The King's Whisper

by T. S. Cleveland

  She turned to Torsten with a nod. As he crossed to her, she held out her hand. “Members of the Royal Council, Lords and Ladies of the Court, and all good citizens of Viridor,” she proclaimed as Torsten bowed, then took her hand. “I present to you the newest member of our Royal Council, Lord Torsten!”

  The crowd cheered, yelled, stomped, and applauded, and Felix joined along with them, happily ignoring the exasperated side-eye he was getting from the stoic Audrey. The other members of the council, along with their loved ones, were slow clapping politely, he observed. But Felix primarily kept his eyes on Torsten as he stood hand in hand with the queen. It was odd seeing them side by side like that, and in a way Felix hadn’t expected. Torsten looked so natural there, his demeanor calm, his stance confident. And when he tilted his head to speak to her, as he was doing now, his was like a reflection of Bellamy’s own regal posture. Torsten truly looked like he belonged in a royal setting, but not just as a councilman.

  As a king.

  Felix’s jubilant exclamations ceased, his hands dropping to his sides as a feeling of calm settled over him. The tugging in his belly was suddenly gone, and his fear of losing Torsten went with it.

  “Thank you,” Audrey said in response to his silence, even as Bellamy raised her hand to silence the crowd. The cheering stopped almost immediately, yet the queen’s hand remained in the air. Felix watched, waiting for her to speak again, or lower her hand, but as long moments passed, she did neither. Torsten was looking at her oddly now, speaking to her, and she shook her head in reply. A moment later, her took her hand and lowered it to her side, and that’s when Felix saw it begin to shake.

  “Bellamy,” he began. “Her hand is—”

  “No,” Audrey said. “It’s the stage.”

  The floor began to vibrate beneath him and he instinctively reached for her, but Audrey was already gone, racing to the queen’s side. As he made to go after her, guardsmen running from their posts behind him knocked him down, and as he fell, he saw Bellamy fall, collapsing in Audrey’s arms even as she shouted something to Torsten that Felix couldn’t hear past the shrieking crowd. The rumbling beneath Felix intensified as he came to his feet, and he realized the screams were due not just to the queen’s collapse, but the people’s realization that the entire stage was shaking.

  In an instant, Torsten was pushing his way through the guards that had rushed to surround the queen, then past the councilmembers and their families, some of whom had fallen to the floor. “Felix!” Torsten yelled, grabbing Felix’s hand and pulling him towards the far steps.

  Much of the council was fleeing before them, and when one of the councilwomen fell, frantic and sobbing, Torsten stopped, releasing Felix’s hand to help her. Without hesitation, Felix sprinted to where the queen was lying, squirming easily through the surrounding guards kept off-balance by the continued shaking. He fell to his knees beside Audrey, who was cradling the queen’s head in her lap. Yelling for passage, Torsten pushed his way through the guards, grabbing Felix’s shoulders as the ground, once again, lurched beneath their feet.

  “Felix, come!” Torsten demanded even as Audrey shouted, “I told you to go!” fixing her good eye on Torsten dangerously.

  “No!” Felix exclaimed, laying a hand on Audrey’s arm. “We wouldn’t be here without you, and we’re not leaving without you.” He turned to look at Torsten. “It’s okay. I’m not afraid anymore.”

  He then turned to Bellamy, whose honey eyes were open and seemed to be fixed in a hard stare. A trickle of dark ooze leaked from her nose, her face held a greyish pallor, and her entire body was trembling. Her breath was shallow and labored, and even amid the commotion that surrounded them, Felix could hear a gurgling rasp in her throat.

  Torsten quickly removed his jacket, laying it on Bellamy’s chest before kneeling at her side, taking up the bejeweled hand that had so recently held his. “I don’t understand,” he said, a look of disbelief on his face. “She was well a moment ago. She was fine.”

  “She was poisoned,” Audrey growled, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know when or how, but I know the effects of poison when I see it.” She bent her head, adjusting the golden circlet and kissing the queen’s forehead. “I will kill the coward who did this to you, Bellamy,” she said quietly. “I promise.”

