The Summer Child

"Never mind. You bear the magic to make a land beautiful."

"How can that be? I have no magic, nothing."

"You lie. You can find a way. Let this be your room, your new home, until you do." Angry, the king turned away, striking the air with a fist.

Desperate, the girl took a few steps. She turned, frozen skin pleading with a look.

"Fix it," said the king again, and watched her as she stood, shivering, in her wrap bright as a wintermint berry.

"Do not cry for yourself," he says, "cry for the land that dies every night, with every snowfall. See these trees—they fall under the weight of ice, with no hope of thaw or spring."

"Your heart is as cold as this place," she sobbed, and started to run from him. With only a few steps, she fell. And now she was weeping, like a child for her mother. Her cheek lay cold on the new snow.

In the moments that passed the clouds gathered overhead, leaving only a slit for the new moon. The king marked their passing of them and the childish cries to womanly decorum and tears. She had raised herself up, but was still turned away from him, her tormentor. He sighed. Night was fully upon them; the horses were nervous of the Vargs, the savage wolves of the North. He went to the girl and put his hand to her shoulder. "Come, I will take you home," he said. But as she raised her head, he saw there, underneath her body, how the snow had melted and the ground thawed. There, in the place she once laid, was life—a green shoot, growing.

*

And so the change began. Every morning, dawn crept in a little sooner. Every evening the night lingered more distant. And the birds knew and sang—the first flowering of life echoing around the hills. Every morning, the king rode out to hear them, and see the land remade. When the green began to grow on the hills, fresh new shoots among the rocky stubble, the he knew. Soon, growth would start in earnest and every wild plant push its way up higher and higher to the sky.

"Order seed," he told his servants. "Let every soldier also be given a plow."

After riding, he would ride to the castle and salute the east wing, where the princess, as they now called her, was a white shadow haunting the window. She would see him and turn away.

"Would my lady like to go out?" her guardian asked. "It's a beautiful day, such as I've never seen."

"I don't know," said Kyri. One hand absently stroked Circ's rugged fur.

"Oh, why not? You could do with the fresh air. You're so pale, if my lady doesn't mind me saying."

"No, I don't mind. I suppose I am," but the girl was playing with Circ now, pulling his ears and rubbing them between her fingers, enjoying the silky texture.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Who is it?" the guardian asked, putting away her knitting.

"It's the king," said a deep voice. Kyri stiffened. Circ straightened. After a worried glance to her mistress, the woman went to open the door. Bobbing a curtsey, "Your majesty."

The king looked straight past her, to the lovely girl at the window. "The ground has thawed," he said. "The last frost was weeks ago. The people told me as I rode through-they are ready to begin planting."

The wraith in the window only looked him silently.

"Go on," said the maid, "I'll get your wraps."

"She won't even need them. It's warm, warm as...spring time," the king said the word in wonder.

"Very well," the woman smiled and bobbed again. "I'll leave you two."

"My lady, I know-" he stopped there as if he did not know how to go on so formally. She regarded him then, with calm eyes, guarded but not unfriendly. At last he said, "Please. Please come. I need your help." And he stretched out his hand.

*

Kyri stood up and let the seeds spill from her hands. "This is wheat," she said. "It is best planted two great moons after the last frost. And here is the barely," she walked on to the next bulging sack. Her audience, a long line of rugged men, hard jawed but attentive, watched her walk among the rows. So far she had explained planting, crop rotation, fertilization and irrigation. "The best fertilizers can be found in the streams and your garbage, or right in your own barns."

The king watched in admiration. It was not everyday that smiles crossed the weathered faces of his people. The maiden moved among them with great ease, speaking about soil, seed and plant as easily as breathing. She did not seem to notice the admiring glances. The king, however, was not, and stayed close.

"Some insects and birds are pests, but others are pollinators and ready harvesters: they will help your crop in different ways. Keep bees; they are good for your crops. If any crops are sick with blight, or too much rain, come speak to me." She glanced at the king then, so he added, "The royal court will be in the castle until the next full moon, and then move to the new garden palace for the summer. The princess can be petitioned there."

