Book 1

Chapter 1: The Birth

The palace was abuzz with activity. Servants ran to and fro in anticipation of the royal
birth. Queen Melca had gone into labor just before dawn, and though it had gone on for hours,
the royal surgeon assured King Huldan it wouldn’t be long now. Consequently, his majesty had
ordered the whole palace bedecked for a banquet. The palace gates would be opened, and
young and old would be invited to celebrate the birth of the new prince or princess. Messengers
had been dispatched to neighboring kingdoms, both longterm allies and generational rivals
made friends by new peace. He had even insisted on inviting Them, though no one really
expect that particular invitation to be answered. But come or no, the glory king Huldan called for
would normally require a month of preparation, and he had insisted it be ready within a week.

“You can stop your pacing, your highness; it shan’t be much longer, now,” Doctor Marlin
assured the monarch.

“So you keep telling me, but I can’t imagine any man hearing the woman he loves
scream from dawn to midday and remain calm.”

The Queen, catching her breath, shot King Huldan a withering glare.

“Oh, I’m sorry love. I didn’t realize I was distressing you! The next time I give birth, I’ll try
to keep it down. Or better yet --”

Queen Melca didn’t finish her sentence as another contraction took hold.

“And there, at last, is the head!” called Doctor Marlin as the new baby’s wail joined the
birth groans of its mother.

“At last!” cried Huldan

While the labor up to this moment had taken hours, King Huldan afterward could not
remember whether the rest of the birth took seconds or days. It was like time was both long and
short until the rest of the baby was pushed out and he held his daughter in his arms.

“Hello, little angel,” he whispered to his cooing princess.

“Bring her here,” her mother called from the bed, “I’d rather not wait for more crying to
start her nursing.”

King Huldan carried the child to her mother, grinning ear to ear as he gazed down at his
wife and child. Then, a shadow fell across his expression. Melca looked up to her husband and
instantly knew the cause.

“It’s the right decision, Love. In all likelihood, they won’t even come.”

“I wish I had your faith, Darling,” he smiled, weaker than before, “but that always was
your gift. I was only ever good at war, and the wars have been won.”
 “You’ve done well enough at siring an heir, O brave warrior. Perhaps in time you’ll find
more aptitudes besides ending lives and helping them get started.”

Just then, the palace steward burst into the room.

“Apologies, your majesties,” said the trembling servant, “but the rider has returned…”

“Already?” began the queen, “but how could… which one?”

The steward extended the tray he carried. On it sat an envelope of crisp, rich parchment,
sealed with a wax that somehow shimmered pearlescent despite being made of wax.

“He found them?” asked King Huldan, going pale.

“He says he was met nearly as soon as he entered the forest,” the steward replied, “and
that the three Ladies standing there already had this reply standing ready, along with another in
black parchment which they did not give him ‘had the courtesies not been observed.’ His horse
had nearly been ridden to death by the return journey.”

King Huldan set his jaw as he seized the envelope from the tray and broke the seal.

“It’s not as if delaying a fight ever truly stopped it,” he muttered as he unfolded the
missive. It read:
“To the Most Noble and Illustrious King Huldan I and his lovely wife Queen Melca
the Lustrous,
On this, the occasion of your firstborn daughter’s birth, we are most overjoyed to be
remembered according to the Old Laws, and are delighted to accept your invitation
to the feast on the occasion of her Christening in a week’s time. For obvious,
regrettable reasons, we will not be attending the Christening itself. In gratitude of
this invitation, we promise that we shall each present the new princess with a single
gift, freely and fairly given, without want or expectation of repayment or reprisal. We
look forward to receiving your hospitality, and swear on our honors to abide by all
due courtesies.
By the Old Laws made new, By our Names and Powers, and by the Salt and Iron,
we do swear,
The Ladies of
Autumn
Summer
&
Spring”

“Only the three? Then she won’t be coming?” Queen Melca’s voice had caught an edge,
such as comes when one is desperately hoping for good news that is harder to accept than
bad.”

“It seems not,” sighed King Huldan. Then, for the second time on the joyous day, his
face hardened. “The messenger said three ladies met him at the forest’s edge?”

The steward nodded, nervously.

 “He did, Sire. He did not remark on their appearances, but I imagine from the contents
you’ve just read that the Lady Winter was not among them.”

“Then we must send another messenger at once to look for her!” cried Melca.

“No,” replied Huldan. “You know as well as I that we cannot. Those very same Old Laws
that protect us among the ladies who’ve accepted don’t permit us to enter the forest twice on the
same business.”

“But why would they keep us from reaching her?”

The baby began to wail in her arms and she steadied herself to sooth the child.

“We can only hope, since they clearly knew we were coming, that she knew too, and had
decided in advance to decline,” murmured Huldan.

The steward cleared his throat.

“Then, my liege, what are your orders?”

“We shall prepare Their place at the Banquet for Three Guests. Should we prepare for a
fourth, it would be like doubting Their word, and none of the Old Tales ever told of good coming
from doing that to Their faces…”

“...very well, your Majesty.”

The steward turned and left the way he came, and the birthing room, so recently joyous,
had gathered the gloom around itself. No one seemed prone to speak.
Chapter 2: The Christening
The week that followed soon swallowed the gloom in celebration and occupation, just as
thoroughly as the gloom had swallowed the elation of the new birth. Kings and Queens, Lords
and Ladies, and even prosperous citizens of the capital itself with no noble blood to speak of
had all accepted their invitations. Only a few sent their regrets, along with a present for the
princess. And the doors were still to open. King Huldan had declared that none would be
considered too lowborn to toast his daughter at his table.

