“Pardon?” Foxbrush, still leaning against his tree, looked up.
“Stories, a friend of mine once told me, cling to a certain pattern,” Redman continued. “Like the seasons, cycling round and round. And they always find ways to fit back into that cycle, and nothing we do can stop them.”
Foxbrush made no answer. He squinted and frowned and stood like a lump.
Redman heaved a great sigh, perhaps of sorrow, perhaps of mere tiredness, perhaps of neither at all. Then he grinned at the forest floor, shaking his head. “I too was meant to be a king,” he said. “Once upon a time, long ago and far away. I was like your Leo. I too was born to be crowned. I too was pledged to wed the daughter of my most powerful supporter.” He sighed again, but his grin remained in place. “I too had a cousin who took both my throne and my bride.”
Foxbrush stared at the dark shadow from whence came Redman’s voice.
“I suppose this means I was in your cousin’s shoes,” Redman said, “and I should resent you for his sake. Perhaps I do. A little. That is, of course, if any of the wild tale you’ve just spun me is true!”
“It is true,” Foxbrush whispered.
“I think it must be. Because only true stories cycle with such precision. Only a true story would have led you to me so that I find myself once again coming to the aid of one who would take the throne his cousin will never sit upon. For some, unlikely though they may be, are born to be king. And some, however likely, are not. Such is the truth of stories.” He shrugged. “It all comes back to blood and love in the end.”
Foxbrush tried to swallow. There was sap in his mouth, and it tasted sickly upon his tongue. This conversation had quite gotten away from him, and he wasn’t certain what to do about it. He wasn’t certain of anything anymore. Perhaps he never had been certain of anything.
“I’ve got to find Daylily,” he said quietly. “That’s all that matters. I’ve got to find her.”
Redman shook himself suddenly, like a dog after a bath, and smiled at Foxbrush, who was just as blessed that he could not see it. On Redman’s scarred face, smiles were gruesome.
“Well, Prince Foxbrush, I don’t know how to find your lady or how to get you back to your time. But never fear! No doubt the rest of the story will present itself. And in the meanwhile, I do know where a warm meal waits and a bed upon which you may rest your head. Will you stop awhile in the Eldest’s House?”
“I will,” Foxbrush replied. He accepted Redman’s proffered shoulder once more, and they continued on their hobbling way back through the jungle.
18
TIME AND AGAIN. Time and again.
And yet, what is Time? Measured out in the beatings of these hearts.
Disappointment heaped upon disappointment. And yet, what is disappointment without desire?
Desire . . . ah yes. Desire surges in these veins, pounds in these heads. Blood and love, and the fire that flows between.
This land is good. This land is fair. This land is rich. This land is . . .
Mine!
“Mine,” Daylily whispered. A thrill akin to both sorrow and delight washed over her, leaving a strange prickling in her head, behind her vision. She followed Sun Eagle, her eyes round and wide and intent as a young dog’s fixed upon its master. Her Advocate. That’s what he called himself and what she knew him to be in a deep, instinctual place of her mind. She would follow him.
She would kill for him.
This is what it means to be free, she thought as the Wood Between shuddered and drew back to make room for their passing. To be free is to be ruthless, and ruthless will I be. All to the good of the land! The land I have too long watched succumb to poison and invasion. I will fight for my . . .
. . . for the master.
And it was good, even in her head, for the wolf could not resist her now, could not hurt her or hers.
They came to the gate of silver-branch trees, and Daylily now saw it for what it was. How could she have missed it before? Of course there were gates leading to all worlds, all times! Of course they would look nothing like mortal gates, for they were not made by mortal hands! It was all so simple and so clear now. After the Bronze was taken. After the first blood was spilt. After the first tithe was paid.