanted that to mean yes, but for all she knew it was just the random motions of a bird who didn’t know what she was saying at all. Still, Gylshia preferred to think it meant something.
“Hmmm… Desdemona? Dracor? Deirdre? Daniela?” Nothing seemed to evoke a response. “How about just ‘Deedee’ then?” The robin tilted her head and blinked, and that was enough for Gylshia. “Deedee it is!”
She closed the book and then took down the old shawl. She shook it out and wrapped it into a loose circle, like a little nest, and set it on the desk. Deedee hopped in and snuggled in comfortably for the night.
—-----
Soon it was the start of blackberry season, and Gylshia brought two baskets deep into the woods. There were little clearings where the brambles grew in prickly hedges. She enjoyed searching for the ripe berries, no matter how stained and scraped her fingers became, and with each berry she plucked she thought about the sweet jams and rich pies they would make with them.
She heard a tell-tale chirp and knew without looking up that little Deedee had come to visit, as she had every few days since Gylshia had first met her.
“Are you here for a snack?” She held out some blackberries, but the robin turned up her nose, or rather, beak.
“That’s not like you. Not hungry today I guess.” Gylshia popped the berries into her own mouth and was going to continue picking, but Deedee became agitated.
Chirp chirrup!
She hopped onto Gylshia’s shoulder and continued chirping loudly. Then she flew about five feet away, then back, then away.
“Are you asking me to follow?” Gylshia scooped up her baskets and went after Deedee, who quickly flitted farther away. She had to jog to keep up, which was tricky in the dense underbrush.
“Where are you taking me?”
Finally Deedee stopped, and when Gylshia caught her breath, she heard a soft yip-yip!
Tangled in a thorny bramble was a little brown puppy. It looked like one of Alberic’s; they had just had a litter that spring.
“Oh, you poor thing.” Gylshia got on her knees, moving slowly so as to not excite the dog. “It’s okay, it’s alright,” she repeated soothingly. The dog wriggled but mostly held still.
Gylshia tried to move the branches aside, but they were too twisted and tangled up. Instead she took out a pocket knife and cut through the thorny vines one by one. She reached in, scooped the puppy up from its belly, and pulled him out.
“Let’s get you out of here.” She carried him against her chest with one arm and awkwardly scooped up the berry baskets with the other. The puppy’s tail wagged, thrumming softly against her arm as she walked. Deedee landed on Gylshia’s shoulder and looked pleased with herself, if such a thing were possible.
“How did you…” Gylshia started, but then just shook her head. This was no ordinary bird.
As the underbrush thinned and Gylshial’s right arm grew unbearably tired, she set the puppy down. He did not seem injured, and instead of running off (which Gylshia had been somewhat worried he might do), he stayed close and followed her happily.
“Is it too early in the season?” her mother asked when they made it back with the half-empty baskets. Then, “Oh!” when she saw the little dog at her feet. Deedee had already flown off as she usually did when there were other people around.
“I think he ran away from the Woor farm,” Gylshia said with a laugh at her mother’s surprise. “I’m going to bring him over.”
Alberic was very happy to have the little dog returned, and the puppy was glad to see its litter. Gylshia stopped at her grandma’s on the way home. The window was open, and to Gylshia’s surprise, Deedee flew in and joined them.
“Goodness!” Her grandmother popped up. “I knew I should have shut that thing. Go on, shoo! Get on with you!” She started flapping a kitchen towel at the bird.
“No, wait!” Gylshia stood up. “This is, um… this is Deedee.”
“You’ve trained yourself a bird, now? Don’t you have enough to do on that farm?”
“No, no, she’s not trained. She’s my friend, I guess.” Gylshia waited for her grandmother to respond. Deedee chirped happily. An attempt to be helpful, Gylshia supposed.
“Gylshia, if you’re lonely you should spend more time with people your own age.” Her grandmother sat on the couch with a harrumph, but couldn’t help eyeing Deedee curiously.
Gylshia sighed. “I’m not lonely. She just started showing up around the farm and then started following me around.”
“Is that so?” Her grandmother looked thoughtful; she was taking Gylshia seriously now.
“She’s smart, too. Just this morning she led me to a lost dog in the woods.”
“Hmm…” Her grandmother tapped her chin as she watched Deedee. “My mother believed that the souls of loved ones who have passed away could visit us in the form of a bird.”
“Really?”