It was on the morning of the ceremony itself that the Bishop gave some little trouble
about the intended naming of the new princess.

“But your majesty, surely one of the heroines of the Scriptures…”

“I’ve told you, no. I’ve no doubt the Lord chose to name for Himself many of His
servants, but He’s given no such instructions to us and we’ll not surrender our right to name our
heir to anything less.”

“Naturally, Sire. But couldn’t you take inspiration from them in your choice? Knowing that
both of your Majesties are newly converted, it would give the people reassurance to have a
name more consistent with the Faith.”

“I don’t recall any tenants of our conversion requiring giving our rights as parents over to
a book. We’re naming her after my father. Not some pagan god or demon. Just a good man,
Brynnel the soldier.”

“Brynnel the conqueror, you mean…”

“I mean my father. And they called me ‘conqueror’ too, before I set my mind on peace.”

The priest let out a weary sigh, knowing the argument was lost.

“And I thank the Lord each day you did, Sire. I only regret that you have so little regard
for my counsel.”

“I regard your counsel plenty, Didymus. I just don’t count myself its slave...”

The two were back on well-trod (and less contentious) ground, and continued their
friendly and familiar dispute as they walked down the corridor until their duties called them
elsewhere.

***

That afternoon, the church was filled entirely with more people than ever attended
service or sermon on any given week or holy day. Layfolk unaccustomed to pomp and
circumstance thronged to get a view of the young princess. Bishop Didymus spoke loud and
clear, and was sure to slip what sermonizing he could into the liturgy of the Christening.

Finally, the moment came, and Didymus with care pronounced the name he’d been
assigned, sounding out the foreign name in his head before he spoke brin-EE-fa
 “By His holy grace, now I offer and present to you for the first time, the Princess Brynifa.
May she live long in Faith and Truth.”

Didymus had often thought to himself what it might be like to preach a rousing sermon to
stir the populace, but it never before occurred to him he might elicit a cheer like that which met
him.

Well, he thought I suppose there are times it pays to honor our earthly lords as well… as
he basked in the exultant crowd’s jubilation.

It was not long, however, before King Huldan himself rose and ascended to beside the
Bishop.

Oh no, thought Didymus, he never talked about this.

Thank you all, my loyal subjects!” he bellowed, and the crowd quieted down. “Now,
we’ve filled this chapel to bursting, let’s do the same to my halls! Come and join me at the
palace, where we’ll celebrate my little Brynn! I swear on my blood, I’ll not turn away the loftiest
prince or meanest beggar while there’s still a seat at my table!”

Didymus had thought he’d heard joy in celebration of the Christening. When he heard
the people celebrate the king opening up his larder and wine cellar, he realized he’d been
wrong.
Chapter 3: The Banquet
It was the most magnificent feast that anyone attending had ever seen, peasant and
gentry alike. Though the king had been born low and risen to his status by force of arm, he
insisted on comporting himself as highborn among all the people. Untold measures of meat
were heaped at every place. The very least of table settings were of silver, and the goblets too.
Though the rabble were well-fed, the nobility were even more sumptuously appointed, with gold
in place of silver. But most finely set of all was a table apart, set with three places. Their settings
were also of gold, but the gold was adorned with gems: One place with Rubies, the Second with
Emeralds, and the Third with Sapphires. When the feast began, this table was conspicuously
empty.

The first to arrive was a woman dressed in dark red. She looked aged, but beautiful, and
her dress was cut to look like falling leaves. If you were to look closer, you would see that
despite the overall effect being of red, the dress was made of many plaited pieces, some of silk,
and others of golden thread, running the entire gamut from red to orange to gold. Unlike the
common folk, she did not arrive in a crowd. Unlike the nobility, she did not arrive with servants.
When she came, she came alone, and a chill wind followed her in through the palace doors.
She arrived just as the call to be seated for the first course was heard, and the crowd within fell
silent. Her voice, low and husky, carried clearly throughout the hall:

“The Lady of Autumn thanks you for your hospitality.”

And without another word she glided serenely to the ruby-encrusted setting and took her
seat. The hall remained quiet. Someone coughed.

“Well, then… welcome, Lady Autumn,” blustered King Huldan. “Servants! The first
course!”

At the king’s call, the room burst back into captivity, and the feasting began. Old friends
toasted their years together. Old grudges were buried or forgotten. Cheer and joy filled the hall.

Then, just as the first course was cleared, a hot wind blew through the open gates, and a
lady dressed in bright green arrived. Her dress shimmered and shifted, as grass or a willow tree
blowing in the breeze. Her figure was wide and round, putting one in mind of the most
prosperous of wives and mothers. Her appearance struck the banquet dumb again, until she
called out in a voice calm and strong and clear, sounding like she was just finished with a great,
belly-shaking laugh, or else about to begin one:

“The Lady of Summer thanks you for your hospitality.”

And though she too did not speak, she crossed to her seat with steps that looked like a
dance, belying her size, before settling herself into the seat adorned with Emeralds.

King Huldan, more accustomed now, not to mention having entered his cups,
remembered himself and called out, “Welcome, Lady Summer. Come now! Second Course!”

