by JF Smith
Krayell stopped while still on the other side of the tower, the breeze catching and whipping his wild hair.
He said softly to Gully, his voice brimming with hate and menace, “You think you are safe! You think that I cannot get to you anywhere in this castle! This place holds secrets you will never know, though, boy!”
Gully reached down to his boot for his knife, slowly, so as to not alarm the Domo Regent unduly, but he found his knife missing and remembered Wyael would still have it from practice earlier in the day.
“I, who spent my whole life here, was always in the shadow of your moribund family. Your filthy, self-entitled family line! I watched as you gathered so much wealth and power, so much through my advice and my stewardship, while all I got in return were the morsels your family condescended to allow me! And when I finally take something for myself, find an income that suits me, you come and disrupt it all! You, no more than a boy and a thief!” Krayell’s voice was nothing but a hiss on the wind, but behind it was the venom of a thousand poisonous snakes.
Even from the far side of the tower, Krayell suddenly slashed madly a few times with the dagger, as if he thought Gully was closer than he was. It so surprised Gully that he blinked and drew his head back in shock.
“I have lurked in the shadows, in my secret places while you think I have fled, and I hear the whispers in the halls, all the whispers about you. I hear the whispers that you have sided with the vermin gypsies! That you even count yourself as one of them! That they are closer to you than any! Who is the traitor in that world, boy? You cannot be both them and us at the same time!”
Gully would have responded. He would have argued with Krayell. The look in the man’s eyes, though, showed that it would serve no purpose. The man was beyond discourse, beyond logic. He was lost to reason.
Gully slowly stood and, without even realizing what he was doing, he did something he should never do — he turned his back on Krayell. He stood at the wall and closed his eyes and waited. He focused on each breath, savoring each one that brought him closer to the moment when the man behind him would relieve him of the burden that was slowly crushing him anyway. He searched his heart to find if, perhaps, this was finally the choice he would make at fate’s urging. He could choose to let this happen.
It might even set things right. Thaybrill would then become king. Krayell would still be caught and hung for his crimes. And Gully... he sighed slightly at the thought that he would no longer have to face living a life that made him feel lost and confused. Perhaps, if he stretched to believe and hope for something he never had before, perhaps he would even join Mariealle in whatever was next.
Fate had placed him here, unarmed, in this crossroad of circumstances, and all he had to do was to choose to not act. All he had to do was keep his back to Krayell and accept what would happen next.
Krayell’s rasp of a voice reached his ears, no closer than it was before, “I do this kingdom a service by gutting you like a lamb for dinner, my one last generous sacrifice for this realm that gave me nothing! Oh, I will still have to run. No one will see the service I do this kingdom for what it is, no one will count me as the hero of Iisen that I am, but I am still generous enough to do it without the hope of such praise! I save this kingdom from the likes of you and still have to disappear, and truly escape this time, once my one final task is complete.” His face pulled into a vile sneer, and the insane Domo Regent suddenly shouted, “You worthless, knockered little thief! You think you can steal a kingdom? Not from me, you cannot!”
Gully slowly opened his eyes and looked down at the Folly beneath him. He saw the Archbishop and several of his interpreters entering through the barbican. He saw swordsmen of the Kingdom Guard practicing at their swordplay and horse riding. He saw a group of functionaries crossing towards the Houses of State. All of them unaware of what was playing out above them. All of them unaware of Gully’s decision to do nothing, and thus be released from this. Fate, the same fate that the patriarch spoke of so often, had put him in a position where no choice at all would end it.
You are fate’s blessing for me, my son.
The words of his father flashed into his mind and his nails dug into the stone of the parapet wall at the memory of his father. He felt weak in the knees at the mistake he was about to make. In only a few days, he would see his father again, and he was letting minor squabbles and petty attitudes discourage him to the point of an irredeemable mistake. Worse still, he would allow it at the hands of that man.
