by John Lenahan
‘I don’t have to spy on you, Conor. All I have to do is ask you a question – you’re a crappy liar.’
‘Thanks… I think.’
‘So what did you two talk about?’
‘Well, if you must know, he talked about how my Uncle Cialtie had mucked up his life. I hate to say it but I’m starting to think that maybe Turlow isn’t such a bad guy. I mean he’s still a pompous jerk but maybe I should cut him a little slack.’
‘Maybe,’ Brendan said thoughtfully.
‘What da ya mean maybe? You told me you liked the guy.’
‘I did until he lied to me today.’
‘What? Did he say he liked your shirt? Because you are right, that would be a lie.’
After an appropriately dirty look, