by Sam Ferguson
Then the assistants went to the three juggling pins and began to juggle between themselves. At the juggler’s command, they turned and threw the three pins up to him and he began to juggle while walking on the stilts.
“Good show!” one of the women at the other table called out.
“This is nothing,” the juggler explained. “The masters in Hornbeak have taught me a rare secret in my time there, and now I show it to you!” Each assistant pulled another pin from their own pants and they struck matches to them, lighting them on fire. Then they tossed them up to the juggler on stilts and he incorporated them in with the other three. “Watch carefully,” he said as he stopped walking in a circle. He tossed the pins up higher and higher, until they nearly reached the ceiling. Then he made a couple of them collide in air, lighting the others on fire as well and then catching them to throw them back into the rhythm. After all five were on fire, several senators whistled and clapped.
Al watched the fire, entranced by the yellow and red flames as they danced and swirled over the juggler’s head. Then, as if on cue the juggler held the brim of his pants out in front of him and the flaming pins went down inside one after the other in rapid succession amidst gasps from the audience. The juggler smiled and snapped his pants closed as he walked around the room. Al watched intently, expecting the man’s pants to erupt in flame, but nothing happened. The juggler made three circuits around the room, then he stopped in the center of the room directly in front of the king.
“Now, here is the finale,” he said with a sly smile. The man bent down in a quick bow and flipped the latches of his stilts loose before launching into a graceful backflip. The pins flew out the bottom of his pant legs one by one, each reigniting and streaking through the air after him. The man landed on his feet and looked up just in time to catch the first pin and throw it back into the air. He caught each pin effortlessly before throwing it back into the rotation. He juggled them for a few cycles and then clapped his hands twice. Afterward he would wave a hand over each pin as he caught it and threw it for the last time. The instant his hand passed over the wooden pin the flames died. When all of the pins were extinguished he caught them and tossed them to his assistants, who would hold them.
When he finished several senators stood and clapped for him, and even some of the dwarves rapped their knuckles on the table in approval.
“Well done,” King Mathias said.
The juggler bowed his head and turned to each table for another bow. As he turned to face Al, the dwarf felt something strange. There was something in the man’s eyes that unsettled Al. The dwarf king instinctively pulled his knife into his right hand.
The juggler then turned back to the king. “With your permission, I have one more trick,” he said.
“Of course,” King Mathias said.
The juggler stepped closer to the king and Al tensed. The man twirled around and smiled to the audience. “For the last trick, I need a volunteer,” he said.
“I’ll do it,” Al said.
“Oh, no no no,” the juggler replied with a pat of his hands. “I would not dream of it, I am not fit to work with kings, I only perform for them.”
Al sighed and watched the man keenly.
“Something wrong,” a dwarf soldier asked as he leaned in close.
Al nodded, but said nothing. He watched the juggler turn to the senator that had originally called him out.
“You sir,” the juggler said. “Would you be so kind as to join me in the center here?”
The senator nodded and wiped the corners of his mouth with a cloth napkin before walking around the table to join the juggler. The two assistants rushed up and put one of the wooden pins atop the senator’s head. Then they turned and gave another pin to the juggler.
“For my last trick, I will knock this pin from our dear senator’s head,” the juggler said. He paused for effect. “Whilst my assistants juggle flaming pins between me and him.” He clapped his hands and the assistants began juggling the three remaining pins in a close circle in front of the senator’s face. The juggler turned to the king. “One inch this way or that and I will undoubtedly hit one of my assistants’ pins, which will then hit the senator.” He walked close to the two assistants and passed a hand over each pin as it passed in front of him, reigniting the pins. Then he turned and walked close to the king.
“Shall we take bets?” one of the senators jested.
“Fifty gold says the juggler sets our dear senator on fire,” one of the women said.
“I’ll take that bet,” one of the men shouted out.
“Are we ready?” the juggler asked. He held the narrow end of his pin in both hands. He glanced to his right and left, giving Al a sly wink as he caught the dwarf’s stare.
