by B. J. Beach
The anxiety of Harrel and Vana was of a different kind. Although their nephew had been magically whisked away to who knew where, it was his young cousin Marcus who was uppermost in their concerns. Both Harrell and Vana knew that although the boy’s age might work in his favour, the possibility of his being affected was by no means past. This had been brought home to them by a furious knocking on their door, just as they had sat down to supper the previous evening.
Vana hurried over to look out the window. “It’s Devin, but he’s on his own.”
Quickly, she opened the door and Harrell stood up to greet his neighbour.
“Evening Dev. What brings you out this late? Are the children all right?”
Somewhat out of breath, Devin nodded and perched himself on the window seat. “As far as we can tell, there doesn’t seem to be any change. I just thought you should know, considering young Marcus’ age, and all.”
There was a gasp from Vana, and she sat down heavily on her chair. Harrell went to stand beside her and placed his strong hand on her shoulder. Devin sat in silence gazing down at his folded hands.
Harrell gave him a little prompt, his voice low and calm. “What is it that you think we should know, Dev?”
His eyes glistening, Devin fought to hold back tears. “Next door’s lad, young Tawyn, he’s only a week or two younger than Marcus. Well, he fell asleep yesterday afternoon, and he hasn’t woken up. They’re pretty sure it’s got him too.”
Vana’s hands flew to her mouth and she rushed out of the room. The two men heard the door of Marcus’ bedroom being thrown open.
Devin looked up at Harrell. “Seems to me that it started with the babies and it’s working up through to the eldest. Where’s it going to stop?”
Harrell shook his head, unable to think of a sensible reply. Instead, he simply watched the door, waiting for Vana to come back and tell them Marcus hadn’t been affected. Then he realised she was standing in the doorway.
Her face was a mask of grief. “I… I can’t wake him! He’s… he’s such a light sleeper, but I… Ohhhh! Harrell!”
He dashed across the room, just in time to catch her as she fell into a dead faint. Quickly he settled her in the fireside chair and hurried into Marcus’ room, but he knew deep down what he would find. Even being a blood relative of a powerful magician did not impart immunity to this appalling enchantment.
* * *
Vailin paced the floor of his bedchamber, sleep a luxury not available to him. He wished Symon was there to help him straighten out his thoughts. Despite the lateness of the hour, the loyal and irrepressible Jobling stood quietly to one side, constant to his own rule that if the King was awake, then he was awake. Agmar, the Grrybhñnös elder, gazed out of the window into the darkness, seeing nothing as his mind wrestled with the possibilities engendered by the situation in Vellethen.
The young king ceased his pacing and moved to stand beside the tall elder. “If somebody had told me a week ago that this was going to happen, I doubt very much whether I would have believed them.”
Agmar turned his troubled gaze towards the king. “Neither would I. Our best astrologers could only predict the astral conjunction, but hardly the disastrous events which would herald its approach.”
Vailin raised a placatory hand. “No-one is to blame. I’m inclined to think the gods knew something about it, but, as is their way, they’ve elected not to interfere.” He added an afterthought. “Not directly anyway.”
Agmar allowed himself a secretive little smile and turned back to the window. Vailin was no fool. Agmar was certain this young king was beginning to form quite an accurate overall picture from the pieces he had already gathered. Now, in the absence of the two magicians Symon and Karryl, his mettle was about to be tested, even though the Lady Evalin was a daily visitor, and she and Vailin spent many hours in discussion.
With a great sigh, Vailin cast a regretful glance at the large, comfortable and undisturbed bed. “Get my clothes Jobling. I’m afraid there will be no sleep tonight. There’s too much to do, and too much to think about. When I’m dressed, bring some refreshments, or better still, let’s have a full breakfast, in the day room for a change. Then have Jack Parry located. I need to speak with him.”
By the time breakfast was finished there was a faint promise of dawn in the sky. Vailin strode purposefully into his office. To his surprise his secretary Master Gibb was already there, penning replies to various letters. A pile of unopened messenger packets rested on the corner of his desk. Vailin picked them up and shuffled through them, guessing by the seals they bore, what the contents might be.