The meal resumed, and the conversation rejoined, albeit more slowly than the last time.
And then, when the plates were about to be finished and ready to be cleared, the room began to
grow quiet again. Thus, it was to an already still hall that the doors opened to reveal a
diminutive figure in blue. She looked just barely older than a child, and her dress and cloak gave
the impression of flower petals. Though no wind followed her into the hall, when the doors
opened the air smelled fresher and cleaner -fresher than anyone would have believed in a city,
much less in a room as full of people as this one. Her voice piped, high and kind.

“The Lady of Spring thanks you for your hospitality.”

This time, it was Queen Melca who spoke up, “And the hall bids you welcome, Lady
Spring. Let us continue, friends!”

And the feast continued. All three seats were filled. For most of the people in the hall,
that answered that. No more strange visitors were to be expected. No more silences and
changes in the air.

But some of the eldest remembered old stories and muttering joined the chorus of
celebration. Most ignored their murmurs, but eventually some joined in and more than one voice
was heard to ask why were there three and not four? Aren’t there four seasons? And the joy of
the day was no longer unalloyed. Had it remained nothing but worry, the day would have been
better, but the worries were only the beginning.

Chapter 4: The Gifts

As tradition dictated, once the meal was nearly done, those who were invited by name
rose one-by-one to give gifts to the Princess Brynifa. The lowborn guests were not expected to
join in, but those who had been called specifically were, beginning with the lesser nobility and
ascending in rank. Some brought baubles fit for an infant. Others offered rare fruits which,
unless they were planted and took root in the castle, Brynifa was unlikely to ever taste. One by
one the nobles offered their gifts, and the pile by the royal cradle grew ever higher. Finally,
when the Duchess of <suchandthus> had bestowed a flowering bush she swore her gardener
could tame to the royal gardens, the noble gifts were finished.

It was then that the three Ladies in the westernmost table rose as one. Though before,
the three could not have seemed more distinct and separate, they now moved as if under a
single impulse as they approached the royal table and came to stand over the Babe.

“The Old Laws have been observed…” began the Lady in green.

“...and we will keep to the Old agreements.” continued the Lady in blue.

“One gift each, freely given, without condition,” concluded the Lady in red.

Autumn finally lowered her hood, revealing auburn hair matching her dress, and bent low
over the cradle.

“Brynifa, named and known, you will have wisdom beyond your years. My gift to you is
that whatsoever lore you seek to learn will not exceed your grasp. Neither will this knowledge
fade, as it is wont to do, but only rest until called upon.”

She lowered her face to the infant and kissed her on the forehead, then cleared the way
for the Green Lady. She lowered her hood as well, revealing rich brown hair curled tight over
her head and eyes of striking jade.
 “Brynifa, loved and lovely, you will be clever beyond compare. My gift to you is that
whatever craft you set your eye and hand to learn will lay itself straight before you, and you
need never grow tired as you practice it.”

She stepped back and raised her hood again, but before the Lady in blue could step to
the cradle, the doors of the hall flung wide with a chill wind. In the doors stood a tall, thin woman
dressed in black but cloaked in white.

“A MOMENT, IF YOU PLEASE.”

Her voice rang in the ears and the hearts of everyone at the banquet, and there were
none but felt its icy grip. Wherever she step, the ground seemed almost to crunch beneath her
foot, though no damage trailed her.

“King Huldan, son of Brynnel, did you not swear that none would be turned away from
your hall today?”

Huldan, no longer merry with wine, swallowed hard and stood.

“It is true, noble Lady, but I fear no place befitting… one such as you… is left…”

Her eyes, dark as charcoal, scanned the room and found that wherever an extra plate
may have been, peasants huddled together on the long benches, dreading that she might deign
to take a seat so near them.

“And yet no place was set aside for your invited guest? Or was I truly left unaccounted
for?”

“You gave no answer – all the others told us they would come or no!” cried Queen
Melca.

“And hearing nothing, you chose to favor the sycophantic fools who intercepted your
messenger before he could reach us all, rather than I, who did you no wrong. Did you think I
would not know to come? Did you think silence was scorn? I swear to you, YOU HAVE NOT
SEEN MY SCORN.”

The king and queen had both stood now and made their way between the Fourth Lady
and the crib.

“I offer you this one chance. Rise now to your duty and I am prepared to forgive.”

“Of course we wanted to invite you. With all you know, you must know how our
messenger --”

“It is a weak monarch who blames his messenger. You had one chance. If you will not
have forgiveness, I will leave you. But the Old Laws stand. I was invited and have come under
your roof. I shall leave behind a gift.”

It was as if the entire hall at once drew in a sharp breath, and suddenly she stood over
the cradle. She seemed to have taken only one step, and yet here she was, fully across the
distance and no longer divided by the protective parents.
 “Hear me Brynifa, beloved and besought: your youth is yours, happy and free. I place on
your childhood no yoke nor burden. But on the cusp of womanhood you will be pierced by an
unexpected point, and you will look on joy no longer, but shall sleep like death, cold and
unwelcoming as was this hall today.”

The Lady then stood and turned, and just as suddenly as she’d approached, she was
gone. The only sign of her leaving was a mark of frost on the edges of the cradle. There was a
pause, and then the queen screamed and fainted.
Chapter 4: The Last Gift
When the queen fainted, the hall was cleared. Nobles offered their best wishes and
peasants crossed themselves, but eventually, the guards had emptied the hall of all except the
royal family. The royal family, and the Three Ladies, whom none of the guard would dare to
approach. King Huldan, on the other hand, was too furious to be afraid.