His righteous anger roared in his ears and surged through him. He glanced to the side of the courtyard below, at the yawning crevasse, and whispered to himself, “This is the justice you deserve, sweet Mariealle!”
Gully spun around just as Krayell sprinted towards him, the Domo’s aged limbs driven unexpectedly fast by his insane anger. The long blade, intended for Gully’s spine, instead caught on his arm, slicing into it. Gully cried out and Krayell lost his grip on the dagger and dropped it.
The pain ripped through Gully’s arm and he grabbed it as he ran to the far side of the tower top, but he had no intention now of escaping. Krayell frantically grabbed to retrieve the knife he had lost and smiled evilly at Gully when he realized he had not fled down the stairs into the tower.
Gully taunted him, “I am here, Krayell! Wounded and unarmed! But even thus, you will fail at EVERYTHING you have attempted to do! You will die with nothing to show for your life but ignominy and failure!”
Krayell roared and stormed after Gully again, which is precisely what Gully wanted. Gully leapt towards his attacker as well, skirting off to his left, keeping to the outer wall of the tower. Krayell adjusted to come directly for him, slashing wildly with the knife as he screamed and gnashed his teeth.
In the second before Gully would find the knife driven into his unprotected belly, he jumped and leaned back just enough. His boots landed on the smooth stones, sliding out from under him so that he landed on his back.
Krayell, having leaned forward to drive the dagger into Gully with all the force he could muster, was taken off balance. Gully grabbed at Krayell’s extended hand and kicked up with his legs, as hard as he could, right into the Domo’s groin. Gully pushed up and off to his left with all of his strength, throwing the Domo Regent into the air and over the side of the wall. The dagger cut painfully a second time into the back of Gully’s arm, before Krayell let go of it as he flew over the parapet wall, screaming and flailing, and falling into the chasm below.
Gully screamed and grabbed his arm where it had been cut again. He shrieked and spat as the tears began to flow from him, “May you rot for a thousand eternities at the bottom of the blackest sea! You bastard son of a starless whore!”
He rolled onto his side, clutching at his arm, and began to sob hopelessly. Not from the wound, or from fear, but from the decision to not let go, not yet, despite all. He cried to himself for the decision to endure even more, in the hopes that why he had wound up where he was would make sense. In the small hope that he would find his father and his father would help him understand so much that was missing.
Gully had no idea how much time passed while he laid balled up, clutching his arm and crying wildly, but the next thing he remembered was the sound of boots bounding up the stairs inside the tower and then rushing up to his side.
He heard a familiar voice cry out over the sound of the boots, “Blessed stars above! It wasn’t you! It wasn’t you!”
Roald came running up to him, distraught and frantic at the sight of Gully bleeding on the ground and crying.
“What happened? Who was that that fell? Are you hurt terribly?!” shouted Roald.
He was already grabbing at Gully to see from where the blood was flowing. Roald found the wounds on his arm and pulled his surcoat off. He bit at the hem and tore a strip of it off hastily. He began to tie it around Gully’s arm to staunch the bleeding and shouted frantically, “Are you hurt elsewhere? What happened?”
Gully continued to cry and made no effort
to stop Roald’s attempts to care for him.
Roald finished tying the fabric in a tight knot around Gully’s arm and made a cursory check to see if anything else was bleeding. Finding no other wounds evident, he sat down next to Gully and pulled at him so that his head rested in his lap.
A pair of confused guards emerged onto the top of the tower. “You two, go and get the healer! The king has been wounded by an assailant!” barked Roald at them.
The guards left and Roald began to calm down. He ran his hand gently through Gully’s hair and asked, “What happened? Who fell to their death?”
Gully sniffled and managed to spit out an answer in fits and starts, “It was... Krayell Delavoor. He came to... he came to kill me.”
Roald’s arms tightened around Gully the tiniest bit. “Krayell?! Krayell, you say? It would be impossible! But how? How could he get back into the Folly? Do we have other traitors still among us?” His voice rang with disbelief.
