Hearing this, Emel hesitantly turned to look back at her, a thing he shouldn’t have done. He couldn’t wander long in her eyes without giving in to her desires.
Adrina repeated her plea and Emel swallowed a bit of his pride. “If I tell you the rest of what I know, do you promise to tell no one and can I rely on your word and swear you to secrecy?”
Adrina nodded.
“No, I want to hear you say it.”
“I promise, Emel, I will tell no one.”
“Not even the Lady Isador?”
“Not even Lady Isador.”
“Remember your promise, and that you are only as good as your word.” Emel was hesitant to say more, but he began again just the same. “The rumors of unrest are true. I mean really true.”
He was excited now and did nothing to hide it.
“King Jarom is supposedly behind it all, that is according to that page of King Charles, if you can believe him. He seemed the trustworthy type though. Yet, his kingdom is at stake. Quashan’ garrison is to be roused to full alert status. Can you believe it? I’d give anything be in South Province now. Wow!
“That’s it though, I don’t know any more. I could get into real trouble for telling you this.”
“I will tell no one,” Adrina said, hiding hints of elation in a steady tone.
Emel eyed her.
“Really, I will tell no one, you have my word.”
Adrina touched a spontaneous kiss to Emel’s cheek and walked away, extremely pleased with herself. She tidied this away with rumors of the Bandit Kingdom’s insurgencies around the northern borderlands—proof again that life beyond Imtal was exciting and vibrant. She knew enough about the Alliance of Kingdoms to know that the chances of war were slim, but some good strife always mixed things up a bit. Attendance of court would be more exciting if she knew angry words were going to flare.
The bitter place in King Jarom’s mouth for the Great Kingdom was well known and goading this along would bring her distinct pleasure, if given the chance. She wouldn’t let it get too far though, just enough to stir things up. It was about time that Andrew showed the Minors to their proper place.
Adrina descended a long flowing stairway that lead down into the central gardens and moved along its paths without seeing much of what she passed. When she reached the far end, Adrina stopped for a moment and looked back toward the upper balcony. Barely visible amidst the deepening shadows was a single figure bent over the railing with arms crossed. Adrina knew it was Emel and she paused for a moment more. The conversation they had just had hadn’t been a conversation between good friends. She had always intended to make up for what she had done to him, but the time had never seemed right.
Feeling tired, the day at an end, Adrina returned to her chambers where she was sure Lady Isador waited. Having avoided the old woman all day, she could endure just about anything right now.
Chapter Four:
Discovery
Imtal palace held an unusual silence even for the late hour of the night. Adrina tossed and turned, enduring a fitful dream from which she had awoken more than once. Dreams had descended upon her normally soft world of slumber of late—one in particular had plagued her sleep for many weeks, though she told no one. On this particular night voices in the hall passing her door wrested her from sleep. The old chancellor with his coughs and sneezes—which at one time she had thought of as endearing, though not now—was the next to pass, followed by the low, baritone moaning of Father Tenuus.
“Sire, please wake,” called out Chancellor Yi with much reverence, “Keeper Martin wishes to speak with you.”
“A keeper,” said King Andrew, rising up in his bed with a slow persistence determined by old age. “At this hour? What is a keeper doing here at this hour?”
“Please sire, Keeper Martin says it is a matter of utmost import.”
The monarch stretched arms to full length and began his long, slow turn to put feet to floor, causing the chancellor to scramble for the royal slippers.
“Keeper Martin did you say?”
“Yes sire, Keeper Martin, head of all the Keepers of the Lore,” said Yi, sighing with relief, as he just barely placed the slippers beneath his sire’s feet as the king touched them to the hard floor.
“What is Keeper Martin doing here at this hour?” King Andrew cleared sleep from his eyes. “A king needs his sleep you know, especially at my age.”
“I assure you sire, I wouldn’t wake you unless it was a matter of import—which I am assured it is—though the keeper would not address the matter directly, sire. There is a look about him, as if he has just returned from a very long journey—a look of fatigue in the eyes, an unkempt beard. It is unlike Keeper Martin to have an unkempt beard.
“He wishes to speak to you alone. Rather mysterious, I must say. I will go talk to him if it is your wish, sire, and tell him to come back at a more appropriate time.”
The king raised a hand to the chancellor’s shoulder, using it to lift heavy bones from his plush bed. “There will be no need, Chancellor Yi. I am already roused. Tell him I will be along presently.”
Father Tenuus shot a worried scowl to the chancellor as the two returned to the hall.
“I told you we should have waited a few more hours,” he said in his lowest baritone voice. “Who is it that is here again, Keeper Q’yer or Keeper Martin, I always get the two mixed—”
“Come along, and lower your voice!” said the chancellor.
“Oh, that’s right, the Keeper Q’yer is that nice, younger man. Keeper Martin is distinguished and graying… His hair, that is… It must be Keeper Martin that has arrived.”