“YOU! You caught my messenger up in your trap and brought this on us! You could have
let us invite all four courts and this would NEVER have happened!”

“Your majesty, you know that is not true,” said Autumn. “We knew she planned some
mischief toward you and sought to do you harm. Our hope was that she would not come if she
was not brought.”

“It would have worked, too,” said a fuming Lady Summer, “had you not declared your
hall and its invitation open to all. By the Old Laws, this was invitation enough to come, but not
invitation enough to honor her. You gave her an excuse and an opportunity in one fell swoop.”

King Huldan sagged, defeated.

“Then is there nothing to do? Less than 20 years and my Brynifa will be lost?”

“Perhaps not,” spoke the childlike Lady Spring. “I yet owe her a gift, and I may yet do her
some good. Not enough to undo Winter’s trickery, but perhaps enough to give her a chance.”

“Anything! What can you do?”

“Give her a moment,” said Summer.

“Generally, we take days to compose our blessings,” added Autumn. “Poetry extempore
is hardly our specialty.”

“Very well,” said Spring. “I will do what I can.”

She approached the cradle and bent low, whispering to the child, though it was more
about gentling her voice than it was about being unheard, as it carried to all four of the others in
the room as well.

“Brynifa, Huldan’s daughter, lost and lonely is your destiny. But if you are brave and
strong, a path will rise to meet your feet. However long you sleep, dreams like waking will await
you, from when you may blaze a trail home to the land of the living.”

The last syllables of her blessing seemed to resonate throughout the now-empty hall.
Then the echos congealed, thickened, and coalesced as they drew in toward the young child.
Something like the last peal of a ringing church bell was heard, and then, silence.

“What,” Queen Melca struggled to ask, “what have you done for her? Will she be safe
from the Lady’s dark oracle?”
 “I fear that would be beyond all our power, even working together. To undo a curse
entire is to great a deed. What I have given Brynifa is a chance to escape, even should her
doom fall upon her. I still counsel that you take any steps you can to protect her from her fate,
for I foresee that the road I have made available to her is no easy one.”

She cast a worried glance at the infant. Her sleep now was peaceful and untroubled, and
a smile formed on her newborn face.

“I, too, counsel caution. It is an unexpected point that is prophesied. Perhaps, with
preparation, she can be made ready and so beyond the grasp of Winter’s cunning,” said
Autumn.

“And vigilance, too,” added Summer. “Let her be made ready as she can be for her trial,
without breaking that little peace she was left for her childhood.”

“I shall,” said Huldan. “I know not what point might seek to draw royal blood and bring
her ruin, but I shall work all her life to protect her, or to be ready to protect herself.”

The king, the queen, and the three ladies looked upon the sleeping princess who, free of
cares and worries, dreamed of her mother and let out a small, cooing sigh.
Chapter 5: The Child
As the years passed, the young princess Brynifa grew. She was universally loved as a
beautiful and precocious child. If it bothered her that sometimes adults would grow sad suddenly
and not tell her why, she didn’t let it show. It just seemed as though they all knew about
something bad that was going to happen, but hadn’t yet.

Many parents might have grown overprotective of their child in similar circumstances.
Tried to rid the kingdom of any chance she might be pierced, be it knives or pitchforks. But
Huldan remembered Lady Winter’s word, that Brynifa would be guaranteed a childhood. The
only real danger she was in was at the very cusp of womanhood. And so, from the age she
could stand, He sought to pass on to her what he knew of fighting.

If she’s prepared for any attack, he reasoned, perhaps the unexpected point won’t be
able to reach her.

So he trained her in the use of sword and spear, lance and shield. It made something of
a tomboy out of the young princess, but her mother was not so absent as to let it consume her
completely. It was quite common to see young Brynifa toddling along the corridors, dressed for
the evening’s royal ball and carrying a wooden sword.

As she grew, she came to love both her father’s exercises and her mother’s niceties.
She learned to fight while dressed for a dance and to dance like her life depended on it. Her
face seemed to glow with excitement more often than not, and she was viewed as the jewel of
the kingdom by all who saw her.

When she was nearly <expand childhood, at least one specific scene>
Chapter 6: The Birthday
It was the morning of Brynifa’s sixteenth birthday. She sprang from her bed and hurriedly
dressed, disdaining to wait on her servants for aid, and knowing she was at least as capable as
them in any event. At least, until it was time for her to make ready for the ball.

Rounding the stairs from her tower, she met her father, somewhat unexpectedly,
carrying a long package.

“Ah, Brynn! I was hoping I’d be able to wake you myself. It seems these old bones aren’t
quite up to the challenge of bringing you your gift first thing in the morning anymore…”

Brynifa laughed and threw her arms around the king.

“You haven’t felt the need to wake me with my present for years, Papa. Why now?”

Huldan’s face began to blush.

“Err, well. It’s a sensitive matter, but…” Huldan extended the parcel he carried, giving up
on words.

Brynifa drew the bow from the package, revealing inside a beautiful sword. Its blade was
shaped like a leaf, and decorated with relief of ivy. The handle was slightly shorter than was
common in the kingdom, clearly meant for one hand, and its crossguard was shaped more like a
Y than a T. Last of all, unlike the silvery color she expected, the metal gleamed a warm yellow-
brown. Her breath caught when she saw it.

