The Hand That Steers A Kingdom – Part 11
Click here to read parts 1-10.
Tutti filled them with tea until Sarai’s stomach felt like it would burst. She hid a smile behind her cup as Connor grimaced into his mug and Tristan poked her tongue out in distaste. Very few people had the stomach for Tutti’s special blend of dandelion tea. Sarai discretely slid the honey pot their way when Tutti’s back was turned. Her teacher looked over their small group with a fighter’s gaze; her eyes lingering on the bandages on Sarai’s arms and the ones wrapped around Connor’s head.
“All of you look three steps from death,” she said firmly. Sarai winced at the words. Tutti could sharpen a blade to the point that a hair laid across the edge would fall apart, but her tongue was as blunt as an ogre’s best club.
“We’ve traveled a long way.”
Tutti just grunted and leaned back in her chair, extracting her pipe from the folds of her shirt.
“Well,” she said, as her fingers wiggled in Sarai’s direction. Obediently, Sarai handed her the tobacco pouch hidden by the hearth. “Tell me the story and I’ll decide how stupid my former apprentice has been.”
As the pipe was packed, Connor began their tale, only stopping to light the tobacco for their host. Tristan interjected every once in a while but kept silent for most of it. Sarai sensed her eyes wandering along the blades hung on the wall, some of which Sarai had either designed or assisted in making. By the time they’d finished, the girl’s eyes were drooping and she’d abandoned her stool to snuggle against Sarai’s hip. Tutti’s pipe had long gone out and been emptied into the hearth.
“You seem determined to believe this fairy tale,” she grumbled. While Connor was busy looking affronted, Sarai nodded.
“I want to see Tristan on the throne,” she said. Her voice grew quiet as she looked over the child letting out soft snores against her leg. “She’s a clever little thing,” she whispered. “Loves people, and they love her. She’s young but she knows how to make hard calls and doesn’t want to just be protected.” She sighed. “But she’s also a child and I want her kept safe until she’s of age. Can you help us?”
Tutti’s pale eyes turned soft and then hardened as she stared at Sarai. The only thing she could do was pray that her teacher still held some lingering affection for her. Enough that she’d allow them to stay for the night if not until further notice. Tutti was still as large and intimidating as she remembered and Sarai could feel that complex mind sizing her up like a piece of bloom headed for the fire. She twiddled her thumbs anxiously while Tutti determined whether they were worth it in the long run.
“Hell, I’m in need of an assistant anyway. My last one ran off before the end of his training, but you’ll need a glamour,” her teacher finally said. “You’re too recognizable as you are. Even here, we’ve heard about the chaos you’ve wrought.” She hummed around the stem of her empty pipe and considered the ceiling. “Copper will be here tomorrow, ask him.”
They did ask Copper. Once Sarai was able to extract herself from the bone-crushing hug he wrapped her in, they were forced to come up with ideas. Copper folded his slim form into a crouch to be eye-level with Tristan. The young princess stared back at him owlishly.
“I can adjust her appearance permanently for you?” The way he said it made her think that he would appreciate not doing that very much.
Connor, whose head hadn’t stopped shaking since they’d begun, put a hand in front of Tristan. “Not permanently, just something to keep her out of the eyes of the Doerman’s for as long as need be.”
Copper shrugged, “I’ll make a glamour charm.”
It took three days, but when Copper finally arrived in the forge again, he came with a small ring set with a piece of tiger’s eye.“It’ll need to be resized as she grows, but it’ll do the trick.”
Tristan tried on the shiny new bauble, almost vibrating with curiosity. The change was gradual, but Sarai almost didn’t’ recognize her when it was done.
Tristan’s dark blonde hair had been replaced with a bright copper that glinted with gold strands, and her chubby cheeks were now freckled and shallow, matching her bony frame, made bonier by their travels. She was shorter than she had been, but that wasn’t as much of a loss. If Sarai focused, she could still see Tristan in the shape of her nose and mouth. It was still their girl, but at the same time different, like someone had overlaid the image of two children with vaguely similar features and asked Sarai to name which it was.
