Flecks of Gold

by Buck, Alicia

  Breeohan was taking deep breaths. After a minute he seemed to sink back into his old self. “I’m sorry I spoke harshly to you. I’m more worried than I thought I would be.”

  “Well, it’s not like this is my favorite day ever either. I wish this whole thing could be over already. I just want my mother back.” A knot formed in my throat, but I held my tears in check.

  He took my arm and gently led me down the wide stone hallway. “We’ll find her. I’ll mention it to the king as soon as I see him.”

  “I want to go with you when you meet with the king,” I said.

  “He did not invite you to come with me.”

  “Please, Breeohan. I could wait outside the door until you’re done talking, then you could ask him if I can come in for just a minute to speak with him.”

  He looked at me suspiciously. “Why? What do you plan to say?”

  “The truth. I think he deserves to know what’s really going on. I think he suspects that I’m not a princess anyway. Something in his look made me decide that it would be better to come out with the whole story.”

  Breeohan sighed. “I was going to tell him everything. I don’t know if your telling him would make much difference.”

  “Hello? Did I just hear you say you can tell my story better than I can?”

  “You have a tendency to say too much sometimes. I could keep it simple.”

  I started to get angry again. “So now you’re telling me I would say something stupid?”

  “No, I didn’t say that. You . . . Very well, just wait outside, and I will see if I can convince the king to see you also.”

  “Thank you so much for the concession,” I said dramatically.

  We started walking, but there was one more question I’d been distracted from asking. I tried to sound casual. “By the way, Breeohan, what do you do at the jova courts?”

  Breeohan rolled his eyes up at the sky.

  Chapter 11

  I waited outside the doors to the king’s study as Breeohan walked in at the sixth portion, which I translated as twelve o’clock. Breeohan had told me that time was divided up into twelve portions for the day and twelve for the night, with the first day portion at sunrise and the first night portion at sunset.

  I paced, clutching Ismaha’s letter, but there were two guards in purple and gold watching me, so I finally forced myself to stand calmly and smooth out the wrinkled paper. As I did this, the study doors opened and a doorman—the same one from that morning—said formally that the king wished for me to enter.

  I walked through a hallway of bookshelves full of fancy gilt and leather bindings before reaching the octagonal chamber where the walls seemed made of manuscripts and leather-bound volumes. The shelves stretched two stories high, and there was a sliding ladder along the wall that could roll to any side. A little further out from the wall, away from the ladder’s path, was a large wooden desk. It was oval except for where a half circle bit out one side, and in that depression the king sat looking at me. Breeohan sat in a chair opposite the king. Two more chairs sat empty next to Breeohan.

  I wasn’t sure if I should sit until the king gave me permission, so I waited for some signal. A shaft of sunlight hit the center of the desk’s stained wood, making it a deep blue brown, and illuminating the dust particles so that they looked like tiny floating fairies. The beam of light also made it harder to see the king’s face from my position.

  “Please be seated, Princess Kasala,” the king said. So Breeohan hadn’t told the king anything yet. I’d sort of hoped he would do it, so I wouldn’t have to, but I’d asked for this chance, and I wasn’t going to back out now. Once I sat down I could see the king’s face more clearly. He looked much more approachable in his study than seated on a throne, atop a three-foot-high dais. Here he looked less dazzling, more of an everyday kind of guy, despite his richly embroidered clothing.

  “Forgive me for asking, Princess Kasala, but I can’t seem to remember if perhaps one of your parents ever came on a diplomatic voyage to my country?” Verone asked.

  “No, Your Majesty.” I didn’t know how to begin, and I was confused by the bewildered concentration on the king’s face. He looked as if he were trying to remember something. “I don’t know where to start. The thing is, Your Majesty, you could never have met my parents because I’m not really Princess Kasala. I’m not a princess at all. I’m a high school student from Oregon—well, Arizona. I really am in trouble, though, and Breeohan thought that you wouldn’t be able to help me if I came to court as myself. Plus, Breeohan and Rafan seem to think that my eye color was a royal give away, but in my country it isn’t. We don’t even have royalty. I hope you aren’t too angry at my lying to you because I really didn’t feel right about it at all, and I can’t tell you how much it relieves me to be telling you the truth . . .”

  The king held up his hand, looking stunned. “Did you say you were from Oregon?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered, expecting him to ask where in the world that was.

  “Oregon in the United States?”

  I was too shocked to reply. He knew where Oregon was. A quick look at Breeohan showed me he was surprised as well. A rush of relief coursed through me in a tidal wave. Then the wave broke, and I started to cry.

  “I’m so happy you know where that is. I’ve been so afraid I was on some other planet or an alternate reality or something. I even thought that maybe I . . .” I couldn’t finish. It was as if the tenuous bit of hope that I’d been afraid was severed forever was suddenly cast out again. I caught at that hope with a grip of steel. My breath rasped in and out until I forced myself to breathe more deeply. The king offered a handkerchief, and I dabbed my eyes. My makeup was probably ruined. I was sure I looked a mess.