Al slid his arm back and prepared to throw his knife.
The juggler wound up over his shoulder and gave a slight, almost imperceptible twist of his wrist. Then he turned wildly toward the king. Al sprang into action and threw his knife. It whistled through the air and sunk deep into the juggler’s hand, throwing the performer’s aim off. A dagger clinked off the side of King Mathias’ chair and the juggler turned to run away but the dwarves and king’s guard were upon him like bees on the first flower of spring. Within moments the man was hauled away to the dungeon screaming and shouting, with his assistants being dragged in chains behind him.
The senator in the middle shrank away, staggering back to the table. “It wasn’t me, I swear!” he said. “I only knew that a juggler was hired, but I didn’t have anything to do with this!”
“Take him,” King Mathias said sternly. “We will find the truth of the matter.” The king’s guard moved in and took the senator away.
Al moved over to King Mathias and picked up a wooden handled dagger. “It was well made,” he said as he set the weapon down in front of King Mathias.
“Yes,” Mathias agreed. “Hiding it in the juggling pin was clever,” he said.
One of the other dwarves approached and slid the dagger back into the pin and then gave it a twist to lock the dagger in place. “It seems your security has overlooked a very basic protocol,” he said.
King Mathias shook his head. “I have employed this juggler before,” he said. “We have never had any issues before.”
“I will look into it,” Senator Mickelson promised as he took the weapon and unlocked the dagger. He slid it almost all of the way out before replacing it inside and locking it again. “Clever indeed,” he said. “You can hardly notice anything with the pin,” he said. “The seam lines up perfectly with the paint, and would be extremely hard to see.”
“Then perhaps it is time to call off the festivities,” Al said curtly. “There is a war out there, whether we like it or not, and pretending it doesn’t exist will only give the enemy more opportunities to strike.”
Mathias nodded and sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “I will not spend my final days in hiding,” he said wearily. “I am tired of staying in my tower. I would rather go out by an assassin’s blade than gagging on my own spittle in my bed.”
Al looked to Mickelson and then put a hand on King Mathias’ shoulder. “I understand wanting to escape the trappings of being king more than most,” he said.
“Yes, but what about the trappings of being old and sick?” Mathias countered. “Every night I close my eyes wondering whether I shall see the sun again.”
Mickelson turned away and motioned for everyone to leave. “The feast is ended,” he said.
“Horse apples!” Mathias grumbled. “Call the dancers back in, sit down, and let’s finish our meal.”
Al sniggered to himself and shrugged to Mickelson. “Let’s eat,” he said.
The room slowly settled down as best as it could and they all resumed eating, though not with the previous merriment that had accompanied the feast before the juggler had come into the room. Even the dancers seemed nervous as everyone finished the meal in silence. After twenty minutes, King Mathias rose from his chair and left the hal
l without even wishing his guests a good night.
It was then that Al decided to take a walk. He went into an antechamber and had a couple of his footmen help him escape his ridiculous armor before he slipped out into the night.
He followed the winding, cobblestone road to a large, ivory colored villa. The gates were closed for the night, but the guard out front let him slip inside where another servant opened the front door and took him into the drawing room, where he found Braun and Lady Lokton sitting and drinking tea.
“Well met,” Braun said as he rose from his chair.
“I am happy to see you again,” Lady Lokton added. “Tea?” she offered.
Al shook his head. “I just came from the banquet, I don’t think I should put anything more inside, else I might pop.” He grinned and patted his stomach, making an effort to stick it out far enough to draw a stifled giggle from Lady Lokton. “Not a bad place to stay,” Al noted as he looked around the drawing room. His eyes went to a collection of pinned butterflies neatly arranged inside a glass case that hung from the wall.
“King Mathias has been very generous,” Lady Lokton agreed. “We are sharing the villa with another family, and a few of the masters from Kuldiga Academy.”
