A large white bird with an almost translucently white beak hopped down to stand next to Anya. For a moment Anya thought Dehlia must be an albino raven, till she noted the one sharp eye she could see wasn’t red, but dark and lustrous. Nor was she entirely white. There still a few silver-wreathed black feathers in the ruff around her neck. The bird must once have been entirely black like a normal raven, and the white and silver was the result of tremendous age.
“Yes, I am very old,” said Dehlia, unerringly picking out what Anya was thinking. “It is one hundred and eleven years since the Deluge and the fall of the last High King, curse his name, which shall as ever remain unspoken. I greet you, Anya, and wish you good fortune on your Quest.”
The white raven dipped her head, her sharp and strangely luminous beak tapping the stone of the terrace.
“An honor,” said Anya, bowing. “Uh, Your Ravenship.”
“I was not always a raven,” said Dehlia. “I took this shape for a number of reasons, many decades ago. They do not matter. Yet still I am a warden, even though the High Kingdom is no more, and still I uphold the All-Encompassing Bill of Rights and Wrongs and seek to enlarge others with the knowledge of it.”
“Please tell me,” said Anya. “I would like to know.”
The raven twisted her head as if to look at Anya with her left eye. But there was no bright orb there, only a mass of scars around an empty socket. Anya’s own eyes twinged. She blinked and wanted to look away, but managed not to. After a second, Dehlia turned her head, fixing her good eye on the princess again.
“First!” said the raven, her voice loud in the theater. Only then did Anya notice that the musicians had stopped playing and everyone was looking up at the ancient warden. Except for Ardent, who was chewing one end of the bone he’d managed to carefully wedge between Anya’s feet.
“First,” quoth the raven, “all folk are free, and may never be property, or used as such, and may stay or leave any employment at their own will.
“Second, no person shall be transformed, fined, deprived of liberty, executed, or otherwise punished save under the ancient laws as set within the Stone.
“Third, no court shall sit without a unicorn, true mirror, or oathbound seer to discern the truth of things spoken at trial.
“Fourth, the Crown shall not set, assay, or gather any tax without the assent of the Moot.
“Fifth, the Rights and Wrongs of the Bill, and the Laws Set in Stone, shall be supported, upheld, and maintained by the wardens, rangers, castellans, and dogs of the High Kingdom.”
“That’s us,” said Ardent indistinctly, since he didn’t stop chewing. “The dogs of the High Kingdom.”
“I thought you were just the royal dogs of Trallonia,” said Anya.
“Many a good dog drowned when Yarrow was flooded,” said Dehlia with a gracious dip of her beak towards the gnawing dog. “But the summer kennels were at Trallonia, so there were survivors there. And some few senior hounds made it out of the inundated city, so the line continued. In fact, your ancestor ‘King’ Norbert of Trallonia was actually the second assistant kennel-keeper.”
“No!” exclaimed Anya.
Bert and Dehlia looked at her silently. Anya thought about it for a while, then reluctantly conceded, “I suppose that does make sense. I always wondered why we had the huge kennel and the dog tunnels and everything … But this is all just history. What’s it got to do with me? The High Kingdom is gone. Who cares about the Bill and the … the Laws Set in Stone—whatever they may be—and all the rest of it?”
“We care,” said Bert, gesturing towards her band of robbers.
“I care,” said Dehlia.
“So do we,” said Ardent. He let the bone drop out of his mouth as if he wasn’t sure how it had got there in the first place. “The dogs. One of the first things Tanitha tells us as pups. One day we’ll be c-c-called on, to help put everything back together. The High Kingdom, the Bill, all that.”
“But it’s not possible,” protested Anya. “There must be hundreds of small kingdoms now, not to mention all the bandits and evildoers and no-goodniks and monsters and evil sorcerers like Rikard and the Grey Mist and their society. How could anyone even start to put it all back together?”
“You start small,” said Dehlia. The raven had a very particular stare. Her single eye, bright with moonshine, was focused on Anya in a very alarming way. “With a Quest to save one of those small kingdoms, and set it to rights, and have its ruler swear to uphold the Bill. Then you go on from there.”
Anya looked from the raven to Bert, then back down to the robbers. They were all staring at her too.
“Oh no!” she said, scrambling to her feet. “Don’t look at me. I’ve got enough of a Quest already!”
“It’s all part of a bigger Quest,” said Bert. “And we’ll help with all of it. So you have found your first allies against Duke Rikard already.”
“Second,” corrected Ardent. “After us dogs.”
“Even if I wanted to help, I could never get Morven to agree to uphold the Bill and to not raise taxes without the Moot agreeing,” said Anya. “And what’s a Moot anyway?”
“The Moot was the ancient parliament of the High Kingdom,” said Dehlia. “Two hundred representatives gathered from all walks of life, sniffed out by the royal dogs for wisdom, patience, and cunning, tested by unicorn for truthfulness, and bound to serve their term of office by the Stone.”
“The stone with the laws in it?” asked Anya.
“Yes,” said Dehlia. “The Only Stone. A unique—”
She was interrupted by a sudden cry from the terrace below. The bright orange bulk of Shrub emerged from under a pile of cut ferns. He’d been practicing sneaking up on people, with considerable success.
“Did you say the Only Stone?” asked the newt. “I was going to steal it from the League of Right-Minded Sorcerers and give it to Bert, only that went wrong. Princess Anya should get it to protect her from being transformed! I could steal it for her. I’m sure I’ll do better next time—”