  A loud cracking sound brought about a new round of terrified screams. Audrey looked up, her eyes landing on Niall. “Get the council to safety!” she bellowed. “And get Winchester! Have him fetch a proper litter up here, and blankets—nice ones. Tell him. Even if you’ve already told him, tell him again. People don’t always think clearly when they’ve suffered a shock. And have the guards disperse these crowds! I want everyone away from here now!”

  “Wait!” Torsten said anxiously. The floor shook again, though not as powerfully as before. “There must be something we can do, someone who can heal her, or at least try,” Torsten urged. “We can’t just stay here doing nothing until the stage collapses. Where’s the royal physician?”

  “It won’t collapse,” Audrey said quietly, her gaze returning to Bellamy. “And the physician will be no help to us now. Do either of you have a clean handkerchief?” Torsten drew his from the pocket of his coat, and Audrey immediately began wiping the ooze from beneath the queen’s nose. “The worst of the shaking is done, anyway,” Audrey continued. “It will stop altogether in a moment.”

  “You can’t know that,” Torsten replied. “There could be more quakes on the way, and worse ones.”

  Ignoring him, Audrey looked up at the remaining guards. “Leave us,” she barked.

  Felix blinked back his tears, cleared his throat, and looked at Torsten. “Queen Bellamy is the one making the ground shake,” he said, keeping his voice low. “It will end as soon as she …” His voice cracked and he looked sadly to Audrey.

  “It will end soon,” she said.

  Torsten nodded in understanding and they lapsed into silence, remaining by Bellamy’s side as the stage continued to tremble beneath them in concert with the trembling of her body. And very soon, with a loud exhalation of breath, the trembling stopped.

  The queen was dead.

  Audrey sighed, placed a long kiss on Bellamy’s forehead, and then closed her eyes. As she began to ease her legs out from beneath the queen’s head, Felix stood, removed his vest, and folded it to use as a pillow. This done, Audrey rose slowly to her feet, bowing her head. All those in attendance, both on stage and in what remained of the crowd, did the same. Save for the sounds of weeping, the people stood in revered silence.

  “It’s really true,” Niall said, crossing the stage to them after Audrey raised her head and the people had begun to murmur quietly. His face was damp with sweat. “It’s true,” he said again, staring down at the queen. “She’s dead. Just look at the face that was once so lovely.” He was wringing his hands, his legs shaky.

  Audrey stared at Niall, obviously disturbed by his choice of words. Felix quickly untied the bandana from his neck, and shaking it out, handed it to her. “You can use this if you want,” he said. She took the square of black cloth, smoothed it against her chest, and then stooped to drape it over the queen’s face.

  Felix returned his gaze to Niall, then down to the flask tucked away in his belt. “It was you, wasn’t it?” he asked softly. The murmurs rose to urgent whispers in the wake of his question, sweeping through the crowd, and the guards who remained on stage grabbed the hilt of their swords as Audrey rose, drawing her daggers.

  “Did you give her poison?” Audrey growled, her face seemingly torn between rage and disbelief. “Did you put poison in that flask?”

  As a half dozen guards approached, their swords drawn, Niall backed away. “The bitch asked for it, didn’t she?” he screamed at Audrey, wild-eyed with fear as he brandished his weapon before him. “Do you want a sip, you one-eyed whore? I think you’d like the brew as much as your slut did. It’s specially made for elemental pigs like you!”

  Felix stood trapped between Audre
y and Niall, within easy striking distance of both. Torsten leapt over Bellamy’s legs, grabbing Felix and pulling him aside. In the next moment, Felix spotted Selon and the others below, their bows aimed and arrows ready to loose.

  “Drop your weapons!” Audrey yelled as Niall turned and ran to the front of the stage. “He’s mine!”

  “Our queen was an elemental!” Niall shouted, raising his sword to shake it maniacally. “Don’t you see? The quake that could have killed us all ended the moment she died! Is this coincidence? No! She was elemental scum!” The crowd was quiet, staring at him in open-mouthed, stunned silence, prompting Niall to yell all the louder. “She said the time for change had come and she was right! It’s time to strike down all these elemental bastards like the dangerous beasts they are, once and for all! This bitch won’t be the last of these monsters to die! We will kill them all!”