“Really?” Al asked. “Who else?”
“Myself and Master Gorin,” Lady Arkyn said from behind as the two of them walked into the room. The blonde half-elf bowed her head slightly. “I heard that since the last time we saw each other, you have been named king of Roegudok Hall.”
“Bah,” Al harrumphed with a quick, dismissive wave. Then he looked up to the mountainous man next to her and nodded at him. “I have heard tales about you and your hammer,” Al said respectfully.
“I have a few tales to tell,” Gorin grinned and slightly inclined his head toward the dwarf. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Al’s face turned sour, the smile melting away to be replaced by a scowl forming under a knit brow. “Someone attempted to murder King Mathias during the banquet,” Al said.
The others gasped and came closer to him in the room. “A juggler, claimed he was from Hornbeak, and then he tried to put a dagger through the king’s heart.”
“Who caught him?” Braun asked.
“I did,” Al replied evenly. “I can throw a knife better than most.” The dwarf shrugged. “Even still, it was close.”
“I thought all of the corrupt senators had been destroyed,” Lady Lokton put in.
Al nodded. “They were, but there are others who would love the chance at taking the throne.”
“And now is the best opportunity to strike,” Gorin said. “With the senate crippled and the king making a show of coming down from his tower as he tries to keep peace in the streets, it is the perfect time for any ambitious group to strike.”
Al nodded. “Quite right.”
The five of them sat in silence for quite some time. Each lost in their own thoughts, worries, and fears while looking for any thread of hope to latch on to. It was Braun who finally broke the quiet.
“What about Lepkin, and Valtuu Temple?” Braun asked.
Al shrugged. “Haven’t heard anything as of yet.”
“We should go there,” Lady Arkyn said. “We could lend our support to Lepkin and the others.”
“Sounds as though the king needs us here, what with people trying to assassinate him and all,” Gorin pointed out. “Though, truth be told, I too would rather be afield than stuck inside these walls,” he added.
The door opened and a heavy pair of boots thumped across the stone floor, coming closer to the drawing room. Lady Arkyn and Gorin glanced to each other and then turned to watch the doorway, expectantly. In walked a captain of the king’s guard. Dressed in his red-rimmed, black plate mail and carrying a small, rolled parchment in his left hand. He pointed the brass-capped scroll at Gorin.
“The king has requested your presence, now.” Then he turned to Lady Arkyn. “You as well.” The captain narrowed his eyes on Al for a moment before arching a brow. “You should come also, King Sit’marihu, the king would appreciate your presence for this next council.”
“Council?” Lady Arkyn repeated.
The captain shook his head. “Not here, the king will tell you everything when you arrive. Please, you are expected immediately.” The captain stepped back to the side and motioned for them to leave the room before him. Al glanced to Lady Arkyn and nodded.
“I’ll call on you again,” Al promised Lady Lokton. She nodded politely in return. Al and the others left the villa and went back to the king’s tower. The captain led them into a small antechamber on the first floor furnished with a short, round table in the center surrounded by a few chairs.
“King Mathias will be in momentarily,” the captain said as he was the first to pull back a chair and sit down. Then he motioned for the others to do the same.
Moments later Grand Master Penthal entered the room and took a seat next to Al.
Al leaned over and whispered. “Any idea what this is about?” Grand Master Penthal held up a pair of fingers and remained tight-lipped. Al could see by the heavy look in Penthal’s eyes that the subject was not going to be pleasant.
King Mathias walked in, holding a couple of loose papers in his hands. Everyone at the table rose to their feet and the king motioned for them to sit. None of them did until he had seated himself. “I have received two disturbing letters,” he began. “Grand Master Penthal, would you care to begin?”
Penthal nodded his head and leaned in on his elbows as he cracked his knuckles in front of his face. Then he took a deep breath and let his hands fall to the table. “Tarthuns have been spotted in the north,” he said flatly. “For now, our forces that remain in Livany have repelled them, but they will try again.”
