Homecoming

by Tull Harrison

  He headed to his wardrobe and made a rapid change of clothes. Once he was in a comfortable tunic and soft leather breeches, he headed to his study, thanking his grandmother, Queen Minna, for choosing simple black and white for their house when Malzepher had been formed. It now allowed him to mourn outwardly as well as inwardly.

  Black for Noenna's despotism and white for the beginning of Malzepher. He had heard the story many times.

  Modern in style, the study was a relaxing place for Delmer. He had often snuck into it as a child, hoping to have some time to read a book. He had never been a very studious child but had enjoyed the exciting tales of the Revolution. The servants would never think to check the room for him, simply because he had never been in it since before his father's death.

  He immediately plopped into the softest chair; he closed his eyes, leant back and even put his feet up on the desk, but nothing could loosen his taut muscles. Even though all he wanted was quiet, a thousand thoughts buzzed through his head.

  Noenna is trying to reclaim Malzepher ... How will we defend ourselves? Malzepher may have a navy, but Noenna is much bigger than us, and we have no standing army. They assassinated my father so they would have a young, inexperienced king to fight, or they even meant to assassinate me as well, to completely destabilize the nation.

  The last thought made him uncomfortably aware of his vulnerable situation. He had no heir of his own lineage. He was still too young to take a wife. Men and women of Malzepher married in their mid to late twenties. Despite that, he would have to produce an heir of his blood quickly. His current heir, Lord Richmon, was a distant relation and had no strong ties to the High-born of Kingdom Cove.

  Delmer’s head felt like it was going to explode as he tried to make sense of everything. He was going over all this and more in his study when he heard a pawing at the door. It was Morag. The fleet hound's thoughts seemed to echo his own, so Delmer decided to take a break and head outside. As soon as he entered a main hall, one of his bodyguards spotted him and quickly notified the others through the servant grapevine.

  As he entered the courtyard, he noted the workers busily trying to complete the monument to King Rutherford in time for the funeral. Grief threatened to rise, so Delmer turned into the palace's famous gardens instead. He walked at a leisurely pace and did not deliberately try to lose his protectors. They would appreciate having an actual body to guard. I am king now. I should start acting like one. They are only trying to do their job.

  Morag enjoyed the outing in the gardens, and Delmer, hoping to delay going back inside, decided to take Lancelet out for a ride. He headed towards the stables and groomed his stallion. Lancelet was high-strung. Before he had become king, Delmer had taken the horse out daily so that he wouldn't have too much excess energy. Being cooped up had worsened Lancelet’s normally excellent temperament.

  Deciding to fetch his favorite bird, Tymon, for the ride, Delmer went next door to the falconry. The gyrfalcon trilled in recognition and hopped to his fist. Tymon acted more like a tame lapdog than a bird of prey.

  Over the years Delmer had trained Tymon to not only hunt, but also fly for him without using jesses or a leash. He and his bird were marvels to falconers. He didn't know how he had done it, but he would trust the falcon even to perch on his shoulder where he could cause easy damage.

  Recently, he had hunted with Tymon less often, and the bird was happy to see him. He was getting on. A gyrfalcon's average lifespan was eleven years in captivity, but the old bird still enjoyed a hunt. Delmer skirted the forest so Tymon could find prey, while Lancelet maintained a reasonable pace.

  While they were out, Delmer let Lancelet have his head and they galloped along the relatively flat ground. They quickly outpaced his bodyguards, who were on palfreys bred neither for speed nor endurance. They were about a mark away from Kingdom Cove's wall and Morag had spotted a rabbit, Tymon was still in the forest hunting without supervision, and Delmer was alone except for Lancelet when he first spotted another horse moving across the plains.

  The rider was a woman he didn’t know. She was on a black mare that looked feisty but had slowed down. He raised two fingers in the common Malzepher greeting and she did the same. They came to a stop a good length away from each other. Morag raced up panting and without a prize as both riders dismounted.

