A Tale of Infidels

by Erik A Otto

  Had spirits of the forest somehow unleashed even more irreverence from Nala? But she said it with a smile that forced him to smile back. Maybe he did worry too much.

  After a pause, she acquiesced to his query, at least partially. “If you must know, it’s a waterfall and swimming hole I found in the forest. It’s hard to get to but well worth the trip. And there’s something else that…well…should still be a surprise. You’ll enjoy it.”

  The path became steeper, less trodden, covered with grasses, and eventually difficult to discern at all. Nala continued rapidly without pause. Sebastian noticed that a frown, or perhaps a look of concern, had contaminated Timothur’s usually blank facial expression. Perenna showed no sign of distress, however, and Hebert was too far behind to see.

  Eventually, Sebastian was relieved to hear the sound of rushing water. They walked up a rise where they could see through to a sizeable waterfall and pool in the center of a large opening.

  Nala was ecstatic. “See! Tie your horses here. We need to climb down the cliffside.”

  The descent wasn’t steep, and several ledges were situated conveniently to help them navigate the ten-foot drop. This led them to a big terrace of open sand, which Nala pranced around on while the others made their way down less daintily.

  As Nala twirled around, she took off her clothes one piece a time. With only undergarments remaining, she ran and jumped in the pool under the waterfall. Sebastian, Timothur and Hebert proceeded to do the same, albeit with less enthusiasm. Perenna decided to remain dressed, but she joined them in the water regardless.

  They swam and even splashed one another playfully for a while, although Timothur seemed to think it unbecoming and Perenna kept her distance. One couldn’t help but enjoy the water and fresh air. After an exuberant swim, Sebastian lay down on the warm, sandy terrace.

  Another layer of tension from the day of exams seemed to peel away.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what the surprise is?” Sebastian felt a drop on his face and opened his eyes to see Nala standing over him, dripping from her latest foray into the water. Sebastian had been so relaxed, he’d forgotten about the other surprise. But before he could ask about it, Nala was running away. “Follow me!” she said as she dived in again.

  Sebastian looked at Timothur and Perenna, who shrugged and stood up as well. They all followed Nala more slowly into the water.

  Nala swam close to the waterfall. Sebastian wasn’t sure how dangerous it would be under the water, but it looked powerful enough to push someone under, and who knew what could drop from above? Nala navigated around the torrent and landed at a rock shelf on the other side that had been concealed by the mist from the waterfall. The four of them followed her cautiously, being careful to sense any currents that might pull them under the falls.

  They all made it to the other side and helped one another out of the water. Nala had already proceeded along the cliff face and through a small corridor carved into the earth. They could hear her say, “Over here!”

  The corridor ran up onto the edge of a broad plain and revealed Nala’s surprise.

  It was a ruin.

  Not just any ruin—a Forefather ruin. You could tell because it was laden with projections and wall structures made of silverstone rather than just bone, wood, and dirt. The silverstone formed shiny stalagmite-like objects, representing an occasional structural post, wall or foundation punctuating the landscape. As far as Sebastian knew, all the Forefather ruins, with the exception of a few protected sites, had been removed by the Fringe or the Sandaliers long ago. It looked like some attempt had been made to take it apart if he could judge by the few odd stacks of silverstone beams, yet many walls remained.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Nala said, opening her arms to the site.

  Perenna and Timothur exchanged uncomfortable glances with each other, and Timothur’s squire looked like he’d just seen Matteo himself.

  Chapter 5

  The Traitor

  “Dinner is served ma’am,” the maid said from outside her bedchamber door.

  “Yes, thank you. I’ll be down in a minute,” Hella responded.

  Hella was sitting in front of her full-length mirror with her hands folded neatly on her lap, cocking her head left and right. Her reflection revealed a full-length red satin dress with a fuchsia and white blouse. Topping her crown was a swirled red and black bonnet.

  It was a risky outfit, one of her many clothing experiments that were such a bane to her poor mother. Many would gawk, but she knew it went well with her auburn hair and gold-flecked brown eyes. Let them gawk, she thought. Someday they would appreciate her fashion alchemy.