Her grandmother nodded. “Cardinals were her mother’s favorite bird. She always thought that if her mother came to visit, it would be as a cardinal. She always loved to see them.”
“Then do you think that Deedee could be someone? You don’t think, I mean, that she could be…” Gylshia’s throat caught at the thought of it.
Her grandmother breathed heavily. “You’re thinking of your sister, aren’t you?”
Gylshia nodded.
“Hmm…I don’t know. I never really believed my mother at the time, but more unusual things have certainly happened in the world.” She patted Gylshia’s hands. “I know this. If Hesalia was able, she would want to visit you. She loved you more than anything.”
Gylshia looked at Deedee, who looked back at her curiously. As smart as she was, it was hard to imagine the robin was a person, let alone her sister. Hesalia had passed away when Gylshia was very young, so she only had a few foggy memories. But she remembered that her big sister cared for her very much. Could she really be visiting as Deedee?
Her grandmother tried to turn her thoughts away from it. “Your little friend is probably just an unusual and rather special bird,” she said. She held her hand out gently, and Deedee hopped on. She laughed, then Deedee flew around the room a few times, finally landing on top of a dusty shelf. She hopped around carelessly, nudging something toward the edge.
“Deedee, stop that!” Gylshia cried out, but it was too late. Something heavy crashed to the floor, and her grandmother stooped to pick it up.
“Ah, this was your grandfather’s.” She brushed off the short leather scabbard and showed it to Gylshia. Then she unsheathed a fine dagger that gleamed when it caught the light. The handle was wrapped in leather dyed a dark red to match the sheath, which had a pattern of vines and leaves cut into it. The crossguard and pommel were solid metal and shined nearly as brightly as the blade.
“It’s beautiful,” Gylshia said. “Why have you never shown it to me before?”
“I suppose I forgot about it. Edvin had no need of it for many years.” She watched Gylshia admire the blade. “Why don’t you take it?” she said suddenly.
“What? I can’t take something from Grandpa. What would I do with it?”
“Oh, nevermind that, I didn’t even remember I had it. It won’t be missed.” She sheathed the dagger and pushed it into Gylshia’s hands. “Now get home with you, I won’t have Miri telling me I kept you from getting your work done.”
Tap-tap.
Gylshia looked up from the sock she was darning and saw Deedee out the sitting room window. Her parents hadn’t noticed; her mother was knitting and her father was reading out loud by the light of the fire.
“I’m a little tired; I think I’ll turn in for the night,” Gylshia said.
“Are you sure? It’s the best part!” her father said. Gylshia nodded. He wasn’t wrong, it was her favorite part of one of her favorite stories.
“Don’t worry, I know how it goes. You can go ahead without me.”
“Sleep tight, dear,” her mother said sweetly.
Gylshia hurried to the window in her room where Deedee had flown around.
“What are you doing, you crazy bird?” she whispered. She hadn’t told her parents about Deedee, even after her grandmother found out. She didn’t exactly know why, perhaps because they wouldn’t see anything special about her. Or perhaps the idea of their daughter coming back to them was too painful even to entertain. Deedee didn’t approach them, so for now, Gylshia decided to keep her new friend to herself.
Deedee hopped into the window, then flew out again, landing about three feet away on the ground. Back and forth she flew, just like when she found the puppy in the woods.
“You want me to follow you? It’s the middle of the night!”
Deedee just carried on, flying further away each time, urging Gylshia to follow.
“Alright, alright.” Gylshia pulled on her boots and drew her cloak around her shoulders; it was still chilly at night, even in the summer.
Gylshia had never sneaked out of the house before; she had never had a reason to. If she had somewhere to go, she would just tell her parents.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she grumbled. She pushed a low stool next to the window, fluffed up her blankets into a Gylshia-shaped lump on the bed, and blew out the candle. As quietly as she could, she clambered out the window and into the dark.
“Where are you?” Gylshia whispered. She could barely see two feet in front of her once they got away from the house, let alone make out the little bird. Deedee slowed and guided her toward the road into the village. Whenever Gylshia turned the wrong way, Deedee would tug on her hair or her shirt.
Candlelight spilling out of buildings in the center of the village made it easier to see by, but Gylshia got more and more worried as she realized they were heading toward the tavern.
“We can’t go there.” It wasn’t the most respectful establishment even by the light of day. This late at night, it was no place for an upstanding young person. Gylshia slowed, but Deedee had lost patience with her.
The bird gripped Gylshia’s hair in her talons and dragged her into the alley behind the tavern. With the proper determination, a little bird can be shockingly strong.
