The Unwilling Ambassador (Book 3)

by Heidi Willard

  "And hasty to bed them all," Ned laughed.

  Deadly Sins gracefully dropped down to the ground in a crouched position and Percy bowed to the gentlemen. "If you will excuse us, we have some packing to perform." The strange pair went into the city, and Canto scowled at their backs.

  "Anyone that puts their faith in an assassin must be very rich or very powerful," he commented.

  "Or both," Tramadore added. "He inherited a great wealth on his father's death, though we had to deprive him of enough to rebuild the town."

  "A rich brat?" Canto asked them. "Has he any use to us?"

  "His wealth will be useful," Ned pointed out. He pulled on his beard and watched the pair walk out of sight. "And he's said to be good with a sword."

  "Every brat is good with a sword who buys the best teachers," Canto countered.

  Tramadore shook his head. "I've seen him myself. He's excellent with a sword, but he didn't show himself very well during the battle. Pat tells me he vanished before the fight owing to cowardice."

  Canto scoffed. "He doesn't seem much afraid to come with us now."

  "No, he doesn't," Ned quietly mused.

  "Bah, what are we bothering with a brat for?" Canto asked them. "His assassin is the dangerous one, and this adventure of ours tops them both."

  Ned chuckled. "Yes, you could say they're dwarfed by our other problems."

  Canto scowled. "Don't go insulting my race by putting that lot with 'em," he warned him.

  Tramadore laughed and escorted his guests back into the study. "Our enemies are the filth of Canavar, not your traveling companions," he reminded his old friends.

  "With an assassin as a traveling companion who needs Canavar?" Canto grumbled. "If the cantankus is left outside we're defenseless."

  "We have more than the cantankus at our disposal," Ned told him. "The boy, Fred, knew Sins was here but hasn't the confidence to speak up."

  "So we're relying on a hesitant boy and a cantankus to protect us from our own companions?" Canto quipped.

  "Focus, my friends," Tramadore scolded them. "We have other worries than either Canavar or our allies."

  Canto raised a brow as he seated himself in a chair. "Other worries? You mean the stones?"

  "I mean the woman who gave Captain Hawkins that hairpin," Tramadore told them. He took his usual chair behind the desk and clasped his fingers together. "We know nothing of this woman, nor how she acquired the item for Tramadore. Do you know anything of her, Ned?"

  Ned frowned and shook his head. "Nothing at all. I can't think of how she even gathered the knowledge of the item unless she read it in the library of Galaron."

  "Captain Hawkins informed me she left the city before the Galaron army rode off to assist us," Tramadore replied. "She must have survived the attack."

  "Probably, but she did us a good turn," Canto pointed out. "And Ah for one hope she survived to keep giving us such items."

  Ned leaned back and chuckled. "That would make for a rather boring journey, and I for one look forward to the exercise."

  Canto scowled at the old castor. "A journey? More like being jolted along by a horse through inhospitable territory with enemies at our backs and amongst us. Ah would call that an annoyance."

  Ned shrugged. "A journey or an annoyance, it must be done to destroy the stones before they turn all the world into ruins."

  Tramadore leaned forward over his desk toward the dwarf. "I received word that the city of Dirth had a stone. Isn't that your home?"

  "As much my home as Galaron is now," Canto replied.

  "Then you feel nothing for it?" Tramadore asked him.

  Canto frowned and shifted in his chair. "Ah didn't say that, just that this gallivanting around the world isn't going to be a picnic."

  "I'll have to remember not to bring my picnic basket," Ned mused with a sly smile on his face.

  Canto jumped to his feet and scowled at Ned. "That's the attitude Ah'm talking about! This is Canavar and his ilk we're up against, and ya sit there smiling and laughing!" he exclaimed. "Have ya forgotten what he's capable of, and how we've been lucky he hasn't destroyed us all to rule the world?"

  The humor slipped from Ned's face and he stood from his chair. "Ruling the world isn't his style, but I believe he would destroy it to achieve his ends."

  Tramadore raised an eyebrow. "And what are those ends?" he asked the castor.

  Ned closed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't say, but these stones must be destroyed before they destroy the people around them."

  "You can't or you won't say?" Tramadore wondered.