  She entered the dining hall via the balcony area one level above. Here she could assess the guests from some altitude. There were fewer than she’d imagined for her pre-Announcement meal, only about twenty-five or so. In front of them the table was full of the appropriate variety of gourmet foods, and in the corner the minstrels thrummed a playful tune.

  She made her way down the spiral stairs with her head held high, pretending to ignore but actually paying close attention to the stares she received from the dining hall. Of her siblings, only Aisha cast a glance her way, while Landon and Petra were embroiled in a lively conversation with the nobility. Everyone else seemed to be similarly wrapped up in conversation. There was one dashing man with striking blue-green eyes who did look her way, though. Mission accomplished, she thought triumphantly.

  She took her seat next to Aisha, who made an effort to be courteous in her brash way, standing on her crutch and clumsily scraping the chair back along the ground to make room for her sister. She wasn’t wearing her mock leg today, an absence Hella had seen more of in recent days. Aisha usually said it was the pain or that it was getting “adjusted.” Hella thought it more likely some form of rebellion. Either way, it wasn’t befitting Pomerian royalty to reveal one’s missing limb, that’s for sure. Soon the reprimand for impropriety would come, whether directly from mother or through some indirect removal of privilege.

  Hella said, “I missed you this afternoon on my ride, Sister. Were you preoccupied with your maths again?” As delegated treasurer for the royal family, Aisha had been thrust headfirst into the finances for the kingdom. While it wasn’t clear she enjoyed it, she certainly had an aptitude for it.

  “Indeed, Sister. While you were riding Colfax, I had the joy of being spurred by our many creditors.”

  Hella laughed. “I would like to see that, in truth, but knowing you, I’m sure it is they who will look like horses asses at the end of the day.”

  Aisha tilted her head to the side and smiled half-heartedly.

  Hella began nibbling on a bread roll while taking inventory of the room. Her brother Landon and sister Petra were positioned strategically at opposite sides of the middle of the table, with the evening’s assortment of privileged nobles, merchants, and militia scattered about them.

  At the head of the table, Father’s chair was vacant. It wasn’t a good sign for her Announcement.

  “Let me guess. Father had to go to Tardiff again,” Hella whispered to Aisha.

  “I’m sorry, Hella. Not Tardiff, though. Some kind of border dispute with Valdera,” Aisha said.

  Father would miss her Announcement for a border dispute with the Valderans? What a joke. Why would he want to bicker over borders around lands that even the Valderans didn’t want anymore? But she knew not to take the king’s absence too seriously. Father had missed Aisha and Petra’s Announcements as well. In fact, he rarely showed up for anything, except to take Landon out hunting.

  The seat beside Father’s empty chair was still properly occupied by her mother, Queen Ingrid Pomerain, who looked regally attired. To each side of her were noblemen. Hella recognized them as the western regents she’d seen loitering about from time to time at royal functions. Her mother crooned and smiled and touched their arms.

  Hella tried to discern a pattern to the guests of the evening. One could sometimes divine the nature of
the Announcement based on which guests were invited to the preceding evening meal. High-ranking bankers and financial guild members were there for Aisha’s appointment as treasurer for the royal family. And for Petra’s engagement to the heir of the Kennesly family of Belidor, much of the Kennesly family was there, as well as Belidoran dignitaries, tradesmen, and even a Thelonian envoy.

  But what tapestry did today’s guests paint for Hella’s Announcement? It infuriated her to no end that she had to guess at the intricate plans of her own mother and father. To make matters worse, their advisers and a number of noblemen surely knew what the Announcement was about. All she could do was try to find some hint in the tea leaves of the evening.

