Trying to make polite conversation until her meal, whatever it might be, arrived, Jane asked, “How long have they been together?”
After some consideration he announced, “Three hundred and ninety-two years.”
Three hundred . . . ? How long did they live?
“Sometimes to eight hundred,” came the answer, shocking her.
Jane looked up. “You read my mind?”
“Only when your thoughts are so loud.” He paused. “Do you watch the stars, Lady Jane Drysdale? There are some on Lowth who believe one’s destiny is tied to the stars.”
“Astrology.” Jane struggled to keep up with the change in topic. “Where I come from, it’s called astrology,” she clarified.
“Oh, I know. I lived on Earth for a year.”
What? “You did?”
“Certainly. St. Louis, in 1962. An interesting city. Help me up, will you?” He rocked back and forth in his chair.
Jane, bombarded with all these pronouncements, leapt up and offered a hand. As the man tottered to his feet, she realized the dress he wore was slit in the back like a hospital gown. She glimpsed elven versions of boxers and an undershirt, both red, clashing horribly with his green gown. Christmas colors.
Dear God, is this where Santa sends his elves when they retire?
The man shuffled toward the window and began to putter with a telescope. “Do you watch the stars?” he asked again. “It’s almost dark enough out to see some.”
Jane followed him.
“Sir?” He still hadn’t introduced himself. “Do you know why I’m here?” A murder trial, she thought. Not stargazing. Hi, I’m a Leo, she considered saying.
He looked up from his adjustments. “Killing poor, unfortunate Tivat, wasn’t it?”
Well, yes, that was it. So how much did this guy know? Jane touched the man gently on the shoulder. “Sir, who are you?”
He abandoned his tinkering and drew himself up to his full height. “I should have introduced myself earlier. I am Garmade, Malin the Sixty-sixth.” Strength returned to his voice as he made the declaration.
Malin? The name sounded familiar. Of course, the Malin Forest. She remembered Charlie talking about it.
“You’re connected to the forest and the castle, then?”
If possible, he stood taller.
“I am the forest and the castle.” The sound reverberated in the room. “My name is Garmade, Lord of Sylthia, Ruler of Malin, and King of the Elves.”
Chapter Five
The drive from Malin Village up the long, sloped curve to the castle took too long, Charlie decided. The sun descended behind the imposing structure. Darkness fed the shadows in alleys, corners and shrubbery. He stayed alert for trouble. His remarks to Mara about goblins and sandobbles had been made in half-jest. Dealing with the different factions of the land as he did in his work, he’d heard rumors of unrest. A few outlying farms had been raided.
Goblins, being a nomadic race, had been the first to feel the pinch of hunger caused by the Dymynsh. Sandobbles, mobile splotches of quicksand, required little to survive, but Charlie had heard stories that they were on the move. They’d been contained in the Magwrosin Swamp for too long. Guarded by the dwarves, whose numbers stretched thin nowadays, the sandobbles could push through the barriers and escape.
Elves, dwarves, fairies and other races of Charlie’s generation, though smaller in population than previous years, demanded more foodstuff than Lowth could currently supply. If they didn’t have good harvests this year, they would be decimated when winter returned.
“This is an odd night,” Mara declared. “All kinds of things can happen on a night such as this. I don’t like it.”
Charlie didn’t either. He couldn’t attribute it to Jane’s influence, though she’d certainly upset his carefully crafted world. No, there was something different about the air: a change in the wind he would normally associate with a brewing storm. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see rain clouds marching across the night sky. Instead, the first of Lowth’s two moons, Rest, crested the tops of trees.
Its appearance didn’t reassure him. Something had changed.
Chirruping to the pony to hurry, Charlie pushed his uneasy thoughts to the back of his mind. He’d see to Jane’s needs, then hasten home to the comfort of his bed.
The gates to Sylthia remained open. In times of peace they didn’t close until the appearance of the second moon, Slumber, some two hours hence. There hadn’t been a war in fifty years, but with rumors of unrest, perhaps the guard should be reinforced. Charlie made a mental note to mention it the next day to Jaspar, who was in charge of security.