The sky was dusky rose before the farmer's dispersed. The king had both his own chariot, and a covered carriage for the maiden and her entourage. Kyri was tired, he could tell. As he waited to escort her back, he saw her stoop down with the bags of seeds. She took a handful and secreted it away to a pocket somewhere among her clothes. Then she came along towards the king. He offered her his arm, and when she refused it but stumbled with weariness, came beside her close enough to help her. Together they made their way back in the waning light.

"A good day," he said. "The farmers will work harder and reap better, knowing what you know."

The maiden was silent. He watched her face carefully; was there anger there underneath the etched lines of exhaustion?

"You, also, have worked hard. This will be summer as I've never seen summer before. Thank you."

The maiden stopped then, with closed eyes and a little swaying. The king stayed right at hand.

"I am not doing this for you."

"As king, on the behalf of my people, I thank you."

The woman opened her eyes. All around her stretched Winter's land, for the first approaching a full summer. It was not yet green, but brown and barren. She felt the weight of seeds in her pocket, and thought of how much power it would take to get a simple handful to grow green, much less the grain on all the hills. Thinking of this she swayed; the king called on her waiting women, and they took her to the castle. The lord of Winter watched with concern, knowing as no else did the control and drain of power.

*

Later, in the candlelit castle, he climbed the long steps to the princess' tower. He paused at the top for a long, long time. The tower was silent but for the clicking of the waiting women's needles, and the crackling of a fire. At last, he went in.

"I see you are back in health," he said to her. She was sitting right by the fire, stroking Circ. Because she was so close to the fire, her color was high.

"The loss of power is understandable," he said into the awkward silence. "I have felt it before, when I attempted to fix the land. As ruler, I have certain control over these hills, the river, and the borders. I know when the Vargs trespass and when the bridge is being crossed. But I cannot make things grow." His voice had become raw.

There was a pause. The king turned away until he could compose himself. If she noticed his outburst, the maiden showed no sign. She had yet to meet his eyes, but stared into the fire as she stroked Circ thoughtfully.

"I'll fix your country," she said finally. "I've done it before." She bit her lip then; the arrogance sounded too much. Had she really made eternal summer as the source of magic in her homeland? Perhaps. She wasn't sure how much was her mother's work. She had always been good with sunlight, she knew. Bending it, focusing it, and using it to make things grow. Then there was her love of green things. They grew, even when she hurt or felt as if she might die. She could create life.

"My people will be grateful." The king said in a low, rough voice.

"There's no amount of gratitude that can repay me," she said flatly, almost arrogantly, if it hadn't sounded so despairing. She was realizing her own power now, and how much it was like a curse.

"I offer you the highest honor a woman can receive," the king said, and moved toward the fire. He placed a box on the hearth and let the top fall back and the dazzle of the box's contents fill the room. The box held a gold circlet. "I'll make you queen," the king offered the crown with a casual wave of his hand, and leaned up against the mantel. Kyri fingers fisted and whitened in an angry grip on Circ's fur. Sensing her anger, the wolf hound whined. She stood suddenly then, ready to storm out. But for all her newfound height, the king still towered over her. He was calm now, the mask of stone firmly in place. So, instead of leaving, she sat down and grabbed the crown from its velvet bed. It gleamed at her, a thrilling promise. Beside her the king's eyebrow raised, in surprise. The child was unpredictable in her passions. This could be attributed to childish temper, but...

Slowly, a sad look on her face, Kyri shook her head. "You invite me to do something good, something I would have done gladly if properly petitioned and invited. But the gift you would give to your country was stolen, and therefore tainted." She set the gold circlet back in its case. "Anything I do here will have evil consequences."

"You lie," said the king. "There is no more evil that can be done here."

For the first time Kyri looked up and laid her eyes on the king's face. It was sharp as a blade, the bone cold and the skin laid on sparingly. Her gaze was like a warm palm laid on the king's cheek, and he barely controlled his surprised flinch. For a second they both looked at each other, light brown eyes meeting gray ones.

"Then the evil will fall elsewhere," Kyri said, and rising, left the king and the circlet in their places.