“We asked some… err… friends, to make this and have it sent for you. Your mother and
I. She… she wanted to give it to you herself, but these things take time, and…” Tears brimmed
in the eyes of the retired warrior turned monarch.

“It’s beautiful, Papa. Thank you.”

“They – the friends who made it – they said that this sword is called Slumber. They
always had something of a sense of humor. Of course, no one will blame you if you don’t go
around calling your sword by its name. I never saw much point to naming things that don’t come
when you call them. I don’t call my crown ‘Glory,’ or my boots ‘Stamp’ and ‘Travel,’ and --”

He was interrupted by a renewed hug.

“You’re babbling again, Papa,” she murmured into his shoulder. “I miss her too. Thank
you for Slumber.”

She took the sword and belted it around her waist. It hung there prettily, not in the least
spoiling the effect of her gown, but rather enhancing it.

“Now, what do you say to breakfast?” she asked, offering her father her hand and
beginning down the stairs again.

***
 The castle staff were accustomed to Princess Brynifa wearing and carrying weapons,
but more than one person remarked that morning how suited her new arms were to her, nearly
a gem rather than a weapon.

After breakfast, Brynifa took to the yard. When she was younger, many thought the king
was reckless, letting his heir train with steel instead of wooden weapons and fighting grown men
while she was yet to grow into her height. Paradoxically, as she’d demonstrated an almost
supernatural gift at swordcraft, he’d grown more protective. Most didn’t realize that the closer
she approached womanhood, the more he worried for her, even though she’d shown herself
more than proficient. Ultimately, he relented, on the condition that she personally inspect each
bit of steel that entered the yard with her before the bout began, lest any ‘unexpected’ point
come her way.

This morning, there were three of the guard training with her: Captain Falkan, Ennys,
and Rhys. Each bore the familiar swords assigned to all the guard, and each was among the
better fighters not on duty. Once, they’d balked at the ‘babysitting duty’ of training with the
princess. Now, they were eager to prove themselves among their fellows by lasting the longest
of their set against her in the ring.

“Your highness, I know you’re good enough to beat us with it,” Emmys began, “but that’s
bronze at your hip. I’d hate for our steel to spoil such a lovely gift.”

Brynifa drew her sword, looked down at the blade, then up again at the guardsman,
shrugging.

“If he didn’t intend it to be used, I doubt he’d have given it to me. If it’s to save my life
someday, I can’t worry whether it’ll spoil the edge. Better to mar the whole thing now than be
precious about it.”

“As you will, Princess.”

“Begin,” she called, and all three charged at once.

Captain Falkan charged straight ahead, thrusting forth and aiming at Brynifa’s
collarbone, hoping less to skewer her than to throw her off balance. At the same instant Ennys
swung high from the right and the left-handed Rhys swung low, trying to disrupt her footing.

In one movement, Brynifa lifted her right foot just in time to dodge Rhys’s swing, ducked
low beneath Ennys’s wild slash, and parried Falkan’s thrust with Slumber. She then closed the
rest of the distance to the Captain, swept his foot from under him, and levered his sword out of
his hand as she knocked him back onto his back.

“One down,” she smirked, righting Falkan’s sword in her left hand as she continued to
wield slumber in her right. “I thought you’d learned not to try surprise attacks back when I was
ten.”

The two remaining guards approached again. This time, though only Rhys truly attacked,
while Ennys sought to offer a sufficiently distracting feint. Giddy with excitement, Brynifa
executed a full pirouette, turning so she deflected Rhys’s sword with Falkan’s, while she caught
Ennys’s feint with Slumber’s edge, locking the two blades together and advancing towards him,
showing how little she worried for her new prize’s edge. Realizing they both had contact with
one of her swords, the two guardsmen sought to work together to push her back, but she merely
adjusted her grips with a flourish and both men stumbled forward.

“Oh, I like this!” she exclaimed. “And now Slumber has a pretty new nic--”

She held up the blade to show where she expected to have deliberately allowed the
guardsman’s sword to bite into her own, but was shocked to see that the edge was whole and
unbroken.

Taking this uncharacteristic hesitation as their best chance of victory, the guards
charged again and swung their swords at her wrists, hoping to disarm her. But Brynifa came to
herself at the last second and met them, slash for slash. She caught Rhys’s sword and pushed
back hard enough that he stepped back to catch his balance, but when Slumber met Ennys’s
sword, there was a loud screech accompanied by sparks and half his blade fell to the ground.

“What in all the worlds…?!?” exclaimed Rhys.

Slumber, still unmarred, gleamed in the sun. A closer inspection of Ennys’s sword
revealed that it hadn’t just been a poorly made weapon – there was also a bite in its edge where
it had met hers.

“Papa…” Brynifa called toward the palace, “who are the friends who you say made this
blade?”
Chapter 7: The Truth
“So what you’re saying,” said Brynifa, “is that I’ve been doomed since I was a week old.”

“No, no, little Brynn. Not doomed… only cursed.”

“Oh, because that’s so much better!”

“A doom cannot be broken. A curse can. And thanks to the efforts of the Ladies, most
notably Lady Spring, you’ll have a fighting chance that it will.”

“A fighting chance? Not every goal can be reached along the edge of a sword, Papa.”

Both King and Princess felt their eyes drawn to where Slumber lay on a nearby table.

“Or can it? Do you have a plan Papa?”

Huldan sighed reluctantly.

