“What’s the difference? A promise is a promise. We promised each other there’d never be any secrets between us. That we’d hide nothing about ourselves from the other. Remember?”
“Ye-yes.”
“Then let’s get you out of that bed and bathed and into whatever ghastly concoction of clothing local etiquette demands you wear tonight. Okay?”
Later, when she was helping him get the tangles out of his hair, she added quietly, “Besides, in about five years or so we’re going to be married, and you’d better not tell me you’ve forgotten that, either.”
A trumpet played a fanfare. Queen Mirabella rose from the central throne on the dais at the far end of the chamber. Seated in the right throne was Grandpa Melwin. He looked a little startled to find himself there, but still had a humorously observant glint in his eye. Everyone had been concerned that Melwin might be psychologically scarred forever by his horrendous experiences at the hands of Arkanamon’s torturers, but so far there had been little sign of this. As for his body, some of those scars would always be with him, and the teeth he had lost would never return, but otherwise he’d healed with astonishing rapidity for a man of his age.
The left throne was empty.
Queen Mirabella clapped her hands to call for silence among the packed assembly. As the murmurs of conversation slowly died down, Sagandran looked around him at the throng. Over the past few days, acquaintances old and new had gathered in Spectram to express their gratitude to the plucky little band of misfits, himself included, who’d saved the three worlds from the dreadful fate that Arkanamon had been planning. Fungfari was here, boasting proudly of his daughter to anyone who would listen and to most of those who wouldn’t. Sagandran understood that relations between Perima and the king had not been properly patched up yet, and likely never would be, but you wouldn’t have known that to hear Fungfari. Lamarod, the entrepreneur of Wonderville, had been going around the court ever since his arrival busily selling the virtues of his pleasure grounds, and so far as Sagandran could see, had been fairly successful in doing so. Two opposomes had made the trip from Reversa. They’d been introduced to Sagandran as the Great Inventor and Willfram and, once he’d got used to their habitual speech mannerisms, he’d enjoyed chatting with them. The constant stream of good-natured insults reminded him of some of his happier times at school. The opposomes also reminded him of how gnomes would look.
A deputation had come from Qarnapheeran as well. Sagandran had been greeted warmly by Renada, Fariam, Shano and Fattanillo, who now seemed like old friends. For the Grand Master of the Elemental Orders to have journeyed out of the magical city at all, let alone so far and for so long, was, he had been told, a sign of a remarkable honor being bestowed upon the companions. But, in a way, it was Fattanillo whom Sagandran was gladdest to see; the birdlike man seemed to look upon Sagandran, in particular, as a sort of protege. He and Samzing had, Perima laughingly told Sagandran, fulfilled their promise the night following Fattanillo’s arrival in Spectram. They had gone on a tavern crawl to such devastating effect that both of them had been grumpy for days afterwards.
Good though it was to see all of these people who’d helped the companions along their way, it didn’t compare to being reunited with the companions themselves. As Queen Mirabella prepared to address the crowd, Sagandran looked among the faces that had become as dear to him as life itself: Sir Tombin, Samzing, Cheireanna, Flip and Memo – or what could be seen of Memo’s face behind a new and magnificently ornate pair of spectacles the memorizer had obtained for the occasion. And, of course, Perima – especially Perima.
“We’re gathered here,” the queen said, “to pay our respects to those who have saved our world of Sagaria from darkness.”
She beckoned, and the companions trooped forward to stand before the dais.
Uh oh, thought Sagandran. Here comes the truly embarrassing part.
“The darkness that threatened us is gone,” Mirabella continued. “We have suffered losses – innocents have died alongside brave soldiers – but, for those of us still here to mourn them, we know their sacrifice was not in vain. They died to give us hope, the hope that now the crystals have been restored and the Shadow Master destroyed, balance will prevail. The Shadow Master contained within himself the seeds of his own destruction, for he failed to realize the truth about the interdependence of darkness and light, how light can transcend darkness but darkness can only temporarily block light. The Shadow World is now accepting the gift we freely give it, the gift of our light. The Shadow Master has been destroyed, and his cruel inventions obliterated. The souls he stole are free now and hopefully will find peace.”
