The Trahiad

by Randall Seeley

  “There!” she said, pointing toward the cart.

  Wyatt saw it and they moved forward, the crowd once again filling in the gaps all around them. There was a lengthy line in front of the cart, and as they approached, Elisa began looking for Elizabeth Scot. Guards always accompanied her, and many times Darthyn Scot would be right at her side. Her stomach knotted when she couldn’t find either. There weren’t even a good deal of nobility at all!

  “What time is it?” Elisa asked. “Are we too late? Don’t tell me we are too late!” She looked up at the sun and then to a store that had a large wooden clock. There were people in the way. “What bloody time is it!”

  “Relax,” Wyatt said. “It’s only ten past the hour, we’re fine!”

  Of course he can see the time.

  “Are you certain?” she asked, unconvinced.

  “Yes, Elisa. Relax!” Wyatt said, reassuringly. “I’m sure they are running behind.”

  “Or not coming,” she added. Elizabeth Scot came at noon every single Friday. Everyone in the square knew that it was one reason for it being so congested, and why the farmers were working extra hard to make their area look pristine. She has to come, doesn’t she?

  “Look at you,” Wyatt said as he frowned at her. “You’re all worried and stressed. Where is my confident little sister?”

  Afraid out of her mind.

  “You’re acting desperate! Elisa, she’ll come! Act bold, calm, in charge. Come on now!”

  “There!” she pointed so fiercely she accidentally poked someone in the back. The man was already distraught from the crowd, so when he turned around he glared at her and opened his mouth to say something she figured wouldn’t be nice, but then he saw Wyatt standing next to her. Wyatt locked eyes with him, frowned, and the man quickly turned back around as if nothing had happened.

  “I see,” Wyatt said softly. “Now get control of yourself, you look like you just found enough gold to feed us for the rest of our lives!”

  “We kind of did,” Elisa said as she watched the Scots arrive. She forced herself to take deep and slow breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Dear Creator, this might work. No, it will work!

  Out of the Palace District rode a fine carriage that had its shades down, and its door shuts. A dozen guards rode at its sides, and out in front was High Judge Darthyn Scot and Magistrate Mavin. Next to them rode an inexperienced boy, probably one or two years younger than herself, riding with his hair flopping and his eyes wide behind his glasses.

  Curse me and turn me into a dragon, Magistrate Mavin is here? She hated the man. He had caught her on more than one occasion and would recognize her instantly. Why does he have to be here! She felt her heart beat faster as doubts flew through her mind. He had never once—in the months they had been scouting out Paigon Square for a potential job—arrived at the same time as the Scots. Not bloody once! She could see Wyatt glaring at her from the side and knew that it was because of her history with Mavin. This will be risky. Reactively, she flipped her hood up over her head as they passed by, glaring at Mavin as he accompanied the Scots to the apple cart.

  Then her heart stopped as she saw who was bringing up the rear. He sat on a black horse and wore armor that was nearly as black as the horse itself. She knew the armor was draestl the moment she saw it as it caught the light from the sun. The man sat nonchalantly on his saddle, but one hand rested on a black draestl sword and the other rested on the pommel of the saddle. She watched as his eyes scanned the crowd.

  “The Scots Templar!” Wyatt whispered harshly. “He’s never this close in Paigon Square!”

  Elisa felt a knot form. It’s one thing tricking Mavin, it’s something entirely different tricking a Templar of the Order. Curse me!

  The carriage rolled to a stop a few feet away, and guards moved into position. There were twelve of them, each holding a halberd and donned in full battle armor. Their silver plates glistened in the sun, and their visors shut out any sign of humanity. The Templar stayed mounted as he scanned the crowd. It was almost as if he was daring anyone to approach.

  A door opened to the carriage and Darthyn unmounted his horse as he ran up to the door, reaching out a hand as Elizabeth Scot appeared. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Whereas Racin Poe may have been the most handsome man in Ardonor—not that Darthyn isn’t that bad to look at—Elizabeth had to be the most beautiful. She stood tall and regal, wearing a green gown that may have been simple for her tastes, but Elisa found it wonderful. It was embroidered with the seal of the Scots, and long sheer sleeves reached down the length of her arms. The train was tight yet bulky, and as she carefully stepped out of the wagon, she took the entire square by surprise.