Connor gaped and sputtered, clearly not happy with it, but he knew it was necessary.
“Can I see?” Tristan asked, clapping her hands.
Copper shook his head. “No, Princess, not unless you want to go mad. That’s the trouble with glamour, if you have one too long, the wielder can sometimes forget themselves. Many an elf went mad after the Doerman’s invaded because they spent so long in disguise they forgot what they looked like.”
“But I want to see it,” Tristan pouted.
Sarai didn’t know what to say as the girl pouted in the middle of the floor, but the quiet mountain that was Connor lumbered over to deal with the situation.
“It’s for your own safety that you can’t, Princess,” he whispered. Tristan’s lip wobbled, and Connor seemed to give in. “You have hair the color of fire,” he said. “And freckles like your brother. I see you as short and thin, a commoner’s child and not a princess. I still see you but it’s not you entirely, and I wonder what your mother would think, now it’s come to this…at how I failed.” Sarai winced.
Tristan watched her guardian with solemn eyes, pouting long forgotten. “You did your best, Con,” she said. “Mama would be proud of you.” She placed one hand on Connor’s shoulder and Sarai smiled when she recognized the gesture.
It was one Anfir was fond of using when cheering up his crew. She stifled a laugh at how Tristan tried to mimic his trusting expression and the way he leaned into the person. She was trying to reassure Connor, and it was working. The man had locked eyes with the child a fraction of his size and the hope and love there was painful for Sarai to see. She wondered, not for the first time, just how dedicated Connor had been to Countess Julianna.
Sarai and Connor, may not have been the best equipped to become parents, especially to a royal, but they made peace with the mistakes they would and did make. The village was nestled high and deep in the valley between mountains, Tutti’s Cottage being up the mountain and on the very outskirts of the area. They were far away from the Doerman’s and their threat.
The winters were harsh, but the summers were mild and good for farming. While Connor worked the fields, Sarai returned to the comforts of Tutti’s forge. She focused on training Tristan into a force to be reckoned with, while Connor spent years teaching Tristan diplomacy the best he knew how. Down in the valley, villagers got used to Sarai making the deliveries again, oftentimes with Tristan by her side. All of Tutti’s creations, from daggers to kitchen knives needed to be delivered and payment collected. Sarai used it as a time for Tristan to wander around and meet other children.
As time passed a small troupe formed. Ten children, girls and boys, were often being led around by Tristan’s scrawny frame. None of them were able to make it up the mountain often, but as soon as Tristan arrived in the village, she became surrounded by her miniature forces as she helped Sarai with deliveries. This meant Sarai was often followed by a trail of tiny humans, nick-named her “ducklings” by the women in the market. She didn’t know it at the time, but the duckling brigade would grow up together, turning into awkward teens as the years passed. Tristan held onto her title as leader of the motley crew with both hands, even after they outgrew games of skipping stones or climbing trees.
Their time in Tutti’s village was peppered with infrequent visitors from the rebellion. Fenrir wrote to them as often as possible to keep them informed, but his visits were rarer than visions from the gods. Each time, the boy’s face grew shallower and his eyes fiercer, but they softened as soon as Tristan wrapped her arms around him. Tristan made it to fifteen summers while only being able to see her brother every other year. Each time he left, Sarai felt a tension in Tristan. She turned jittery and looked out the window with a far off expression. The quietness would fade after a few days, but the longing expression never really left.
“I want to go back and fight.” Tristan did her best to speak convincingly. Her pseudo parents had to have known this was coming, but they looked shocked when she said it.
Sarai nearly dropped the sword she’d been cleaning. Connor stared at her agape. A piece of potato from the dinner he’d just begun fell out of his mouth and back onto the plate. Tutti chuckled at them from her spot by the hearth, smoke drifting from her pipe while she watched the drama unfold.
“Absolutely not!” they said in unison.
Tristan sighed, preparing for a long battle.