by Robert Evert
“No need on either account. He looks destitute, not dangerous. If he gives me any difficulties, I shall step on his toes.”
“Just don’t get your shoes dirty.” The man with the cane chuckled as he strolled down the darkening avenue. “Good evening to you.”
“And to you and your family,” the man with the lantern replied, unlocking the door to the building. With an exaggerated exhale, he walked inside. “Come this way, but leave your mutt out here. I don’t want the place reeking of hound.”
“Stay here,” Edmund said to Thorax as he followed the magistrate inside the building. But Thorax limped into the building behind Toby.
The man led them to a finely crafted desk made of polished black walnut. He set his lantern next to a neat stack of papers and fell into a leather chair with the heaviness of a man who had worked a long day.
“I’m, I’m t-t-terribly . . . terribly sorry for the, for the inconvenience, sir.” Edmund bowed, still clutching the alleged Star of Iliandor. “It’s just that it’s very important that I—”
The man waved his hand at Edmund. “Yes, yes. I understand. I am Williamton, son of Harrison, magistrate second class,” he said, as if required to say such things.
“Ed . . . Edmund s-s-son of Evert . . . librarian,” Edmund replied, not sure what the proper response was. He gestured to Toby standing next to him. “This is—”
“Let me see it,” Williamton interrupted, wiggling his fingers impatiently.
Edmund put the Star of Iliandor in the magistrate’s pale palm.
Williamton examined the Star, turning it over in his fingers. He leaned closer to the lantern. Taking a magnifying glass out from a drawer, he studied the Star even closer, tapping the gem with a well-manicured fingernail. He inspected the runes surrounding the stone. Then he looked at each link of the chain in turn. Eventually, he leaned back, his expression uncertain.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“You don’t know?” Edmund found himself saying in disbelief. “Wh-wh-what . . . what do you mean, you don’t know?”
Did you actually believe that the Undead King would just give you the real Star of Iliandor? This is just another of his games.
“I don’t know,” Williamton repeated louder. “It’s not my field of inquiry. I studied law, not antiquities. I’ll need to send it to somebody to be sure.”
“S-s-s-send, send it to some-somebody?”
“Of course you don’t want to part with it. Understandable,” the magistrate said. “It’s probably the only item of potential value you own. Here, let me do this.”
He produced a candle from his desk and lit it from the lantern’s flame. Carefully, he dribbled the honey-colored wax over both sides of the Star. Once the wax hardened, he peeled it off and set the impression carefully in a large red envelope.
“You should hear something in a few weeks,” he said, handing the warm Star back to Edmund.
“Weeks!” Edmund exclaimed.
“That’s okay,” Toby said, stepping in between Edmund and the magistrate’s desk. “As long as it isn’t within the next few days. We’ve got things to do.”
“Weeks!” Edmund said again, his anger growing.
I’m not going to wait around for weeks!
“So if you could not bother contacting us this until then,” Toby went on. “We’d much appreciate it.”
Williamton scowled at Toby.
“I can assure you, young man, things will proceed on our timetables, not yours. Now, sir,” he said, turning to the fuming Edmund. “Where can I reach you?”
Weeks! Damn it! Curse my luck!
“As I said,” Toby went on. “Master Edmund here will be abroad for the next few days, but you can send a note to the Royal Stables. I’ll make sure he gets it when he has time.”
Now it was the Williamton’s turn to get angry. “When he has time? Young man, this is royal business.” He turned back to Edmund, his face scarlet. “Sir, you may certainly come and go as you please. However, if you are not here when you are summoned, I’m afraid that you’ll forfeit any claim that you may have. You may even be put in the stockades!”
I can’t let this stop me. I’ll just have to find another way to speak with the King. But how?
“As you say,” Toby replied, pulling Edmund to the door. “Just send the summons to the Royal Stables. But not before the end of the week, if you please. Then we’ll see if he can come.”
“See if he can come?” the magistrate shouted after them. “Sir, teach your son proper manners or I’ll be tempted to raise my hand to him myself!”
Pushing Edmund out of the building, Toby smirked at the magistrate. “Come on, puppy!” He patted his thigh for Thorax to come with them.
“And you brought your dog in here after I expressly—?”
Toby slammed the door to the Hall of Magistrates.
“I can’t wait weeks,” Edmund said, standing by the grand statues in front of the building. “There has to be another way to see the King.”
Toby waved as if his effort were nothing to be rewarded. “Oh, you won’t wait that long. Don’t worry. You’ll hear from him tomorrow or the next day, guaranteed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you have to know how these fellows work. If you want to meet with them sooner, you have to make them think you’re busy. Then they’ll call for you just to be spiteful. Trust me. You’ll hear much sooner now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Trust me!” Toby said. “Say, do you have a place to stay? You look like you’re down to your last copper piece. Maybe I can help!”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Edmund spit straw out of his mouth.
Though the hay pile in the far stall of the stables was more comfortable than anything he’d slept in for many months, he didn’t get much sleep. The entire night he kept worrying about whether he would be able to see the King and when. Further, the constantly shifting horses kept making him jump.
The stable doors slid opened. Horses whinnied as Toby came in, a sack of oats over each young shoulder.