  As Niall spoke, Audrey continued moving slowly and purposely towards him, and Felix was glad to be spared the murderous look she must have borne on her face. It was enough to see her stance when she came to a stop behind him, her leather-clad back straight, her head held high and defiant. In that moment, he fully expected she would plunge the daggers she held in either hand into his back. But no. That move wouldn’t have suited the fearless nature that was Audrey’s. Instead, she called his name, and as Niall turned to face her, a look of mockery on his face as he slashed down with his sword, she plunged a dagger deep into his chest. Then, raising her leg in a powerful kick, her booted foot met the dagger’s hilt, propelling him into the crowd below.

  There was more screaming, along with gasps of astonishment, as Audrey immediately leapt after him. Felix and Torsten reached the edge of the stage in time to watch as she straddled the very much alive Niall, his eyes wide and fearful, and as their bandits rushed to form a protective circle around her, she used her second dagger to slowly slit his throat. Standing, she pocketed the poison flask, and as the bandits closed in around her, she walked away, leaving Niall’s body where it lay. Felix looked away, his ability to process horror breached as Niall’s bloody corpse was set upon by the crowd, and everything in the immediate aftermath seemed to pass in a blur.

  Running guards appeared with a litter, a disheveled Winchester trailing behind them, holding a bolt of cobalt blue cloth that he unrolled to use as a drape. The bandits appeared, and Felix stood with them in silence as Torsten and a blood-splattered, stoic Audrey covered the queen and lifted her onto the litter. And then Torsten was holding him tightly around the waist as they walked off the stage and down the steps behind Audrey, who followed close behind the Royal Guard, who bore the body upon their shoulders. As they crossed the square, the townspeople bowed low and reverently as they passed. The lamplighters began to climb and light the enormous torches as dusk began descending on the city.

  As the procession slowed before a glass-fronted building on the perimeter of the square, Felix realized it was a music shop, as there were various instruments—harps, lutes, even a harpsicord—on display in the front windows. And there were many more inside, everything from bells to drums displayed on shelves and even mounted along the walls. The shop was cool and dim, and the space they entered was large enough for an entire orchestra, with room left for dancing. Near the center of the space, a young man stood on a ladder, looking distraught as he rushed to finish lighting the lamps suspended from a fixture on the ceiling. As the room became better illuminated, Felix saw the councilmembers and their families had already arrived, and that Bellamy’s shrouded body had been placed on a high table near the back that must normally be used for copying sheet music, as a full ream of it seemed to be scattered haplessly upon the planked wood floor.

  The door closed behind them and Felix heard slaps against the glass as the crowd surged to get a look inside, followed by the shouts of a few familiar bandit voices ordering the curious back. Moments later, members of the Royal Guard took their places there, lining up shoulder to shoulder in front of the store.

  Audrey stood immediately in front of Felix, and she looked terrifying up close, bloody and brutal, her one-eyed glare severe as it roamed the room, scanning for more threats. She gave instructions to the guards, who moved to flank either side of the queen. Then, after the ladder was hoisted and moved to the side of the room, she nodded to Felix and Torsten, leading them forward to become the center of a semi-circle that formed around the queen. As the councilmembers took their places, Felix shifted close enough to Audrey to brush against her shoulder, wanting to comfort her but knowing it wasn’t really possible. Not now. Audrey hadn’t known the queen much longer than he’d known Torsten, but if Torsten had been the one lying before them on a makeshift, music table bier, he knew nothing anyone could say or do would have lessened his grief.

  He leaned his head against Torsten’s shoulder unashamedly, grasping the soft material of his shirt. He missed the fur pelt, missed burying his face in it and breathing deeply of its scent, but he made do, raising his head and letting go only when one of the councilmembers cleared his throat in preparation to speak. It was the same man who’d glared so rudely at Felix before the ceremony, and his expression now was as cruel as it was then. Still, Felix expected some words of respect or a prayer to be the first words from his small, thin-lipped mouth, rather than those he said.

