The Seven Kingdoms


Prologue: The Newcomer

"New Bristol's trade with the outside world has been steadily shrinking lately, and I intend to take steps," announced King Bartholomew at the town meeting. A steady breeze was blowing through the castle courtyard, but a sentry to either side of the king repeated each of his sentences into cone-shaped brass horns, ensuring that even the farthest peasants could hear his words over the wind. 'Therefore, I am hereby proclaiming the first Tuesday of each month as a day for all merchants to be extra generous in their dealings with newcomers. I suggest that each of you give the first stranger you see something free. It can be either goods or services.'
'We have to give out free goods every day?'
Leave it to the butcher to hear it wrong, thought the king. 'No. Please listen carefully. Only the first stranger on the first Tuesday of every month.'

On the following first Tuesday it was evident that word had not yet gotten around to the surrounding villages. Early in the morning the packed-earth roads leading into New Bristol were empty except for a lone stranger. His suit and hat, as well as his shoes and hair were gray. The weight of the world showed in the lines of his face, giving them an even deeper shade of gray. Carrying no sword, he stumbled along, leaning heavily on his gnarled old walking stick. As he made his way to the village square, a blacksmith leaned out of his shop to give a friendly warning.
'Say, old timer, I couldn't help but noticing that you are unarmed. These parts can be perilous.'
The man looked at him for a moment in silence. He seemed to begin to speak, perhaps in anger, but then stopped himself and coughed a few times. The blacksmith was holding his hammer in midair waiting for a reply when he felt it getting heavy in his hand. He realized that the conversation was going to take more than a few seconds, so he set it down on his anvil. Finally the newcomer spoke.
'I've always managed to keep body and mind intact without the help of any weaponry...'
'That may well be, and more power to you, sir. I happen to have a fine sword hanging on my wall here that's been gathering dust a while, but if you aren't interested I'll get back to work.
'I suppose it won't hurt to have a look.'
Sam took the broadsword off the wall and gave it a quick polish on his wheel. He didn't notice the tap tap tap of the man's fingers on his walking stick as he grew impatient waiting for the blacksmith to finish. After a few minutes he handed it to him, noticing the color of his face for the first time. 'It might be too heavy for a gentleman of your years,' the blacksmith mumbled.
'It suits me just fine,' he announced, lifting it easily. He was stronger than he looked.
The blacksmith produced a scabbard and belt and the newcomer put it on.
'How much do I owe you for this?'
The blacksmith smiled. This was the moment he had been waiting for. 'It will cost you nothing. The sword is my gift to you. Welcome to New Bristol.'
The newcomer looked up at him in surprise, and bowed to indicate his gratitude. He even smiled slightly. It might have been the blacksmith's imagination, but the newcomer seemed to change before his eyes. He stood a little straighter and everything about him looked a little less gray. His face even seemed smoother and younger. Then he took a deep breath and continued walking. After a few steps, he tossed his walking stick aside.

He came to a bakery next, and the proprietor stepped out to wish him a good morning. The baker was covered with flour; not only his apron, but his face and hair as well, and he looked rather ghostly. The man began to turn away.
'Just a moment please, sir! You look like someone who has not yet had his breakfast this morning. Am I not correct?'
'Well, now that you mention it...'
The words had scarcely left his lips when the baker reappeared with a tray laden with warm buttered rolls, spicy sausages, and hot coffee. The man hadn't even seen him go back in his shop.
'Here you are! This breakfast is my gift to you, sir. No one should begin a day without a proper breakfast. Welcome to New Bristol!'
The newcomer's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and at first he looked as though he wanted to make a complaint of some kind, but then the smell of the delicious food reached his nostrils and he sniffed. Unexpectedly, a smile appeared on his face. He accepted the tray, sat down on a small bench nearby, and ate his breakfast. As he chewed the food the color of his skin seemed to improve second by second. His hair became brown, although there were still streaks of gray in it.