“Ow!”
Deedee pulled her down to the ground beneath a window to one of the back rooms of the tavern. Gylshia was going to protest again, but she could hear voices inside. She raised her head and peaked through a gap in the curtains.
“The boat’ll be ready in time?” said a stout, muscular man with a full beard.
“Money first, then questions.” The second man was grizzled and lanky. He looked rougher than the first man, and his clothing was unkempt and tattered.
The hairy man sighed and pushed a bag of coins across the table. Lanky waved over a similarly bedraggled woman and the two counted the money carefully. When he was satisfied, he handed the bag to the woman and leaned back in his seat.
“We’ll be there at eleven o’clock sharp, tomorrow night. You’ll be ready, won’t you?” Hairy asked.
“Of course. I never go back on a deal.” Lanky looked relaxed.
“And there will be no witnesses?”
“Yes, yes,” Lanky answered impatiently. “No one will be around, we’ve taken care of it.”
“If something goes wrong, it’ll mean both our heads,” Hairy said gruffly.
Lanky leaned in. “As long as your princess cooperates, there will be no problems. I heard about her attempted escape, is that going to be an issue?”
“There will be no problems.” Hairy sat back. He may have been the one footing the bill, but Lanky clearly had the upper hand.
“Hey, did you see that?” The woman pointed right at the window.
Gylshia dropped to the ground as fast as she could. She heard the sudden noise of chairs being pushed back from the table, scraping on stone floors. She scrambled around the wall of the tavern. When she turned the corner she pressed herself against the wall, her heart pounding in her chest. She wouldn’t wait to see if they saw her. As soon as she collected herself, she ran straight into the woods without stopping.
She had been out of the house for less than an hour, and although she could see no lights when she came home, her parents could still be awake. She crept carefully back through the window she had come out of and slipped into bed.
She couldn’t keep her eyes shut, let alone sleep. Her heart was still thumping uncontrollably. What had she just heard?
Gylshia turned everything over in her mind, trying to make sense of it. They said princess… Did they really mean the princess? Our Princess Anrevala? Were these the people responsible? She could hardly believe it, but what else could they mean?
It sounded like they were going to move her somewhere tomorrow night, by boat. The closest city to Thannwood, Lanway Bru-relor, was a coastal port.
Gylshia shot up straight in bed. The only person who knew was her. The only person who could help the princess was her. She had to do something.
_________________
Gylshia raced through her chores in the morning. Hopefully her parents wouldn’t notice one day of poorly-mucked stalls.
“There you are, Deedee.” The bird showed herself for the first time since Gylshia ran away from the tavern. Now she was looking at Gylshia expectantly.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” She leaned her pitchfork on the wall and went back to the house.
There was no one she could go to in her village. It was too small to warrant a sheriff, and too safe to ever entice a passing knight to stay, or even visit. But Lanway Bru-relor had guards and a magistrate who worked for King Ianberos. And they would already be where they needed to be to save the princess.
“Mother, can I sleep at Granny’s tonight?” It would be late at night by the time Gylshia got back, it was best to be safe and not leave her parents waiting up for her. Her first instinct had been to tell them everything that was going on, but what if they tried to stop her? This could be the princess’s only chance; it wasn’t right to risk that.
“Sure, sweetheart, but are you going now? I thought you were going to help me with the baking.” Her mother straightened a loose hair from Gylshia’s braid.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll do all of it next time.” Gylshia grabbed her bag and hurried out.
There were not many roads to follow in these parts, so Gylshia would not have trouble finding her way. She took the road going south out of the village, and then the eastern fork.
At first it was exhilarating to be setting out on this secret trip, but exhilaration turned to anxiety as she left her village behind. Deedee settled on her shoulder as she walked.
“I’m glad at least one of us is feeling confident,” Gylshia said. Deedee chirped brightly.
“How did you know those guys would be talking at the tavern, anyway?” she asked.
Deedee just tilted her head.
“You know, this would be a lot easier if you could talk.”
Cheep! Deedee said.
Gylshia laughed. There were worse fates than being led on a cockeyed quest by this apparently magical, and frankly, vexing creature. She had only been to Lanway a few times in her life, and it was just as intimidating now as it had always been. The wooden buildings were closely packed and often had two or even three floors. Everyone was busy milling about; selling, buying, shouting, and bumping into one another. Her dad brought their grain here to sell once a year, and he always said it was his least favorite thing about being a farmer. Her mom liked the city, though, and had shown Gylshia all the best shops and merchants.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where to find the magistrate’s office?” she asked the least tough looking dock worker she could find. The man just grunted and pointed up the street.
