A Necklace of Fallen Stars Read online

  A Necklace of Fallen Stars

  Copyright 2015 Beth Hilgartner

  Published by Beth Hilgartner at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  For Kip, because this book is his fault, and for Ernest, who taught me happy endings.

  Table of Contents

  Author's note

  Chapter One

  A Wizard's Duel

  Chapter Two

  Bottled Palindrome

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  The Player and the Knave

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  The Colors of the Wind

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  A Necklace of Fallen Stars

  About the Author

  Other Books by this Author

  Connect with Beth Hilgartner

  Author's Note

  A Necklace of Fallen Stars was originally published in a hardcover edition in 1979. It has been out of print for many years. At the time it was released, fantasy with strong female characters was more of a rarity than it is, today. It is my hope that this e-book edition will make it possible not only for those who enjoyed this book when it was first released to revisit it, but also for my story-telling princess Kaela to find another generation of readers. It is my hope that those of any age who read fantasy will find something to enjoy in Kaela's adventures and tales.

  Beth Hilgartner, July 2015

  Chapter One

  It was early spring, a bright morning of crisp air and warm sun; and the very first of the season's merchant ships was unloading its cargo of fine silks and curiosities. On the Relsa waterfront, the crowd watching the spectacle was not entirely the usual group of waterfront haunters. Splashes of bright color mixed in with the sober browns of the common folk: lords and ladies of the Court, gossiping and chattering with one another as they watched for special bargains.

  "You know," one lady said to her companion, "it is said that that odious Duke Gavrin has hired a Fytrian wizard, and that the wizard is coming on this ship."

  "No!" said the other, laughing. "What could Duke Gavrin want with a pet wizard—and what on earth could possibly induce the poor fellow to enter his service?"

  The first lady lowered her voice and leaned toward the other. "Well might you ask. I've heard Gavrin's wizard was banished from Fytria. Some say he murdered a man. Others say he dabbled in the evil Spells of Fire, some say both, and all say he has a talisman of great power."

  "A talisman? What sort of talisman?"

  "Well," replied the other, "you know I'm not one to spread rumors, but I've heard that the talisman was stolen from the treasures of the Old House—the Wizard Kings, you know—but I can't imagine what it is."

  The ladies' conversation was cut short, for at that moment a large part of the crowd began rhythmically to call out a name.

  "Kae-la! Kae-la!"

  A girl turned, and laughing, waved to them. She was small and dark. Her wild, untamable black hair swirled, shoulder length, about an elfin face set with clear gray eyes. She wore a simply cut blouse of cream-colored linen, leather walking boots and a gray wool skirt that reached to her midcalf. Her bare arms were suntanned and her nose and cheekbones were dusted with light freckles.

  A little boy ran toward her and caught at her skirt. "Kaela! Kaela!" he cried. "Tell us a tale! Oh, please!"

  Kaela bent and gently rumpled the boy's hair. "Not just yet, Abref," she told him, smiling, and added, "You have jam on your chin."

  He nodded. "Grandpa bought me a sweet roll. If you'd just tell a tale," he continued, winningly, "my morning would be perfect."

  "Ah," she said, with a touch of real regret behind her teasing, "I cannot. I'm afraid the only one I'll be telling stories to this morning is my father."

  At this point, Abref's grandfather intervened. "We mustn't keep her then, Abref. Perchance Kaela will be in the Avenue later." He looked a question at the girl.

  "Perhaps, Tefkar," she replied. "But first I must see my father. The devil alone knows what he's after. Not that I care, but I had better humor the old tyrant."

  The crowd had quieted while Kaela spoke to Abref and Tefkar, and at Kaela's remark there were a few low chuckles; but one of the two Court ladies' voices rose shrill.

  "Scandalous!" she exclaimed. "For shame, Kaela!"

  But Kaela, after favoring the speaker with a look of laughing scorn, only tossed her head. "'Til later, Abref, Tefkar," she said quietly, and waving to the crowd started off toward her father's house.

  ***

  Princess Melina stood in the empty audience hall, looking about at the familiar room that, empty of people and voices, seemed so different. The great throne at the far end looked wrong without the honor guard on either side and her father sunk in the thick cushions. She walked across the stone floor and sat on the steps of the dais to wait. The others would be here soon.

  She was a beautiful woman, tall, golden haired and graceful. Her finely chiseled face held large blue eyes that were warm with gentleness and love. As she sat quietly, waiting for her father and her two sisters, she wondered why he had summoned them. She felt a sharpedged fear for Kaela, the youngest, who had none of the golden beauty of her sisters, nor a placable spirit, nor, Melina knew, the favor of the King. Kaela was proud and determined, caring nothing for the pageant, propriety or decorum of Court life. While her sisters had been taught to minuet and play the spinet, Kaela had gone her own way and learned instead the Fytrian Sword Dance and some really shocking language from the soldiers. Melina and Tamera had virtuously sat with their embroidery frames while Kaela had learned to ride—properly, not with a sidesaddle. But worst of all, in her father's eyes, Kaela had refused to learn the Court etiquette.

