Chapter 2: The Fire Markets of Cymdros
After the heated meeting with Ambassador Thoringol, Derek had been bracing himself for another difficult conversation with the two mages from Merduin waiting in the royal library. Merduin was a small kingdom in the western steppes with one gem: the only university on the continent dedicated exclusively to magical learning. And they had been pressuring Chamberg for years to take on a royal mage. While Derek doubted they would be openly hostile like the ambassador, he was not sure he had the energy for what would be, in essence, a sales pitch.
However, the two mages who greeted him—a woman in wine-red robes whose loosely braided hair was starting to gray and a younger man, presumably her student, with brighter orange-red robes—seemed content to exchange pleasantries and hand him a letter with the university seal. The older woman, who introduced herself as Sage Naomi, sat back in her chair nursing a mug of tea while Derek read the letter.
To Her Royal Majesty Queen Ubertha, Guardian of the Emerald Fleet, and His Royal Highness Prince Derek, Crown Prince of Chamberg and head of the Order of the Rowan,
We are pleased to recommend these three Sages for your consideration, to provide service and counsel to the kingdom of Chamberg in matters both occult and mundane:
The body of the note had a paragraph about each candidate, listing their names, their specialties and some of the most impressive feats they had accomplished during their mandatory five-year shadow period traveling with a more experienced Sage. Derek noticed that none of the three had focused on combating the Forbidden Arts, though one had unraveled a rather tricky hex involving books whose words rearranged themselves during her shadow period.
"If any of your candidates can break the curse Chamberg is under now, I'll consider bringing them on," Derek said. "Unless your mages can do that, I'm afraid I don't see much point. Perhaps you'd consider nominating someone who specializes in fighting the Forbidden Arts?"
Sage Naomi regarded him sympathetically.
"Your preference is certainly understandable, Your Highness," she said. "But you must realize, mages who specialize in combating eldritch magic are also required to study it in depth—in practice sometimes, not only in theory. We screen all the students in that school very carefully. However, since this would be Chamberg's first time commissioning a royal mage, we thought someone from a…tamer…discipline would be more prudent."
As Derek finished reading the letter, he noticed a postscript at the bottom, written in an entirely different hand.
P.S. There are no tomatoes in the fire markets of Luthedain.
"What does this mean?" he asked abruptly.
Sage Naomi's younger companion looked shocked and a little frightened at Derek's reaction.
"I've never seen that before, Your Highness," he said.
"But how did it even get on this letter? Do you know whose handwriting this is?"
"I swear, we have no idea. They wouldn't have sent us otherwise—"
Sage Naomi silenced her student with a hand on his arm. "My apprentice speaks the truth. We didn't read the letter before coming here. We only knew the names of the candidates on it. We don't know what this postscript means, and we couldn't tell you if we did. The university chose us to meet with you because we know nothing about the information you've been looking for."
"Can you at least tell me when the letter was written?" Derek pressed.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness. Truly I am," Sage Naomi said. "If you think there is anything sensible in that sentence, then it's something that makes sense only to you."
The two mages made short bows as they left the library. Derek sat down, staring at the letter like it might spontaneously combust for daring to defy his kingdom's curse. But somehow this message had made it past Chamberg's invisible gatekeepers.
There are no tomatoes in the fire markets of Luthedain. He had recognized the handwriting first, before he had even processed the words. The hand that wrote the postscript was Odette's, and Derek knew the memory she was referencing; he knew it very well.
The kingdom of Cymdros, 1 year and 10 months earlier. December.
Derek remembered very little of his first visit to Cymdros. He did not even remember meeting the baby princess—because how much does anyone really remember from when they were three? So when he arrived there sixteen years later, he wasn't surprised to discover he didn't recognize a thing.
The mountains, though—Derek wanted to chastise his three-year-old self for not paying more attention to those. Chamberg had mountains, but they were leagues from the sea, rising gradually from dense forests or farm fields like mountains chastened by time and weather were supposed to. In Cymdros, mountains nearly half a mile high plunged straight into the sea, their green and black slopes so sharp they were practically cliffs.
Cymdros had six islands, and the royal palace wasn't on the largest or even the one with the richest soil. For over a millennium, the rulers of Cymdros had made their seat of power on Myneddu, the Island of the Black Mountain—the third largest and most treacherous for incoming ships.
A perfect defense as long as all your enemies are outside, Derek had thought as his ship approached the narrow harbor nearly hidden in the black cliffs.
Craning his neck, Derek could just barely make out the shape of Caer Mynedd two thousand feet above them. Caer Mynedd was King William's palace now, but little more than a century ago it had belonged to the dreaded Veiled Kings. The Veiled Kings had ruled these islands for over four hundred years. No one knew where they had come from, but they had maintained an iron grip on Cymdros by wielding strange eldritch magic—what most now called the Forbidden Arts.