  “The Scots!” someone yelled, as another added, “For the Scots!”

  “We love you, High Judge Darthyn!” another said. As yet another yelled, “Praise Elizabeth Scot! For the Scots!”

  Elisa felt herself drawn to take part in the cheer, but she didn’t want to bring any attention to herself. Instead, she pulled her hood tighter, and tried to watch both Mavin and the Templar at the same time.

  She watched as Elizabeth moved toward the cart with Darthyn at her side. Guards cleared a path, but Elizabeth politely declined the path to the front of the line, and instead moved to the next in line. There were at least a dozen in front of her.

  “For the Scots!” someone else yelled as they appreciated the gesture, but sure enough the people stepped to the side, bowing low and insisting she make her way forward.

  This is it.

  Moving quickly, Elisa stepped through the throng of people as discretely as she could, making her way to get as close as she dared prior to Wyatt’s distraction. Everyone was so enthralled to see the Scots that they practically ignored Elisa, and she used that to her advantage, moving around those who stood in her way.

  Elizabeth reached Farmer Hetrick, and they started to converse. The only thing Elisa could hear was Elizabeth’s laughter—which is as melodious as her beautiful face! Elisa knew she had to hurry. But now she was beyond the other customers and surrounded by guards.

  Cursing, she looked back toward where Wyatt should be and cursed again when she didn’t see him. Where is that ox! If he messes this up!

  There was a sudden scream, and Elisa smiled in satisfaction. Finally, you lummox! The dense crowd suddenly parted as Wyatt suddenly charged into the square. Elisa nearly stepped back in fear at the anger she saw displayed on Wyatt’s face. She had told him he needed to be convincing, but what she saw was downright determination.

  A bystander stepped into Wyatt’s way and held up a hand while shouting something about settling down, and Elisa grimaced as Wyatt punched him in the face. The man dropped to the ground immediately, unconscious. Another man that had stood near the first—and from the protest he yelled must have been a friend—charged Wyatt. But Wyatt rounded on him and hit him in the face, dropping him as easily as the first.

  The commotion was as if someone had dropped a match into a powder keg. The square erupted.

  People started pushing against any who were near as some darted toward Wyatt to stop the offender from causing any more damage. Others bustled toward the front of lines to get their wares so they could get out of Paigon Square. This is perfect! Elisa thought with a hint of glee.

  Wyatt continued to barrel forward as more people tried to get him to stop. She lost sight of him as the Scot guards, led by Darthyn Scot himself, ran toward the skirmish. She winced as she heard swords drawn and orders yelled to stop. She watched the guards move and turned her attention to her task at hand. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. Everyone was occupied. Darthyn Scot was yelling at the crowd, the guards were in place, and even Elizabeth was standing still watching the brawl with disbelief. Perfect for me to slip closer.

  She stepped forward and stopped near the cart, pretending to stare at the apples instead of the princess, and for a moment her eyes stopped on the apples, more because she smelled a sweet aroma that made her stomach growl with desire.
Curse me, I’m starving!

  Trying to clear her mind, she turned to look at Elizabeth, who was still staring at the fight, her hands up around her mouth in disbelief. Elisa could see the ring, its perfect shape and pristine jewel shining in the afternoon sky.

  Elisa moved closer, reached inside her pocket, and took out the forged ring. The task was simple. Wyatt would distract the crowd, then, once they isolated Elizabeth, Elisa would move in to do what she did best. Thievery. She couldn’t help but think of the last time she had stolen something that belonged to the Scots. She remembered when she had snuck into the city clerk’s office to steal High Judge Scot’s seal so she could clear her name. The problem was, it was being used by Clerk Jarves. But that didn’t stop her. She distracted him, stole the seal, used it on a forged document, and then put it back. She had succeeded in a few seconds without him ever finding out about it.

  But then how did Magistrate Mavin catch me? The thought of the magistrate made her start, and she looked up to locate him. He could ruin the entire thing! Where is he?