  “As the designated spokesman, the eldest, and the longest serving member of this Royal Council,” the man announced without preamble, “it is clear that the crown should now pass to my head.”

  “Age is not a determining factor,” countered one of the councilwomen quickly. “And as for seniority, I was sworn the same hour as you. And we only voted you spokesman because you never shut up.”

  “You both may have served longer,” another said, “but you have not been in attendance as often as I, given your regular and prolonged absences for this reason or that. It is the actual time put into it that should count, not the time sworn.”

  “I call for a proper vote,” another of the councilwomen offered. “But it must be now, before money can be used to purchase a crown that’s not been earned.”

  “I’ll vote for none but myself,” voiced another man. “Everyone knows my advice was heeded far more often than that of anyone else, particularly that of Lord Ward.”

  The calling out by name of the first councilman to speak led to an open argument, with the councilmembers, joined by their families, quickly forming into small groups so as to better harass and intimidate one another. None seemed to care a whit that Bellamy lay but a few minutes dead in their presence, and when a heated exchange broke out in close proximity to her bier, Audrey cursed, then crossed the room to move them. There she remained, standing a protective vigil before the queen.

  “This is disgusting,” Felix said to Torsten, who nodded in agreement as the quarreling escalated. “It’s exactly what she was afraid of, because she didn’t trust any of them. Isn’t there something you could do as a councilman? Something you could say?”

  Torsten shrugged, looking helpless. “What could I possibly say that will make them listen? They hate me even more than they do one another. Even if I had a solution worth considering, I doubt they’d listen. But I don’t. There is no easy solution.”

  “So what happens?” Felix asked anxiously. “Does Viridor just go without a ruler until all but one drops dead from arguing?”

  “That could happen,” Torsten replied with a sad smile. “But it’s far more likely they’ll go to war over the crown. That’s the usual course of events when a royal dies without a successor.”

  “War?” Felix asked, shaking his head sorrowfully. “But that’s so wrong. Someone must know another way.”

  “Perhaps I do,” came a voice from behind them. “But it would be best if it was heard by everyone, and I’m not about to wade into that,” he said, nodding at the others who continued arguing unabated. It was William, the librarian who’d discovered ‘The Song of Whispers’, who spoke, from a perch halfway up the tall ladder. He was as dusty and ru
mpled as he’d been in the library archives, and he held a clutch of scrolls tightly against his chest.

  Felix smiled. Torsten opened his mouth with the intent of yelling the room to order, but stopped as the young man who’d been on the ladder when they’d first entered appeared from the back, gripping an enormous pair of brass cymbals. And with a nod from William, he clanged them.

  “What is the meaning of this, Chronicler?” Lord Ward demanded with more than a bit of consternation in his voice as the sound reverberated through the room. “You haven’t been summoned, and we have no need of you here. Be gone!”

  The librarian shrugged unflappably as he descended the ladder. “By Her Majesty’s decree, and therefore law, the royal chronicler must be present at all meetings of the Royal Council to record the minutes thereof,” he began, tousling the hair of the young man who’d clanged the cymbals as he reached the floor. “And this does appear to qualify as such a meeting, though I can see where one might mistake it for a schoolyard brawl. Besides, as chance would have it, I was already here at our family store, waiting for the ceremony to end so I might speak with Lord Torsten about a private matter of great import. But given the unfortunate events that have now transpired—and may the Gods have mercy on our beloved queen’s soul—the matter I sought to address with his lordship has become urgent, and can no longer remain private.”

  As the council began murmuring their speculations, William stopped before Torsten, bowing formally. “We meet again, my Lord, Sir Felix,” he said, before upending all but one of the scrolls he held into Felix’s arms. “You don’t mind, do you, dear?” he asked Felix with a warm smile.

  “No,” Felix replied quickly, returning his smile, “not at all.”

  “What is this nonsense, Chronicler?” Lord Ward demanded. “We have no care to hear of any business you may have with Lord Torsten,” he spat, his words heavy with sarcasm. “Record if you must, but do so without further interruption. We have important matters to attend.”