  “Ismaha wanted me to give this letter to you.” I thrust the crumpled letter at him. It was all I could do. I was too afraid to ask the king about what he knew of the United States. He might say that he had only heard of it from a fantasy book or some equally dreadful thing. I think I shocked the king too, because he hesitantly took the letter, his eyebrows almost in his hairline. He broke the seal, and then his eyes flicked back and forth across two pages. I wondered what Ismaha had to say for two pages.

  “Ismaha says that your mother was taken by a man named Kelson. Is this right?”

  “Yes.”

  “He is older?”

  “Well, he looked my age when I first met him.” I felt my cheeks going red. “But when I drew him one time in art class, he looked about forty. He may not actually be old. I may have just drawn him like that to sort of expose his nature to myself.”

  “It’s possible, but that means we know even less than I’d hoped.” His brow furrowed.

  “Will you help me, then?” I hardly dared hope for a positive answer.

  “Ismaha says I must, so I must.” He smiled for the first time since I’d met him. It changed his face wonderfully, transforming him from cool-cut magnificence to warm sunshine. I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders.

  “Please, Your Majesty, no one else seems to know about America. How do you?”

  I held my breath when I saw the king’s smile vanish. He looked more majestically unapproachable than ever. Then he shrugged. “I went there once.”

  “You did? Well then, do you think, once I find my mother, you’ll be able to help me return? I’m not sure if the pattern that I copied would get me back. I don’t think I got the whole thing right, anyway, since I definitely didn’t end up where Kelson did.”

  “In that case, you are lucky you didn’t end up in space somewhere. You see, Iberloah and America are on different planets, and the one record of the pattern was stolen. There are magicians who know of it, and even those who have gone there, but I thought no one ever would again.”

  The contents of my stomach dropped like an anchor and then rose to my throat. I wanted to throw up. I glanced at Breeohan. A look of disbelief was plastered on his face.

  The king’s face softened. “I am sorr
y.” He glanced at the letter. “But you sense the truth of what I have said. Yes?”

  I nodded dumbly, but I wanted to scream. I couldn’t be stuck here. I just couldn’t. There had to be a way back.

  As if hearing my thoughts, the king said, “There is still hope. If this Kelson was able to get to Earth, he must have found another record of the lacing. It could even be the one lost so many years ago.” His words cheered me a little, but my stomach still churned when I realized that I would probably have to get the pattern from Kelson himself, and he wasn’t likely to just say, “Why sure, Mary, I would love to give you the means to get back to your world.”

  “I think that you should maintain your identity as Princess Kasala for now. If this Kelson is among the magicians at my court, or has contacts from the palace, he may not realize that you are in Iberloah at all. I’m not sure what Kelson would want from either you or your mother, but we shouldn’t make things any easier for him. I will talk to my counselors about sending out search parties and will ask my most trusted mages to help you in your search. However, it may be difficult to get much help from magicians at the moment, due to the attacks directed toward them. I will do all that I can, but you must realize that it may take some time,” King Verone said.

  “I appreciate anything you can do, and I can even help with magic stuff if you show me what to do. Breeohan has been teaching me, and I think I’m getting the hang of lacings if you need an extra person on the job.”

  “You really have magic abilities?” He seemed surprised, despite my earlier mention that I brought myself to Iberloah, but I didn’t blame him. I’d been shocked myself. “I would be glad of your help,” the King continued, “but I am afraid I will not be able to spare anyone to continue your training.”

  “She learns quickly, Sire. I don’t think you will find her a burden at all. She sees complete lacings,” Breeohan interjected.

  The king’s eyebrows flicked up once more. “For now, I suggest that the two of you rest for awhile. I will have much for you to do later.”

  That was plainly a dismissal. Breeohan stood. I was a little slower than he, wishing I could look around at some of the books lining the walls, but the king was studying the letter from Ismaha again, and I didn’t want to annoy him after his kindness. I also wanted to ask him about his trip to America, but he had seemed reluctant to talk on the subject. Questions teemed in my head as I followed Breeohan toward the door.

  “Just a moment.” The king looked up from Ismaha’s letter. “You failed to tell me your real name, and Ismaha doesn’t mention it either.”

  “Mary Margaret Underwood,” I said.

  King Verone sat still in his chair. “And your mother?”

  “Fiona.”

  The moments lengthened uncomfortably as the king stared at me.

  I started to wonder if he had forgotten Breeohan and I were even there, but then he said softly, “Breeohan, I would like you to stay for a moment, if you wouldn’t mind waiting outside, Mary?”

  “Sure.” I flashed a glance at Breeohan who returned it with a shrug.

  I sat outside, studying my hair lacing, wondering what it would take to change it some other color. I thought I knew which thread to tweak, but I couldn’t quite work up the courage to do it after Rafan’s reaction that morning. My royal interview bothered me, but I couldn’t focus my thoughts very well. Why hadn’t the king talked more about America? Had he felt it would be kinder to steer clear of the subject since the lacing to get back to Earth was lost? I couldn’t figure it out.

  Finally Breeohan came out of the room, looking unnerved, which only increased my feeling that there were important facts flitting away as quickly as I reached for them. He turned to the king’s servant. “The king asks that you fetch Prince Sogran.” He turned to gaze beyond me down the hallway.