“Not so much a plan as a hope. When your mother and I went to the forest last year, the
Ladies were waiting at the edge of the treeline again, just as the messenger found them. They
again knew to expect word, and they offered aid. ‘A sword for a Sword,’ they told us, ‘and a life
for a life.’ Your mother and I both readily agreed. I’d hoped they’d have taken me instead.”

“You mean they killed her? And what does ‘a sword for a sword’ mean?”

“No, they didn’t kill her. The Laws that bind them are different than those that bind us,
and they aren’t able to give anything for free, except under special circumstances, such as your
birth. To save your life, someone had to be willing to lose our own. The willingness was what
mattered. The Ladies aren’t necromancers.”

“And the sword? What sword did you give them?” asked the puzzled Brynifa.

Huldan chuckled, “That wasn’t describing the exchange, but the request. Your name,
Brynifa, means ‘Beautiful Sword’ in your grandfather’s tongue. It was a sword for you. The
Ladies are uncommonly fond of wordplay. I’ve never been able to work out whether it is
necessary to their arts or pure affectation.”

“Beautiful Sword,” Brynifa repeated, gazing at slumber. “So how does the sword protect
me? Am I meant to slash the tips off of any swords that come near me?”

“I doubt that, sweet Brynn. I’ve no doubt it could, but then that seems a tad too
straightforward for them. I suspect that its use will only be clear when needed.”

Brynifa leaned into her father’s shoulder, “This is all so confusing…”

“I know, Love. I know,” said Huldan, patting her shoulder and hugging her back. “I wish
you didn’t have this to worry about, least of all today. You ought to be celebrating. Do you wish
for us to cancel the banquet? I imagine the nobles wouldn’t be pleased, but it isn’t hardly their
day is it?”
 Brynifa laughed without unburying her face from his shoulder.

“Thank you, no. I’ve been looking forward to this a long while, and I won’t allow bad
news nearly as old as I am and memory of Mama to ruin it. Besides, I expect at least a few
friends might brighten my mood again.”

She tightened her hug before releasing him.

“I suppose I ought to get bathe and begin dressing before too long if I’m to be ready in
time. I’ll go and have Ella draw me a bath. Do you suppose you could find Betsy to help me get
dressed when I’m finished?”

Huldan made a face.

“More bad news there, I’m afraid. Betsy took ill last night. Still, I’ll have someone found
and sent up to you in an hour.”

“Thank you, Papa,” she said, standing on her toes to kiss her father on the cheek.

She regathered Slumber and left the room, much of her usual pep and verve returned.
She was not the sort of girl on whom melancholy rested long, even in the face of such dark
tidings. After all, she was not yet a woman, and the first half of Winter’s gift still held strong.
Chapter 8: The Spindle
Brynifa was finished with her bath and was beginning to worry her father, dutiful though
he was, had not in fact found anyone to assist her, when she heard a knock at her bedchamber
door.

“Your highness?” called an unfamiliar feminine voice.

“Enter, please.”

In came a short, round woman with a mature face and an armload of… something.
There was fabric among it, certainly, but it couldn’t be her dress – that was lying over the back
of her chair, laid out and ready for her. The woman bobbed a rough curtsy.

“Begging your pardon, your highness. I’m Miere. Your father caught me in the midst of
my working and told me to come straightaway to help you dress.”

“Welcome, Miere. No apologies are necessary, now that you’re here. Come, help me
dress.”

She rose from the bath and Miere helped her into her dressing gown. Brynifa took a seat
and asked Miere to begin brushing out her hair.

“Tell me, Miere, have you been at the palace long? I don’t recall meeting you before.”

“No reason you would, your highness. I’ve been here nigh on half a year, but I work as a
spinner-weaver mostly, providing your family and the other servants with material for the various
clothworks they may wish.”

“Papa never was a believer in buying from abroad. It astounds me he’d carry it so far as
to have the very thread spun in the castle, though.”

“Well, he didn’t, at first, your highness. I lived in the village until my dear late Dennel
passed. We’d never had any children, so it was just me after that. Good man that he is, your
father wouldn’t hear of me living alone and unprotected and invited me to move to the palace
along with my workshop.”

“That does sound more like I’d expect. Thank you, Miere, that will do for now. Now if
you’d help me into my gown.”

Servant and princess worked together and soon had Brynifa dressed befitting her station
and the occasion.

“Miere,” asked Brynifa, “what is that you were carrying when you came in? I’ve never
seen its like.”

“Oh, that’s just the tools of my trade, your highness. Flax and spindle. I’d spoiled my last
spindle in a moment of carelessness and decided to retrieve an armload of material while I was
about getting a replacement. I hardly expected to be called into personal service, or I’d have
carried a lighter load,” she chuckled, holding up a handful of the raw fibers.
 “Well,” said Brynifa, “You’ve helped me well and quickly, and I’m quite grateful. In fact,”
she added, looking out the window, “I’d say I have a little extra time before I’m expected at
dinner. Would you care for a little help carrying your burden?”

“Oh your highness, I couldn’t dare…”

“You needn’t dare, Miere. I’ve offered,” said Brynifa, gathering up about half the bundle
of raw flax up in her arms. “Show me the way to your workshop, if you please.”

Miere wasn’t accustomed to having royalty carry flax for her, but she wasn’t any more
accustomed to arguing with royalty, so the strange little party of two headed down the halls,
Miere carrying her spindle and nearly half her flax, and Brynifa carrying the larger share of the
coarse fibers. In short order, they arrived at a small door in one of the lower apartments. As they
entered, Brynifa noticed the large central spinning wheel.