“You’re the one that’s graying, and it’s not your hair,” said Chancellor Yi in a barely audible voice as he strode away down the hall. Father Tenuus had managed to annoy him as usual and he drowned the other’s further comments by blowing his reddened nose a few dozen times into a long white handkerchief.
Further disturbed by the boisterous voices in the hall, the young princess had listened with great enthusiasm. Images of the troubled dream quickly fell away as she waited until the two old men passed by her door. A keeper here in the palace—and especially at this hour—was a sure sign of trouble. For an instant, she was almost sorry her wish had come true, but she quickly waved that off. Anything that brought a breath of life into Imtal Palace was more than welcome.
The balcony overlooking the entrance hall was not far from her chambers. After she pulled a robe loosely over her shoulders, she ran to it. A flood of thoughts exploded through her young mind and several expressions of glee escaped her anxious lips during the brief walk.
While she looked on, a still drowsy king greeted the great Lore Keeper. She chuckled a bit at her father’s dowdy appearance in his night robe and slippers, and at the gauche waddle due to the slickness of the smooth floor. The special significance of the meeting struck—especially when private chambers were entered without Chancellor Yi. This was further compounded by the arrival of a second visitor shortly after the two had entered the chamber and closed the door.
To get a better view of the newcomer, Adrina had to slip from the shadows of the balcony, for his back already had been turned to her when she spotted him. The distinct robes of his office were an easy clue as to who the man was as he removed his riding cloak and wrapped it over his arm. Father Jacob was first minister to King Andrew, head of the priesthood, and there was no mistaking the great swirling circles of white that decorated the sleeves of his otherwise black robe.
A visit by both men, especially at this late hour, was unprecedented and in her mind Adrina found only one answer.
“War,” she whispered in reverent tones. The Minors were at war.
As she waited, Adrina slipped into an uneasy slumber and it was some hours later that a distant voice called out in her ear “Your Highness, Princess Adrina?”
Grudgingly, Adrina stirred. Her room was so dark, the world so blurry. It couldn’t have been day. She closed her eyes and attempted to return
to sleep.
“Are you all right, princess?”
Adrina recognized the voice of the burly captain of the guard now. She felt his hands on her legs and screamed. The scream, a long and high-pitched wail, brought guards from down the hall and Lady Isador, and roused King Andrew from his bed a second time.
“Get your hands off me! Go away!”
“I think you should come with me, princess,” said Captain Brodst.
Again he attempted to help her up. Again she screamed.
Motherly Lady Isador came barreling toward the captain screaming, “Hurry, hurry!” to the guards that were right behind her.
“Get your hands off her. Guards, guards!” she continued.
Eyes wide, Adrina watched Lady Isador tangle with Captain Brodst.
From down the hall, she heard her father’s moaning and the clamor of heavy feet running toward her. Suddenly she realized she was lying in the hallway beside the balcony. She slapped a hand to her mouth as the events of last night came flooding back to her—the voices in the hall, Keeper Martin and Father Jacob’s unprecedented visit.
“By the Mother,” Adrina whispered as she broke out in laughter. The scene was comical. Her lying in the hall. Small-statured Lady Isador barreling down on the burly captain. Her father waddling down the hall in his night slippers. Guards running to her rescue.
Lady Isador stopped wrestling with the captain and stared at Adrina.
“She’s lost her mind.” The governess gasped.
Lady Isador swept Adrina up in a motherly, smothering embrace.
“You oaf,” she screamed at Captain Brodst, “what did you think you were doing?”
King Andrew stopped directly in front of Adrina and Isador, and then turned to stare at the captain. Uneasily four guardsmen were pointing their long spears at Captain Brodst. One of the guardsmen’s hands was shaking so violently that the spear was swaying back and forth mightily.
Embarrassment replaced Adrina’s cheer. She had no idea how she would diffuse the situation. She looked from the captain to the guards to King Andrew to Lady Isador. Apparently, no one else knew what to do either. The guards maintained their stance, spears pointing at their beloved captain. King Andrew scratched his head and attempted to wipe sleep from his tired eyes. Lady Isador was trying to hug the life out of her. Captain Brodst was staring down the four guardsmen, almost tempting them to charge.
Adrina let Lady Isador help her to her feet and then she walked toward Captain Brodst and took his hand.
“Thank you,” she said, “will you escort me to my chambers now?”
The captain walked her to her chambers, where Adrina thanked him again, then closed the door. For five days afterward no mention of the incident was made to her, though she did notice that any time Captain Brodst came near Lady Isador he became very defensive. When this happened, Adrina would hide a smile with her hand and usually Captain Brodst would turn away, an irritated look in his eye.
Adrina spent those days trying to piece together what had transpired behind closed chamber doors the night of the unexpected visit. That is, when Lady Isador or Chancellor Yi weren’t giving her lessons on courtship and etiquette, and discounting the horrible day she spent with Rudden Klaiveson. The more she probed for answers, the more intrigued she became. No one in the whole of Imtal Palace would talk about the visit—Emel included.
