Heart of the Staff - Complete Series

by Carol Marrs Phipps

  “Well, it's all downhill from here,” said Razzmorten, when they reached the pass.

  “Mercy,” said Rose. “There's a lot of snow on this side.”

  “Yea, all the way down to the trees, looks like,” said Fuzz.

  Everyone fell silent again while the unicorns jogged down the path as it meandered to a stand of naked aspens flanked by pines. By the time they reached the trees, the sun had followed them across the divide to warm the slopes, melting free rushing rivulets of water to swell the bottom of a gorge near the path to a tumbling torrent. At the sight of a queue of small flat topped boulders running along the lip of the gorge above some large caves, they decided to stop to rest and have a bite to eat.

  Fuzz studied the bank of the gorge below as he chewed on his dried apples. “It looks like those caves could go back a considerable way into the rocks down there,” he said. “I wouldn't be surprised if they all joined up into a common tunnel, and they undoubtedly have occupants.”

  “Bats, Fuzz?” said Taflu, peeping out from under Razzmorten's hat.

  “I wouldn't be surprised Taflu. But I can tell by all those large animal bones which I see now, that something large lives in that one or that one, or at least did not long ago.”

  “It will surely be a little while before we leave. Why don't I fly down and check? I wouldn't mind saying hello to some other bats.”

  “Sure. Why not?” said Fuzz as he rubbed his bristly chin. “It's always a good idea to know about a cave, particularly if we ever need to spend the night up here.”

  “Right,” gritted Taflu as he dropped from Razzmorten's hat and fluttered down the steep rock wall of the gorge, ducking into the largest cave. He flitted out of a different opening a moment later.

  “You're right on both counts, Fuzz,” he said as he landed back on Razzmorten's hat. “They're all one big cave for one thing, and I didn't see any bats at all. And, oh yea. I think everyone needs to whisper and be real quiet as long as we're here...”

  “Why?” said Fuzz.

  “Well, I could hear your voices from up here, just inside the cave. And there's a huge filthy old sow troll nursing a pair of noisy kids, so I don't think she can hear us yet.”

  Everyone hushed, wide eyed at this.

  “Jutish trolls,” whispered Razzmorten, “Homo neanderthalensis jutlandii, also called solitary trolls. They're quite dangerous. They've the very bad habit of pulling apart Humans and Elves with their bare hands and eating them raw. I think we should indeed leave as quietly as possible.”

  They were mounted at once, jogging down the path in the wet snow into the pines. Ravens croaked and made clicking noises far above. Soon they were far enough down the mountain side to be out of the snow, and after a particularly long and steep decent, they crossed a broad and rolling stand of birch trees, naked and white. An enormous great grey owl dropped out of the pines and swooped low, vanishing far ahead of them. Evening began to reach out with its shadows.

  When Razzmorten moved his hat to scratch his head, Taflu came out onto the bottom side of the brim and yawned. “Evening, Razzmorten,” he gritted. “Hey Fuzz!” he squeaked out, making Razzmorten wince. “I need to hunt.”

  “Do we camp another night or push on to the Elf village?” said Fuzz to Razzmorten.

  “If we keep going, we ought to reach Oilean Gairdin not too long after it gets dark, so that would probably be best. And from the look on Lukus's face, he agrees. Does anyone disagree?” He turned to look at everyone from his saddle. No one objected. “Well then Taflu, we'll just be following this path.”

  Without a word, Taflu fluttered off to hunt for fresh whole ass blood.

  Well after dark, he returned and crawled under Razzmorten's hat, just in time for Yann-Ber to point to a faint light through the trees. Soon they found themselves riding wearily into the dazzling crystal village of the Elves. “This is the same way Lukus and I came, back when we were led here, Fuzz,” said Rose.

  “And here come Danneth and Strom, two of the very ones who led us,” said Lukus, speaking out. “I see you two were expecting us.”

  “We were,” said Strom, merrily. “Do you read minds?”

  “Great-Grandfather and Jarund would be here too, but they're with Soraya,” said Danneth leveling his gaze at Lukus.