Blotting the letter he had just written, the secretary placed it in a simple wooden tray to await the king’s signature. “Master Jack Parry is waiting in the ante-room, sire.”
Vailin frowned. “Let him cool his heels a little longer. He was to report to me as soon as he returned, not attend to some business on his own agenda.”
Unperturbed by this little outburst, Master Gibb nodded and reached for one of the unopened packets. “That’s as may be, Your Majesty. It would seem however, that Jobling was fortunate enough to find Master Parry at the docks, having just disembarked and taking breakfast. I doubt if there’s a ship’s movement that Jobling doesn’t know about. He brought Master Parry straight here.”
Vailin grinned a little sheepishly. “You’d better bring him in then. I think my brain must be getting a little hot already.”
The character who accompanied the secretary into Vailin’s office would not have earned a second glance. A man of indeterminate age, his plain everyday clothes fitted comfortably on a medium height, medium build body. The man had ordinariness down to a fine art. He wore no hat, and his light brown hair was brushed loosely back from his forehead.
As Jack Parry executed the perfect bow, Vailin smiled to himself. He knew that behind the bland expression on the slightly oval face lay a quick and calculating mind. Vailin I had called him ‘the best spymaster this country ever had.’ Vailin II was inclined to agree. Motioning the spymaster to a chair, Vailin settled himself opposite. Jack hitched his right ankle onto his left knee, and thoughtfully stroked his chin.
Vailin leaned forward. “I trust you’ve discovered something that can provide us with a way out of this increasingly hostile situation.”
Pursing his lips, Jack gauged the king’s mood. The intelligence he had gathered surprised even him. As he had been abroad for some weeks, he wasn’t sure how much Vailin already knew.
From inside his salt-stained jacket, Jack drew out a thin sheaf of folded vellum and held it forward. “This is the report I wrote while I was on board ship. For security reasons I have left out a few details. At times like these it would seem even walls can talk. In these days of evil spells, we can never be certain who is friend and who is foe.” He gave a wry smile. “But I’ve managed to get a pretty good idea.”
Leaning back in his chair, he folded his hands and waited, offering nothing more in the way of information, while Vailin perused the report.
After re-reading a couple of lines, Vailin placed the report on a side table, carefully securing it with a coloured glass paper-weight. “There doesn’t seem to be anything in there that we don’t already know. Now you can let me have the bits you’ve left out.”
Jack studied his square, stubby hands for a moment then folded them in his lap. “An old acquaintance of mine just happens to be the Telorian Ambassador in Nebir. He owed me a few favours, so I looked him up.”
Vailin chuckled. “Short, portly Percival! He was a real flea in my father’s vest. That’s why he packed him off to Naboria. His infrequent reports are, for the most part, long and tedious, which reminds me. I haven’t heard from him recently.”
Jack nodded. “That’s the man. Married a Nebiri widow woman with two children quite a while back, and has had two more by her. They’re too young to be useful, but the woman’s previous two will do anything for the stuff that jingles.”
Vailin raised an eyebro
w and grimaced. “Spare me the details Jack. What salient facts have you managed to gather?”
The spymaster settled both feet on the floor and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Percy’s stepson has a black-skinned crinkle-haired pal who lives with his grandfather in the poorer quarter of Nebir. It seems that the boy helps out at the local livery stables and that’s how they met. Like most boys who have started taking an interest in the opposite sex, the stepson found the lure of a couple of gold pieces quite irresistible.”
Vailin looked slightly bemused. “Exactly where is this going Jack? I need something to tell my ministers.”
The spymaster took a deep breath and stared over Vailin’s shoulder. “Right. Erm… it turns out that the younger boy’s grandfather is some kind of prophet, and knows somebody in the so-called Lost City of Vedra. What it boils down to is… we have an ally on the inside!”
Vailin leaned back and rubbed his chin. “Do we indeed? Does this mysterious ally have a name, and how do we contact him?”