She was working on a plan to change that. Emel would talk. She had only to find the right time and the right words.
Across a vast open courtyard, on the far side of the summer parade grounds, lay the palace stables. Performing his perfunctory duties as acting sergeant delayed Emel and by the time he arrived at the palace stables the others of his company had been and gone.
His steed, fittingly dubbed Ebony Lightning because it was jet black and could outpace even stallions bred for the king’s swiftest messengers, still waited in its stall. He had known the appointed time of first formation and so he had not hurried—then he had still had a full half hour.
There was a reason Ebony Lightning was the swiftest steed in Imtal Proper and maybe even in all the land, and that was because of the special bond between horse and rider. Before and after every ride, Emel rubbed the horse down from the poll of its head to the dock of its tail, up and down each powerful leg. In his proud eyes Ebony was the tallest stallion in all the lands high, and when Emel rode him it was from this height that he looked down upon the world.
Emel would have given anything to be like the Kingdom huntsmen, free like the four winds. His skills as a tracker stemmed from these desires. He had even pulled several short assignments at High Road Garrison—the last being during the past winter and spring—which allowed him to exercise these desires. He had not been able to take Ebony Lightning with him then, but now things were different—since the animal was from the king’s stocks and, while he had cared for the great steed for many years and been its only rider, it was only recently that he had been given the horse, a reward for services rendered.
He was putting the finishing touches on the rubdown when Adrina found him. Now he could only watch from afar as the other riders began to file through the outer palace gates and listen to the ridemaster’s call, knowing the evident anger in the tone.
From the expression in her eyes and the saddlebags beside her, Emel knew without doubt what she wanted, yet he maintained his plea one last time.
“Adrina, I will say this one more time, please give me back the harness and let me go. They’re passing through the palace gates. Damn you and your foolishness.”
Adrina batted thick eyelashes. “Emel, please, I want to go riding with you. I’ll have my father talk to the ridemaster if need be.”
“Adrina, it’s not the ridemaster I’m worried about. Now let me go.”
Adrina dangled the harness in front of him, the only harness that remained in the stables—as far as Emel knew. Adrina had carefully hidden the others.
“No, not until you say yes.”
“I’m late and I am going to be in trouble.” Emel was clearly flustered.
“Just ask, my horse is already saddled, I won’t complain or anything, I promise. I’ll even be quiet. I won’t say a word the entire way. You know how much I want to leave the palace… It’s so dead, Emel, it’s all dead… I see nothing but these damned gray walls and all I want to do is scream, shout at the top of my lungs and curse the whole of the world.”
There was evident sadness in her words and Emel understood it. He understood what it was to be swallowed by the sense of loss, to mourn for so long that all you remembered was the sadness—forever retreating to that hollow place in the pit of your gut where sadness swells from—yet his oath was to the Kingdom and not to her.
Also, he had sudden visions of spending another winter and spring at High Road Garrison.
“I never hit a girl before, but if I have to, I will,” said Emel.
“I am not a girl, I am a woman, and I… if you hit me—” The princess paused. Still determined, she continued with a cool tone that was almost callous, “If you hit me, I’ll hit you back.”
Emel believed her. She had been trained in hand-to-hand combat the same as he had—an actuality that Adrina was proud of—and the fact that she had bested him once or twice on the competition field led him to believe that she could be capable of it again.
“Okay, you win, I’ll ask. Now let’s hurry,” said Emel, hoping to snatch the harness from relaxed hands, and that is just what he did. He put the harness in place and was in the saddle nearly as fast as the wind—by his standards—but, by the time that he had finished, the persistent princess had her mount.
“Adrina, please, just forget it.”
“I’ve never been on an adventure. I’m all set for excitement,” answered Adrina, pleading her case with the tone of her voice, still holding to the melodramatic.
“We aren’t actually leaving until tomorrow. Today was to be practice. There are a dozen other guardsmen who will willingly take my position.
Please just leave me alone. I have to show the ridemaster I know what I am doing. Besides, the ride to Alderan City on the edge of West Deep is hardly an adventure. I’ll be back in a few weeks. I’ll take you riding then.”
“I don’t care, I just want to be away, as far away from Imtal as possible. Besides, I know something of the reason we are going to Alderan by the sea.”
Adrina directed her eyes at him—it was mostly true.
“We aren’t going. I am going. If I don’t hurry, I’ll miss my chance too. Ridemaster Gabrylle is sure to be angry.”
Adrina knew the departure was shrouded in secrecy. Ridemaster Gabrylle had been told to make the journey look like training for the young palace ridesmen. Adrina had heard this from a kitchen cook that bedded the ridemaster. She owed the rather large woman a string of favors for the telling.
Kingdoms and the Elves of the Reaches: Omnibus Page 6