  She offended the King with her unladylike ways, by her complete disregard for her station and her place. Even in a prince, Melina knew, Kaela's behavior would be considered unusual past eccentricity, but in a princess it was many times worse. It would have been bad enough in her father's eyes had her outrageous behavior been confined to the Court; but no, Kaela had chosen instead to spend her time with the poor folk of Relsa, telling tales or singing songs. And while Melina could see these things in a good light and love her sister for them, neither the King nor Tamera could see anything but rebellion in her actions. Melina feared for Kaela, for there had been recent talk in the family of curbing her wild spirit.

  The heavy door swung open and the King of Visin swept majestically into the chamber, his ermine-trimmed robe brushing the stone tiles. He was a large man, and though his years and trials had frosted his hair and lined his face, they had left him unbent. His steel gray eyes missed little, but a glint of shrewdness in them gave a cold, slightly calculating cast to his features.

  Melina rose as he entered, but he waved her down.

  "No, sit," he said gruffly. "Tamera will be here presently, but Kaela will undoubtedly be late."

  "Shall I go look for her?" Melina asked. She was now certain that the meeting had to do with her sister and wished to warn her to guard her temper and leash her tongue.

  "No," said the King, guessing her mind. "She might come while you are
off hunting. And she's not late yet."

  The door swung open again, for Tamera, who rushed toward them in a fury of rustling lace and silks. She was pretty, not as tall nor as graceful as Melina, but her round, pink face was charmingly youthful and she dimpled daintily when she smiled. Her violet eyes were huge, fringed with heavy lashes, but there was a glimmer of something in them that Melina found difficult to like and impossible to ignore. Though Tamera looked more innocent than a kitten and behaved like the perfect lady, Melina had more than once seen her claws.

  "Oh I do hope," Tamera began breathlessly, "that I haven't kept you waiting."

  "We're waiting for Kaela," the King said grimly.

  "What's she done now?" Tamera asked, the glimmer in her eyes belying her sweet tone.

  "Nothing in particular, but I am tired of her constant rebellion. I intend to solve the problem once and for all."

  "Oh, Father," Melina pleaded, "don't be hard on her; it's hardly her fault. She should have been born a boy."

  "She should have learned long ago to conduct herself in a maidenly fashion," Tamera replied primly. "I don't deny that she should be a boy, but Melina, she isn't one! The sooner she realizes that, and begins to behave in a manner suited to her station, the better for us all."

  Melina clamped her teeth on her sharp reply, for at that moment, Kaela herself appeared, sauntering down the length of the hall, her face carefully impassive. She allowed herself only the flicker of a mocking smile as her eyes touched Tamera's primly pursed lips.

  "Well? You all look so serious. Have I offended again—or is it just still?" She met her father's eyes, her chin lifting a trifle. In that gesture, the resemblance between father and daughter was suddenly sharply emphasized: the same authority was in both faces. Gray eyes met gray eyes in rebuke and answering challenge. But in answering the King's stare, Kaela's eyes seemed brushed with compassion, and her mouth and eyebrows showed the wry amusement that most annoyed her father.

  "Your conduct has been a constant thorn in my side, but this time you've gone too far. Calling me a tyrant indeed—and in front of courtiers! My patience with you is altogether exhausted. I have found, at last, a suitable way of dealing with your rebellious spirit." He paused for emphasis.

  "Indeed?" she remarked into the silence, arching an eyebrow. "A dungeon, perhaps?"

  "No. A husband."

  For an instant there was the shadow of alarm in her eyes. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, her voice completely controlled.

  "You are to wed the Duke Gavrin. You must know him; he's the lean man with the scar."

  Kaela knew him. He was a silent, grim man with no love or warmth in him, only a kind of smoldering anger at young and happy creatures. She had once seen him beat his page for playing with the other lads his age and soiling his livery. Kaela stared at her father, and shook her head once in disbelief.

  Melina knelt at her father's feet, tugging at his robe, tears in her eyes. "Not Gavrin, Father. You can't do that to Kaela—you mustn't!"

  Even Tamera looked surprised at the severity of the sentence.

  "Melina!" the King insisted. "Duke Gavrin is the most powerful of the rulers in the north. I need him for an ally. And he is wealthy! Kaela will be a rich lady."

  Kaela's face was carefully unconcerned, though her heart was wrenched by fear and desperation. She could not live, she knew, locked away in Gavrin's grim stronghold. Surely her father was not this cruel; surely he was only trying to frighten her into obedience. She raised her head, a sardonic smile playing about her lips, and met her father's eyes.

  "Much you care for that," she said softly. "How many soldiers are you getting out of the bargain?"

  She saw from his narrowed eyes that she had struck close to home.

  "It's for your own good, girl."

  "Of course. When is the wedding?" Her voice was calm, a trifle indifferent. The others stared at her in amazement.

  "In two weeks' time," the King responded after a short silence.

  "Very well. Since I have but two weeks of freedom, I will enjoy it." She turned on her heel and walked back to the door, apparently unconcerned.

  "Kaela," her father called after her.

  She turned to face him.

  "I' m not bluffing. "

  "No?"

  "You will marry Duke Gavrin in two weeks' time—I swear it!"