Jack gave his king a lop-sided grin. “That’s just it. We don’t. All I could find out was that he belongs to a tribe of desert warriors called the Jadhrahin. Somehow he’s mixed up with a certain Ghian, whose name seems to be cropping up more frequently than is healthy. The old man gave me a prophecy which I can’t make head or tail of. Then he said that ‘all the players would be in place for the final game.’ I’ve written the prophecy down, word for word. When I asked the old man about it, he didn’t even remember saying it. If he knew what it meant then he didn’t tell me.”
The spymaster fumbled around in another pocket of his jacket, and produced a tightly folded, yellowish looking wad. Carefully he picked it open before handing the crumpled, ragged-edged square to Vailin.
The young king pinched one corner between thumb and forefinger, and held the closely written piece in the air. “What is this?”
Jack looked slightly embarrassed. “It’s cured goatskin Your Majesty. It’s all I could find at the time to write on. I found some black stuff in a bottle that I thought was ink, but it turns out it was…”
Vailin started up out of his chair. “Enough! Perhaps when you write your memoirs you can indulge yourself with the more unsavoury details. Now, what does this tell us?”
Taking the small piece of parchment over to the window, Vailin held it in the first rays of the morning sun. The words he read left him baffled.
When three stars dance together
the lost are found and the lost
will be lost again and those they
lost will rise anew. The lord of the city
will prevail and a star will fall taking
many. The golden one will be revealed.
Returning to his chair, Vailin gazed at the prophecy. “Do you think this is a genuine prophecy Jack, or just an old man’s ramblings?”
The spymaster’s blue eyes looked troubled. “Well, the locals say he’s been right about lots of things for lots of years, and it almost seemed as if he’d been waiting for me for a long time. He said something like ‘now the two pale ones have come, I can rest.’ The oddest thing is, the old man died two days later. When the local chiefs went to clear out his hut, it had vanished and the clearing where it stood was covered in jungle, just like it had never been there. The boy moved in with Percy and his family, as though he knew what was coming as well. Beats me.”
Vailin nodded. “Me too at the moment. Let me read your report again Jack, and leave this ‘prophecy’ with me. I’ll send for you if I have any more questions. Thank you.”
Jack remained seated. “There is just one more thing, Your Majesty. I have a feeling it could possibly be significant.”
Folding his hands, Vailin leaned back in his chair. “Well, your information has been reliable so far Jack. What is it?”
Jack thought for a moment as if trying to find the right words. “This sleeping enchantment I heard about when I got back… I think I’ve got a fairly good idea where to lay hands on the perpetrator.”
Impressed, Vailin raised an eyebrow. “That was quick. You’ve hardly been back a few hours.”
Jack’s mouth twisted in a smile. “That’s why I’m the Spymaster, Your Majesty. Anyway, for various reasons, it took me a while to get off the ship. As I was walking down the gang-plank, I noticed this strange cove hanging about. He seemed to be taking more than a passing interest in the ship and asking a lot of questions. And, I may be wrong, but by his accent and the set of his jib I’d say he was Naborian.”
Vailin shot up out of his chair. He strode over to Master Gibb, spoke quietly in his ear then turned back to the spymaster. “Get on to him Jack. Find out what you can, by whatever means. Anything else you’re involved in can wait. Take some guards. Search the ship and the dock area then report back to me, with or without him. If it’s with him, go straight to Lady Evalin and fill me in with the details later. You can use this freely.”
Master Gibb handed Vailin a small sheet of paper which the young king hurriedly signed before thrusting it into the spymaster’s hand. “I’m relying on you Master Parry. What you achieve this day may well prove vital.”
Jack gave the Royal warrant a quick glance. With a tight smile, he tucked it into his jacket pocket, sketched a quick bow and left the office, but not before noticing that Vailin was once more frowning over the strange words on the goatskin parchment.
CHAPTER THIRTYTHREE
The young king crossed the room to where his secretary was sorting through the day’s packets and busily penning notes. “What do you think of this Master Gibb? If my memory serves me correctly, you have a penchant for puzzles.”