“I do not think he ever... left. I think that he has... been in the shadows, biding... biding his time. Until today,” said Gully.
Roald shivered at the thought. “That diseased rat!” He took a deep breath, then a hint of a smile arched across his face and he added, “But against you, he never stood a chance. He was doomed the moment he drew a dagger on you! I’m surprised he got even one lick in on you!”
Gully’s face scrunched up and fresh tears began seeping out.
Roald gave him a worried look, not understanding why that would upset Gully that way.
Gully sobbed and choked. He whispered, “I almost let him, Roald.”
Roald looked confused for a moment, then afraid. He said, carefully, as if unwilling to hear the answer because of what it might be, “Let whom do what, Your Majesty?”
Gully continued to cry and did not answer.
“Who?” repeated Roald.
Gully flung his good arm over his face, smearing blood from his wound all around as he cried even harder.
Roald whispered in horror at what Gully was saying, “Krayell?”
Gully nodded and blurted out, “What happened to my brother, Roald?”
Roald stared at Gully in confusion. “Prince Thaybrill, Your Highness?”
Gully’s face fixed in anger and he sat up out of Roald’s lap. He wiped under his nose, smearing even more blood, and snapped, “No, Roald! My brother! You! You are my brother! I speak of you!”
Roald gaped uncomfortably at him, and Gully’s face was racked with the full hurt and betrayal he had felt since he found out whom his true parents were.
“Things have changed,” said Roald carefully, his eyes begging Gully to understand. “You are no longer whom you were before. It would be inappropriate for me to assume the... familiarity that we once had.”
“Roald, it wasn’t that long ago, no matter how long ago it feels, when we would sleep in the same bed together. You would pine over me and wish I would give in to your advances, and I would tease you about it. And then we’d fall asleep together, as close as any two real brothers had ever been!” Gully’s tears and sobs were tapering off little by little. “Now, just because I am forced to wear stiff and uncomfortable clothes, things are different? Why?! When I need you like I’ve never needed you before... why?”
Roald looked like he had been stung by the words. He stammered a moment, his eyes not raising to meet Gully’s, then said as he blushed, “It’s just... you are very lucky to have Thaybrill as your true brother. I wish... but... well, never mind me. It does not matter.”
“Roald, tell me!”
Roald sighed and started again, the words now pouring out of him, “You know the feelings I’ve sheltered in my heart for you for years now, and I know you’re... not that way, and I do not expect you to return my feelings. I’m happy you allow me to be honest with you and to make sport of it together. I’ve made my peace with that plenty long ago. But... even if I can’t have that, I’m sorry I couldn’t have at least been your brother, a real one, for you. I know that you care for me in a fashion, but I always wished for you to see me as your brother. But now... you have Thaybrill, your true flesh and blood, and your twin.”
Roald’s face twisted with his own pain. “And if I pined before, I do so twice as much now, and it hurts twice... but... well, that is not important. I am happy for you, and the credit you give me by making me Lord Marshal is more than I could ever have hoped for in my lifetime.”
Tears began to fall from Roald’s eyes as the words tumbled from him. “I feel like I’ve lost everything that mattered to me, when I really have more than I ever had before. And...” Roald scratched at his head and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “Well, even I no longer understand what I am trying to say, and I apologize, Your Highness.”
Roald pressed his lips shut before he said more to bring shame on himself.
Gully thought for a moment, allowing Roald’s words to sink in, before he began shaking his head, a few new tears appearing in his eyes. He said, “Second to my father, Ollon, there is only you on whom I have depended, Roald. Only you whom I have had there to look out for me and temper my foolish ways. You were the one who looked after me after my father no longer could. Despite my early irritation with Thaybrill, I have come to love him, yes, but not one iota more than I claim you as my brother. And always will, until the day I die.”
Tears of Roald’s own continued to fall from his face now, despite constantly wiping at them. They sat in silence together, letting the pain and distance between them melt away.