  “I'm too late!” cried Lukus, wide-eyed.

  “Oh, no, dear brother-in-law,” said Danneth with a toothy grin and a shake of his head. “Not yet, I'm sure. Her labors have only just begun. Follow me.”

  Lukus lunged into great eager strides at Danneth's side, headed for the palace at Oilean Giardin, as the rest of the company followed behind with Strom. They found Soraya, attended by a host of mid-wives while King Neron and Jarund took turns pacing vigilantly outside her door. They greeted Lukus and his party with jubilant smiles and handshakes. Lukus dropped formalities at once and hurried to follow his heart and mind through the door with his body.

  Soraya was draped in a sheet on the bed, as each bead of sweat on her brow was daubed up at once by a midwife. The serene concentration on her lovely flushed face gave way to smiles the instant she saw Lukus. “I knew you'd come,” she said as he rushed to her, taking up her dainty hand.

  “As promised,” he said, trading glares with the mid-wives.

  Soraya saw the looks and squeezed his hand. “Stay with me,” she gasped as a contraction grabbed her.

  “I will,” he said fiercely.

  Outside the door, Neron kissed Rose's hand and smiled at Razzmorten. “And who are your companions, my old friend?” he said with a smile for Yann-Ber and Fuzz.

  “This is Rose's future husband, Captain Strong, who goes by Fuzz these days, and Yann-Ber, our friend from Head,” said Razzmorten. “And we have urgent need for a long talk, once the baby has arrived.”

  “I'd thought something was in the wind,” said Neron. “But as you say, after the birth... You've not dangerously minimized the urgency, have you?”

  “It'll wait.”

  “Well, we should savor this part of this very special day.”

  “Yes indeed,” said Razzmorten. “I'm about to lose my position as the greatest wizard of the age, and I'm looking forward to it.”

  A midwife burst forth from Soraya's room. “King Neron, your great-great grandson is born,” she crowed before rushing back inside.

  “Well now,” said Razzmorten. “You'd think she'd 'ave at least let us peek at the little fellow.”

  “They've probably not got him cleaned up yet.”

  “I'm just champin' at the bit.”

  “Whoa! She's back with the bundle of joy,” said Neron grandly, as the door swung wide.

  “Lukus!” cried Rose, as he stepped out behind the midwife with another tiny bundle.

  “My word!” boomed Neron. “Bundle of joy number two.”

  “Twins, Lukus,” said Rose with a bounce before peering for the wee red face.

  Lukus handed over his new daughter for her to cuddle. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful in your life?” he said.

  “Never,” she squealed softly. “How's Soraya?”

  “Exhausted, but ecstatic. She didn't know that she was carrying twins when she sent me the message globe. When she found out, she didn't know where I was, so she couldn't let me know about it. Isn't it wonderful, Rose?”

  “Absolutely.”

  ***

  Minuet looked up with a start from her knitting as Hebraun burst into their parlour with a small globe and a huge grin. He held out the tiny orb.

  “Here! Talk to it,” he said, parking it in her outstretched palm. “Ask it to play your message.”

  Minuet hesitated, having not actually seen such a thing before. “Please deliver your message,” she said.

  The ball lit from within and directly Lukus appeared with a huge grin. “Congratulations,” he declared. “You are the grandparents of a fine healthy grandson. Soraya and I have named him Daniel. You are also the very fortunate grandparents of the most beautiful baby girl that h
as ever been born. We have named her Ariel.” He stepped aside for them to see Soraya sitting up in bed, radiantly holding forth first one baby then the other so they could have a good look. Lukus stepped back into view. “Grandfather and

  Rose will be home before long. They've much news to bring you. Soraya and I will not be returning to Niarg for a bit yet. We'll let you know when we do. In the meantime, I'll say that you have yet another happy surprise coming, though I'm not at liberty to tell you what it is. We love you and miss you. And you must set down this globe so that it can fly back to King Neron. Goodbye.”

  The image in the globe vanished. Its glow faded out and Minuet set it down, still astonished by it, as it rose and flew like a shot out the window.