After walking a short way down what he assumed was the main street of New Bristol, he found himself in front of a tailor's shop. The tailor was short and fat but quick on his feet. He bustled up to the newcomer and looked him up and down.
'I hate to say it,' he said, shaking his head.
'Say what?'
'I never feel comfortable disparaging another man's attire, even after many years in the business, but I simply must say what's on my mind. You, my good man, are in dire need of a new suit! There, I've said it.'
The tailor seemed to deflate a little with relief.
The man looked down at his lapels, and then at the worn out gray material covering his sleeves and the holes in each knee of his trousers. 'Yes, I suppose I do.'
Quick as can be the tailor whisked him into the shop and began measuring him in every direction possible from head to toe. Then spools of the finest wool and satin were set out and his scissors and sewing needle seemed to fly as he miraculously created an entire suit in twenty minutes. He was concentrating so hard that he didn't notice the tap tap tap of the man's fingers on the hilt of his sword as he grew impatient.

The newcomer removed his old suit and when the tailor took it from him, it crumbled to dust in his hands.
'Oh!' he exclaimed, 'it looks as though I've finished your suit just in the nick of time.' He tipped his tiny hat in the man's direction, and said 'there's no charge! Welcome to New Bristol and a good day to you sir.'

The newcomer was strolling along at a good clip now. He hardly looked gray at all, and there was hint of a smile on the corners of his mouth. A shoemaker was standing in front of his shop and as the man drew near he beckoned him in. Inside, he removed his shoes and the shoemaker measured his feet, which were extraordinarily large. The shoemaker, who was a thin, nervous-looking sort of fellow, told him that he could have a new pair of leather shoes ready for him by the tomorrow morning.
'Tomorrow morning!'yelled the man as his face became red. He looked so angry that the shoemaker jumped back in astonishment.
'I'm sorry, sir, that's as fast as I can sew. The leather is very hard.'
'Then give me back my old shoes!' He demanded.
The old shoes were already nearly falling apart when he had entered the shop, but when the shoemaker picked them up they crumbled into dust.
'Look what you've done!' he screamed, and stalked out into the street in his bare feet. Once again his skin became a little more gray and wrinkled along with everything else about him. He walked back to where he had left his walking stick, since his stoop had returned and walking was more difficult. The shoemaker stood by his shop door unsure what to do as he watched the newcomer walking away. Should he make the shoes anyway? It was the first Tuesday, after all. He was very upset; he didn't realize it, but his skin had turned slightly gray also.

The newcomer continued slowly down the street until he stood in front of a milliner's shop. With great difficulty he pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside. There were hats of all shapes and sizes everywhere he looked; they hung on hooks from the ceiling and sat on shelves or on the heads of mannequins. The majority seemed to be ladies' hats but there were quite a few for men as well. The proprietor didn't seem to be around, so the man spent a few minutes gazing at the various kinds of hats. He'd never realized there could be so many different shapes and styles for such a simple thing as the covering of one's head. He was staring up at a large ladies' hat covered with purple plumage when he bumped into the proprietor who had been stuffing a hat into a box on the floor.
'Pardon me.'
The hatter looked up at the newcomer through a set of thick spectacles. He was short and stout with an air of distractedness and he wore a strange combination of clothing which made him look delicate and fancy, yet somehow slovenly.
'Are you here for a hat? Or just having a look?' He didn't give the newcomer a chance to reply. 'You certainly look as though you need one. Yours looks even older than you! Ha ha ha, just a little joke there. But seriously, what size?'
The man just shrugged his shoulders, so the hatter pulled a tape from his pocket and measured his head.
'Ah, a medium.' He shook his head sorrowfully.
The newcomer's hat had fallen off during the measuring, and it sat there looking ugly on the floor. They both looked down at it.
'All of the hats we have in stock at the moment are either large or small sized. I'm afraid we're out of mediums right now, but if you tell me which style and color you'd like I can have a hat finished for you in oh, three days.'
'Three days!' The newcomer's voice was so loud and he looked so angry that the hatter jumped back in surprise. Furiously he looked around the shop with mock disdain. 'I don't need one of your stupid hats! Give me back my old one.'
The hatter reached down to pick it up, but it crumbled to dust in his hands.
'Look what you've done!' the newcomer hollered as he stomped out of the store. He was even more gray and wrinkled than before and his bare head was slightly bald.
The hatter was shaking like a leaf. He had never been treated in such a manner, and his skin took on a gray tinge.