Queen Mirabella turned toward the companions, and Sagandran could see the melting affection of her smile and the softness in her eyes.
“None of this would have happened had the most unlikely of heroes not gathered and quested into the Shadow World to face the tyrant Arkanamon and overcome him. You seven have saved the future of the three worlds and I, Queen Mirabella of Spectram, would like to be the first to thank you.”
She climbed down from the dais, waving away the two footmen who ran to assist her, and knelt before the friends, head bowed. A small tear formed at the corner of her eye. When she stood, a few moments later, she was every inch a queen once more. She solemnly shook hands with each of them, stooping to take the paws of first Memo and then Flip on her fingertip.
“Sagandran,” she said, facing him, “you came to this world to find your lost grandfather. In so doing, you found not only him, at last, but also new friends – friends you will have forever. You found something else as well, a treasure of eternal value. You discovered that you are already everything you need to be to achieve whatever you truly want. I hereby knight you Sir Sagandran of Spectram, and give you this.”
One of the footmen approached again, carrying a blue cushion on which something glittery lay. Queen Mirabella picked it up and gestured for Sagandran to step forward.
“This is the Royal Seal of Spectram,” she told the assembly, opening out the loop of chain so the seal sparkled in the colored sunlight which shone through the stained-glass windows. Sagandran lowered his head and the queen put the chain around his neck. “You are now Sir Sagandran, an honorary citizen not just of Spectram but the whole of Sagaria. You are welcome here always. Should you ever need assistance in any venture, then I ordain that it shall be the bounden duty of everyone within this world to offer it to you.”
Sagandran tried to speak but couldn’t. Instead, he simply bowed deeply, staring at the tiled mosaic of the chamber floor.
“Princess Perima of Mattani,” the queen was saying when he finally looked up. “Or would you prefer just Perima?”
Perima grinned. “I think you know the answer to that, Your Majesty.”
“Then let it be just Perima,” said Mirabella, smiling in return and nodding. Once more, the footman proffered a blue cushion.
“You too have more than earned the Royal Seal of Spectram, but I suspect you know you’ve received a reward greater by far than this.”
As Queen Mirabella finished putting the chain around Perima’s neck, Perima looked at Sagandran and grinned again. Her light blue eyes shone, and he felt as if his heart would burst.
“Five years,” she mouthed, “and I know about Jennifer, you know, so watch it, buddy boy.”
Queen Mirabella was obviously aware of this byplay, even as she pretended to ignore it.
“Cheireanna of Tamshado,” she said.
As Cheireanna stepped forward, Sagandran marveled anew at the transformation Mirabella’s courtiers had effected in her. Her face shone, and her auburn hair hung luxuriant and rich. In place of her filthy rags, she now wore a flowered dress. He’d always assumed she was about the same age as Perima, but now he could see she was at least a couple of years younger.
A man and a woman who, although they looked like they felt uncomfortable and out of place, seemed delighted to be here at they same time. They stepped forward from
the throng and stood behind Cheireanna, one to either side, each resting a hand on her shoulder.
“You too have earned a greater reward than I can give you,” murmured Queen Mirabella as she slipped the gold chain over the girl’s head. “Though they may have seemed lost to you forever, your love for your family never died, nor theirs for you.”
Watching Cheireanna act so, well, girlish as she turned and hugged her parents, before bursting into tears, Sagandran wondered if anyone would ever tell them the kind of damage their sweet darling daughter could do if she got her hands on a purloined mace. He shuddered. Hopefully not.
“Now the great wizard, Samzing of Loristo.”
Samzing shuffled a pace or two forward, looking as if he’d rather be swallowed up by his shoes. “Way to go, Samzo!” bellowed a metallic voice from the back that Sagandran recognized as Golma’s.