  It had taken Delmer at least half of the twelve days since his father's death to get used to people bowing low before him and to the weight of the crown. And though he wore his crown, the woman did not bow or even curtsy before him. Instead, she just stood looking confused.

  It took Delmer a while to realize why the woman didn't bow, but eventually he understood it was because she didn't recognize him. He noticed she was wearing the uniform of the ambassadors from Noenna. This woman was the new ambassador to Malzepher. He didn’t think much of her intelligence, if a man wearing a crown did not trigger some kind of reaction in her.

  He hadn't seen her in the ambassadorial position before, and she didn't look like a Noennaan. She was short, much shorter than him, but had a light, wiry build. Her brown hair was pulled in a tight braid, but it looked wavy and a good length past her shoulders. Her most striking feature were her eyes, which glowed golden in the sun.

  Noting with some astonishment that her mount was a true war horse, he glanced down at her waist and spotted a sword hanging there, and a bow slung over her shoulder. Women in Malzepher were rarely trained in any sort of fighting since the Revolution; it was something unheard of for high-ranking ones. In Noenna, moreover, no women at all were trained in combat.

  It was the young king who eventually broke the silence. "I am King Delmer of Malzepher. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador. You are welcome."

  It's my first assignment and already I can't even live up to the title, Rebenna thought sourly. She hadn’t even recognized the king. The last time she had seen him had been when her father had brought her to Kingdom Cove on one of his trips.

  "I apologize for my rudeness, King Delmer. It has been a long time since I saw you last. I am Ambassador Rebenna of Noenna. My king recently appointed me to this position."

  Recognition dawned on his face. "You are right; it has been a long time since we last saw each other. You must stay at the castle as my guest, Ambassador Rebenna."

  At that moment his dog, still with a black ribbon around her neck, couldn't stand the silence anymore and bounded over to Rebenna. Morag wasn't fully grown yet, but Rebenna could tell she was a fleet hound. She laughed and stroked the dog on the head. Trouble started to spook, and she uttered calming words to the mare as well.

  "Morag, come back here," the king ordered. The puppy slunk back to her owner, but King Delmer didn't look angry. In fact, he almost looked glad that his dog had broken the ice.

  "King Delmer, I would be delighted to stay at your castle. Thank you for your hospitality."

  "I have noticed that you call me by my name. Is this the custom in Noenna?"

  "Yes, King Delmer, it is the custom in my homeland. Do you wish me to call you Majesty?"

  "No, I was just intrigued by that tradition. I shall escort you to the castle as soon as my guards catch up to us."

  Rebenna surveyed the king discreetly, knowing he was doing the same to her. He was dressed completely in black since the mourning period for his father was not yet over. His brown hair blew in the breeze as he stood stiffly. He was tall, light, and muscular. His eyes were blue, which she didn’t remember. His body language gave nothing away besides tension. All in all, he was more handsome than she would have wished. She did not want to become infatuated with him, when events were supposed to go the other way around.

  "When did you get Morag? She looks like she is still a puppy." Rebenna thought a neutral topic such as his dog might help him relax around her.

  Delmer glanced fondly at his dog, "I received her as a gift for my eighteenth birthday. She has been my best friend ever since."

  "She is an excellent example of her breed," Rebenna remarked
.

  He looked at her oddly for a moment and said, "I must ask, how did you arrive here so quickly? Even if you left the day of the king's assassination, you would be hard pressed to be here by now."

  I hadn't considered that. Stupid girl, being in such a rush to arrive. She cursed herself even as words came to her mouth. "I live in Ironton, and as you can see my mare is a war horse."

  He nodded slightly and fortunately let the matter drop. Finally, the guards arrived looking faintly annoyed. They slowed the ride to the castle because they had exhausted their own horses on the way out. The king rode ahead, clearly feeling smothered by the guards. Rebenna rode slightly behind him.

  He seemed comfortable with the weight of the sword at his waist, and wore the bow on his back with confidence, as if it were a habit. He also seemed tense, as though he were ready for combat. She realized much of the tension could simply be grief for losing his father.