*

When the moon again was full, the court moved to the summer palace. The weather was as hot as it had ever been, and the kingdom was now enjoying a full summer. Farmers were already taking in lettuce and spring onions, potatoes and new peas. Fields were being tilled for the next crops—wheat, corn, rye, and all other grains. Melon vines were reportedly taking over any available space. In some places, it seemed that brambles grew up over night, and with morning burst into white blossoms that would lead to blackberries. And along every field grew multicolored wildflowers: morning glory, aster, poppy and daisy, dancing like confetti in the breeze.

"Growth is reported to be robust in all areas of the kingdom," the scout said. The warrior riders had found their job changed from first strike force to guardsmen for produce. They rode out to every corner of the land, speaking with farmers and weighing vegetables, growing tanner with each trip.

"And the seed shipments?"

"Arrive on the morrow," the scout said promptly. "Mostly grains this time, I believe. Several of vegetable, herb and bean. And the saplings you requested: lilac and starwood."

"All but the trees will go to the people. Planting has finished in the eastern corridor," said the master gardener. "And the fruit trees should be full flowering in another season."

"They'll flower this year," murmured the king. He was gazing out from the verandah, looking past marble columns to rows and rows of fading into wild, rambling gardens, hills and woods. "She loves fruit."

A quizzical look came across the gardener's face, but he merely bowed.

"Shipments of food and drink from the south country have decreased," said the scout. "The people are eating off of first harvest. The main import is grain and wine."

"Soon, we will be the ones to export such things," said the king.

"Try this, my lord," a steward came forward with a goblet. The king tasted the honey colored liquid and nodded his approval. "Mead from the honey of our own bees," the man answered the question on the king's face.

The king nodded, and finished the ale while his men waited. "Where is the princess?" he asked abruptly.

"In the garden with the wolf-hound. She sits there most afternoons, playing."

"Playing?"

"Yes, my liege-she asked for a harp. We did not think it would cause harm, so we gave her one."

"Well, tell her she must visit the vineyards," the king said. "We can start winemaking as soon as we have a harvest there." The steward bowed, and left, along with the gardener. Only the scout, a silver-haired warrior wearing all black, remained.

"The child has grown up," he said quietly.

"Yes, the power in her was strong. She grew the moment she set foot on our side of the river, so they tell me."

"She has done much. No wonder the people call her princess, and sing songs of the summer maiden."

No one knows, the king did not say, of the offer I made her, but still they call her princess.

The master spy must have seen something in his lord's face, for he changed the subject."Your brother will be looking for your visit soon. His spies are reporting all the changes to him."

"And?"

"They say he is... curious. But harvest in his kingdom is not as great as in years past. He is distracted, for now."

"I sent Hunter to explain to him." The king said flippantly. "My brother invited him to his inner court. We will learn more when he returns."

"But, my lord," the scout continued, but it was clear the king was not listening. Out in the lush lawn of the garden, the steward had appeared leading Circ on a leash. Within seconds, the big animal leaped on the man, knocking him down, and ran free to a figure coming from the eastern wing of the house. The woman laughed and bent to undo the rope from his collar, and then, ignoring the protesting steward, walked on behind the loping Circ towards the valley. The king watched her straight back until it aligned with and was consumed by the light of the sun.

"My lord?"

"I'm going to inspect the fields," the king said.

"Shall I call a page to ready River?"

"No," the king said, "I'll go alone."

*

The maiden walked the gravel paths of the cultivated gardens at the palace. She grew to love every lush curve of the hedges and beds, and every gardener by name. Beyond the hedges were fields, and beyond those, hills or forest.

"What is out there?" she asked continually, longing to go past the hedges.

"Why, there's nothing but hills and small towns over the western way. And to the north are only forests, until the rim of the North. But that is guarded by vargs."

"Vargs?"

"Wolves, my lady. Larger and fiercer than you would care to meet." The servants looked tellingly at Circ when they said this, but he merely lolled happily under his mistress' strokes.

She was glad when she was allowed out to go riding, usually to nearby farms or villages to teach them about growing. The guards let her ride slowly back; she convinced them to take her further and further out, on the pretense that she wished to see how the land was doing.