  "If you two will excuse me I have packing to perform," Ned apologized. He exited the room, leaving Tramadore curious and Canto fuming.

  "That old fool reminds me why Ah don't trust him any more than that young boy with the assassin," Canto spoke up. "He knows more than he tells."

  "And is our best authority on Canavar, along with being the most powerful castor I know," Tramadore reminded him.

  Canto pulled at his short, thick beard and squinted his eyes where Ned had gone. "Yes, and Ah don't recall him being so almighty in his youth."

  Tramadore shrugged. "People change, you should know that well enough, but now isn't time for talking. Don't you have some preparations to make on this trip?"

  "Aye, Ah suppose," Canto agreed. The pair separated, but each wondered at Ned and his connections with Canavar.

  Fred directed Fluffy out of the city and onto the crowded plains. The remnants of the stone were gone, carried away by the soldiers, and in its place was a market of goods that gave a brisk sale of necessities to the refugees. Tramadore and Galaron troops patrolled the stalls and tents, watching for thieves and other carrions. Among them was Hawkins, who acknowledged the boy with a nod.

  Fred slid off his cantankus and led the beast through the large market. An old woman behind a simple wooden crate eyed him carefully as he passed. She stood in front of a large wagon, and chuckled at him and his pet. "A fine beast, my child, a fine beast. Does he have a name?" she asked him.

  Fred stopped and petted the beast. "His name is Fluffy," he told the old woman.

  "Ah! I have just the thing for a beast with that name!" she exclaimed. She turned and rummaged through the wagon. Pots and pans flew over her head and Fred ducked to avoid a concussion. Poor Fluffy got a few knocks on the head before she gave a cry of victory and held up large brush with many broken teeth. She turned and clasped the brush in front of her between her gnarled, clawed hands. "This is a very ancient treasure passed down by the dwarves. It grants great speed to a cantankus."

  Fred looked carefully at the brush and raised an eyebrow. He glanced at Fluffy, the hairless beast. "Are you sure it's for a cantankus?"

  "Absolutely. It will make him much faster," she insisted.

  "How?" he asked her.

  The old woman chuckled. "Why, by smoothing back their hair they become more aero-dynamic. Less wind resistance, you see." Fred blinked. He had no idea what she'd just said. The old woman rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand and slammed the brush into his open palm. "Believe me, my son, it'll make him faster."

  "Um, thanks, but I don't have any-" Fred paused, squinted his eyes and leaned in toward the old woman. There was a familiar shimmer about her face.

  "Fred!" a voice called out. Fred swung around to see Hawkins marching toward him. When the boy looked back the old woman and her wagon of wonders was gone. Hawkins came up behind him. "You've been called to the castle by Ned. It's something urgent."

  "Oh, yeah, sure. Be right there," Fred absently replied. His focus was still on the empty patch of ground and the brush in his hand.

  Hawkins glanced between the boy and where he stared. "Is there a problem?"

  "What? Oh, I don't know," Fred answered. He nodded at the spot. "Um, did you see an old woman at this spot just a second ago?"

  "There are too many old women here for me to keep track of a single one," Hawkins countered. "But I was told the message from Ned was urgent."
<
br />   "Oh right. Thanks for telling me," Fred replied. He stuffed the brush into his waistband beside his broken stick, swung himself onto Fluffy's back and rode off to the city.

  CHAPTER 3

  Fred hurried up the city and left Fluffy outside the castle courtyard. He rushed through the entrance hall, upstairs and into Ned's bedroom. He skidded to a halt and his eyes widened at the messy room. The bed sheets were halfway across the room and clothes were strewn everywhere. Books were piled high in all the corners and across the floor, and jars and boxes of questionable items were precariously stacked together. There was even a small haystack beside the bed. Fred noticed an especially large pile of clothes in one corner, and the young man yelped when Ned burst out of the mess.

  "Ah, there you are," Ned scolded his frightened apprentice. "I'm in great need of your help."

  Fred clutched at his heart and scowled at the old man. "Why were you hiding in those clothes?" he asked Ned.

  Ned crept along the floor sifting through the piles and stacks. "Hiding? Nonsense. I was searching for a most important item, and I called you here to find it."

