by Victor Poole
Ajalia doubted that these requests would be small, or reasonable, but she waited patiently to hear what they would be. Delmar unfolded his arms, and waited.
"Is that the falcon's dagger?" the old king asked suddenly, pointing at the dagger that lay snugly around Delmar's waist.
"What are your three requests?" Delmar asked. The old king sighed, and held up three fingers.
"One," the king said, "you will care for Fallor, and make him into something."
"Father, they can't promise that!" Fallor said sharply. The old king waved a hand at his youngest son.
"I am a querulous old man, and they will humor me!" the old king snapped. "Will you make my son into a good man, and give him a piece of your kingdom?" the old man demanded.
"Fallor is already a man," Ajalia told the old king, "and his life must speak for itself."
"But will you make a place for him?" the old king demanded, his voice rising in distress.
"Father, I will make a place for myself," Fallor said, bending down beside the old king. The old king looked up at Fallor with a childishly longing look in his eyes. Ajalia was quite sure that the king was not aware of how nakedly his emotions were on display.
"You are not as old as I am, Fallor," the king said urgently. "I want them to make sure not to shut you out. They will have great adventures."
"I am my own person, father," Fallor said firmly. He took the old man by the arm, and pressed it. "I will take care of myself." The old king looked at Fallor with tears in his eyes, and then he looked over at Ajalia.
"These young men," the old king told Ajalia with a shaking laugh. "They are all wanting to be heroes. You will watch after Fallor, won't you?" he asked her anxiously. Ajalia looked at the king, and then she looked at Fallor.
"I don't think he needs looking after, really," Ajalia told the king. "He seems to be a very fine man already."
The old king's mouth turned down at the corners, but there was a sheen of pleasure in his face nevertheless.
"Fallor is quite fine, isn't he?" the old king asked Ajalia. "I know you all think I'm feeble," the king snapped at Delmar and Fallor. "I'm not getting soft in the head. You wait until you have babies that are all grown up. You'll worry about them. You'll see. Now," the king said, straightening up in his chair, and handing the writing desk back to his youngest son. "I don't need that," the king said, speaking of the paper and the pen.
"You'll sign it," Ajalia said. The king looked up at her, and Fallor, who had his hands outstretched towards the wooden box, stopped.
"I don't need to sign it," the king said again.
"You'll write it out, and you'll sign it," Ajalia said. "You're a testy old crocodile. You can make friends with my master, when he comes. He is a little younger than you."
The king made a sour face, but he picked up the pen.
"I don't have any ink!" the old king cried. Fallor went and got a bottle of ink. It was purple.
"Ha!" Ajalia laughed. She took the purple ink, and went to the shelf that Fallor had gone to. She looked through the bottles, and brought one to the king. "I knew you would try something," she told the old king, holding out the bottle of ink. The king regarded her with a sly smile on his face. "Do I need to write it out myself?" she asked. Fallor took the desk.
"I'll do it," Fallor said.
"You'll cheat," Ajalia told Fallor, who grinned at her.
"Ajalia's mine," Delmar told Fallor sharply. "Stop having ideas."
"Anyone can have ideas," Fallor said reasonably.
"Give me the pen," Ajalia said shortly. "What are the other two requests?" she asked the king, beginning to write.
"Tell him to stop having ideas," Delmar told Ajalia.
"It would only encourage him," Ajalia said without looking up. She knew that she was right, because Fallor laughed. "Sun will suit him well," she told Delmar, "or Sharo."
"Is Sharo that beast that the priests arranged for me?" Delmar asked, his voice lighting up with interest.
"Yes," Ajalia said, her eyes bent on the scratching of the pen.
"You'll be sorry when you see Sharo," Delmar warned Fallor.
"I want Delmar to be married," the old king said. He was watching Ajalia write. "What are these two, Sun and Sharo?" the king asked.
"What is your last request?" Ajalia asked. A light smile creased the old king's face.
"Bring Thorn and Lerond before me, and show me who they are. Strip away the disguise," the old king said. "I will execute them, when I have seen."