The newcomer passed the rest of the shops he encountered without looking at them. He kept his eyes on the ground in front of him until he came to Bartholomew Castle. Two guard men paced back and forth along the walkway above the drawbridge. A wide, deep moat stood between the road and the castle, and the drawbridge was the only way to enter. He called up to one of the guard men in his old, rough, gray-sounding voice.
'Open the drawbridge! I want to spend the night in one of the rooms in the castle.'
'Sorry, sir,' said the guard. 'Unless you have business with the king, you'll have to go and stay at the inn over there.' He pointed off to his left.
The man was livid. 'Is that the way you show kindness to strangers, by turning them away? Well, I don't want to stay in your sad excuse for a castle. Who needs it?' He glared at the guard and then walked off slowly toward the inn.
The guard was shocked and upset by the man's anger and asked his friend if he thought he should have let the old geezer in.
'Of course not,' said his friend. 'King Bartholomew's orders are that no strangers are allowed in unless they state their business first. Although now that you mention it, today is the first Tuesday. Say, your face looks a bit gray. Do you feel sick? Maybe Mathew can take over your guard duty today. You should go home and sleep.'

It was nearly dark when the newcomer reached the inn. He found nothing to complain about, because the rooms were clean, the straw bedding fresh, and the rates reasonable. A short while later he went to the dining room. One other customer was there; a small man with a head like a turtle, who was sitting and carving a tiny piece of wood into the shape of a unicorn by candle light at a table across the room. The innkeeper, who was a typical example of his breed, with a genial air and a tendency toward chubbiness, strolled in with a smile and asked the newcomer what he'd like to eat.
'Steak and potatoes. Rare.'
'Sorry, sir, but we haven't got any steak. I can offer you roast beef and potatoes. It's quite good. As a matter of fact, I had some just this...'
'Haven't got any steak!' the man roared. He was furious, and his face was as red as an iron in the smithy's fire. 'You call this an inn?'
The innkeeper jumped back in surprise. His good mood was shattered. The newcomer grunted resignedly and muttered: 'Go ahead and bring the roast beef then. I might as well eat something.'
The innkeeper brought the man his meal and then carried over a bowl of soup and a slice of the thick, heavy bread that was a specialty of the inn to the small turtle-headed man across the room.
'Here, Tobias, old friend. I'm afraid that customer has upset me rather badly. Did you hear what he said?'
'Don't worry about it, Victor. He's probably only passing through. He'll be gone in a day or two, and chances are you'll never see him again.' Tobias shook his head slowly as he sipped his soup. Then he looked up and saw that Victor was still standing before him. 'Forget about him. He doesn't look like he has much life left in him anyway, so don't pay any mind to what he said; the food here is very good and this inn is as fine a place as any in the region. Say, Victor, your face is looking a little gray. Are you feeling poorly? Perhaps you should let your wife run the inn by herself tonight while you get some rest.'
Victor'sshoulder's sagged.'You're probably right, Tobias ' about everything. I'll go ask Mildred if she'll run it for me. I'm sure I'll be back to normal by tomorrow morning.

But the next morning it was Mildred who served the man his breakfast, for her husband was still in bed feeling ill.
The newcomer got angry about the porridge for breakfast. 'Where's the ham and toast?'
She turned a bit gray and walked away.