“I hope you and Thorax slept well,” he said, dropping the sacks on the ground. “I would have had you stay at our house, but my mom wouldn’t hear of it—you being a scary stranger with one eye and all.”
Steaming manure fell from the rear of one of the horses.
Covered in straw, Thorax stretched and yawned, her long pink tongue rolling out of her mouth.
“Has anybody sent word from the magistrate’s office? Have you heard anything?” Edmund asked, sitting up.
“No. And they wouldn’t have. It’s not even dawn.”
“Damn.”
“I have to kick you two out before someone finds you. Sorry. Here.” He handed Edmund a bag.
“What’s this?” Edmund opened it, his mind flashing back to the last time somebody had given him a canvas bag. He grimaced, remembering the searing pain and crackling noise as the glowing poker pierced his eye.
“Just something to eat during your day. Come back after dark and I’ll see if I can get you some decent supper. But, you better get going or somebody will think you are a vagrant. You don’t want that. They’ll whip you and throw you out of the city. Then you’ll never become Lord of the Highlands.”
“I don’t care about that. I just need to see the King.” Then taking Toby’s bag, Edmund added for good measure, “Sir Hanley is counting on me.”
“Why don’t you just go to one of the castle guards and tell them what happened up north?”
I might have to do that. I could tell the guard about the goblin army.
And if the guard doesn’t believe you?
Edmund shook his head. “Would you believe me if you were a guard?” he asked, gesturing to his threadbare clothes.
“I suppose not.”
“No. I think the only way to get an audience with the King is by using the Star. Then I can tell him everything.”
“Well, I bet you they’ll send word
later today.”
“I hope so.” Getting up, Edmund brushed the straw from his lap. “And thank you, Toby. You’re very k-k . . . kind. I wish there were some way I could repay you for all your help.”
Toby cocked his head, a sly look creeping across his youthful face. “I could say that any friend of Sir Hanley is a friend of mine,” he said, his eyebrows rising, “which is true. But I’m hoping you’d do me a favor.”
“I’d love to, Toby. I would. But I’m not really in the position to grant many f-f-fav-favors at the moment. All I have in life is what you see me wearing . . . and the Star.”
“Ah, but you will be able to do something . . . if it turns out that the necklace is real.”
“It’s not a necklace. It is worn on the brow. But go on. What can I do to repay your wonderful hospitality and assistance?”
Toby grinned. “Make me a knight!”
Edmund laughed, despite his growing anxiety. “I can’t.”
“Not now, but if you become a Lord you will be able to.”
“Unfortunately that’s not true,” Edmund said, trying not to disappoint the boy. “You see, you need to have noble blood to become a knight. Then there’s years of sacrifice and service to the common people. Not to mention the endless training. Becoming a knight is the p-p-pinnacle of achievement. Not everybody could reach such a high station.”
Toby hooted. “Maybe back in your day! Nowadays, knights can be appointed.”
Edmund pretended to consider this.
“Trust me! I know all about such things!” Toby said. “Any lord can appoint his own personal knights. They do it all the time to curry favor with wealthy merchants and the like. Why, Lord Farnor knighted over forty people last year! He made a fortune doing so . . . that is, until the King put a stop to it.”
Humor the boy. Let him have his dream while he can. What harm could it cause?
“I’ll tell you what,” Edmund said. “If I become Lord of the Highlands, you can be my personal knight. But you have to do something for me first, if you can.”
“Anything! Just name it!”
“You have to let me know the second the magistrate sends word about the Star. All right? The very second it arrives, come get me.”
“Deal!” Toby said, shooting out his hand. Edmund shook it. “Now get out before somebody sees you here. You too, Thorax.”
Thorax shook the straw out of her fur.
“Where should we go?”
“Anywhere but here,” Toby replied, leading them to the stable door. “Go sit in the park or something. It feels like it’ll be a nice day.”
“All right. Just . . . just keep an eye out for a messenger from the magistrates.”
“I will! I will!” Toby pushed Edmund out into the pre-dawn street. “Remember, don’t come back until after dark! And don’t look like a vagrant or they’ll send you on your way for good, if you get me.”
“All right. Thanks, Tob—”
The stable doors slid closed behind Edmund. Faintly he heard Toby giggle and say, “Toby the knight!”
He’s going to be devastated when he learns that knights can’t just be appointed.
It’s all just part of growing up, I suppose. Better to learn how things actually are now than when he’s forty years old.
Leaving the stables, Edmund wandered the dark streets of Eryn Mas, trying not to think of how Molly might be faring. To his surprise, many people were already out and about. Not just laborers and craftsmen heading to their places of employment, but also men and women of the upper classes, strolling around in a wide array of elegant garments.
Soon he found himself in the park surrounding the lower city. Sitting on a wooden bench under a budding crabapple, he inspected the contents of the bag Toby had given him.
A ham and onion sandwich.
His stomach gurgled.
I better save this.
Norb had given him some coins and a few small precious stones, slivers of flawed diamonds that might fetch a handful of silver pieces. However, the money wouldn’t last long, especially if he had to stay several days. And he wasn’t going to eat any of his own biscuits if he could help it.