Charlie headed to the docks, where the closest entry to the storerooms was. He and Mara would be able to slip in and out of the castle quietly. However, as they passed the main door, he heard someone hail him.
Recognizing the voice, he pulled on the reins. The pony and cart stopped. Charlie shifted on the seat.
“Hugh?” He searched the darkness. His brother was on community duty tonight, a task every able-bodied man shared after the disbanding of the army.
A man’s form detached itself from the night and strode closer.
“Well met,” Hugh said. “How did you hear so quickly?”
Confused, Charlie asked, “Hear? About what?” What could have gone wrong in such a short time?
Hugh stopped at the wagon’s side and looked up at him. “The prisoner. The mortal has escaped.”
Jane? Impossible. Charlie had seen her locked away.
“Someone must have let her out.”
But who among the population would do so?
Charlie tossed the reins to Mara and disembarked from the wagon. “Go home, Mara. Get one of the boys to go with you.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” she huffed, struggling to follow him down. “That girl is scared. She needs protection.”
Jane needs as much protection as a mother bear, Charlie thought. He doubted she’d ever been scared, either. She didn’t have enough sense to recognize danger.
His sister-in-law secured the pony to a post. Knowing from experience not to argue with her, Charlie turned and headed into the castle.
Almost at once, he encountered Eagar.
“Have you seen her?” the steward asked, looking upset.
“This morning, when you locked her in the storeroom. How did she escape?”
“That remains the question,” the older man replied. “There is only one way in or out. A short time ago, I sent one of the women with some food. She raced back to say the prisoner was gone.” He shook his head. “Impossible. That room is well constructed. Even mice and insects can’t get in to ruin the stores.” He leveled his gaze at Charlie. “Are you aware of any magic she has?”
Magic? Other than making one lose one’s wits with her incessant chattering? He didn’t think Jane capable of anything other than inflicting temporary dementia on someone. Besides, all students in their fourth primary year of education learned of other races: It was well known humans had no magic. It was a wonder they’d survived as long as they had.
“No,” he replied. “None. How is the search organized?”
“Hmmm?” Eagar nodded to Mara, who’d joined them. “Jaspar took three others to the portal, thinking she might try to return to Earth. Ten others have spread out in the castle. You can start in the east wing.”
“She’s not there,” Charlie said, astounding himself. “She’s in the upper quarters.”
The other man eyed him suspiciously. “How do you know that, unless you’ve aided her?”
Charlie held up a hand in protest. “Never. My job is to defend her, not help her escape.” He shook off the feeling that had crept over him. Somehow, he knew the location of her whereabouts. He could feel it, a tingling on his skin, a vibration in his wings. What’s happening here?
“You sense her, then?” Mara asked, laying a hand on his arm. “Charlie, you never told me of this.”
He’d not been aware of
it until now. Unlike most elves, he had no power, no sorcery born into him. Telepathy, the capacity to heal, the ability to move small objects without touching them; almost everyone he knew had something special that set them apart. Hugh was attuned to the weather and could predict a storm days in advance. Mara talked to animals, though that was a talent she rarely used as her husband was a tanner.
But not Charlie. He’d once pretended his ability was latent and would present itself upon his maturity; reality had forced him to lay aside that dream long ago. A half-breed, he only had wings to distinguish him from others. His classmates, who appreciated magical but not physical distinctions, had ridiculed him. Clumsy attempts as a teenager to fly had resulted in his shame about the abnormality of his wings. And Jane has seen them! He still couldn’t believe he’d shown them to her.
“If you feel she is in the upper quarters, go there,” Eagar said. “I was to search it myself.” He looked at Charlie gravely, his eyes sending out a warning. “Remember to be discreet. King Garmade must not be upset.”
Charlie nodded. All of the kingdom knew of their monarch’s dwindling hold on reason. The past few years had seen his deterioration. Charlie wondered if the Dymynsh had affected their king, so closely tied as he was with the land.