  If she recalled correctly, the two noblemen at the end of the table came from the less wealthy provinces of Pomeria to the west, near the Jawhari border. One of the merchants in the middle of the table she knew as well. He was a slippery fellow named Vandy Banner, who, besides being one of the key horse traders of Pomer City, was known as a gossipmonger and tale-teller. Perhaps he was here to spread news of the Announcement throughout Pomeria and beyond. Then there was the man with the piercing eyes who had noticed her on the stairs. He was dapper-looking, wearing a tight-fitting Belidoran military uniform. She noticed a crest on his wrist that looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it exactly. The other guests she’d rarely seen and didn’t know their names.

  So far, finding a pattern was proving elusive.

  Before hearing about her Announcement, she was beginning to believe her parents had forgotten about her entirely. She’d even started to give credence to what others had been saying about her impetuous ways reflecting poorly on the family, that as a result she might be pushed aside for any formal title or marriage.

  She felt an ounce of compassion for her elder brother Landon, who hadn’t had any Announcement either. But as the only sibling whom Father seemed to pay attention to, and the heir to the throne, more likely they were saving something more grandiose for him. When she looked over at him, he was being as charismatic and dashing as ever—the guests eating from the palm of his hand.

  Would she be a maiden host for key dignitaries or an envoy to Thelonia or Belidor? It was impossible to know. She had to try to instigate or infiltrate conversations, as the case may be. Maybe there would be some revealing slips of the tongue.

  To the right of her, the conversation seemed to pertain to the latest ordainments of the Belidoran Sandalier order. The horse trader Vandy Banner and a rather plump guildsmen were leading this conversation, but it was mostly one-sided. Vandy was listening politely but Hella could tell he was barely attentive.

  Discussing the fate of priests would surely put her to sleep as well, so her focus moved on.

  She rose from her seat and moved closer to the noblemen who sat next to her mother, hoping for something more lively. Her mother introduced her. “And here is my daughter, Hella, who as you know will be the subject of the Announcement this evening. Welcome, Hella. These are good Sirs Pontrain and Veckio.”

  Hella did her best graceful bow and said, “I’m honored and glad you could join us this evening.”

  The response wasn’t what she’d expected. They greeted her formally with delicate nods, but their eyes bulged, and they seemed to say their greetings as meek whispers. Was it her colorful hat?

  Her mother interjected, tactfully returning to their conversation. “You were saying, Mr. Pontrain?”

  “Yes, certainly,” Mr. Pontrain said, his crop of curly hair bouncing on his scalp. Hella had seen him at the palace a few times. He was an intense man, always red in the face. “After the Deep Well Bridge was completed we informed the Jawhari of the issue. Since then there have been no direct incursions in the hills. These incursions never crossed the border, mind you, but they seem to be in places that no man would want to be. With no farms, streams, or forests nearby, why would they be skulking around unless to scout the border? Perhaps it’s a coincidence, but it hasn’t happened in ten years as far as I can recall. Our Jawhari contacts across the Deep Well claim there’s nothing to it, of course.”

  “And you, Mr. Veckio,” her mother asked while turning her head only. Her posture was stiff and her hands were cradled immaculately on her lap. “What does the Sea of Pomer divine for you?”

  With rough, patchy skin and a flat face, Veckio was not a handsome man. He said, “Our sea scopes do not extend far, your eminence, so we cannot see the Jawhari shore from our port, but we did have my son probe more closely with a fisherman one day. There certainly weren’t any scouts to see on the shores. Strangely, though, there was no sign of anyone tending the Jawhari fields, and the animals seemed to have fled. One farm was even turned to ash, burned out some time ago. I’m not sure what to make of it. It was only one stretch of shore and could be nothing.”

  Her mother nodded and smiled. “Gentlemen, even seeing nothing is something. We should be wary of any sign, or even a lack of signs, when it comes to the Jawhari. Thank you.” She turned back to Mr. Pontrain. “Now, how fare the armaments improvements along the Deep Well? I’m sure General Granth will want to hear of our work to defend the realm.”

  General Granth! That must be the dashing man Hella had seen from the stairs. The Granths were a powerful family of Belidoran nobles with a strong military tradition, known for their deep blue-green eyes. If she recalled correctly, there were two Granth brothers; Vanaden and Timothur. The general was the older brother, named Vanaden.