Weeks! Damn it!
Maybe if I forged a letter from this Sir Hanley, I could get word to the King about the goblins in the mountains. I could say that I’m a messenger from Rood and that none of the other Knights or squires could be spared.
You’d need Sir Hanley’s official seal on the letter. Nobody will believe it otherwise.
He shook his head in dismay, the apprehension in him building. He felt like he was going to explode if he sat around much longer.
He exhaled loudly.
Thorax put his paw on Edmund’s knee, her eyes drifting over to the bag.
“Oh! Okay. You certainly deserve half of this. I owe you, girl. Here.”
Edmund broke the sandwich in two and handed the bigger half to Thorax. She took it in her mouth, laid at his feet, and began picking out the pieces of ham.
What now? I have to do something . . . anything! I’m going to go out of my mind if I keep sitting here.
Edmund fought the urge to hyperventilate.
Remember what Vorn said, always use your time to your advantage.
Poor Vorn. That advice helped in the mines, but what can I do to my advantage here, besides see the sights and try not to get kicked out of the city?
A young man in his early twenties walked past, a blue robe traditionally worn by clerics billowing behind him in the wake of his determined strides. In his hand was a small book.
“Excuse me!” Edmund said, springing after him.
Turning, the young man recoiled at the hole where Edmund’s left eye used to be.
“I’m t-t . . . terribly sorry,” Edmund said, adjusting his eagerness a bit. “I didn’t mean to startle you, sir. But I was w-wondering if you could help me.”
The young man resumed walking. “I don’t have any money for you,” he said over his shoulder. “Learn a trade.”
“Yes, I understand,” Edmund said, following. “Actually, I’m interested in your b-b-book. I’m an antiquarian, you see.”
The man stopped, his pinched expression showing considerable suspicion.
Edmund went on. “I was wondering if there’s a library here access-access-accessible to the public, to the, the common people, that is.”
“Library? You know how to read?”
“Yes, sir. In several languages, actually.” Edmund pointed to the book in the man’s hand. “Shall I demonstrate?”
The man considered his book, then Edmund’s dirt-encrusted fingers. A piece of straw fell out of Edmund’s unkempt hair.
“There’re many rare book dealers in the city,” he said.
Many? I wonder what they have . . .
“But if you are looking for book lenders,” he said, pointing to a nearby street, “go three blocks up and two over to the left. It’s a four-story building on your right.” The man observed Edmund’s bare feet. “But it isn’t free. They’ll charge you for looking.”
“Thank you, sir. Thank you very much,” Edmund said as he rushed off up the street. “Come on, Thorax!”
Grabbing what was left of the sandwich, Thorax hobbled after her partner.
“Thorax?” the man repeated.
“It’s a long story!”
Chapter Forty-Nine
The sun rose over the towering walls of the city, giving the elegant facades of the surrounding buildings a pink tinge. Immaculately dressed people from the higher classes strolled up the broad stone stairs leading to a pair of opulent double doors; the words “Book Lenders” were painted across them in letters of bright yellow. Edmund stood outside for a moment, straightening his hair and baggy clothes to little effect. Opening one of the doors, he peered in.
Inside he found a brightly-lit chamber filled with many rows of long wooden tables. Over a hundred people were sitting in the room; some were children evidently training to become scribes; others were elderly men, pour
ing themselves into various scrolls, books, and unbound manuscripts.
An ancient man with a hunched back smiled kindly at Edmund as he crossed the threshold.
“May I help you, young man?” the old man whispered, bowing as much as his bent spine would allow.
“Y-y-yes . . . yes, you may . . . I believe. This, this is the library, is it not?” Edmund asked, smoothing his soiled clothes again. A piece of straw fell from his tattered sleeve, landing on the pristine marble floor. Quickly Edmund retrieved it.
“Indeed,” the old man said pleasantly, taking no notice of the straw in Edmund’s filthy hand. “It is the Lower Library. I am Horic, its curator.”
“Well . . . that is, I’d, I’d like to do some research. I understand that there is a fee involved. May I ask how much?”
“A silver piece per day.”
There goes a nice meal . . .
Fumbling, Edmund reached into his pocket. As he withdrew Norb’s small coin pouch, the Star of Iliandor tumbled out and fell rattling on the floor. Many people looked up from their work, annoyed. Horic hunched closer, his grey eyes growing brighter as he stared at the blue gem. Apologizing, Edmund snatched the Star, shoved it back into his pocket, and then held out a silver piece.
As if in thought, Horic was slow to take it. Eventually, he said, “This way,” and led Edmund to a counter behind which a frumpy woman in her late twenties sat, reading a worn book.
“This is Edith,” Horic said. “She can assist you in finding whatever you are looking for.” Edith’s eyes lifted to meet them even though she clearly didn’t want to be bothered. “I would request, however, that you leave your animal outside. There are rules and a protocol, you understand.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, absolutely.” Edmund grimaced at Thorax. “I’m sorry, girl. But can you go entertain yourself for a while?”
Without complaint, Thorax got up and limped out the door.
“Remarkable,” Horic muttered. Then to Edmund he said, “Please let me know if you require anything. I am at your service.”