Mara tugged on his arm. “Come on. If you can feel Jane’s presence, we had best start. The poor thing must be scared, all alone and lost.”
They moved toward the first of several staircases that led up to the royal suite.
“What if she meets the king?” his sister-in-law whispered.
Charlie shuddered to think of the possibility.
King of the Elves! What had she gotten herself into? All this time Jane had thought she dealt with a doddering old fool. Instead, she’d been patronizing a doddering old king. You’ve put your foot into it now, she thought. A king can cause a lot of trouble, even if he does dress like Klinger on M*A*S*H.
Jane stepped back from Garmade. All the children’s books she’d read and Disney movies she’d seen kicked in. She curtsied. A curtsy followed meeting a king, didn’t it?
“Your Highness,” she said. Twenty-four hours earlier she would have laughed at the phrase.
The old man leaned over and helped her to stand upright.
“No need of that, my dear. I have a feeling there will be no formality between us. Here comes Calme with your dinner.”
Jane followed the monarch to a small, round table. He pulled out a chair for her and waited until she settled before sitting down opposite her.
Calme effortlessly carried in a tray too large for her. She placed it on the table and began spooning fruit into a bowl.
Harvalins, Jane discovered, looked and tasted like pears. Peeled and sliced, they were cooked and covered with a warm vanilla sauce. Tiances proved to be unfamiliar in taste, texture and color. Red mottled with orange and the size of eggs, they reminded her of large grapes. The best were saved for last—red, juicy maneuse seeds. Similar to large raspberries, they melted in her mouth. She had two helpings.
Finally, her hunger sated, she sat back in her chair and looked across at the king.
“Thank you,” she said. “I haven’t eaten in a while.” Not since the previous evening, snacking on what Kendra had stingily put out for her guests.
The thought led to those of the party and the stack of orders Jane had tucked into one of the Rubbermaid containers she’d pulled from her car. Where were her boxes? Had they gone through the portal, or been dumped alongside the path? Fat lot of good they would do her now, unless her jurors were sexually frustrated house elves with disposable incomes.
Jurors! Jane panicked. Charlie had said her trial would start soon. Try as he might, she knew he had no defense for her. She’d killed Tivat as sure as God made little green apples. She was going to fry. Then again, they hadn’t discovered electricity yet. Probably boiling oil or being strung up on the rack would do as well. No doubt Eagar would invent something cruel and torturous with which to kill her.
“Are you well, Lady Jane?” the king asked. “You look pale. Perhaps you are too close to the fire. Is there aught I can get you?” His elderly face was etched with concern.
A pardon from the governor? A one-way ticket back to reality? A movie deal with Steven Spielberg? Jane had a sudden urge to scream in frustration. She’d been too bewildered and tired earlier to vent her anger at her situation. Her life, while boring at times, had been a good one. Mother, brothers, sister, lots of friends, a stifling full-time job—but a stimulating part-time one filled her days. No boyfriend, but only because Todd had run away with the copy-machine repair girl at Christmas. And now, because of circumstances she couldn’t understand, she sat before the King of Elves, charged with murder, eating strange foods and ripping apart walls.
She felt ill. Maybe it was the maneuse seeds. They’d been rich, like honey and Bavarian desserts. Jane laid her hand against her stomach, but it still heaved and lurched. Dear heavens, she was going to ralph all over royalty!
By sheer determination, she kept everything down. The Belwaiths soothed her brow with delicate fingers and offered her a cold cloth. The king, frail and barely able to support his own weight, guided her to lie on the royal bed. He tucked warm, down-filled coverlets around her up to her chin. Jane tried not to move too much until her stomach settled.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m normally very healthy.”
King Garmade, sitting next to her, patted her hand. “It’s perfectly all right, my dear. I’m sure you’ve had a notable turn of events.” He looked at her with a paternal fondness. “You’ve certainly added some spice to my evening. It’s been a long time since a woman visited these chambers. Once this room was filled with scores of bright, beautiful young women. They flitted around Elaine, loving her so.”
