“No, that will hardly be necessary, Lance. I sincerely doubt that either Margaret or Myrtlebell had anything to do with my father's death...”
“Then...?”
“I'm learning how Spitemorta's mind works, Lance. The possibility which I just laid out for you is almost certain to be what she'd throw at me if I should confront her with Margaret's story, which, mind you, I have no intention of doing. We shall keep your promise to the dear lady.”
Lance looked relieved and sympathetic.
“I think that for now, we should keep this matter just between us, Lance. You follow me?”
“Yes, completely.”
***
James sat astride his cyflymder in the newly fallen leaves, staring at the castle of Niarg. It had been a very long time since he had been here and the memory of his last visit was not pleasant. “I was certainly a fool, through and through,” he thought. “I wonder if King Hebraun will even see me.” He shrugged. He certainly would understand why if he refused. “Well, this is it.” he said, looking aside at Lance.
Lance nodded. “You're still certain you wish to go through with this, sire?”
“Yes, I'm quite certain.”
“Then,” said Lance, “I'll return directly.” And with a nod and an informal salute, he rode through the open gates and up the lane to the castle.
***
Hubba Hubba and Pebbles waddled uphill and down dale over pillow and blanket, giving each sleeping twin a thorough one-eyed inspection before flying to the window sill, adjusting a flight feather or two and giving a resolute shake apiece as they turned to address Soraya and Lukus. “Don't worry,” said Hubba Hubba, “Pebbles and I will let you know the instant either one of 'em so much as peeps. Now go, you two. You need a little time off. Your nestlings are in good...” he paused to look at his feet, “...feet.”
“Thanks you two,” said Lukus with a laugh, as he took Soraya's hand and pulled her towards the door. “We really appreciate it.”
“Hey, no problem, Lukus,” said Hubba Hubba. “Now you ones leave or your nestlings are goin' 'o be hollerin' before you're out the door.”
“We're on our way,” whispered Lukus, as he and Soraya went out and carefully closed the door. “Bet you never thought you'd have two parrots for nannies, did you?” he said, offering her his arm.
“Hardly,” she said with a melodic giggle. “You're certain they can handle it?”
“Oh yea. If one of our wee babes even peeps, Pebbles will stay and Hubba Hubba will track us down.” He led her down the polished hallway and out into the garden under the window of the babies' room, to a marble bench littered with golden leaves.
“I'm really going to miss your family, Lukus,” said Soraya as she swept aside leaves to have a seat. “I wish they could stay longer.”
“Me too,” said Lukus, sitting on top of the leaves beside her, “but Grandfather feels that he must return to Niarg immediately, with things as they are.”
“I know. Great-Grandfather agrees with him. I wish that if this had to happen, it would've waited a few years. It's not fair that our joy has to be tainted like this.”
“Yea, like a few hundred years or so.”
“There you are,” said Rose, out of breath. “I stopped by your apartment and Hubba Hubba was put out with me. He thought I would wake the babies. I didn't, by the way. But I swear he would've bitten me if I hadn't backed out into the hall...”
Lukus and Soraya broke out with laughter.
“Anyway, once he had me out there, he got friendly again and said you were already on your way to see us off.”
“We were early, so we were enjoying it out here, said Lukus. “So where's Fuzz? I didn't think the two of you got out of each other's sight these days, except when your eyes are closed.”
“He's helping Yann-Ber saddle the unicorns,” she said. “Yann-Ber is such a good fellow and volunteered, but of course it's 'way beyond him, so Fuzz went with him. And before you ask, Grandfather's having a last minute talk with King Neron.”
Lukus waved at Fuzz and Yann-Ber who had just appeared 'round the corner, leading four unicorns.
“Lukus! Soraya!” hollered Fuzz. “I do wish you were coming with us.”
“We'll be there in time for the wedding,” said Lukus. “Don't worry about that.”
The party strolled to the front of the palace as Razzmorten and King Neron stepped outside from the Council Chamber and Danneth, Strom and Jerund came out through the front door.