"Delmar," Ajalia said. Delmar crossed to her, and read over the terms she had written. He took the pen from her, and scratched in some alterations. Ajalia watched him, and told herself that he was her favorite. His shoulders, as he bent over the page, were magnificent. And his beard, Ajalia added, chewing on her lower lip.
"Sun and Sharo are young ladies, aren't they?" Fallor asked. Ajalia nodded. "They're trying to get me not to want Ajalia," Fallor explained to his father. "She's got some girls knocking around, and she's going to try to distract me."
"Works every time," Delmar said. He stood, and handed the paper back to Ajalia. She read over it.
"It's good," she told Delmar, who smiled, and signed it.
"Did you think you were the first man to realize that Ajalia was a valuable possession?" Delmar asked Fallor, as he took the paper to the king. The old king took the page, and ran his eyes over the terms.
"Not very romantic," the old king told Ajalia, who shrugged.
"The terms, or being called a possession?" she asked.
"Both," the king said, and he held out his hand for the pen. Delmar dipped it into the ink, and handed it over.
"If Delmar really liked you, he would treat you better," Fallor said hopefully.
"I'm a slave, Fallor," Ajalia said. "I actually like being treated with respect. I suppose you would tell me I was free, just because you loved me. Is that accurate? Or helpful? No, it isn't. I shall inflict Sharo upon this one," Ajalia told Delmar, who laughed with glee.
"What's wrong with Sharo?" Fallor asked suspiciously. He had flushed at Ajalia's words, but there was a gleam of interest in his eye.
"Three terms," Ajalia said. "Thorn and Lerond exposed, take care of Fallor, and marriage. What do you say, Delmar?"
"I'm marrying Ajalia," Delmar said. The old king waved the paper at Delmar.
"Bring me those young men, or rather," the king added, "take me to them. We'll have the wedding afterwards."
"Wait, but Delmar can't marry a slave!" Fallor protested. His neck was red, but his mouth was determined. Ajalia shook her head. She was reminded forcibly of Ocher, and of Philas, and of Rane. And, she remembered with a smile, of Chad.
"He will, or I won't coronate him," the old man thundered. "Help me up, boy," he commanded, and Fallor, flushing, went to help his father. "Go and get my crown, child," the old king told Ajalia.
"It's over there," Fallor murmured, pointing to a shelf.
"I saw it when I first came in," Ajalia told Fallor, "and if you do not behave, I will loose some other horror upon you, in addition to Sharo."
"Well, who is Sharo?" Fallor asked, putting his arms around the old man.
"Probably some forward chit," the old man told him. "I should like to meet this young lady myself," the king added to Delmar.
"She's horrible," Delmar told him, his mouth twisting up. "Horrible."
"The priests had chosen her out of the city, and wanted to raise her up as a wife to Delmar," Ajalia said. She took a delicate crown of silver, set throughout with polished black rocks, and brought it to the old king.
"Put it on my head," the old king commanded. "Is she fertile?"
"Father!" Fallor exclaimed.
"I don't know," Ajalia said.
"Well, she'd better be," the old man said grumpily. Ajalia settled the crown on the old king's head. "You'll have to make your own crown," the old man added, glancing malevolently at Delmar. "I'm keeping this one."
"Ajalia will make me a crown of ma
gic," Delmar said easily. Fallor looked around at him.
"Are you serious? Is that possible?" Fallor asked.
"Ossa," Ajalia said suddenly. Delmar met her eyes, and then burst out laughing. "I have changed my mind," Ajalia told Fallor. "You will be paired with Ossa, and if she can make you love her, I will sell her to you."
"Is Ossa a slave?" Fallor demanded, sounding alarmed.
"No," Delmar said, opening the door for Fallor and the king. "She's a witch."
"I'm not interested in a witch!" Fallor said loudly. The old king laughed as he went gingerly down the stairs, assisted by his son. "This is not funny," Fallor told his father.
"I'm having a good day," the old king said. "I am having a wonderful day. Do you think Ajalia would make me a flying horse?" the king asked Delmar.