  “Twins Hebraun! A boy and a girl!”

  Hebraun smiled and put his arm around her. “Guess you'll be needing both the pink and the blue layettes after all, dearest.”

  “Of course,” she said as she spun 'round to look up into his face. “What do you reckon Lukus meant by, 'at least one more happy surprise?'“

  “Can't imagine,” said Hebraun. “But at least it's going to be pleasant, and we can use all the joy we can rake in. I think it may be a good long time before we have much more.”

  “I know,” she said. “We've got bad times ahead.”

  “We knew this was coming,” he said, squeezing her hand.

  “Yes, but I kept hoping that somehow the Elves were wrong, for once.”

  “I'd hoped it, too,” said Hebraun, hugging her as they stood at the window, gazing into the starlit night as the newborn hope for their world slept in their mother's arms across the miles in the Jutwoods.

  Chapter 85

  “King James's retainer has given me this message for you, Your Majesty,” said Captain Brutus as he handed Spitemorta a letter bearing the old Loxmere seal.

  Spitemorta made a face as she ran her thumb under the seal. Her eyes darted over the letter, deepening her look of contempt.

  “So, what are you still standing there for, Captain?” she said, as if he were being inexcusably thoughtless by standing politely at her disposal with his eyes averted out of respect for her privacy.

  “Forgive me Your Majesty, but His Majesty's retainer specifically asked that I wait for your reply.”

  “Then get out of my sight and send him in, Captain.”

  Captain Brutus thumped his breast and hurried out, as the retainer came before her and bowed.

  “Stand up Lance,” said Spitemorta with bored irritation.

  “Has Your Majesty a letter for my king?” said Lance politely, ignoring her self-indulgent disrespect.

  “No,” said Spitemorta, as if he had just used obscene language to demand her age and weight. “However, you may tell him to take all the time he needs. I can handle things quite well here on my own.” She smiled with a sudden sweet veneer.

  “I shall tell him, my Queen,” he said, anxious to leave in spite of his even bow.

  “Dismissed,” she sniffed.

  Demonica glided in the moment he was gone, looking about expectantly. “That's right odd,” she said. “I'd the impression your darling husband was back when I ran into his retainer outside.”

  “Did you wish to speak to James about something, Grandmother?”

  “Fates forbid that I ever should. I leave him all to you my dear, no matter how pleasant he may be to look at.”

  “Well, I shan't be looking at him for a day or two. He's been detained in Loxmere for as much as a fortnight.”

  “Really?” said Demonica. “What's so important in Loxmere?”

  “I've no idea,” said Spitemorta, making a face. “He didn't say.”

  “Truly? Too bad he doesn't have one of my skinweleriou with him, isn't it?”

  “Pooh Demonica,” said Spitemorta with a laugh, “I could care less about what's keeping James. He's probably moping around, imagining he's the sole ruler of the separate country of Loxmere.”

  “My,” said Demonica with merriment in her eyes. “For someone who doesn't care, you're certainly dripping with venom, dear.” She turned back for the door. “I think I'd better go see if my charge is awake yet.”

  Spitemorta sat back on her throne with a sullen sigh.

  ***

  James set the wreath of flowers against his mother's tombstone and stood, gazing at her resting place with moist eyes. He glanced at his father's stone just as a movement across the royal cemetery caught his eye. It was merely his retainer, back from Goll, waiting just inside the fence, talking to his two guards. He sighed. He missed his parents, especially his mother. He wished she were here to advise him about Spitemorta's recent behavior. He turned to his father's stone. He had not been able to talk to him much. He had even blamed him for his mother's death, though now he knew better. “I'm so sorry Father,” he murmured.

  He turned away and walked directly across the graveyard to see his retainer. At least he still had Lance. The young man had been his loyal steward for the past fifteen years and had become his most trusted friend, perhaps his only friend.

  “Your Majesty,” said Lance, bowing as James approached.

  “Lance,” said James with a broad smile, not knowing just how to release Lance from his formalities for this particular occasion. “What news have you from Spitemorta?”

  Lance glanced aside at the guards.