  She stepped backward, trying to get a better view when she bumped into someone.

  “Apologies,” someone said from behind. Elisa turned around, upset. What bloody fool just ran—her breath caught as she stared directly into the eyes of Elizabeth Scot. “I’m sorry for bumping into you,” Elizabeth said as she looked at Elisa.

  Elisa tried to step back, but she realized that Elizabeth had seen her and was talking to her. She prayed for a moment that Elizabeth was actually talking to someone behind her, but Elizabeth’s beautiful eyes were practically boring a hole through her they were so focused. So much for sneaking up… And I thought Wyatt was the lummox!

  “The apologies are all mine,” Elisa said as she attempted a bow which felt incredibly awkward. From the smile that appeared on Elizabeth’s face, Elisa reasoned her bow probably looked as awkward as it felt. Curse me, I’m supposed to be stealing, not stand here gawking at a Scot!

  Suddenly her stomach growled so loud she let out a squeal and brought her hands to her stomach, almost dropping the fake ring she had in hand. Curse me and turn me into a bloody dragon!

  “Are you all right?” Elizabeth asked softly, yet commanding. Elisa looked up, and saw caring eyes genuinely concerned for her. She forced herself to look away. I can’t feel bad about robbing this woman, I need that ring.

  Elisa nodded slowly. “Sorry, my lady,” she said in as thick of a Myandian accent as she could. Wait, had I talked with my Myandian accent earlier? Then she stared at the apples longingly. If she thinks I’m hungry, maybe—her stomach growled as she looked at them. It didn’t require any acting to show how much she wanted one. She had only had Hetrick’s apples once—out of a garbage—and even then it was the most succulent apple she had ever tasted. She realized that she hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day and her stomach growled loudly again.

  Elizabeth heard it and let out a slight laugh before covering her mouth and blushing. She actually blushed! Looking around, Elisa couldn’t tell what Elizabeth was looking for until she bent forward and grabbed both of Elisa’s hands.

  “Darthyn wouldn’t want me to do this,” she whispered, “but I can tell you are hungry.” Reaching back, she grabbed two apples and brought them back in front of Elisa. “When was the last time you ate? Do you want these?”

  Elisa tried to keep her mouth shut, but it fell open, both from the generosity of Elizabeth Scot and because she did desperately want to eat the apples. Her stomach growled again in agreement.

  “Here,” Elizabeth said as she extended the apples. “Take them, they’re yours, I’ll pay for them. I wish I could do more, but Darthyn would lecture me, and it’s always a bore hearing his lectures.”

  Elisa smiled as Elizabeth gave her a wink, surprised at how welcoming she was. She knew the Scots were special leaders—nearly everyone in Ardonor respected and loved them—but to see the generosity and concern first hand was something else. Focus, Elisa. Get the bloody ring!

  She smiled at Elizabeth and forced herself to look away as she saw the genuineness in Elizabeth’s eyes. “My lady is too kind,” she said as she touched the apples. She felt the transfer of weight, looked into Elizabeth’s eyes one more time and then said a quick prayer. Creator, don’t judge me for what I’m about to do. I’m just trying to eat.

  As soon as the apple was in her hand she tossed it, gentle enough that it looked like she bumbled the exchange, but she knew exactly where she wanted it to land. Sorry, Farmer Hetrick.

  The apple flew right toward the cart and Elizabeth moved just as Elisa had hoped she would, reaching out a hand to catch the apple from falling by instinct.

  Elisa moved, making it look as if she was going for the apple, but she had another goal entirely. Reaching out, her arm brushed into Elizabeth’s with enough force that Elizabeth stepped back, and then Elisa yelled out as she threw her weight toward the cart.

  “Dear!” Elizabeth yelled in shock as she reached out to catch Elisa from falling.

  Elisa smiled as she saw the ringed hand reaching toward her. She grabbed a hold of Elizabeth’s extended hand with both of her own, and closed them tightly.

  She felt her weight pull her into the cart, felt it crash against her back, and heard Elizabeth yell out in shock as she crashed down on top of her.