After his highly unsatisfactory breakfast, the man went for a walk. He needed to get some air to clear his head. He knew he shouldn't be getting upset about every little disappointment, and that it would only make him feel worse, but he couldn't seem to stop his impatience and the anger that followed it. People were just so infuriating! Why couldn't they give him what he wanted when he wanted it? Slowly, slowly he made his way through the plowed fields and small copses, over hills and down ravines, hardly noticing the scenery. His mind was full of images of disappointments but the biggest one was himself. It was his own fault that he was in this condition, and he didn't seem to be capable of changing his rotten personality. He was about to pick up his heavy old leg and literally kick himself, when the afternoon sun caught his eye and he looked at his surroundings. He was in a beautiful meadow. The rich green grasses swayed in the gentle breeze, and it seemed perfectly framed by the surrounding forests and the distant mountain ranges to the east and west. It was breathtaking, and he managed to stop thinking about himself for a full minute. He noticed a small cottage of some sort at the far end of the meadow and wondered who lived in it. Then a pair of large birds in the sky above caught his eye. What odd-looking birds they were! They seemed much larger than any he'd ever seen, and one was white, while the other was pink. Pelicans, perhaps? He'd never actually seen a pelican; only a painting of one in an old book, but he was pretty sure it had very skinny, bone-like legs and a long slender neck. The birds he was watching now looked more like flying horses than anything else, and as they got closer he realized that this too was incorrect. They were unicorns! He'd heard tales of unicorns as a child, but never quite believed them. Now he felt his childlike sense of wonder return as he watched these magnificent creatures glide closer and closer through the air.
The newcomer didn't realize it, but Tobias the turtle-head had been stealthily following him ever since he left the inn. Tobias had been disturbed by the appearance of the gray man's skin, and when both the innkeeper and his wife's skin took on a grayish hue after being exposed to his anger, Tobias' elf-sense confirmed for him that some kind of magic was at work, and it didn't seem benign.
The pair of unicorns circled near the man and looked as though they were going to fly away again, but for some reason they changed their minds and settled on the ground a few feet away from him. Tobias decided to show himself. He ran up behind the man.
'They're beautiful, aren't they?'
The man jumped a little. 'Yes.' He couldn't think of anything more to say. He had forgotten to breathe ever since the unicorns landed so close to him.
Tobias turned to him. 'They have names. Not only that, they can talk.'
The newcomer showed his angry side again suddenly. 'I may be a stranger here, but I'm not a fool!'
'Are you certain of that?' said a voice.
He turned around this way and that. 'Who said that?'
'I said it.'
His eyes opened wide, and he dropped his walking stick. 'You really talk!'
'And we have names, just as Tobias told you. I'm Hannah, and the white unicorn next to me is my sister Lilly. You already know Tobias, I see. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?'
'I don't generally give out my name,' said the newcomer, coughing a little.
'That's not especially friendly,' said Lilly.
He shrugged his shoulders and looked as though he was having an argument with himself. It wasn't immediately apparent who won. 'I suppose it isn't,' he said at last. 'My name is Winter.'
Tobias had a feeling that for some reason the newcomer was lying about his name, but he couldn't see any real harm in it.
'I was watching you fly,' said Winter, with a voice full of wonder. 'It was magnificent to watch. Do you ever take human passengers?'
'Yes, sometimes we do...'
'I feel as though I'd give almost anything to go on a ride like that.'
The unicorns looked at each other. 'We'd be happy to give you a ride, but I'm afraid it might be too dangerous. You need to be strong to hold on to my mane in the air, and someone as old as you...' Lilly's voice trailed off.
Winter's smile disappeared in a flash and red hot anger filled his words. 'I see! I'm too old and feeble to get a ride in the sky. You save that for the young and handsome. It's always the same. No one can ever give me what I want, when I want it!'
All of this was directed straight at Lilly, since she was the one who'd answered, and the force of his anger seemed to hit her like a rock. She collapsed to her knees. Hannah and Tobias ran to her.
'I don't feel very well,' she said weakly.
She looked rather gray. Tobias turned and glared at Winter, who suddenly felt very ashamed. He turned his anger on himself, and then he too fell to the ground; he buried his face in his hands and sobbed uncontrollably.
After a few minutes both Lilly and Winter were asleep. Tobias and Hannah rushed around putting blankets on them and worrying.