  “What happened?” I asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  This threw Breeohan from his train of thought, and he pulled himself back from wherever he had been. “What are you talking about?” He looked exasperated, but he also seemed intensely confused.

  “You seem a little overwhelmed. What did the king say to you?”

  “He said a few things.” He looked in my direction, but his gaze focused beyond me, puzzling something out.

  “Well, that’s helpful.” I sighed. I didn’t feel like pulling teeth to get the details, so I started walking.

  Breeohan walked with me in brooding silence. He showed me the door to my room and was about to leave when a man wearing dark red silk approached us and challenged me to face him in the jova courts. I stood dumbfounded, watching the man’s face glow with malicious intent. How could he have known to challenge me? I wondered. The image of Avana’s glowing face floated back from memory. No doubt this had been the slimy little suck-up’s idea, but there was no way I was going to mention that to Breeohan.

  “I will meet you there at the seventh portion,” the man said as if there was no question of me declining the challenge. He strode away, and Breeohan muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. It was already about three quarters past the sixth portion, so I quickly entered my room to put my traveling pants and shirt on since I didn’t have anything else. All the time I dressed, I wondered what I had been challenged to do.

  As soon as I emerged from my chamber, we began walking back through the palace, and Breeohan pounced on me. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  “No. You were going to tell me, but it must have slipped your mind.”

  “Well, let me tell you now. You are going to have to fight Doln Baro.”

  “I figured as much.” I tried to sound casual, but my stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. “What kind of fighting?”

  “The art of jova includes all manner of weapons. There is one blessing. Since you were challenged, you get to choose the weapon.” His brows knotted in worry. “I wish I could stand in for you, but there is no way. Perhaps if you claim an injury? That could work. No, everyone saw you this morning. They will think you are a coward without honor if you refuse to fight.”

  “No one gets hurt, right? I mean it’s not to the death or anything?” I held my breath.

  “Not usually. There are judges to keep track of points. Whoever reaches five first wins. People are often injured, however. That is the blessing and the curse of having so many mages around to heal you. The nobles take advantage of that privilege by ruthlessness in the jova court challenges.”

  I was starting to panic, so I stopped and took a few deep breaths. I’d been a fool to let that silly Avana goad me into pretending I knew what a jova court was. “Okay, let me think. What if I choose no weapons?” I asked.

  “I don’t think it has ever been done before, but there is no rule against it.”

  “Good,” I said as we stepped outside. “Maybe if no one is used to hand-to-hand combat, I’ll have a chance.” We were about to enter a crowd of people surrounding a circular structure.

  “Oh, and don’t use magic,” Breeohan said. “It is forbidden within the court, and the mages in the crowd will be able to tell if you do.”

  My stomach lurched again, but I forced myself to focus on possible fighting strategies. I walked into a structure that reminded me of a small Roman Colosseum where gladiators had fought and people had faced off against hungry lions. It was an uncomfortable likeness. There were weapons of all kinds on the wooden racks that lined the outer wall. Most looked similar to what I’d seen in barbarian movies, but there was something about seeing a staff with razor-sharp jagged metal jutting out of both ends that squeezed my heart into terrified thumping in a way the movie weapons never had. I was directed to the middle of the circular court. Six feet up from the wall of weapons were benches filled with nobility wearing bright colors and hats with enormous brims. I wondered for the sixteenth time why I couldn’t have kept my big mouth shut.

  Doln Baro walked from the arched entryway to the open sky of the round court and faced me. He wore thick, nut br
own leather that shone in the sunlight. I wondered if the material would hamper his movements enough to help me get away with certain moves. Seeming to be on the verge of a yawn, he asked, “What weapon do you choose?”

  A disbelieving grunt burst out of my mouth. He was trying too hard to look uninterested. “None. I choose hand-to-hand combat,” I said.

  Baro looked startled, and it was nice to know I could upset his mask of boredom just a little. “Are you afraid of a sharp edge?” he sneered.

  “Are you afraid of not having one?” I countered.

  “It makes no difference to me. I will beat you either way.” He did his best to look exceedingly bored.

  I wasn’t sure how we would get started, so I kept a wary eye on him, noting the spectators settling into seats. How had word spread so quickly? Perhaps Baro had declared his intention to challenge me right after the court assembly.

  “I find your attire quite appropriate. A beggar’s outfit will certainly crown the moment when you beg me to spare your life.”

  “No one is allowed to kill on the jova courts,” I said, hoping he didn’t note my slight quaver.

  “I certainly could not be blamed if something were to happen accidentally.”

  As Baro and I talked, the crowd chatted excitedly. I scanned the group quickly for Breeohan but couldn’t see him anywhere. At some cue I couldn’t see, a hush fell. I didn’t get a chance to think of a reply to Baro’s threat. A deep horn sounded, and Baro attacked. I almost didn’t sidestep his attack quickly enough. I wrenched my body to the right of his charge, out of leg range. He bulldozed forward again, and I could tell immediately that he was not used to fighting without a weapon. His lunge was off-balance. This time as I sidestepped his punch, I caught and pulled his arm as I swept his leg from under him. The momentum of his punch sent him tumbling forward onto his face.