“What's this tree?” said Fuzz as he waded into it's freshly fallen golden leaves and stared up its gigantic spike of a trunk. “That's the sacred maidenhair,” said Neron with a serene look, as he picked up a leaf to twirl in his fingers. This very tree came with us a thousand years ago, when all of Elfkind were driven from Lobadh (or Gwael, as you once called the Eastern Continent) by the Marfora Siofra.”
“Old tree,” said Fuzz with awe.
“Ginko biloba, if you must, said Razzmorten.
“Each year, it sheds every last leaf in a single afternoon,” said Neron. “That happened yesterday, by the way, laying last year to rest.”
They made their farewells brief and were on their way before the sun had cleared the trees. Razzmorten wanted to at least get past the troll caves before they had to camp for the night. Yann-Ber rode the little chestnut Dulish, which he learnt was an Elven breed. He was very impressed with her for she was intelligent and very easy to ride.
“Ar mel is a very good name for you,” he said, as he gave her a pat. He was actually having an easier time of it in the saddle than he'd had for a very long time. The Elves had not been able to cure him, but they had concocted a kind of poultice that drained his pustules whenever he applied it, relieving his pain. Unfortunately they had come up with nothing to help him with his internal boils. He wished for the thousandth time that he had more of the White Witch's concoction. Whatever it was, the Elves had no idea about it. Razzmorten had tried again unsuccessfully to lift Demonica's curse, but he promised to keep trying. He still did not have his strength back, so Yann-Ber continued to hope.
“Grandfather?” said Rose.
“Yes?”
“Do you and King Neron think war is unavoidable?”
Razzmorten sighed and looked at her with a grave face. “Without a miracle, yes indeed,” he answered.
“Thank you for being straight with me, Grandfather,” she said as she cast a worried look at Fuzz. “We'd feared it would be so, but we were hoping that, you know, with the Elves being Elves...”
“Sure. You'd hoped they'd have some magical and quick solution.”
“Yes.”
“Rose, I'm afraid that even though the solution will indeed be magical, it will not be at all quick.”
“Grandfather! It sounds as if you know how to stop this war.”
“Yes I do, Rose, but it is neither in my power nor that of the Elves.”
“Then, who can possibly do it?” she said, as Mystique traded places walking in the path with Abracadabra.
“Oh, Daniel or possibly Ariel, or perhaps both of them together...”
“But they're babies!” she said with a gasp. “It'll be years before they're old enough to do such a thing. What'll be left of the world?”
“Not much as we now know it, I fear,” he said, bearing the most haunted look she had ever seen come from his kindly and steadfastly optimistic old eyes, “not much at all.”
***
King Hebraun looked at Lance and then back at the letter he had given him from James. “All right,” he sighed. “Tell your king I'll grant him a brief audience at sundown.”
Lance bowed and left without another word.
James was pacing back and forth beside his mount, getting odd looks from the passersby which he patently ignored. At last, he saw Lance trotting up. “I take it King Hebraun granted me an audience, but did so grudgingly?”
Lance nodded.
“Well, I can't say as I blame him, after all that happened bet
ween Rose and me,” said James with a shrug as he found his stirrup. “Did you see her, by the way?”
“Rose, you mean?” said Lance, sounding surprised. “Well no, actually. I didn't even see the queen. Hebraun looks drawn and weary. He may have been more drawn and weary than grudging, actually. Something is very wrong, I think.”
James gave a grim chuckle. “I don't doubt that with Spitemorta trying to poison his well.”
“Well, King Hebraun said he'd meet with you at sunset, after he is through receiving his citizens.”
“Looks like we've a bit of time to pass,” said James with a nod, “so let's go stable the unicorns and find an early supper, shall we?”
“Excellent suggestion, sire...James.”
***
James and Lance rode into to Castle Niarg after a hearty supper of stew and brown bread at the Jug and Whistle, a tavern catering to clerks and the most minor of dignitaries, operated by the same family who ran the stables.
King Hebraun did indeed look weary as he sat back in his great chair. Queen Minuet looked at James and quietly took up Hebraun's hand. James felt a pang of regret and envy at the sight of this, for it was very likely what he had squandered for himself by his ill treatment of their daughter. A gust of wind stirred the banners on the wall as it raced through the castle.