King William's grandfather Siegfried had led the revolt that finally defeated them, with the help of Queen Moira of Chamberg. Once the War of the Veiled Kings was over, every kingdom on the continent banned further use of the Forbidden Arts outside controlled, defensive study. But Cymdros had gone even further. Scarred and suspicious, Cymdros had outlawed magic of any kind within its borders, even the most benign spells.
However, despite the imposing history and terrain, a warm welcome awaited him at the dock. King William and Odette had ridden down to meet him. Before Derek had taken four steps off the gangplank, the king embraced him in a fierce bear hug that raised him at least three inches off the ground—an impressive feat for a man nearly seventy, Derek remembered thinking. Though looking back, perhaps that had been the point of the gesture.
"Welcome to Cymdros, my boy! We're overjoyed you made the journey to our shores," the king said warmly. "I trust the captain we sent gave you a smooth voyage?"
"Smooth and enlightening, Your Majesty," Derek replied when his lungs could expand properly again. "I believe he taught me more about Cymdros in two days than all my tutors combined."
Odette had remained on her horse. Derek determinedly avoided looking at her during this exchange. He didn't want to know if she was amused at the sight of her father essentially sweeping him off his feet. When he finally glanced her way, she greeted him with a nod and a polite smile. If there was a forced quality to it, could he blame her? All her summer holidays had been ruined by his presence, and now he was ruining her winter holiday as well.
Odette clicked her tongue, and the black horse Derek had thought was King William's took a few steps toward him. Derek stretched out his hand, and the horse nuzzled his fingers and let him stroke her forehead.
"She likes you," Odette observed.
"She's probably just looking for sugar," Derek replied.
"Onyx has a good nose. She'd know if you had sugar on you," Odette said.
They journeyed up the cliff face at a slow walk, navigating a series of switchbacks lined with protective stone guardrails nearly as tall as their horses. The road was wide enough for at least two carriages, but Derek could see why the king had chosen to take the journey on horseback. It was a mild winter day, tempered by a warm wind from the sea. And in the clear late afternoon sun, the view across the ocean stretched for miles. Derek could make out the outlines of three more islands in the distance, their tall silhouettes like black sentries watching the horizon. Hundreds of feet below, the waves sent up giant fans of sea spray as they crashed against the rocks.
He'd never been afraid of heights, but his gawking over the ledge must have given Odette that impression. Or perhaps she simply wanted to needle him, because when they were about one quarter of the way up, she remarked,
"If the climb makes you nervous, just do what the horses do and close your eyes."
The ascent took nearly two hours. The final half hour treated them to a dazzling sunset, which Derek had to admit was somewhat lost on him because by that point he wanted nothing more than to get off Onyx's back. He wasn't sure which part of him was sorer, his nineteen-year-old ego or his arse. Knowing how his mother liked to put on a grand show whenever dignitaries arrived, he was dreading whatever banquet or party would be waiting when they reached the palace. But it seemed King William wasn't nearly as trigger-happy as Queen Ubertha when it came to grand occasions. When he reached the top, he saw only a large, white canopied tent with warm lanterns hanging from the top. Two figures stood outside the tent, their faces difficult to make out, backlit by the lanterns in the dying sun.
"Of course you remember my captain of the guard, Sir Josiah Langley," King William said as the bearded knight came forward to take his stallion's reins. "And his wife, Lady Anisha, our mistress of horses."
"It's an honor to finally welcome you to our shores, Your Highness," Sir Josiah said.
"Though I'd hesitate to call that uphill trek a welcome, especially after two days at sea," his wife added cheerfully. "Really, Your Majesty, Chamberg won't thank you for torturing their crown prince on his first day in Cymdros."
Lady Anisha was a head and a half shorter than her husband. Her coffee complexion and dark hair formed a stark contrast to Sir Josiah's fair skin and straw-colored hair, streaked with gray. Though looking at least in her mid-forties, she made a sprightly figure in her burgundy shirt and beige riding trousers. Despite her sympathetic words, Derek suspected she could have done the same trek twice, round trip, without taking a rest or straining a muscle.
The quiet, informal dinner that followed was a welcome relief. Derek listened more than he talked as King William, Captain Josiah and Lady Anisha described the various sights and experiences in store for him during his two-week stay. Part of the relief, he knew, stemmed from the privacy. There wasn't a single servant in the tent. All four of his hosts took turns refilling glasses and replacing plates. When they finished the second course—raw oysters with a sweet chili sauce—Derek began to rise, thinking it was his turn. But King William forced him back into his seat with a gentle shove.
"You're our guest tonight," the king said with mock sternness. "Next time you visit, perhaps we'll give you the honor of serving."