“I’ve never seen one myself,” said Brynifa. “Is this really where all our thread comes
from?”

“Not all, certainly your highness. But I do spin a fair amount, and I imagine others who
supply the palace have wheels not so different from this one.”

“Amazing,” Brynifa whispered, as she circled the machine, gently laying a hand on the
wheel. “I don’t suppose I’ve ever wondered where thread came from before. Could you show
me how it works?”

“Well, certainly, your highness, I suppose. You see <add explanation of the operation of
a spinning wheel> rather like this, you see?”

“Yes, I think I do. Might I try?”

<research if she’d prick her finger immediately or after attempting spinning successfully>

“Ow!” she cried, sticking her finger into her mouth.

“Oh, your highness! You’re hurt!”

“Oh no, Miere,” she said, “It’s nothing to worry ab--”

And she lost consciousness, falling to the floor.

Chapter 9: Slumber
When Brynifa woke, she didn’t.

It was strange. She’d dreamt before without knowing she was dreaming. She knew now
that she was. But what she saw wasn’t at all like a dream. She was in the palace, but there were
no people. Fires burned untended in the hearths, giving light without heat. Every so often a door
would open or close on its own. But nothing felt like a dream feels. Had the doors merely been
open when she looked then closed when she turned around, it would have felt more normal. It
seemed more like being awake in a strange world than it did being asleep. But she knew down
to her bones that she was asleep. That she was dreaming.

She was dressed as she had been for her banquet, her hair hanging loose to her waist.
One thing was different – she was wearing Slumber again. She’d been sure she’d left it resting
in her rooms before she went to help Miere carry her flax.

She wandered the halls of the palace in a bizarre, dreary twilight. It seemed timeless
here. She walked for what might have been hours, crossing through every hall and room, but
she felt neither tired nor hungry, as though she’d just begun. With no way to gauge how long it
had been, she felt doubly lost. But she was no coward, and her youth had left her with a healthy
mix (some might call unhealthy) of curiosity and daring. So, securing Slumber at her waist, she
walked to the Palace’s front door, looking to see if the whole of the grounds were similarly
abandoned. When she opened the doors, though, she was unprepared for what she saw.

Brynifa had spent her whole life in the Palace, except for occasional trips abroad. She
new it wasn’t located in a vast blue desert. What’s more, the view from the windows had been
the usual view, albeit in the odd half-light of this place. But when she opened the doors of the
palace, it was like she was in an entirely different country, unlike any she’d ever seen.

The desert stretched in every direction. Strange rock-like spires dotted the horizon. Huge
chasms crisscrossed the landscape. There was no sign of water or life anywhere.

“Well,” she said aloud, “that is… not what I expected.”

What to do? she wondered, There are no clues here. Every direction looks more or less
the same. I suppose I don’t actually need to find food or shelter, but I’d rather not sit idle,
waiting to wake up.

Recalling, but not really believing, the advice of pinching yourself awake, she gave her
arm an experimental tweak. It hurt about as much as she expected, and accomplished no more.
Her brow furrowed and she pursed her lips.

Not worth repeating, then.

Somewhat aimless, she began to circle the palace, keeping the one familiar landmark to
her left as she wound her way, searching for any indication of which way to go. She walked the
full circuit three times. Then, for a change, she reversed her direction. At first it was exactly the
same but on the third loop, she found that something was different. Far in the distance, she saw
a vertical line straighter and taller than the rock spires. She knew for certain it hadn’t been there
in any of her previous laps of the palace, but there it was, plain as day, albeit far, far away.
 She wondered whether it might be best to continue her loop, but she wasn’t sure what
would happen if she lost sight of the strange silhouette in the distance.

Alright, she thought, if I’m not going to risk it disappearing, I suppose I ought to head for
it while I can see it.

Then, an idea occurred to her. She drew Slumber and touched it to the ground, dragging
it as she went. The blade, sharp enough to cut steel, easily carved a line in the earth beside her.
Squaring her shoulders to her goal and her back to the palace, she began walking, dragging her
sword beside her to cut a path back where she came from.
Chapter 10: Pierced
“A needle! All these years teaching her to protect herself from any threat, and she pricks
her finger on a needle!”

They had moved the sleeping Brynifa from Miere’s room to her own bed, beside which
Huldan now paced and ranted.

“I’m sorry, your Majesty; I swear I meant no harm. I had no idea!” protested Miere.

Huldan rubbed his temples wearily.

“I know, Miere. I don’t blame you. None of us thought Winter’s curse would enter through
something so small. I’ve spent sixteen years dreading some mortal wound. Her finger scarcely
even bled. You weren’t in the least at fault,” sighed Huldan. “If anything, it’s me who’s to blame.
Perhaps if I’d seen things more clearly… But there’s no sense trying to wonder what might have
happened.”

Doctor Marlin, now sixteen years older, rose from her bedside.

“Her heartbeat remains strong, though slow. She’s breathing steady, if shallow. Your
Majesty, I don’t think she’s in any danger at present. I do worry that in time she may waste away
without food or water, but that is a far from immediate concern. For the time being, there’s
nothing I can do. You saw yourself my smelling salts availed nothing.”

“Thank you, Ferris. I am glad to hear she’s safe.”