  At that, Kaela threw back her head and began to laugh. "I shall take you at your word," she ended, then yanked the door open and vanished.

  Both the King and Tamera sat stunned, with comical expressions of disbelief on their faces, but Melina leapt to her feet. Before the others had collected their scattered wits, she too was gone.

  "Kaela!" She caught at her sister's sleeve, but Kaela did not slow her pace. "Have you gone mad? Father is in earnest this time. You'd best go back and repent. Plead with him. Promise anything. I know Gavrin—you'd die married to him."

  "I know Gavrin too, and I agree. But think, Melina: if I bargain with Father—assuming he'd even listen now, which I doubt—he'd hold me to my promises. I've no desire to go through life pent up in petticoats and corsets, simpering to the flower of Visin's aristocracy. Not me! I'm running away."

  Melina stopped. Her world lurched sickeningly beneath her feet. "Where will you go? How will you live?"

  "I don't know, but I'll manage somehow." Kaela reached up and gently brushed a tear from her sister's cheek. "Don't you see, Melina? It's the only thing for me. I might tell tales to earn my bread, but even if I starve I must leave here. I will never fit in at Court."

  Melina nodded, remembering how Kaela had once unwittingly affronted six of the lords of the Council in one afternoon. "Have you money?" she asked.

  "Enough," Kaela replied as they began walking again toward the great gates.

  "I shall miss you, you and your wild ways."

  "And I shall miss you, Melina, you and your gentle heart."

  They embraced quickly, and Melina whispered, "Go with God, little sister."

  "One day I'll come back," she promised, brushing away her tears. Then she turned and walked past the sentries, head held high, and disappeared into the throngs of townspeople.

  ***

  Relsa, the capital of the kingdom of Visin, was a seaport teeming with adventurers and merchants from distant lands. The harbor was deep and secure, sheltered by two long arms of land that reached toward each other as though trying to embrace the myriad of vessels that sailed between them. The city itself was large and disorganized, the ramshackle huts of the fishermen scattered carelessly along the waterfront, while the houses of the gentry and the fashionable shops were farther inland. In the very center of this jumble was a long quiet park called the Avenue of the Lady. It was planted with flowering trees, and was a refuge for children and birds alike. It was in the Avenue that Kaela had first told her tales to a crowd of dirty urchins. By instinct, she sought refuge there now, for she had to make her plans and escape the city before her father thought to search her out and place her under guard.

  The Avenue was quiet, as always, so Kaela seated herself beneath a cherry tree and began to think. She had only a little money—enough for food for two or three days—and only the clothes she was wearing. Not even a cloak if it should turn cold again, she thought, for the spring was early yet. She knew she could not return to the Court and had to be far away by nightfall. It was possible, barely, that the search would not begin until after she was missed at the evening meal, but she dared not count on it. Her father was no fool; she could not afford to lose her only advantage. I shall need food, she thought, and a cloak—and confidence, but that can't be bought.

  "Kaela!" Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice. "Kaela! Will you tell a tale now?" Little Abref was nearly bursting with excitement, and with a sudden deep pang, she realized all the things she would be leaving.

  Abref saw her emotion and knelt down beside her. "Grandpa!" he called.

  Tefkar, speaking with another man a little ways away, excused himsel
f and came over to his grandson.

  "Yes?" he began, then, seeing Kaela's face, became suddenly concerned. "What has happened, Kaela?" he asked in his gentle voice.

  "I must run away, Tefkar," she told him heavily. "I have angered my father once too often and there is no help for it."

  "Run away?" Abref cried, stricken. "Oh, no!"

  "We shall miss you," his grandfather said, "and there are others—many—who will grieve to find you gone."

  "Must you go?" Abref protested, beginning to cry.

  Kaela hugged him. "Yes, Abref. I must. If I don't, my father will force me to marry Duke Gavrin. And that," she added, attempting a light tone, "really would be something to cry over."

  The little boy looked horrified.

  "Where shall you go?" Tefkar asked.

  "I don't know." All her calm assurance deserted her, and she sounded young and frightened.

  Tefkar put his gnarled hands on her shoulders, and she felt reassurance and comfort from his touch. "My brother," he began slowly, "is driving his team down to Achra in a little while. He'll take you with him, if I ask him. Have you provisions?"

  "A little money, nothing else."

  The old man frowned. "You'll need a cloak. It will be cold in the mountains."

  "The mountains?" she repeated foolishly.

  Tefkar nodded. "You must leave the country. Cymyl is closest, but the water routes will likely be watched. The mountain road will be hard. It is several days' journey and there are no people or towns in the Pass of the White Lady."

  "The Pass of the White Lady?" Kaela repeated. "Oh! You mean Poor Man's Pass."

  "The other name is older and more respectful," the old man said. "We haven't time for the legend of the White Lady. Perhaps some kind villager living in the shadow of her domain will tell you the tale. Just remember, Kaela: the Lady is powerful; if any evil should threaten you in the pass, call on her."

  "Tefkar, I—"

  "Will you promise?" he asked gently.

  "Yes."

  "Good. But now, you must hurry," the old man told her. "Go buy what food you can with your money and meet us here in half an hour's time. I will find a cloak for you. Go along."