“What is it you wish to discuss, King James?” said Hebraun, as soon as James had been brought a chair.
“I came to warn you, sire.”
“Warn me?” said Hebraun, leaning forward. “About what, exactly?”
“Spitemorta,” he said, meeting Hebraun's eyes as he searched for his words. “All our sukere crops have been burnt to ash. Spitemorta has produced a dozen witnesses who swear that they saw the deed being done by dragons.”
“Dragons?” said Hebraun with a burgeoning rumble. “There's not a single dragon on the continent today who'd be involved in such foul play.”
“No. Of course there's not,” said James, as a shudder ran through him. This was a very bad start. “Please sire, I never meant to say that the dragons actually did such a deed.
In fact, after interviewing Spitemorta's witnesses, I'm convinced that they were put up to making their accusations.”
“I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me, King James,” said Hebraun as he studied him keenly.
“I know, sire, and I do apologize. I'm being very clumsy with this, I'm afraid. You see, I truly came here to warn you. I'm certain that Spitemorta is trying to get the people of Goll to go war against Niarg. Why she is doing this treachery, I do not know. Actually, there's a great lot about the woman I don't seem to know, anymore. Nevertheless, the sukere fields have all been burnt, and she has seen to it that the citizens accuse the dragons and are furious with Niarg for sending them. I fear war is on its way. I thought you should know.” He stood at once, turning to leave.
“Thank you for coming here and telling us, James,” said King Hebraun, without a trace of a smile. “It took a lot of courage. If Spitemorta were to find out, I can't believe she'd be very pleased.”
“Oh, no. She'll most likely plan to murder me as she did my father, if she hasn't done so, by now.”
Minuet gasped as Hebraun went wide eyed.
“Indeed it might save my neck if you didn't let out this little piece of information just now,” he said with a shrug and a dry lipped twitch for a smile. “Your Majesties, I've lived to regret ruining my betrothal to Rose. I hope that someday you'll both forgive me. I also hope she finds someone who truly appreciates her. She deserves that.” James hurriedly bowed and turned away from their astonished looks, knowing full well that even if they believed him, it would never stop Spitemorta.
Chapter 86
“Your Majesty,” said Captain Brutus, “the crowds are beginning to overflow the courtyard.”
Spitemorta glanced at Demonica, who raised her eyebrows as she studied the backs of her hands in the light of the window.
“You've put the three skinweleriou where I told you?” said Spitemorta to Brutus. “One in the courtyard, one in the base-court and one in the square of Gollsburgh proper?”
“Exactly, exactly. And each of the other twenty-two are in place as well, my Queen.”
“Perfect. Then, give the command to have the crowds watch the crystals, and I shall speak to them all directly.”
“Very good Your Majesty. I'm on my way.”
“You're absolutely certain that all the people will be able to hear, as well as see me in the skinweleriou?” said Spitemorta, turning to Demonica. “I'm going to look very bad before my people if all they get are images of me with my mouth moving.”
“Oh I agree. You would look like a fool, I'm afraid. But the skinweleriou are altogether flawless. You'll see.” She nodded at the balcony. “Now, I believe Captain Brutus has just given the word, dear. So, go see for yourself.” Demonica took pure pleasure in Spitemorta's frightened look as she glided out onto the balcony, where a fourth skinweler was set up regally in an ornately filigreed silver stand atop a marble table. The crowd hushed as Spitemorta stepped before them and raised her arms for silence. She said not a word as she touched the skinweler briefly with both hands. Bright swirls roiled within all twenty-five balls across the countryside until her very image flashed into view in the ones displayed before the crowds, while at the same time she could see in her own ball alternating flashes of each of the twenty four crowds assembled throughout Loxmere-Goll. A gasp surged through the crowds at the sight of her standing in the balls. Her ruby lips curved into a rapacious smile as her eyes lit with the power she had at her elegant fingertips.