“If you won’t be needing anything else, Sire, I shall retire for the evening. You can call on
me in my apartments if there is any change. In any event, I’ll return in the morning to look in on
her again.”

The aged doctor bowed curtly and left the room.

“And me, your Majesty?” asked Miere. “What would you have of me?”

“I wonder if you might… sit with her? I don’t fancy leaving her alone in this state,
whatever Doctor Marlin says.”

“I could, your Majesty, but surely you don’t mean to leave her yourself?”

“I fear I must,” he said, glancing at the sword they’d laid beneath her hands. “There are
inquiries I must make, and I trust no one else to make them. Can I rely on you to stay with her?”

“Of course, Sire.”

“Thank you, Miere.”

Chapter 11: The Blue Desert
It was still impossible to tell how long had passed as she crossed the nearly endless
expanse. Brynifa couldn’t tell how long she’d been walking any more than she had how long it
took her to scour the palace for signs of people. But she knew, glancing behind her, that it would
have taken the better part of a day for the palace to look this small, were she to walk non-stop
while awake. And yet the tower didn’t look all that much bigger.

It must be massive, she thought, and further away than I realized…

The distance, however, was no longer the biggest problem. Up until this point, she had
successfully kept herself in an almost perfectly straight line from the palace to the tower. Now,
however, she’d come to one of the numerous chasms she saw crossing the landscape. She had
hoped when she set off that they might actually be no more than wide ditches, but it was clear
now that at least this one was deeper than she could make out and too sheer to climb. What’s
more, it was a good thirty feet across, and she didn’t think herself capable of jumping the gap..
Though she placed some faith in the trail she was leaving herself with her sword, she did worry
what might happen if she changed her direction, after the tower’s mysterious appearance.
Ultimately, she decided that had to pick one direction or another. Reasoning that when she’d
kept the palace to her left, nothing had changed, she turned to her right and tried to begin the
long trek around the chasm’s width.
Chapter 12: The Forest’s Edge
It was the second time Huldan had ever come to the forest himself. The first had been to
request the Ladies’ aid, leading to the forging of Slumber. Every other interaction he’d had with
the forest had been removed by at least the distance of a messenger. What’s more, when he
last came, he had Melca with him. There is a sort of bravery that comes from having someone
to protect that isn’t there when you’re by yourself. And having set off immediately, he had
inadvertently arrived at the forest’s edge just in time for dusk.

“Don’t be a fool, Huldan,” he told himself. “They’ve done you no harm all these years.”

“Nor would we, willingly,” came the brassy voice of Summer from off to his left.

“We’ve actually come to like you rather a lot,” added Autumn from the treeline towards
his right.

Huldan looked around, expecting the ever-youthful Spring to appear either before his
eyes or from behind him.

“You won’t see her today, I’m afraid,” Autumn told him.

“She has business that keeps her.”

“Will the two of you be able to help me without her?”

“We have no need,” said Summer.

“Your request is her business.”

“You know, it’s unnerving to converse with women who always know what I’ll say before
I say it. And it’s upsetting to have you always wait until I say it to start helping.”

Autumn’s lips curled up in a sad sort of smile that only barely touched her eyes.

“We do know. Alas, the Old Laws have nearly as many drawbacks as they have
benefits.”

“Of course, in this case, she did not wait for another request. She is continuing in the
help your late wife bought so dearly from us.”

“The sword was not the whole of your help?”

“It was, and it wasn’t,” answered Summer.

“The sword is the help, but she won’t know how to use it on her own. You did right by
bringing it to her. She would never have found her way without it.”

“You speak in riddles, Ladies.”

 “We speak in veiled truth, King. The choice is before you to either peer behind the veil or
else forego the truth. We can do no other than we have. No other choices are given to us.”

“Tell me as plain as you can, then; what more am I to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“You neither need to do anything, nor can you. She is entirely in her own hands. Your
time to help her is over.”

“But she’ll starve, or die of thirst!”

“She will not, while she holds Slumber,” Autumn answered.

“Did you really think we gave you nothing but a sharp piece of metal? Slumber’s
properties are more diverse and valuable than that.”

“She will not waste away while she grasps it. And in her dreaming, she will find it useful
in a great number of ways, some of which even we may not suspect.”

“How could you not suspect? Didn’t you make it yourselves?”

“And didn’t you make her, Brynnel’s son, with Melca’s help? And yet I wager even the
two of you together were often surprised at what she is capable of.”

“So why have you come, if not to offer help or grant my request?”

Autumn smiled sadly at him again.

“Oh, Huldan. Didn’t it ever occur to you that we might wish to comfort you as a friend?”
Chapter 13: The Chasm
Brynifa walked and walked, trying to circumvent the chasm, but it never seemed to get
any narrower. More than once, she wondered if she should double back to see if there was a
better place to cross in the other direction. Already, the added distance had made the palace
seem to disappear into the horizon. But she couldn’t know for sure that changing direction
wouldn’t cause her to lose sight of the tower. Angry and tired to her bones, she let out such a
scream of frustration as she would never dare while awake.

The scream echoed back at her from the chasm below her. Tears began to roll down her
face. Dejected, she swiped slumber at the ground, gouging into the edge of the cliff face below.
Then a thought occurred to her.

The blade doesn’t cut the scabbard, she reasoned, so it isn’t like it just cuts everything.
When I want it to cut, it cuts. When I don’t, it doesn’t.