“Um, thanks.” Gylshia followed where he pointed, studying the wooden signs above every shop entrance. Finally she saw the crest of the royal family swinging above a finely crafted door. Although the sun was still up, it was approaching suppertime, so she had to hurry.
The door swung open before she reached it. A man stepped out in a fine black doublet; he must be the magistrate. He was talking to another man. Gylshia recognized the coarse face; it was the man from the tavern, Lanky, the one who got paid to arrange the boat! His clothes were spiffier than they’d been. They were likely brand new if he’d already started spending his earnings.
Gylshia whipped around and pretended to be looking for a different building.
“It’s a comfort to know our town is in safe hands” she heard Lanky say in a slimy, sycophantic tone.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you, sir.” The magistrate said. They shook hands and parted ways. The magistrate went back inside and Lanky walked past Gylshia, just inches away from her.
How could the magistrate be doing business with a criminal? She bolted as soon as the men were out of sight and slipped down an alley, where she waited for Deedee to find her.
“What do we do?” Gylshia asked the bird. “We can’t report them to the magistrate if he’s in on it!”
Of course, Deedee said nothing. She’s a bird, you know.
“Ugh, why am I even asking you! I need to think.”
Gylshia paced up and down the alley. She felt stuck; like there was nothing she could do, except…that wasn’t exactly true. She could still try to help, without the magistrate’s help, all on her own. It was foolish, of course, but once she’d had that thought, it bubbled up and swelled in her heart, and she couldn’t let it go. She had to try.
Late that night, Gylshia and Deedee crept around the edges of the docks, hiding behind crates and barrels. The streets were abandoned. The only sounds came from the lapping waves and the wind rustling the thick canvas sails of the ships that had docked for the night. Their wood creaked and whined eerily.
Gylshia spotted movement at the far end of the dock. She stayed low and tip-toed as close as she could. She didn’t have a plan; all she could do was wait for the right moment, and maybe something would come to her. And maybe, hopefully, she had been mistaken. Maybe they weren’t kidnappers after all.
Burly men were loading a ship with crates. She followed with her eyes up the deck, and saw Hairy and Lanky already on board. They were intimidating on their own, but now they had a whole crew.
The men with the cargo finished loading and boarded. Finally two men emerged from an alley and approached the ship. They were supporting something between them, a small figure covered completely in a dark cloak. The figure barely seemed able to stand up; their feet dragged behind, catching on cobblestones.
The princess. Gylshia knew at once that it was her, and her stomach twisted. Her fear had become reality, right in front of her.
They were going to board the ship and take the princess away. Gylshia had to do something, fast. Should she try to grab her? Should she scream? But her feet wouldn’t move. She moved her lips, but her voice refused to come out. She was petrified.
Deedee was not. The robin let out a shrill screech and descended on the two men. She was a flurry of flapping wings and scraping talons. She pecked at their eyes and arms as they swung out trying to bat away the crazed bird.
“Get off me, you mad thing!” One of the men shouted.
Then his arm connected, and Deedee was tossed across the dock.
“What was it, a bat or something?” The other one asked. The first shrugged and they continued.
Gylshia watched in fear as Deedee lay motionless, then thankfully stood back up. Deedee flew back to Gylshia. She was angry. She tugged on Gylshia’s hair, her clothes, even her ears, trying to get her to move, to attack, to do anything.
Meanwhile, the men had boarded the ship with their prisoner. For a moment, everyone was below decks, but the gangway was still out.
I could stow away, Gylshia thought suddenly. I could find out where they are taking her, and get some help there.
Deedee had the same thought. She flew to the boat and landed on top of the figurehead. The brave little robin looked back at Gylshia, wind ruffling her feathers, urging her to follow.
She wanted to. She wanted to believe that the reason Deedee had come to her was because she was capable of saving the princess; that she could do this.
But she couldn’t.
How quickly would she be discovered if she tried to stow away? What would they do to her when they found her? Thoughts of her comfortable, happy life at home flooded her, and she thought about her parents, who had already lost one daughter.
A crewmember came back on deck and brought up the gangway. As Gylshia stood frozen, the ship slipped away from the dock and out to sea. The ship, the princess, and Deedee drifted away into the inky black night.