One summer's eve, she came upon a wilderness of thorny strands covered becomingly with white blossom. The vines had formed a tunnel.

"I've heard of these," Kyri whispered in awe. She dismounted to explore. "They're blackberries, just at the flowering."

The guard with her just grunted and looked around suspiciously. She turned her charming looks onto him.

"May I?" she asked. The guard, a silver-haired man all in black, held up his hand for her to wait. He went into the tunnel a little, looked about carefully and then nodded. "Do not wander too far," he said.

Enchanted, she moved down the corridor of the vines. The path went on, twisting like the branches, until a person could be caught in the maze-like thorny thicket. Outside, the guard waited until the wind began to blow about him, coming over the hills from the sun. He thought he could see a lone horse man there, shimmering. He counted to ten five times, and then called the maiden out.

"Princess!" She appeared from between the briars. "We must go," he said grimly, and looked up to see if the horseman was upon them. It was too late.

"Piper," called a sunny voice, "Don't be so dreary." The horseman galloped up, blond hair bouncing about a tanned face. He dismounted the instant his horse stopped.

The maiden looked up into blue eyes and seemed mesmerized as Hunter to her hand and bowed over it.

"My lady," he said, "forgive me, but I did not recognize you. You have become so beautiful."

For a second, the maiden merely looked him, and then offered a shy smile.

"I see you are gracious enough to accept my apology. Perhaps I can lure you into a walk with me." Hunter offered her his arm. "If we walk together, perhaps the guards will be a little more lax."

Piper was waiting alone when the king rode up. He dismounted quickly from River, who whickered angrily at Hunter's tall war horse.

"Hunter has returned," the king said. "He speaks quite well of my brother's court, and the riches there. Apparently there was a slight drop in harvest, but nothing that could cause concern. Everyone in the land had plenty."

"So there seems to be no curse," Piper said quietly.

"Yes," the king's reply died away, as the laughing couple came from the brambly path. Hunter was in full stride, telling a tale, while the maiden leaned on his arm, looking up at him and smiling and smiling.

"Hunter has seen the princess," the scout said softly. They both watched as the knight guided her on down toward a grove of trees. He saw them once, and waved. The princess did not look back at all.

"I must go," the king said abruptly. "I only came to see if all was well."

I will watch them," Piper said.

"No," said the king. "you there's work to be done, both here and around the country. She's has enough surveillance, for now."

The laughter of the two ringing through the air, king turned silently and left on River.

*

Those who had whispered about a possible marriage between the princess and their sullen king now brightened at the prospect of another courtly romance. Hunter was much beloved in the towns, where he often rode with bright head uncovered.

"He takes her riding and woos her everyday," was the gossip. "I hear he offered her a crown—a silver circlet just as a princess should wear. That's more than the king has done..."

Kyri was oblivious to the talk. It was true, most days Hunter did come by her garden gate and call for her to go riding. And sometimes she did. They visited vineyards and berry patches, even once riding far enough south to see an orange grove. She moved in awe among the white blossom covered trees. Hunter had to work to get her to pay more attention to him than to the plants.

"Look at me, my darling," he said one day. She had spent most of the afternoon down on her knees in the dirt, looking for a particularly nasty grub that was blighting the tomato plant.

"What?" she finally looked up, a smear of mud becomingly on her cheek. Hunter removed his riding gloves to rub it gently away.

"Come," he led her by the hand to a line of cherry trees, with new fruit, and lifted her into the lower bows. Now her head was taller than his, and he looked up at her with serious grey eyes.

"Are you happy here?"

Kyri looked at him with a half frown, as if she did not quite understand the question. "Today is beautiful. I'm having fun," she said.

"I don't mean today, in this tree...unless you think that tree dwelling becomes you. I certainly do," he looked admiringly up at her. She drank in his praise shyly. "I mean in this place, this whole land." She soberly looked at him, and he went on, "You shouldn't have to stay her, if you don't wish it."

"I like this place. It has been transformed since I arrived here. There has been nothing like it in my life."