  “I see,” said James with a nod. “Let's go inside and have something sent up, shall we? You must be done in from your trip. You can tell me everything once you're refreshed.”

  Lance looked relieved and fell in beside James as they made their way to the palace along the manicured stone path in the skittering leaves, discussing nothing beyond the weather and irrelevant pleasantries until the guards were outside closed doors.

  “So, what's up with Spitemorta?”

  Lance hesitated.

  “You're worried about my feelings, aren't you,” said James patiently. “I hope that by now you know me well enough to be comfortable with being direct. Just remember what I told you 'way back when, after that business with Rose.”

  “I well remember your asking me to always 'give it to you straight,' as you put it, but I just think you've already born enough pain...”

  “From her?”

  “I should say. She refused to send any sort of written reply, James, and she bade me let you know that you should take all the time you need here since she could do just fine own her own...”

  “And what was probably the worst of this was the way she said it, aye?” said James, rising to pace.

  “She was...haughty and scathing to put it mildly, sire.”

  “I do appreciate your being less brutal than my dear wife, Lance. But you've got more to tell, haven't you? I can see in your face.”

  “Yea,” said Lance, with a haunted look. “I've been right busy. I found Margaret...”

  “Margaret? I don't know who...Oh! Mom and Dad's chambermaid? You found her?”

  “Yes. I followed a lead and found her at a small inn in Ellsmore, where she's waiting tables. Poor thing thought she'd seen a ghost, by the look of her when she saw me. She tried to run away. I actually had to give chase and run her down, but she yielded when I had her by the wrists. I had to take the liberty of promising her that she'd never have to give public testimony and that we'd set her up incognito somewhere entirely outside of Loxmere-Goll.”

  “Go on,” said James, “Let's hear it.”

  “She said that your father was murdered.”

  “Then, Myrtlebell really did...” he said, quite wide eyed.

  “Not at all, said Lance with a shake his head. “Margaret insisted that Myrtlebell was just a convenient scapegoat for the real murderess.”

  “Murder-ess? Spitemorta?”

  Lance looked stricken, but nodded. “Margaret swears it,” he said. “She said she was bringing your father his nightly sleeping dram when Spitemorta appeared and demanded that she turn it over to her. Spitemorta said that she would give it to him, instead.
She said that she feared foul play in her very bones, but only being a chamber maid, she couldn't begin to stand up to royalty. She felt very responsible and guilty, turning it over, so she decided to at least make sure it got to King Edmond, and so she followed Spitemorta at a distance. She watched Spitemorta go into her own chamber with the dram and come back out with it before she gave it to the king...”

  “Well, that's suspicious all right,” said James with a shrug, “but it's a long way from proof of foul play on Spitemorta's part.”

  “You're absolutely right sire, but there's more. Margaret followed Spitemorta to the king's room and watched through the keyhole as your father drank the dram and went directly into convulsions and died. She said that Spitemorta stayed with your father until he was quite dead, and what's more, your father realized that he'd been poisoned and begged Spitemorta to go for his physician, but she just threw back her head and laughed and told him that the poison she'd put in his drink had no antidote.”

  “So is Margaret telling the truth, do you think?” said James as he sat down and rubbed his temples.

  “Oh, without a doubt, I'm afraid.” said Lance, sitting forward arrow straight. “The woman didn't want to talk to me, if you'll remember. She's been in hiding since your father's death. She's terrified of Spitemorta and wants nothing to do with testifying publicly. She's afraid that Spitemorta will have her murdered.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she know of any other witnesses?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  “Could she be lying?”

  “Why would she be so terrified, sire? She's not faking her terror.”

  “Oh I doubt that she is, but what if she and Myrtlebell were in on this thing and planned to point their fingers at Spitemorta? And then, things went wrong and Myrtlebell fled, leaving Margaret to fend for herself. Not wanting to take the blame, Margaret also flees and hides until you come along and find her and she has no choice but to tell the tale she and Myrtlebell hatched before the crime.”

  “I guess it could have happened that way, sire,” said Lance with a stunned look. “Am I to see to Margaret's arrest, then?”