Sagandran still found it a surprise, whenever he looked at the wizard, to see a sprightly man rather than a bent and rickety one. At the same time, his friend’s appearance hadn’t really changed at all. He was still quite manifestly Samzing.
“Do I look okay, Quackie?” muttered Samzing nervously.
“You look like a true hero, old bean,” murmured Sir Tombin reassuringly. “A rather disreputable one, to be honest,” he added, deflating his old friend, “but a hero nevertheless. The kind of hero one would turn to when all else had failed.”
“Is his middle name really Bottomwaddler?” Sagandran whispered to Sir Tombin.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” said the Frogly Knight.
“Tell you later,” Sagandran mumbled.
“And all else nearly did fail,” said the queen smoothly. “It would have, had you not been there, good Samzing. I’ve decided that, henceforth, you shall be the Master of the Spectran Guild of Magery. It’s been a rather moribund institution of recent years, and even at its greatest it could never rival the Elemental Orders of Qarnapheeran, but I am relying on you to restore it to its former glory, and to make it more glorious yet. May your knowledge and humble nature inspire future generations of wizards.”
Samzing’s face went beetroot under his beard.
“Another thing for me to polish,” said Golma in a world-weary stage whisper as the wizard accepted his medallion.
“Memo of Qarnapheeran,” announced the queen. She went down on one knee. “The smiths of Spectram had great difficulty making copies of the seal small enough for you and your good friend Flip, but they resented not a moment of their labors. Your great knowledge, generously given, was indispensable to the success of the quest. You, more than anyone, knew how great the danger was, how all the prophecies told of the victory of the Shadow Master and the doom of The Boy Whose Time Has Come and his companions, yet—”
“Wait a minute!” roared Samzing. “What did you just say?”
Sagandran, likewise consumed by consternation, stared at the little memorizer.
“Ah, well, yes, you see,” said Memo, shifting guiltily from foot to foot. “That’s not quite true. None of the legends actually take the story any further than the Boy just about to be torn limb from limb by the Shadow Master. Some versions have him on the verge of being thrown into a vat of boiling oil, but I reckon they’re just later embellishments. Anyway, you see, none of them are precise about the outcome. They just hint strongly that the Boy is going to meet a horrible and very agonizing—”
“But what about all that stuff you told us when we were halfway up the side of the gorge?” demanded Perima, hands on hips. “The stuff about the wings made out of withies?”
Memo looked as if he’d been thwarted in the moment of clinching the sale of a bridge. “I, ah, made it up.”
“What?” cried several voices at once.
“Well, see, I thought that if I told you what the prophecies really said, you’d just give up and go home. If you’d done that, even if the three worlds had somehow survived, you’d never have been able to live with yourselves afterwards. So I sort of … well, fictionalized a little. What I told you was basically true, but I made it sound better. People who write books do this sort of thing all the time, you know.” Memo puffed out his tiny chest. “And, I assure you, now that I’ve discovered the knack, I do intend to write a lot of books. The first one’s going to be historical, partly autobiographical really, called The War Against Arkanamon: A View from the Ground.”
Sir Tombin was the first to burst out laughing, and soon Sagandran and the others joined in.
Yes, Memo had saved the quest from failure, all right. If they’d known the truth they might never have ventured through the slave mines and into the Palace of Shadows. More than that, Sagandran realized as he sobered, we might never have discovered what lives at the core of each of us. I might have returned to being just another unhappy schoolboy who never seemed to succeed at anything he tried. Perima could have gone back to being a princess who’d made a break for freedom but went home to Daddy after her brief show of defiance. Sir Tombin, Samzing, Flip – all of us found out who we truly are, thanks to Memo.
Queen Mirabella was blushing with the happiness of someone who’d dropped a bombshell in front of friends as she carried on speaking to Memo. “I appoint you the official familiar to the Master of the Spectran Guild of Magery.”
Memo was bursting with so much pride that when his brand-new spectacles fell off and clattered on the floor, he didn’t even bother to pick them up. Then he realized thatthe Master of the Spectran Guild of Magery was now Samzing.