  Eventually, she broke the quiet by saying, "King Delmer, how are things in Malzepher?"

  Liar, liar, her own voice screamed inside her head. As if she didn’t know ...

  "My people mourn my father’s passing, but our political status has changed little. We suffer the usual troubles — pirates who attack our merchants and tie up our naval resources, bandits who do the same on our land routes to Borse and Rugerr. But Malzepher is a stable, prosperous country, Ambassador Rebenna.”

  Of course, even a new king would not tell his country’s real troubles to the ambassador for a foreign agent. But any conversation was good to build a relationship between them, so she kept talking. “What should I expect a typical day to be like?"

  "The assembly meeting for any Malzepherian citizen who desires help takes place in the morning. You need not concern yourself with that. General council meetings which you may attend are held every other day after lunch. Court is held in the evening and revolves around dinner. The High-born will expect you there. Still, if you wished to retire early tonight, I doubt that anyone would notice."

  She smiled gratefully at the offer. "Thank you, but I believe I can summon enough energy for court."

  He nodded and added, "You must also attend my father's funeral and my own coronation as a foreign dignitary.”

  At the last sentence, the king's tone had sharpened slightly. I doubt anything slips his mind.

  "It will be an honor to attend, King Delmer."

  Before entering the Great Hall for court that evening, she presented herself to the seneschal. She had not traveled in her ambassador's uniform until today, so it was slightly dusty but did not smell. The seneschal looked her over and smiled in approval.

  He bowed very slightly. "Welcome, Ambassador. I will take you to your seat. My name is Tullister, and I am the seneschal here. His Majesty sent word that you would be meeting me."

  She had arrived roughly in the middle of the evening, neither early nor late. Lord Tullister led her to her seat and sat her between the ambassadors from Borse and Rugerr.

  Rebenna had to force her jaw shut when she saw the ambassador from Rugerr. It was another female, but her clothes were nothing short of garish. Rebenna had never seen some of the color combinations the woman sported, and hoped never to see them again. Ambassador Sheba's personality was as bold as her choice of clothing. Rebenna said little when talking to her, because Sheba never stopped speaking.

  The Borse was much more subdued. Ambassador Shayne was an older gentleman, preparing to retire. He smiled wearily when he saw Rebenna and nodded at her. He said little but exuded an aura of wisdom.

  I wonder how well he knew my father. They might have been friends.

  After she had listened to Ambassador Sheba prattle on about some perceived insult by one of the High-Born Malzepherians, Rebenna glanced towards the ornate double doors through which she had entered. The king stood there with servants hovering nearby and bodyguards standing behind him. He posed unconsciously for a second, cutting a striking image in black. His white-gold crown shone, a symbol of hope for the future.

  Everyone rose to their feet as King Delmer approached his seat at the head of the table. The seats on his right and left were empty. The right-hand seat was reserved for his queen and the left for his heir. If she recalled correctly, his heir, Lord Richmon, had been absent from court for two years.

  She heard the rustling of expensive fabrics; saw she was among the last still standing and sank down into her seat smoothly. Rebenna was not particularly in the mood to talk. Instead, she decided to observe the court. Perhaps she would learn something that would help her accomplish King Marus' goal.

  Chapter 3

  Scanning the vast crowd from the platform where he stood, Delmer was amazed. Even on the day of his father's death, the courtyard had never been so crowded. His advisors and the foreign dignitaries stood in places of honor behind him. Before him, he could see at least one person from each High-Born family. He also recognized all the guild masters, and what looked like the whole Low-Born population.

  He had not required general attendance to the funeral, but it appeared that everyone from Kingdom Cove and the surrounding port cities had come to pay their last respects to his father.

  Slowly, Delmer eased himself towards the podium, the crowd falling quiet at this action. He began to speak, his voice echoing off the courtyard walls. Seventy-five years after the Revolution, Malzepher had grown so much, partly due to an influx of immigrants from Borse and Rugerr, that the population could no longer fit inside the courtyard.