“How many?” Gorin asked.
“The first wave was only forty, but our scouts report that there are several hundred amassing near the base of the mountains, and possibly many more on the other side of the range. It is impossible to know for sure at this point.” Penthal nodded to the captain, who instantly produced an old map and unrolled it across the table. “Livany is the first defense from this area,” Penthal said as he drew his finger from Livany to the mountains in the east. “There is only one pass in the north that can accommodate any significant numbers wanting to pass through the mountains, and we will have the advantage. The problem, is that in order to keep the Tarthuns at bay, I and the other knights will need to return to Livany. We depart tonight.”
“Then who will augment the king’s guard?” Lady Arkyn asked pointedly.
“I will,” Al guessed. The dwarf king glanced over to King Mathias. “I assume you would request my soldiers to remain here?”
Mathias nodded. “I was hoping you would allow them to bolster my men in the city, until the Tarthuns have been repelled.”
Penthal tapped his finger on the map. “There are seven knights in my order,” he said. “And we each command a company of spearmen and footmen. Altogether we have just over seven hundred warriors at our command. Most of them are veterans, so we do not expect too much trouble.”
“If the Tarthuns have a sizeable reserve coming through the pass, then I could send more warriors to the north to reinforce Livany,” Al said quickly.
“No,” King Mathias said. “If the Tarthuns break through Livany, then it will be left to my soldiers to turn them back.”
“With respect,” Al started. King Mathias held up a hand and slid the other paper forward.
“There is another matter that will require the dwarves’ attention,” King Mathias explained. Al reached out and took the proffered paper. His eyes grew wide as he scanned the words and then he dropped the letter as if it burned his fingers.
“By the Ancients,” he said in a barely audible whisper.
“What is it?” Lady Arkyn asked. Al just shook his head and his mouth drooped open.
“Tu’luh the Red has returned,” Grand Master Penthal said. He pointed to the letter Al had
just read. “This is from Valtuu Temple and it states that…”
Lady Arkyn jumped up from her seat and snatched the letter. She devoured its contents and then slumped back to her chair. “The temple is destroyed,” she gasped. “How can Tu’luh be alive?”
“It matters not how he returned. It matters only that he is here,” King Mathias said. “This is why I cannot ask the dwarves to come north. Lepkin and the others are going south to hunt the dragon. I would ask the dwarves to aid him in that quest.”
“Erik wasn’t able to take the test,” Al said with a shake of his head. “What are we to do now?”
Grand Master Penthal laid a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “My men will hold the north, and yours will go south and slay the beast. Lepkin and the others have him on the run, so now we go to finish him.”
“There is more to it than that,” Al said.
“Where do I go?” Gorin interrupted.
“South,” King Mathias replied. “I want both you and Lady Arkyn to go south and help Lepkin. We must do all we can to slay Tu’luh.”
“And what of the assassination attempt?” Lady Arkyn pointed out. “You have enemies here as well.”
King Mathias nodded. “That is why the dwarves that are here in the city now will stay with me. I trust them, and they are worth four times as many regular guardsmen.”
“Senator Mickelson suggested you name a steward,” the captain reminded him. “Just in case.”
“Why?” Al snipped. “There is no reason to change the line of authority now.”
“Because if anything happens to the king, then we need a ruler,” the captain pointed out. “Lepkin is needed in the south, Grand Master Penthal goes east, and the senate is not complete. There should be a steward appointed in case—”
“No,” King Mathias said definitively. “I already said there will not be a steward. I am king now, and though I may not remember everything as well as I once did, I am still sound. To appoint any of the nobles as a steward would only cause a deeper rift in the kingdom. We all know there is only one noble family that can be fully trusted, and the head of that family is currently in mourning as we speak. I don’t trust any of the others with the power and authority that would come with being a steward over the entire Middle Kingdom. Even if there was an honest enough noble, the others would turn on him. My heir is, and can only be, Master Lepkin. That is the end of it.”