“Hm,” he said, in a squeak that spoke volumes.
The queen hurried on in case the two started bickering. “Next, Flip, the Adventurer Extraordinaire of Mishmash.”
Sagandran looked down proudly at his little friend – the first he had made upon coming to Sagaria.
“I have heard,” said Queen Mirabella, “how more than once you saved your companions from danger even though you were terrified yourself. That is the mark of true courage. You have learned that there is nothing to be ashamed about in feeling fear; it is how you respond to fear that distinguishes you. You are perhaps the bravest of all the heroes here today. I am proud to have made your acquaintance.”
As Flip accepted the miniature seal, the queen added. “Later, you will discover something else, that I’ve made arrangements for you to go home to your beloved village of Mishmash.”
Flip looked up at her, his face suddenly alight. “You mean to … yes! I’d given up on ever seeing any of my … and Jinnia! I’ll—”
As he stammered and stuttered, Queen Mirabella rose to her feet again. There was a very special smile on her face as she announced the name of the last of the companions.
“Sir Tombin Quackford, my dear old friend.”
The Frogly Knight looked in danger of dissolving into a puddle of green ooze. He knelt before his queen. In honor of the occasion, he had put a new and even longer feather in his hat. Sagandran couldn’t imagine what the bird that bore it must have looked like – more brilliantly multicolored than any golden pheasant the Earthworld had ever seen, and with the iridescence of a kingfisher’s belly.
The ornithologists around here must keep their sunglasses on the whole time, he thought.
“Your skill and protectiveness have served your friends well …”
“To be sure, it was nothing, Your Majesty.”
“… and the beauty of your heart has made all our hearts the richer for your presence …”
“Really nothing, Your Majesty. Anyone would have done the same.”
“Well, has it been said of you, Sir Tombin, that you are the noblest knight of all.”
“Some people are far too generous with their praise. I merely muddle along, you know. Do my best and—”
“You gave your life for the cause, and were taken by the Tamash into the bourn of the dead, where the goddess breathed a fresh spark into your soul and returned it to your body.”
“If anyone deserves credit for that it was Cheireanna. She never gave up faith that the goddes
s would find a way to save me in the end. The way that sweet child kept imploring her and—”
Mirabella cleared her throat. “Always the first to—”
“Oh, pshaw. All of these people are finer than—”
“Tombie?”
“Yes, Queen Mirabella?”
“Kindly keep your mouth shut when I’m talking to you.”
“Assuredly, Your Majesty. It’s only that—”
“Do I have to warn you again? I am your queen, you know.”
Sir Tombin subsided amid a thicket of self-deprecating harrumphs.
“I’m about to give you a kiss, Sir Tombin.”
The Frogly Knight’s eyes looked as though they were about to pop with the enormity of it all.
Queen Mirabella put her finger on his lips to silence any protests that he might sputter.
“But this is not just any kiss, you must understand, Sir Tombin. My good friends Fariam and Renada have assisted me in its preparation.”
Sagandran’s eyebrows went up. What in the world could Queen Mirabella be talking about? Prepared kisses? Assistants?
The queen threw her arms around his shoulders and gave him a kiss of such vehemence, full on the lips, that Sagandran expected to hear the sound of teeth cracking.
“Told you,” whispered Perima in Sagandran’s ear. “Tongues.”
As Queen Mirabella stepped back after delivering the embrace, the light seemed to shimmer around Sir Tombin’s figure. His legs straightened, his body became taller and more slender and his head shrank. Sir Tombin let out of a croak of distress but, by the time he’d finished it, it wasn’t a croak any longer. He looked down at himself, spreading his no longer webbed fingers, his handsome face a tempest of complete bewilderment.
“I–I’m a man!”
“Yes,” said Queen Mirabella, looking up at the strong young knight who stood before her. “You’re a man. The greatest of all your triumphs during the quest, Sir Tombin, was that you finally accepted yourself as who you are. Now, because of my – our – kiss, you are what you’ve always wanted to be. You have a body that reflects the beauty of your soul.”
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