Derek still made a point of joining the cleanup at the end of the meal. He hadn't gathered more than a few handfuls of silverware, however, when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
"Join me for a bit? There's something I'd like to show you," Odette said.
Derek hesitated, more than a little taken aback. There was no mischief in her eyes, which made him naturally suspicious. But it also made him curious—morbidly, perhaps.
"Where?" he asked.
"The Fire Markets. Every island has them this time of year, for the Winter Solstice." Odette nodded to the southeast. "They're about a quarter mile downhill that way. They'll only be going on for three more nights, so this may be your only chance to see them."
When he didn't answer right away, she shrugged her shoulders. "But if you're tired, I understand. My father and Captain Josiah can show you to the palace."
"Lead the way," Derek said, nearly cutting her off midsentence. Odette looked surprised at his abrupt response, but Derek knew a challenge when he heard one. They'd been throwing challenges like this at each other since the first summer they'd met. And even when his better judgment tried to intervene—as it had many times and was doing right now—he had yet to back down from one.
Still, Odette's polite tone and friendly demeanor were unsettlingly new. What is she playing at? Derek wondered.
As they made their way into the streets, Odette described the Fire Market tradition: outdoor night markets that lasted for fourteen days leading up to the Winter Solstice. Every island had their own flavors, and the rivalries were notorious. As the capital island, Myneddu's of course were the grandest. But the wildest had always been on Nefynmor. The last time King William had visited that one three years ago, Odette explained, the mayor had draped a hooded cloak with fireproof inner lining around the king's shoulders and set it ablaze. King William had been remarkably enthusiastic about the display. But the spectacle had backfired, quite literally, when the train of his cloak set a nearby vegetable stand on fire. No one was hurt, but the stall owner's produce had been ruined. The king and the mayor agreed to compensate the stall owner by splitting the cost of the burnt peppers and mushrooms. Then they bought a few extra racks of lamb and everyone there that night had enjoyed free roasted kebabs.
When they finally turned the last street corner, Derek had to pause. A blazing arch of flames marked the entrance to the Fire Market, and these were no ordinary flames. Streaks of blue, green, violet, orange and magenta licked the sides of the arch from the ground to its zenith. Derek noticed a few attendants on either side of the arch with buckets and some very carefully placed ladders, presumably to replenish whatever powders gave the flames their colors.
Odette began to walk inside, but turned when she saw he wasn't following.
"Come on, Your Highness. You're not scared of a fire-breathing rainbow, are you?" she asked.
"No," Derek replied, relieved to return to their normal, sarcastic mode of conversation. "I was just wondering where the tomatoes are."
Odette looked at him oddly. "There aren't any tomatoes in the Fire Market. They're not in season this time of year."
"Fine. Whatever rotting piece of produce you're planning to have rain down on my head if I walk in there, I'm prepared this time."
Odette gaped at him. She looked torn between helpless exasperation and a desire to burst out laughing.
"This isn't an elaborate prank, Derek," she said finally. "This is called being a good host."
Derek paused again, but something in his chest began to lighten. Her behavior suddenly made a strange kind of sense. Odette wasn't trying to blindside him, nor was she trying to take their relationship in a weird, uncomfortable new direction. She was showing off. It was understandable. After being forced to spend all her summers in Chamberg, she finally had him in her element. And whatever she felt towards him personally, he had the impression she genuinely wanted him to like her home. Still, he wasn't ready to trust her completely.
"You'll swear, on the honor of every Swan King on your family tree and all their siblings, cousins and pets, that I won't get embarrassed if I follow you in there?" he asked. Odette sighed, but she raised her right hand.
"I swear, on the honor of Kings Siegfried, Willam the First, William the Second, their families and King Siegfried's pet duck Sir Downer, that the crown prince of Chamberg will only be embarrassed tonight if he embarrasses himself."
Accepting that as the best reassurance he was likely to get, Derek once again let his curiosity take over and followed her into the market.
As they passed beneath the burning arch, Derek found himself wading through a sea of lanterns and faces shadowed by the multicolored flames. They passed booths selling Cymdrosi spice cakes, mulled wine, jewelry, textiles and some exotic crafts he couldn't begin to identify. Tall stationary torches rose ten feet high after every three booths, casting their unnatural colors over the street. After a few minutes of walking, Odette stopped in front of a booth on their left and emerged with two bright green paper lanterns attached to thin wooden rods.
"Hold these, please," she said. Taking a small letter opener out of her pocket, Derek watched as she made two long slashes on the sides of each of their lanterns. Then, with a few more strokes, the lines took the shape of two feathered arrows. "This will make it easier for us to find each other. Or avoid each other, if that's your preference," she added with a wink.
"You know, these would make a perfect target if someone wanted to assassinate you," Derek couldn't help pointing out.