The secretary carefully laid aside the papers he was holding and took the proffered piece of goatskin. “I’ll certainly give it my best effort, sire.”
Pale, late winter sunlight now flooded the room, dispelling the last cheerless shadows of dawn. Master Gibb leaned back in his chair and began to study the hastily scrawled prophecy.
After a moment or so he smiled and looked up at Vailin. “This first line, sire, would appear to indicate the astral conjunction to which Master Symon referred.”
Vailin slapped a hand on the desk. “Of course! How could we forget that? The reason for the situation we’re in at the moment. What about the next part?”
Master Gibb screwed up his face in concentration. “Well, there seem to be an awful lot of ‘losts’ in one sentence, but there’s nothing to tell us who or what they are. As for ‘the golden one’ I really couldn’t say without giving it a lot more thought and perhaps doing some research at the University. Would you like me to do that, sire?”
Vailin thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes Master Gibb, but try not to spend too long over it. Make a copy then put the original in a safe place. I want to give that to Master Symon and Karryl, when they eventually return.”
The secretary reached for pen and paper. “When might that be sire?”
Vailin looked slightly worried. “I really don’t know. They usually let me know somehow or other when they’re going off somewhere. All Lady Evalin would tell me was that their journey was of the utmost importance, and not to be unduly concerned. I know they’ve been gone for longer than this before, but then I’ve always known where they’ve gone and for how long.
“It’s the not knowing that’s the worst part. I think Agmar knows something too, but he’s not saying. So, we carry on and hope they return soon, hopefully with some resolution to the situation. Now, when is the Prime Minister due to arrive?”
Master Gibb glanced at the tall hour-glass which stood in a corner of the office and considered the sand as it trickled slowly down. “A little less than an hour, sire. Shall I send for some refreshment?”
Vailin gave a wicked grin. “Yes please. But do it now. Then we can get it out of the way before he gets here.”
The secretary’s face remained expressionless. “I gather then sire, that Prime Minister Duckitt is to remain un-refreshed?”
“Indeed, Mas
ter Gibb. I intend to make the man decidedly uncomfortable. Also, I will see him in here, and I want you to take notes. I feel that a written record of our discussion will prove useful later.”
As his secretary tugged on the bell-pull for tea and scones, Vailin picked up one of the opened packets, sat down and started to read.
* * *
The Prime Minister was late. Vailin denied him the courtesy of standing up when Jobling ushered him into the office. He simply looked pointedly at the hour-glass. “I trust you have already been busy this morning, Prime Minister?”
With an obsequious smile and some wringing of his pudgy hands, Duckitt took a couple of eager steps forward. “Indeed I have, Your Majesty. I have ensured that all your ministers will be present at tomorrow morning’s meeting, and that they have received all the pertinent information.”
Vailin’s expression was bland. “Which is as it should be, Prime Minister. Now, take a seat please. I have more information to impart.”
A scratching sound from Master Gibb’s quill pen caused the slightly flushed Duckitt to look nervously over his shoulder. “Notes are being taken, Your Majesty?”
“Indeed they are. This discussion could be of national importance. I want no detail left unrecorded.”
Misconstruing completely, the Prime Minister tucked in both his chins, puffed out his well-fleshed chest and seated himself in the chair recently vacated by the spy-master. Wide eyed, he grasped the arms of the chair, eagerly awaiting whatever nuggets of vital information his king wished to impart.
Vailin leaned back and clasped his hands together. “Prime Minister; I will come straight to the point. Quite frankly, I don’t care much for that motley crowd of toad-eaters who pass themselves off as Ministers. If I had my way I’d dismiss the lot of them. However, I have my loyal subjects to consider. Would you therefore inform your ill-sorted crew that if tomorrow’s meeting shows any sign of echoing the last one then I will be as good as my word. It’s about time they started doing the job that they are presently being paid far too much to do. To a man, they are all kin to some of my father’s dearest friends, which is hardly a guarantee of their efficacy as ministers. Wouldn’t you agree? In all honesty, I have only persevered with them out of respect for my father’s memory.”