He turned his gray-green eyes to look at Shawna the Short, Shannon’s wife, who was patiently walking alongside his chair. He had asked her to accompany him to the princess’ room so that she might stay with the baby while he and Shailiha went about their business. Business that the wizard felt was long overdue.
Shawna the Short was an incredibly hard worker. Her hair was gray and tied at the back of her head in a bun, so that it would never interfere with her tasks. The simple dress she wore was covered in the front by a white apron that she washed out every night. Her no-nonsense shoes were flat and sturdy. Her blue eyes and strong chin showed a fierce independence, and Faegan had learned to rely on her very much over the last three hundred years. He had also come to love her as he would a daughter.
At last they arrived at the princess’ door, and the wizard knocked softly. At the sound of Shailiha’s voice he narrowed his eyes, opening the door with the craft, and wheeled himself in.
Shailiha was at her loom, and both the wizard and the gnome wife could begin to recognize the pattern that had begun to take shape in the woven lengths of thread. It was clearly a representation of a king and queen—her parents, he assumed. They were standing side by side in one of the great rooms of the once-sumptuous palace above.
Faegan suddenly realized that this was Shailiha’s way of dealing with her grief in this massive, lonely place. The young woman had been so used to light, gaiety, and love in her previous existence. It was apparent to him that her work at the loom was, at least in some small way, an attempt to relive those days. Smiling at his sudden insight, he found himself wholeheartedly agreeing with her methods.
She deals with her pain through the process of creation, Faegan thought. And Tristan dealt with his personal tragedies through the process of destruction—the killing of the sorceresses and the commander of the Minions of Day and Night. He paused in his thoughts for a moment, still regarding the lovely young woman at the loom. The Chosen Ones. So alike, so different.
Shailiha turned from her work and smiled at the two visitors. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully, rising and walking to them. She wore an off-white gown, with ivory satin shoes. A matching string of pearls lay around her neck, accompanied by the gold medallion she always wore.
She gave the elderly wizard a quick kiss on the cheek, then did the same for Shawna. “I am glad you have come,” she said. “I was just about to take the baby for a walk. Would you like to join me?” Faegan smiled, hoping that the blush on his cheeks wasn’t noticeable.
Shawna pulled a chair up before the princess and stood upon it. Without asking for permission, she rather grumpily began rearranging the way Shailiha’s dress lay upon the princess’ shoulders. Muttering under her breath, she tugged at the material until it was more to her liking—as if the princess were somehow her own personal charge. Getting down off the chair, she then looked into the crib to check on the child. Apparently satisfied, she started on the room itself, carefully fussing with things that were already in perfect order, like an old, contrary mother hen in need of something useful to do for her brood of chicks.
Shailiha shook her head and laughed. “You really needn’t do all of that,” she exclaimed. “The room is just fine as it is. So is Morganna. How you fuss over us!”
Shawna turned around to face the young woman. “You know how much I care about you,” she snapped. A short, knowing smile came to her lips, quickly vanishing behind the deceit of her supposed sternness. “Besides, you wouldn’t take these duties away from a poor, broken-down, three-hundred-year-old gnome, would you?”
Shailiha winked at Faegan. “There’s nothing broken down or old about you,” she replied. “You can do the work of a hundred. I’ve seen you.” With that she let the little woman alone, smiling as Shawna happily went about her loving but quite unnecessary labors.
Faegan cleared his throat. “Actually, I was hoping you would take a walk with me,” he said simply. “There is something I would like to show you. But I think it best you leave Morganna here. That is why I brought Shawna with me. So that she could look after the baby while we are gone.”
“I would be honored,” Shailiha answered. “But what is it you wish to show me? Will I be impressed?” She lowered her voice and raised one eyebrow high into the air in an obviously satiric imitation of Wigg. Faegan couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
“Yes,” he said. “You will be impressed!”
“Very well then, go along now,” Shawna said from a corner of the room as she began furiously dusting a shelf near the loom. “Go and do whatever it is you have to do. Just leave me and the baby in peace.”
Smiling at each other, the princess and the wizard left the room to negotiate the endless halls of the Redoubt. They talked of Morganna and of Joshua as they went, and of the trials that Wigg and Tristan had gone through to bring both the Paragon and the princess back to Eutracia. Her face darkening slightly, Shailiha also mentioned the loss of her husband and her parents. But she quickly regained her composure as they finally arrived at the door Faegan wanted.
He smiled at the princess. “Brace yourself. What you are about to see will, I’m sure, bring a smile to your face.” And with that he again narrowed his eyes, commanding the doors to open. As the wizard wheeled his chair through, the princess followed him into the massive atrium containing the fliers of the fields.
Faegan wheeled his chair into its usual place on the balcony. The princess came to stand next to him, on the side nearest the brass rail that was attached to the wall. Her smile expanded as she watched the giant, multicolored butterflies swoop and dart, careening endlessly but somehow never colliding. She stood transfixed, radiating a sense of happiness that the wizard had never before felt from her except in her moments with Tristan and Morganna. Grinning at her expression, Faegan cackled and slapped the arm of his chair.
Shailiha looked all about in amazement. The atrium was several stories high and constructed of the palest light blue, Ephyran marble. Plants, trees, and flowers of every color and description lined the floor. The light from the oil sconces helped to make the room seem full of magic and the promise of discovery.
Looking down, she saw the two curious wheels of marble upon the floor. One contained the letters of the Eutracian alphabet, the other the numbers, both in sequential order. But it was the butterflies that entranced her the most. She just gazed at them, wide-eyed, as they flashed by in the pale light of the great room.
Faegan was reminded of the fact that this was the first time the princess had truly seen the giant butterflies. Shailiha had not been aware of their existence before her abduction by the Coven, and during her trip home from Shadowood she had still been under the influence of the Coven’s incantation, and thus had no memories of the butterflies that had accompanied them here.
As he watched her, she slowly, silently extended her right arm out over the railing of the balcony. Almost immediately one of the larger fliers, violet and yellow one, came fluttering up to land on her arm. The flier rested there patiently, its only movement the slow opening and closing of its large, diaphanous wings.
There were few things left in the world that amazed the wizard Faegan. But now his jaw literally dropped. How can this be happening? he wondered. A bond between a flier and one of untrained blood!
Shailiha seemed mesmerized. It was as if she had entered another world, oblivious to everything around her except for the flier perched on her arm. Even the butterfly was unusually calm. It did not dance about, as was so often the case whenever Faegan called one to himself. Shailiha with the flier was one of the most beautiful, unexpected scenes the wizard had ever witnessed. For a long moment he simply watched. Finally his wizardly curiosity overcame the moment.