  In the dust of apples, broken cart, and Farmer Hetrick yelling out in hysteria, Elisa clasped the ring in her hand.

  “Elizabeth!” a sudden shout yelled, and then there were hands pulling the Princess off of Elisa.

  Curse me! Elisa thought as they pulled Elizabeth away. She saw it was Darthyn—a look of bewilderment and anger spread across his face. His sword was still out, and he glared first at Elisa and then at the apple cart. Elisa didn’t care where the man was looking. She felt Elizabeth’s ring in her hand.

  But she felt a sense of alarm as she felt the fake ring still in her other hand. She had intended to make the exchange at the same time, but Darthyn was too quick. She glanced around and saw that Wyatt’s distraction was over. Guards bound several men that looked on the verge of being sent off to prison. She feared for Wyatt and looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen. My brother has a natural knack for starting a fight but not being there to suffer any of the consequences…

  “Are you ok?” Darthyn asked Elizabeth as more guards arrived. Elisa turned her attention back to the Scots and watched as their Templar approached. His sword was in its scabbard, but he didn’t need a sword to look fierce. His gaze settled on her and she felt as if he could tell the truth just by looking at her. She forced herself to stay calm and turned her attention back to Elizabeth. Think! How can I get this fake ring to her!

  Elizabeth nodded and looked back at Elisa skeptically. “The girl there, she needed food so I—”

  “Elizabeth!” Darthyn exclaimed. “We’ve talked about this. There are proper channels for dealing with the poor. Handing out food to them isn’t one of them!”

  “I know,” Elizabeth defended softly. “But I can’t bear the thought of them being hungry. The policies we have in place are taking too long!”

  “I know,” Darthyn said understandingly as he pulled Elizabeth toward him and embraced her in a deep hug. “I know.”

  Elisa moved away from the cart, and away from Hetrick, who was staring at her with an evil glare. “You’ll pay for this!” He yelled out as he stepped forward angrily. Elisa noticed he held a dagger and looked angry enough to use it.

  She tried to stand up, but Farmer Hetrick stepped toward her and showed the dagger. “You either clean this up or there will be justice!”

  “Enough, Farmer Hetrick,” Darthyn said as he stepped forward, his sword still in hand. “What happened was a mistake. Wasn’t it, young lady,” he said as he questioned her.

  “Of course!” Elisa stammered after a brief pause. Well… kind of.

  Farmer Hetrick looked furious until Darthyn reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “Relax, Farmer Hetrick,” he commanded.
“It was an accident. We’ll pay for this. You’re right in being mad—it was a clumsy move by a hungry girl—but we’ll fix this. There’s no need to turn this into anything more. Understood?”

  Hetrick stepped back and lowered his dagger and then looked back at his cart.

  “Help him,” Darthyn instructed his guards, who moved toward the wreckage and started to salvage what they could.

  “And who might you be?” Darthyn asked as he extended a hand toward Elisa.

  Panic struck. In one hand she held Elizabeth’s ring, and in the other the fake one. Thinking as fast as she could, she tried to figure out a way to ignore his extended hand. Curse me, I have to!

  Letting go of the fake ring, she accepted his hand and let him pull her up, watching the ring fall to the ground. Curse me, how am I going to get that on Elizabeth’s hand now?! Curse me and turn me into a dragon!

  “Are you all right?” Darthyn asked as she got to her feet. She dusted herself off, but couldn’t stop looking at the man. He stared at her with concerned eyes, a pair that matched Elizabeth’s. Curse me, why do they have to be friendly people?

  “Yes, my lord,” she said. Then realized she forgot to have her Myandian accent. She looked at Elizabeth to see if she noticed, but the princess was staring at her with a sullen look.

  “You’re clumsier than you look,” Elizabeth said with a questioning brow.

  “I’m sorry,” Elisa mumbled. “It’s just…” her mind raced as she tried to think of a story. She was supposed to take the ring, put the fake one on, and get up and run before someone realized what had happened. But Darthyn had moved as fast as lightning! Now she only had the genuine ring, and only the Creator knew how to get the other ring from the ground to Elizabeth’s finger.