  "How did all this stuff get here in the first place?" Fred wondered.

  "I was tidying my cloak up and everything fell out," Ned replied. He lifted a heavy box and stuffed it into his cloak. Fred had seen enough not to be shocked when the box disappeared into the countless pockets. "Then I remembered a good apprentice needed his own cloak, but I can't find that blasted needle to sew one."

  "But I already have a cloak," Fred reminded him.

  Ned stuck his head into a pile of the dirty clothes and came out with a sickly face. "Must wash those some day..." he muttered to himself.

  Fred rolled his eyes. "I said I already have a cloak," he repeated in a louder voice.

  Ned waved his hand at the boy. "Yes yes, I heard you. I'm old and senile, not deaf, and this is a special cloak. I want you to have one like mine to store our provisions for this trip."

  Fred's eyes lit up with the possibilities of owning such a cloak. He could hide practically anything inside it, from food to maybe even Fluffy. The young man eagerly looked about the room and he rubbed his hands together. "What are we waiting for?"

  A few minutes later outside in the hall Pat and Ruth walked past when they heard a great clamber of noise. They paused, glanced at each other, and Pat ventured a knock on the door. "Ned? Are you all right?" The answer was more clattering, and talking between two voices. Pat frowned, swung open the door and revealed an even larger mess than Fred had found. The stacks were toppled over and the clothes were somehow hanging from the ceiling. The girls gaped at the chaos, and Pat was the first to recover. "What are you doing?" she exclaimed.

  Fred popped his head out of the haystack. "Looking for a needle to make me a cloak like Ned's."

  Pat's eye twitched. "You're looking for a needle?" Fred nodded. Pat looked at the haystack, put her hands on Ruth's shoulder and turned the surprised girl around. "I think we've seen and heard enough-"

  "Ah-ha!" Ned exclaimed as he popped his head up from the mess of boxes. In his hand was a small box used to hold rings. "I've found it!"

  Fred hurried up to him and the girls stopped their hasty retreat as their curiosity piqued. The youngsters went over to stand behind Ned, who smiled and slowly opened the lid to reveal a small, golden needle about two inches long. Fred frowned. "That's it? That's going to make me a cloak?" he asked Ned.

  "Of course not," Ned replied. "We need some thread."

  Fred looked around the room. "And where is the-yow!" He clutched at his head where Ned had plucked a hair. "What'd you do that for?" he yelled.

  "Each cloak is tailor-made for its owner, and so needs a piece of the owner to make the material," Ned told him.

  "But how's a tiny piece of hair going to make a cloak?" Pat wondered as she looked at Fred's head. "Shouldn't we shave him?" Fred shrank back and clapped his hands over his head.

  Ned chuckled. "Watch and see."

  He slipped the single piece of hair through the eye of the needle, and the moment the thread passed through the eye the metal brightly glowed. The youngsters jumped back when the needle sprang into the air and a few yards in front of them. The needle danced around in a dizzying circle, and the glowing thread spun a cloak out of the lengthening hair. Fred's eyes crossed so badly he lost his balance and fell back on his butt. Pat rolled her eyes and helped him up, and their hands were still clasped when the needle stopped. The cloak hovered in the air for a moment to be admired, and flew over to wrap itself around Fred. It pushed aside their connected hands and dragged Fred back a few feet.

  "Hey!" he yelped as the coat hung itself on his shoulders and the sleeves slipped onto his arms. The droopy sleeves tightened and the large front pulled back at the waist to create two long tails out the back. Buttons sprang up along the front of the waistcoat and the high collar folded down around his neck. Two pockets opened up on the lower front, and Fred felt countless more appear on the inside. Fred looked down at himself and a wide grin spread across his face. "Nice!"

  Pat looked the boy up and down, and turned to Ned. "Um, that's not a cloak, that's an overcoat," she pointed out.

  Ned frowned and pulled at his beard. "So it seems. Of course, the material tailors to the individual's body and personality."

  Pat snorted. "So what you're telling us is Fred is more impressive than you?"

  The old castor straightened and coughed. "Yes, well, looks aren't everything, and the cloak changes over time with the personality of the wearer."