"Or a perfect decoy, if you wanted to throw someone off your trail," Odette replied. She led him further down the street. Scanning the crowds, Derek now noticed that almost all the colored lanterns had small shapes cut into them—crescent moons, stars, even what looked to be an elaborate phoenix on one red lantern. Everyone seemed to want to leave their own signature on the Fire Market. It was, he had to admit, a spectacular display. For a kingdom that had disavowed any form of magic, Cymdros had still managed to create something truly bewitching.
Odette paused in front of another booth selling mulled cherry wine. This time Derek intercepted her before she could pay for the two steaming mugs the vendor placed in front of them.
"What are you doing? You're my guest," she protested.
"Then call it a hostess gift," he suggested. "My mother sent a hospitality gift with me to present to your father tomorrow, but I forgot what it was. Probably something boring, like a set of sapphire wine goblets."
"It can't be worse than the hospitality gift my father and I gave you last summer," Odette remarked. Derek didn't have to ask what she was talking about. They both remembered the oddly-shaped silver horn King William had presented at Chamberg, which was supposed to sound like a chorus of nightingales whenever someone blew it. But the garbled, gargling sound it made was more like a chorus of drowning geese. Queen Ubertha had still made Chamberlain blow it before every meal for a solid week before Odette and King William had both begged her to stop.
Derek raised his mug to his lips, but Odette stopped him with her hand.
"Not yet," she said. "The Fire Fountain always gets the first sip." Puzzled, Derek let her lead him one more block down the street, where she turned to her left. After a couple more blocks, they emerged into an enormous plaza. At its heart sat…the Fire Fountain.
Standing at least thirty feet tall, the Fire Fountain was beyond doubt the centerpiece of the market. Each of its five layers held flames of a different color, presumably lit by oil coating the water's surface. As the water cascaded down, it reflected the iridescent, flickering colors of the fire rings above and below. A majestic marble bird—a swan or a phoenix?—perched on top, with wings outstretched as if about to soar from the flames.
At the edge of the fountain, Odette tilted her mug so a small splash of wine escaped into the base. Derek followed suit.
"All fires belong to the sun, and cherry wine only comes from the Isles of Cymdros," she said. "This is our way of encouraging the sun to keep shining on Cymdros after the Winter Solstice."
In lieu of a reply, Derek raised his mug in a toast, which Odette returned. They drank in silence for a few minutes. Derek remembered thinking that it still felt very awkward. He was glad she broke the silence first.
"Since you've sworn me to be truthful once tonight, would you return the favor?" Odette asked. A familiar glint of mischief had entered her eyes.
"Go on," Derek said.
"Bribe or threat?" she asked. "What tactic did our parents use to get you to visit Cymdros?"
"Neither," Derek replied. "I asked to come."
Odette chuckled, but Derek didn't miss the look of surprise that passed over her face.
"Then we have even less in common than I thought," she said. "I assumed we were both victims here. What possessed you?"
She deserved a more gracious reply than the one he gave. But their hands had been forced for so long, the prospect of even being friends was still difficult for Derek to imagine. It was more comfortable to think tonight was a fluke, a rare occasion for Odette to play the magnanimous host to satisfy her own ego.
"Curiosity," he said. "And a chance to gain the upper hand against our parents. They can't keep forcing this engagement if we can prove our kingdoms really are incompatible."
Odette didn't reply, and Derek realized his words may have cut more deeply than he'd intended. But of course she wouldn't be sorry if his prediction came true. After all, at the time, it was the outcome they both had wanted.
Chamberg, present. October.
There are no tomatoes in the fire markets of Luthedain. Derek fingered the note again in the library. He knew where Luthedain was and, last he'd heard, there were no fire markets there either. Luthedain was a small town in the kingdom of Lincolnshire, in a mountain pass just beyond Chamberg's northern border. He and his mother had stopped there many times on longer trips to Lincolnshire's capital, though never with Odette.
But the message wouldn't have worked if it made literal sense. However Odette had written this—and he was certain she had; they'd been exchanging letters for months before her disappearance; his marriage proposal hadn't come out of nowhere—she knew about his kingdom's curse. She knew she had to nest a clue within a memory that sounded like nonsense. And that had been enough to slip past the invisible web surrounding his kingdom.
No pranks. No tricks. The truth…or some piece of the truth…is in Luthedain.
Derek knew better than to think he would find her in Luthedain. The magic wouldn't have permitted a violation so blatant; not in the heart of Chamberg. More likely it was a clue to another clue. But just then, it felt as though Odette had lightly touched his shoulder and whispered, I'm still here. Don't lose hope.
Could she have left a clearer message beyond Chamberg's borders? Without thinking, he turned the note over and then wondered why he hadn't thought to do that sooner. Odette had written another message on the back.
The faithless curtain has been torn. The Cob King sent twelve little cygnets to close it last time, but it wasn't enough, and now another island must pay for his stinginess.