  Delmer spoke slowly but deliberately. "Friends and citizens, King Rutherford was a just and wise ruler. For over twenty years my father dealt with border disputes and pirates; he dealt fairly with rich and poor alike. It is time to put our honorable ruler to rest. Grieve for our king, but remember: To let down our country and its defenses, the independence we won through so much effort, would be to let down our king's memory.

  “I could never fully honor our departed king with words, but I will say it is a daunting task to ascend the throne after a man such as my father. I vow lead you with the wisdom and justice he taught me. Now we mourn, but tonight will be a time for celebration."

  Taking a deep breath, Delmer turned and walked away from the podium. Behind him, the multitude murmured and shifted. His heartbeat returned to normal. He had survived the address. He retreated to his advisors as quickly as he dared. Now it was the turn of several other High-born to speak about King Rutherford.

  "That was an excellent speech, Your Majesty. I don't think anyone could have said it better," Lynen, his oldest advisor, noted as he arrived back in their ranks.

  "Thank you very much, Lynen." Delmer smiled and took a breath.

  "Yes, Your Majesty, I believe that everyone will listen to your advice," his only female advisor, Lindy, added.

  Delmer nodded graciously as everyone on the platform made similar comments. Throughout it all, he noticed that Ambassador Rebenna and Morag were missing from the cluster.

  While others spoke, he felt a wave of grief pass over him — stronger even than on the night of his father's death. When the speeches were over, he broke away and headed towards the monument under which his father was buried. The crowd parted, letting their ruler through. Overcome by grief, yet fighting to keep his composure, Delmer laid a single hand on the marble monument. His throat tightened and his mouth felt as dry as the Tresed Desert.

  Delmer had been a rebellious child, but whenever his father had been near him, he instantly sobered. Angering his role model had been his greatest fear. His father had seemed invincible to him for so long that Delmer had completely forgotten King Rutherford too was vulnerable to human injury.

  For the time he was there, Delmer was not completely alone. He stood at the crossroads between past and future, simply remembering his father's wisdom. He knew that this would be the last time to be this close to his father, so he took it with relish. As he stood in deceivingly real mists, Delmer heard his father's familiar voice. He started violently, “Delmer, already you lead th
e people of Malzepher onwards.”

  Delmer stared unbelievingly ahead and saw the ghostly image of his father. He did not look as he had at death, but seemed like a man in the prime of life, healthy, strong. Next to him stood a beautiful woman, her features similar to Delmer's own. The woman, he knew at once, was his mother, whom he had never met. Some people were given to visions, but he had never thought to be one of that type. Yet, he could not believe he was imagining what was taking place before his eyes.

  "Father..." he managed to say.

  “Son, I know that I never got to see you grow up, and I am sorry for that. I wholly wish that I could have been your mother in life.” His mother, Miranda, whispered to him.

  "Mother, how I wish I had known you."

  “I do too, my Delmer.”

  Then his father spoke again, 'Delmer, you must listen to me. Your rule will be dangerous. Beware of who your friends are. I see betrayal in your future, and the betrayer is one you trust.'

  Delmer could only bow his head. Slowly, his parents began to recede into the mists. He tried to cry out to them, but found his throat choked with tears. That was the last time he would ever see his parents while he lived.

  He was shocked when he felt marble under his fingers again. He had almost completely forgotten that he stood amid hundreds of people. He knew that he still had damp tears on his face. Quickly, he wiped them away, recalling his own words.

  Finally, silently, he walked away. Squaring his shoulders to the castle, Delmer faced his future life. With poise, he made his way towards his castle; there was much work to be done.

  Inside, Morag joined him, as though she had never been missing. Together they turned the corner into the dark corridor leading to his private study. Torches were mounted on the walls, but much of the hall was still shadowed. From those shadows, a voice spoke. He stopped in his tracks.