  Fred ran his hand along the smooth material. It felt as soft as silk and as light as a bird feather. He hardly knew he was wearing anything but for the brush of the cloth against his shirt and pants. He felt something in one of the outer pockets, and reached in to find the needle. Ned snatched that from his hand and placed it carefully back in the box, which he then deposited inside his own cloak. "Mustn't lose this again in case of repairs," Ned pointed out.

  "So can I use the pockets like yours?" Fred asked the old castor.

  "Yes, but your pockets won't have the depth nor numbers as mine. Those grow with age," Ned replied. Fred was eager to try out his new coat, so he grabbed the box closest in reach. Ned's eyes widened and he yanked the container from the boy's hand. "Not this one!

  Fred frowned. "Why not?" It looked as innocent as all the others.

  "Do you recall the Dirth beetles?" Ned reminded him, and Fred nodded. Ned held up the box, and now they could hear a soft buzzing sound from inside. "This box is much more dangerous, for it holds a swarm of Diluvian bees."

  Fred and Ruth blinked, but Pat gasped and pulled Ruth away from the box. "What are you doing with such a thing?" she exclaimed. "Those things could kill us all!"

  "Or at least put us in a sticky situation," Ned agreed. "Their honey is the most adhesive substance known in the world."

  "And their stingers are as deadly as any assassin's blade," Pat added. "If you dropped that box and freed them we would be stung a hundred times before we escaped."

  "And that is why I am very careful-" Ned stepped forward and tripped over the many clothes on the ground. The box flew from his hands and into an arch in the air. Pat pushed Ruth toward the door, and both Fred and she dove for the container. They grabbed either end of the large box and landed on their stomachs with the box safely held up between them. As Fred gasped for the air that was knocked from his lungs, Pat scowled at the old castor. Ned sheepishly smiled and shrugged. "An honest accident," he told her. He picked up the box and stuffed it into his cloak. "But as much as this is a danger to us, it's good in a pursuit when you need to be rid of a few riders."

  "I think you're the danger to us..." Pat grumbled as Ruth helped her up.

  Fred stood and brushed off his cloak. His hands nicked the brush and it clattered to the ground. He bent over to grab it, and Ned noticed the item. "A very strange artifact you have there," he commented to the young man. "May I see it?" Fred shrugged and passed the brush to him. Ned admir
ed the bent brushed and thick wooden handle. "Where did you happen to acquire this magical device?"

  "You mean it actually does something other than brush Fluffy?" Fred countered.

  Pat scoffed. "Brush Fluffy? What's there to brush?"

  "A cantankus is a very delicate creature and needs brushing as much as any horse," Ned told her. He glanced at Fred. "I can't say what this does, but there is an enchantment over it and the dwarven craftsman was a master."

  "I just got it off an old woman in the market outside the city," Fred told him. "She said it would help Fluffy run faster."

  "Perhaps it may, but I would show it to Canto before you tried the item on Fluffy," Ned advised as he handed back the brush. "He could tell what magic the dwarves have placed on the brush."

  "Dwarves can do magic, too?" Fred wondered.

  Pat rolled her eyes. "Of course dwarves can do magic. How do you think they're the best blacksmiths in the world?"

  Fred sheepishly smiled and shrugged. "Practice?"

  She glared at him for a few seconds before she turned to Ned. "Did you need help cleaning this place? It looks like a clothing army waged war with the box rebellion."

  "That won't be necessary. I'll have the mess cleaned up in a moment." Ned grabbed both sides of his cloak and flung open the clothing, exposing himself to all the world. Fortunately for the world he wore some dirty robes beneath the cloak, and showed off only countless rows of tiny pockets. The piles of clothing and boxes in the room flew off the floor and shrunk themselves down to fit into the many pockets. In a flash the room was clean and Ned closed his cloak. "See?"

  Fred picked his jaw up off the floor and scowled at him. "Why didn't you clean it up like that when we were looking for the needle?"

  Ned shrugged. "Not as much fun." Before any of the youngsters could blow up on him he turned them all around and pushed them to the door. "Now go find that cranky old dwarf and see what he knows about that brush while this old man takes his afternoon nap."

  "But it's still morning," Ruth pointed out.

  "I sometimes like to get an early start on it," Ned replied.