"You would have to ask her yourself," Delmar said seriously, going before to the next door.
THE FALSE KING
"Excuse me," Ajalia said, worming her way in front of Fallor and the old king. "I'd like the contract," she said, holding out her hand. The old king burst into a stream of giggles.
"You are consistent, I'll give you that," the old king said. He drew the paper out of a fold of his clothes, and handed it to her. Ajalia read it over carefully.
"You never signed it, sir," Ajalia said respectfully. The old king glared at her, and then laughed. He stepped aside from his son.
"I can walk, Fallor. Get me that pen," the king said to Delmar.
"No," Ajalia said. "I will keep the paper, and your son, and Delmar, right here. You will go and get the pen and the ink."
The king stared at her hard, and she stood and looked back at him.
"But I can't walk," the king said, as though testing Ajalia.
"You're pretending," Ajalia said. "You've been pretending to be old and weak ever since I came in."
"That is not true!" the king said, but he stood a little straighter, nonetheless. Fallor was watching the two of them closely.
"I am not quite young at this," Ajalia told the king. "My master may as well be king of the East."
"I don't want to give up my throne," the old king told her.
"Then I withdraw my protection of your house, and of Fallor," Ajalia said at once. "He will be consumed again by your son and your son-in-law. I know they are working together. Those pieces of magic were just like them."
"You have hardly met Lerond or Thorn," the old king contended. Ajalia saw that her guess had been right; the old man was standing straighter, and moving with more assurance and grace. She saw that Delmar was watching his grandfather, and beginning to go to work with his own reaching energy, to see if the old man was as weak as he had seemed.
"Thorn and Lerond create a vivid impression," Ajalia said. She saw a wiggle in the air, and she knew that the old king was sending disguised magic towards Fallor. She watched with satisfaction as the almost-invisible cord of magic hit up against the shell of red she had made around Fallor. "Has your grandfather always been slow and weak?" Ajalia asked Delmar.
"He has seemed so, over the last few years," Delmar said. Ajalia saw that Delmar was looking closely at the old man's hips and legs.
"You cannot get in to Fallor," Ajalia observed. The old king looked sharply at her, a deep frown creasing his cheeks.
"What have you done to my son?" the king demanded.
"I protected him, as you asked," Ajalia said. "Now, you will sign this contract, or I will do worse than I have told you. I told you that if you did not agree, I would withdraw my protection, but if you choose not to cooperate, and you do not sign this paper, which will bind you in the eyes of your people, and in the eyes of those spies in Slavithe, then I will tell Fallor what you have done to him, and he will follow me to the white city. You will lose the last son that you love," Ajalia said. The king stood tall and straight, his cloud of white hair drifting wildly around his temples, and he turned on his heel and marched, without any assistance, into the room they had just come from.
"What has he done to me?" Fallor whispered to Ajalia. She did not reply, and waited for the king to return.
"You can have my silver crown, Delmar," the old king said, and he snatched the paper from Ajalia, and scrawled his name at the bottom. "There," the king said, pushing the paper back at her. "I was trying to protect you from your brothers," the king told Fallor. "They wanted to corrupt you, and I put my magic into your spirit to keep you young, and to keep you safe. I am not sorry for it," he said, his translucent cheeks turning pink as they flooded with embarrassment, "but this girl will tell you differently than it is, and I want you to talk to me when I am old."
"You are old now, father," Fallor said, "and I still talk to you."
"Yes, but I will be crankier then," the old king said. "Now," he said, clapping his hands together, "let us go on a witch hunt."
"They aren't witches," Ajalia said, as the king led the way through the rooms and into the hall with the bright red floor.
"Daughter!" the king thundered. His voice echoed around the room, and rebounded against them. Delmar gave Ajalia her bag back, and slipped his hand around her fingers.
"Will you marry me?" Delmar murmured in Ajalia's ear. She stifled a giggle.
"Yes," she said demurely. Delmar squeezed her hand, and she bumped her arm against his ribs. Delmar smiled at her.