Curious, Jane struggled to sit. “Who is Elaine?”
“My daughter,” he replied. “The Princess Elaine.”
That explained the dresses. They must belong to her.
“Where is she now?” she asked. She knew nothing of the occupants of the castle.
“Ah.” The king sighed deeply. “Gone, alas, these thirty years. Taken by the goblins, never to be heard from again.” He looked fragile, as if a slight puff would blow him away. His lower lip trembled. Tears welled in his dark eyes.
His sorrow touched Jane. She took his hand, mindful that he was a grieving father first, a ruler second.
“Tell me of her,” she coaxed. “What was she like?”
“Hmmm?” King Garmade looked at her a moment before answering. He relaxed, as if glad of the opportunity to speak of his loved one. “Laughing and singing. She had a sweet, lovely voice and organized contests and performances for the people. I’ll never forget . . .” He drifted off.
Jane yearned to know more. Fate had tossed her into this world; from what she’d seen so far, she had much to learn. Elves and goblins and fairies, a real king before her—Malin the Sixty-sixth. How far back did his family go? She’d ask Charlie, but knew the answers would be more interesting coming from the king. Not that Charlie would do a bad job, but he could be weary at times, as if he didn’t want to talk to her.
“Sir? What did she look like? The princess Elaine?”
Garmade returned from wherever he’d mentally wandered. “Why, her mother, of course.” He patted Jane’s hand again. “You wouldn’t remember her, you’re much too young. Elaine and Helen were very much alike. Tall, with brown eyes and short, curly brown hair.” He peered at Jane. “Similar to you, except your eyes are green. You’re not an elf, are you?”
“No, sir, I’m not. I’m human. My name is Jane Drysdale, and I think I’m your prisoner.”
He chewed over this information as if it were a piece of tough meat.
“Killed Tivat, correct?” he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.
“Well, not on purpose. I’m sure it’s a huge mistake and it will be changed soon. Er, you don’t suppose you could make that happen, could you?” After all, he wa
s the king.
Garmade dashed her hopes at once. “I’m sure Eagar has everything well in hand,” he said, letting the matter rest.
Riiight. Old Eagar, the cat-kicker. He probably had dozens of felines, one for every occasion. Jane bet he’d picked out the cutest, softest kitten around and named it in her honor.
“It’s very confusing,” she said, shaking her head. “Strange things have happened since I arrived. For instance, this evening I created a hole in a wall with my bare hands. I’ve never done anything like that before on Earth.”
“Created a hole?” The monarch sat up, alert for the first time since she’d entered the room. “My, that is interesting. Do you know how you did it?”
“No, sir. Muttle said you’d be able to explain.”
He pondered the problem. “This was here, in Sylthia?” When she nodded, he said, “The castle has ways we cannot fathom. She’s inherited magic from her occupants in addition to her own. She’s either taken a liking to you and allowed you this ability, or she’s bestowed magic on you.”
Taken a liking to her? His statement threw Jane off balance. The thought of the castle as a living entity blew her mind. She struggled with the concept. How many more surprises lay in wait for her?
“I can open walls from now on, or only when I’m within Sylthia?” she asked.
The king chewed on his lower lip. “It’s hard to say.” He shook his head. “Despite the proximity of our worlds, we have very little experience with mortals. The portal to Earth is temperamental. We can go out, but it doesn’t often allow humans through. Few have passed into Lowth in the last hundred years. There was Stewart of Graham, and Lemieaux, and another, a woman, some years back. She returned home, the others stayed and eventually died here. I don’t remember if they gained powers or not. It seems evident, however, that Sylthia has smiled on you. We’ll have to keep an eye on you, my dear.”
Not if you execute me, she thought.
“You say the portal doesn’t allow humans through. Then how did I get here? Weren’t Charlie and his friends taking a risk, hoping it would let them transport me?”
What Do You Say to a Naked Elf? Page 5