“We want to thank you all for taking out valuable time for your kingdom and for your queen,” she said, creating another stir of gasps and murmurs, followed by the most absolute silence she had ever witnessed in a multitude. She hesitated for the briefest moment, reining in her ballooning euphoria. “I have spent the spring and summer admiring your skillful toil, as you nurtured and brought from the earth a marvelous sukre crop, a crop so good that it was sure to make this kingdom wealthier next season than we've been for many, many years, a crop worthy of the admiration of the rest of the world. I certainly admired it. And so did others. In fact certain others outside of Loxmere-Goll admired our crop so much that they envied us. They envied us so much that they had to strike us down...”
The crowd erupted into a furious roar as Spitemorta dropped her arms and bowed her head. Slowly she looked up and raised her fist like a hammer. The crowd fell silent.
“We all have suffered a terrible blow with the loss of our sukere crops right before harvest!” she cried, coming down with her fist. “We know what a disaster this has been for you. I feel this disaster. Know that when you go to sleep tonight, the crown will be doing everything in its power to see you through the long winter ahead.”
Demonica squinted at Spitemorta as she reveled in the roaring adoration of her people.
Spitemorta raised her arms again, silencing the multitude. “We have it on good authority that Niarg was behind this odious deed. High and mighty Niarg has been the wealthy land. Our sukere makes us evermore prosperous of late, and high and mighty Niarg won't have it! The sources of our information are beyond reproach. We have learnt that high and mighty Niarg suffers from a blight that has ruined all of this year's crops. King Hebraun and Queen Minuet blame us to cover up their loss of prosperity. They blame us for their own failure to save their crops. They blame us for having no corn for bread to go through the winter. They got the Elves to help, and you saw for yourselves how the dragons helped them. You should be angry!” she cried. “I'm angry! I resent this act of cowardice against the citizens of Loxmere-Goll! It will not be tolerated!” She banged her fist on the marble table top. “This is one time it is righteous to be angry! It is righteous to be furious! Loxmere-Goll needs your anger! Loxmere-Goll needs your fury!”
Again the crowd roared. Again Spitemorta raised her hands. “Loxmere-Goll needs her brave, her honorable, her strong to
come to her aid. I beseech you, bring your anger, bring your fury and come to her defense!” Once more she silenced them, waiting until it was eerily silent before resuming in a low voice: “Niarg's attacks upon our lands must be utterly crushed or else we shall become their mere fodder. It is time to take up arms!” she cried. “To arms!”
It was now all thundering pandemonium down below. Spitemorta triumphantly picked up her skinweler and stepped inside, directing Captain Brutus to close the balcony doors and draw the drapes. She crossed the room forcing down the whirling and prancing she had bubbling in her feet and collapsed upon her throne with a look of smug satisfaction. She eyed Brutus. “See to your recruiting then, Captain,” she said as though she were bored with having this kind of profound effect upon her subjects. “I should say you'll have no problem getting all the volunteers you need, now.”
Brutus left immediately to follow her command.
Demonica looked up from her chair when he was beyond hearing. “That went right well Rouanez Bras, but beware. King Hebraun may have a reputation as a benevolent and benign ruler, but unless he's changed drastically since I was there, he also has teeth.”
“And just what's that supposed to mean, Grandmother?”
“It means dear,” she said with obligatory patience, “that the good king has kept his country loyal and free for so long without war with anyone by very cleverly standing with the citizens under every circumstance. If Niarg goes to war, he will lead them to it himself. And the entire adult population is thoroughly armed with their own weapons and are quite practiced, from the lowliest peasant, to the commander of the military. Not only that, but all the people of Niarg are given at least some voice in most major decisions by their crown.”
“So?” scoffed Spitemorta. “Did I not just inspire my people to fight for their lands, Grandmother? Didn't you see them?”
“Oh, but there's a huge difference, Spitemorta. You just now managed to do so. You rallied farmers and butchers and bakers and goat herders. You let these people own shovels and axes and hay forks. Your sheriff takes away any swords or bows or pikes he and his men happen to spy amongst them and puts the poor owner in the pillory. Your subjects will be slaughtered by the superior forces Hebraun can bring to bear against them.”
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 92