Rule of Three #4: The Montana Accord

And the Rule of Three Blogfest is coming to a close this week. I’ve had a great time visiting Renaissance, and visiting with other authors. By the way, if anybody, Rule of 3, Campaigner, or otherwise, is doing National Novel Writing Month this year and wants to do an interview for my new Nanowrimo spotlight series, let me know with a comment or contact me by email at chrisken zero at gmail dot com

Previous chapters in my Rule of Three storyline:

1. Just where is Renaissance?
2. The Resourceful Sorceress.
3. Can’t fight your fate.

This week, I’m at 590 words, and I took the prompt: “Relationships mend.”

Paul the bartender looked at the tableau between Ixtachul and the visitors for a moment, and gestured for Kiri to come join him behind the bar, but the petite waitress bent to help Tom up. Paul had known that Ixtachul had taken Tom’s place, but didn’t feel it was his place to warn Heiress Samantha about the deception ahead of time. She’d figured it out quickly enough for herself.

But now Paul spoke up. “Tell them of your grievances,” he said. “Over the centuries, I suspect that your story has not remained prominent.”

“His story?” Naveli Brussard asked. “What are you talking about?”

“I came from the same land as you,” Ixtachul spat. “For thousands of years, your ancestresses welcomed me and mine, until one Queen grew jealous and fearful. She raised up dozens of her family as an army, and drove us away. My love and the tears of my heart she slew herself, and would have shown me no mercy, but I escaped beneath the waters.”

“A war between the Brussard family and shape-shifters,” Tom said. “No, this story is not still told in North America. How long ago was it?”

“Three hundred years,” Samantha guessed. “I’ve heard it mentioned during my studies with Mother, though she didn’t go into detail.”

“Three hundred thirty and three years have I lived in this place, this new birth, since I fled the mountains of my home,” Ixtachul repeated. “Have you come to take me back, little Princesses?”

“I don’t think so!” Naveli said, stamping a foot with as much force as she could manage.

“I wonder,” Samantha whispered. “The mountains… where was your home when the Brussards attacked your family, Ixtachul?”

“Your people called it Montana,” Ixtachul told her.

Samantha smiled. “Montana is no longer under the Brussard throne – the wolves decided that they wanted to be independent. But I will take you to them, if you want.”

Ixtachul answered her with a grimace. “And if they will not have me?”

“Then I will petition my mother to allow you in Brussard territory – as close to your old home as we can manage.”

“Excellent,” Ixtachul said, offering his hand to Samantha to seal the deal.

Kiri edged behind the bar and bent towards Paul’s ear. “Why would the Heiress propose any of this?” she whispered.

“Samantha has no love for the Wolves of Montana, and I think she hopes to have Ixtachul for an ally against them, or that he should be a new enemy for them.”

Princess Naveli came over to the bar and smiled shyly at Kiri. “I guess that I won’t have long to visit in Renaissance after all – but do you have anything sweet that I can try before I go?”

“You may have a few days,” Ixtachul rumbled, making Naveli jump. “As much as the gentle folk of Renaissance will want to see the last of me, it will take me a night and a day to gather my treasures, and bid farewell to those few who consider me a friend.”

“I don’t think your sister is in a hurry to fly away either, young Princess,” Paul said, pointing across the tavern. Rachel Hyde and Samantha were chatting like old friends and heading towards the door side by side. “I’m sure Miss Hyde will want all three of you to visit her shop before you go – there will be much that you’ll be tempted to spend the Royal Treasury’s gold on.”

And Princess Naveli smiled as Paul poured her a glass of smoothly pureed fruit.

THE END.