  Hella was tiring of the blasé Jawhari-border conversation, and besides, she was suddenly much more intrigued by their Belidoran guest. She stood up, did a curtsy, and headed back to her seat. Here she could lean into the third conversation in the middle of the table.

  Petra and Landon dominated the discourse. They were debating the name of a soup on the table that had a base of Cenaran clams. It was one of the more eclectic dishes, brought out in a large container that looked ornate and festive enough, but not far removed from a stable bucket. Landon had offered “Snail pail bisque” as a name, making him erupt in laughter. The Cenarans were often called snails due to their hairless and tattooed bodies, not to mention their proximity to the Snail Mountains. His quip was only a bit clever, maybe vaguely funny, but his high-pitched cackle was so contagious that the others joined in. Such was Landon’s charm.

  Hella caught Vanaden’s eye as they laughed. He was tall and sturdy, looking a good ten years her senior. His hair fell to the sides, almost like a girl’s, but it didn’t make him look like one at all, as his face was full of robust lines. When he turned her way, she saw those Granth eyes again. They were almost azure but at the same time with greenish texture on the contours of the irises, like the verdure of the palace gardens. Hella had never seen anyone with such deep blue eyes. Those were the trademark of the Granths, though, and in person, she had to admit they lived up to the tales she’d heard.

  She couldn’t help herself from feeling skittish. Hella always tried to feign disinterest when girls would gossip about eligible men in Belidor, and sometimes she would actively refuse to hear such trivialities, but even if she turned her ear away a hundred times, it wasn’t enough to avoid hearing about Vanaden Granth. So here was a handsome man from an honorable family, right in front of her. And she had to consider the possibility, however slight, that she was being offered up for marriage to this man. Her sister Petra had been offered to the Kennesly heir recently. Why not Hella to a storied general? It would indeed be an appropriate topic for her Announcement.

  She did her best to maintain her composure while offering an introductory smile to the general. He reciprocated with a wry grin.

  “What brings you to Pomeria, sir?” Hella asked.

  “The good company of the Pomerians and the Announcement this evening, of course. Tell me, Princess, is it true that you aren’t aware of the outcome? Such an odd tradition—I thought for sure it would be scripted.”

  His eyes continued to unhinge her, making his words register late. When they
did, she wondered why he would ask such a thing. She knew that some foreigners lacked for manners, but couldn’t he see that pointing out her ignorance would be perceived as a slight? Whatever the reason, she decided to turn the tables. Since he wasn’t mindful of Pomerian custom, maybe he would offer her some information on her Announcement unwittingly.

  “It’s true, sir,” Hella said. “I don’t know anything of the outcome. Perchance you will enlighten me?”

  He seemed unperturbed by the question. “It’s a strange custom, but I’m a guest of Pomeria, and so it would be discourteous to break it.” He ended the sentence with his grin fading.

  The general took a bite of lamb, chewed it for a moment, and then spoke through speckled teeth. “Tell me, Princess, what do you think it will be, then, your Announcement?”

  There he was again, continuing on this path that was exposing her ignorance. “I don’t know. I can only hope it is befitting of a princess, sir.”

  “Do you think it might be a pairing with a nobleman?”

  “It…could be.” Surely he must know what she suspected. Was he trying to hint at the outcome? Was he trying to let her know that what she suspected might be true?

  She had made it clear to her parents she didn’t want to be married off, preferring a diplomatic career first, but as she pondered the possibility of a pairing with the general, she realized it would at least be an Announcement that marked her worth to the realm.

  On the other hand, an envoy station in Belidor was what she’d always wanted. She would be able to show her use to the monarchy, and it would give her more time to learn about the world outside the confines of the oppressive palace. Perhaps she could even find a mate of her choice, a partner who suited her. Despite Vanaden’s dashing looks, she knew that in among the gossip, she’d heard other things about the Granth clan, inklings of short tempers, arrogance, and violence. Even though these rumors were likely just teenage trifles, they were enough to make her cautious.