“And, short of a public situation where some ridiculous protocol or other demands it, I will not have you call me Thayliss, or Highness, or any other mule-rot of that sort, nor will I have you kneel in front of me!” Gully grabbed at Roald’s arm. “Swear it to me, Roald!”
Roald nodded feebly.
“I will need Thaybrill. I will need the patriarch and I will need the Archbishop. I will need Gallun and Gellen and many others for all that is to come. But I will need you more than any other. No one knows me the way you do, and I need that so much now, Roald, so very much. I cannot have you putting distance between us, because I cannot do this without you, my dearest brother. Never, ever forget whom you truly are in my heart.”
Roald nodded again as his tears began to dry. “Gully, did you really... I mean, would you have really let... you know... Krayell...” Roald’s voice tapered off, no longer able to give voice to the question.
“You don’t know what it has been like, Roald,” said Gully in honesty and regret.
Roald sat aghast for a moment.
“And thank you,” added Gully.
“Thank you?”
“For using my name.”
They stood and Gully pulled Roald into a tight hug, relishing the closeness with his brother that had left such a void in his life when it was no longer there.
He whispered into Roald’s ear, “You know me, Roald, always full of piss and vinegar!”
“Mostly piss, Gully Snipe... mostly piss!” returned Roald with a faint attempt at a chuckle.
Roald held Gully back by the shoulders, the humor finally seeping back into his face. “You gave me a terrible scare! All I saw was someone falling to their death from the tower! So tell me, how did you manage to disarm the Domo Regent and launch him off the top of this tower?” He knelt down and tore another long strip from his surcoat to wrap around Gully’s wounded arm to hold the knife cuts properly closed.
Gully held out his arm to allow Roald to tie more strips there, and said with a twinkle in his drying eyes, “Oh, that... yes, you’ll definitely enjoy that story, Roald...”
Chapter 39 — The Emerald Star
Gully paced back and forth restlessly, across the top of the oratory tower. The arm that had been cut in the fight with Krayell was now in a sling, but it throbbed with pain where the healers had dressed it. He found it hard not to take the accursed sling off, but the healers had insisted that he keep it there.
In the dark of night up on the tow
er, with only a small torch providing a modest light off to one side, Gully continued to stride back and forth like a trapped animal in a cage, still upset over his clash with the old Domo Regent. That, plus the sudden burning desire to have a question answered, had left him in enough agitation that all he could do was pace to and fro to keep himself from losing his head.
It did not help that he resented the sudden deep need to ask the question that he was waiting to ask.
Gallun and Gellen kept to the shadows in wolf form on the far side of the tower, even though Gully had tried to get them to leave him alone entirely. After the debacle with the Domo Regent, though, he was not surprised when they had pointedly refused to leave him. They had, at least, compromised by leaving him to his own fretting and turmoil instead of trying to console him.
Finally, at the far side of the tower, he saw the faint light of a lantern slowly coming up the tower steps.
“Your Highness?” asked the Archbishop as he emerged. “I came as soon as I heard my presence had been requested, but you must forgive me for taking my time climbing the stairs of the tower. My constitution is not what it once was in years past.”
Nellist crossed over to where Gully had stopped. He held the lantern up so that he could get a clearer view of the king standing there, waiting for him.
“Are you well, Your Majesty?” asked Nellist. “You seem upset.”
He stepped closer and Gully hesitated, but said nothing in the end.
“Perhaps even more upset than one would expect after the ordeal you faced earlier today with Krayell the traitor,” probed the Archbishop.
Gully still said nothing. He frowned deeply and his face screwed up in irritation, and hurt, and anxiety.
“Majesty?” asked Nellist in growing concern.
Gully was embarrassed to ask the question, but after this day, his heart needed an answer far more than he needed his pride.
“Where is her star, Nellist?” Gully wrung his hands together and his eyes pleaded with the Archbishop. “Did her sparks fly up into the night and find a home there?”