The next morning, Lilly had recovered somewhat, and she was walking around, but couldn't fly. Winter slept until the afternoon. He looked very gray and hardly moved. At times Tobias thought he was dead, but his eyes finally opened and he sat up. Tobias brought him some hot soup and bread, which seemed to revive him somewhat. He wouldn't look at anyone, though. He was lost in shame and self-hatred.
In the evening Lilly felt almost her normal self even though her color hadn't returned to white. She sat down close to Winter and he felt a strange energy coming from her. After that his mind seemed to quiet, and he slept deeply.

He awoke feeling well rested and started speaking again.
'You are magical creatures! You've healed me; only a little, but I could feel it. I hope I will be strong enough to ride on your backs one day soon. I'm not as old as you think. I promise to try to be patient. I realize you have been kind to me and I have shown you only anger. Please forgive me.' He bowed his head.
Hannah and Lilly were very surprised by his words.
'I'm afraid you still aren't strong enough for a ride in the sky, but if you do become stronger, I promise I will give you a ride.' She put her slightly gray face close to his.
He noticed that she smelled of flowers and grass.

For seven days the strangely tormented man waited, eating whatever Tobias brought (and thanking him profusely) while the unicorns ate and played. Many times he looked angry and seemed about to speak, but by sheer force of will managed to calm himself without uttering a word. Lilly still couldn't fly, but neither she nor Hannah could figure out why.

On the morning of the eighth day, they all gathered around Winter at sunrise. He was glowing! Before their startled eyes his shape changed. He became a beautiful young woman. She stood up.
'The curse is broken!'
Before they had time to ask her what she meant, Lilly gasped, spread her wings and took to the sky. Her color had returned to white, and she could fly normally again.

Later the young woman explained about the curse.
'My name is Winifred, but everyone calls me Windy because of the way the wind blows through my long red hair. I've always worn it long.
'Seven years ago a witch came to my town. Ours is a very small town, and we were all very excited to have a real witch. She swore to us that she was a good witch, and promised to use magical means to make all the schoolgirls prettier and smarter and give them beautiful hair. I already had beautiful hair, but I wanted to make sure I had the most beautiful hair in town. I was very impatient and selfish. I kept nagging the witch, reminding her that I wanted to be the smartest and prettiest. I was especially insistent about my hair. I felt that I would die if anyone else had a better head of hair than me. I know it sounds foolish, but that's the way I was. Any time I caught another girl talking to the witch I would kick her or pull her hair. The witch didn't scold me. She would just say 'Patience, patience,' in a soft voice. I think she was a good witch for the most part, but she had a temper that could flare up suddenly. She usually kept it well in check, but whenever she really lost it, she would get a wild look in her eyes and cast a nasty spell or curse at whoever vexed her. One day my impatience and bullying the other girls made Imelda the Witch snap.
'I place this curse on you, Winifred Lindsay Manson,' she announced, using my full name in order to properly activate the curse. 'You will be the smartest, prettiest, and have the most beautiful hair. But you will have none of those things until you learn to be patient, generous, and kind. You must control your anger and impatience for seven days in a row, while being kind and polite to those around you. Until then, you will take the form of a wandering man; a man who turns older and weaker, and grayer every time he is angry, impatient or selfish. Every time this man is kind, polite, or even reasonably pleasant, the process will reverse itself slightly. Those who come in contact with your anger, impatience, and selfishness will absorb some of your grayness, fatigue, and premature aging, which will stay with them until this curse is broken. Go! Spread misery as you wander until you learn your lesson.'
Hannah and Lilly looked closely at Windy. It was hard to believe that this person was the old, gray-haired man they'd recently met. She smiled at them.
'But now, thanks to you and Tobias, the curse is broken and I am myself again. All of the people whose faces turned gray around me as I wandered through the Seven Kingdoms... they'll all be feeling better now at last.'
'You don't have to thank us. You did it yourself, Windy,' said Hannah.
She hugged them and they took turns giving her sky rides while Tobias looked on happily.

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