Princess of the Midnight Ball - Jessica Day George [4]
Galen unfastened the cloak and watched his body ripple into view. With great reluctance he tried to hand the cloak back to the old woman. “I couldn’t take something like this from you, goodfrau,” he said respectfully. “This is a magical treasure of some kind. You should guard it carefully, or find a magician or some such to sell it to. You could buy yourself a new dress, a cottage even, with the money from something like that.”
The crone slapped him before he could duck. “The cloak is not for sale, no matter if I starve to death. It’s to be given to the one who needs it most. And that’s you, soldier.”
He shook his head to clear away the sting from her slap. “But I have no need for it,” he said, trying again to give it back. “I’m just a soldier, as you say, or at least I was. I don’t have a home or a sweetheart or even work.”
Pushing his hands away, the old woman cocked her head to one side. “You’ll need this, and more.” Again she rummaged among her rags, and this time pulled forth a large ball of white wool and a smaller one of black. “The black is coarse, but strong,” she said. “The white is soft, but warm and strong in its own way. One can bind, the other protect. Black like an iron chain, white like a swan floating on the water.” She pressed them into his hands, and he nearly dropped the wool and the cloak. “Black like iron, white like a swan,” she repeated, staring meaningfully into his face.
Without thinking, he repeated her words. “One can bind, the other protect. Black like iron, white like a swan.”
She turned and began walking in the direction Galen had just come from. “You will have need of it, Galen,” she said. “When you are in the palace, you will have great need. He must not be allowed above.”
“Who must not be allowed? And I’m not going to the palace,” he said to her retreating back, confused. “I’m going to find work with my aunt and uncle, they—” He broke off. “How did you know my name?”
“Remember, Galen,” she called over her shoulder. “When you are in the palace, you will have great need.”
Bruch
Galen reached Bruch a week later. The city was much like an army camp: bustling people and mud and the smell of smoke and horses and a thousand other odors, all warring with one another. Unlike the lines of tents, however, the streets of Bruch did not run straight, and Galen soon became confused. Finally he stood in the middle of a street, turning around and around, trying to decide where to go next.
“Lost, soldier?” A stout woman in an apron had come out of a pastry shop nearby. She gave him a warm smile. “Care for a sticky bun?”
His stomach growled loudly, and a girl passing with a basket on her arm giggled. He looked at her, and she looked back boldly and winked.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” the pastry cook said, drawing his attention back to her. “Come in, come in.”
Blushing, Galen went. He didn’t want to yell across the street that he had no money to pay for a sticky bun, but the pastry cook stopped him with a hand on his arm before he had taken two steps into her shop.
“I’d not take your money, even if you had any,” she said, her kind eyes twinkling at him. “My sons-in-law returned home safe two weeks ago. The day I saw them coming up the road I made a vow that any soldier who came my way would be welcome to eat his fill.” Her smile faded a little, and she brushed at some dust on Galen’s sleeve. “There’s many who have no mother or wife to welcome them open armed, as my daughters’ husbands did.”
Galen returned her sad smile. “That’s a great kindness, goodfrau. My name is Galen Werner.”
“I’m Frau Weiss, but you may call me Zelda.”
She sat him down at a little table and brought him not only a plate of sticky buns but also a cup of rosehip tea, a large wedge of cheese-and-onion pie, and a glass of cool milk. He thanked her profusely and tucked in, stopping only to rise and be introduced to her two dimpled daughters.
“Our husbands found work right away,” the eldest,