"Stop being happy," Fallor said. Ajalia was tempted to stick her tongue out at the young man, but she restrained herself.
They followed the old king through the palace. He led them at last into a wide garden that had been laid into the center of the palace. The king of Talbos lived in a palace that had been carved into the underside of the great black peak that hung over the city. The garden within the palace was open to the sky, but very little sun filtered into the garden. The peak of the black mountain was clearly visible in the opening that formed the centerpiece of the garden.
"Daughter," the king roared as he entered the garden. The princess, who was sitting near a reflecting pool, and who had her arms full of a wriggling black animal, turned at his voice.
"What is it papa?" the princess asked brightly. Ajalia thought that there was something obscenely infantile in the way that the middle-aged princess said this to the old king. The king of Talbos was standing upright and straight; many years seemed to have melted from him, as though he had been a mountain himself, and had been covered with a thick layer of snow. The princess took in this difference in her father, the king, and she released the black animal, which darted away with a yowl of relief.
"Lerond," the princess snapped, and that fuzzy-chinned man appeared out of some trees, where he seemed to have been in close conference with Thorn.
"I want to see you, Thorn," the old king shouted, and Thorn stepped smoothly into view.
"Yes, father?" Thorn asked. The king turned to Ajalia, and gave a sharp nod.
"This is your business, Delmar," Ajalia said.
"I'm taking care of it," Delmar said. Ajalia saw sweeping motions of nearly-invisible energy roiling through the air towards the princess, Thorn, and Lerond. "Go ahead," Delmar said to the old king.
"None of them will be hurt?" the old king demanded.
"Not until you desire it," Delmar said, eyeing his aunt and uncle warily. Lerond seemed, at this moment, not to exist at all to Delmar, whose mouth curled a little in distaste when his eyes passed over the place where he stood.
"What is going on?" Lerond asked sharply. Ajalia thought that Lerond had quite the best-developed sense of personal danger out of the three.
"Fallor," the old king said, turning to his youngest son, "go and find Elan. I want all of you here."
"Yes, father," Fallor said, and ran away.
"What do you want, papa?" the princess asked in a sweet voice.
"Don't speak to me like that, daughter," the old king said. "There has been a change in the succession. Lerond, you have been accused of practicing witchcraft." The princess uttered a piercing shriek at the same time that Lerond turned on his hee
l and attempted to flee. Delmar, it seemed, had constructed a cage of magic around Lerond, because the thin older man hit up against an invisible barrier, and fell back with a shout. Lerond bounced against the opposing wall of the magic cage, and crouched, like an angry beast, on the ground, looking around him with wild eyes.
"What is this dark magic?" Lerond gasped, twisting to see what had struck him.
Ajalia was watching Thorn, who was standing very calmly, and watching his father. The princess had dissolved into a pile of shrill tears.
"Daughter," the king said sharply. "You are no longer to inherit my throne."
As if she were controlled by a switch, the tears and sobs that racked the middle-aged princess's body ceased, and she stood up and glared at her father, and then at Delmar.
"Why?" the princess demanded. "I am next in line. It is the law."
"You are a woman, and you are not in line at all," the old king said.
"You changed the law," the princess said loudly. "It is written that I shall inherit the throne."
"You are married to a witch," the king said. "You are disqualified, and you are not in line. Delmar is."
"I am the next in line!" the princess said. Her voice was low and determined; she sounded quite calm. "His father, my elder brother, was disinherited."
"I have adopted Simon's heir back into the family," the old king said. "Delmar is the proper heir. Simon's disgrace has not passed down to his son."
"The people will never accept a Thief Lord as king," the princess said angrily. "They have been expecting me to be king for many years."
"You are married to an idiot," the king snapped, "and you have proved infertile. There is no line. Delmar is young, he is getting married today, and the people look at him as though he were a god. Delmar will inherit. I am not asking for your input," the king said, raising a hand to stop the princess's renewed protests. "I am telling you, because you are my daughter, and I am a courteous man. Do not annoy me more."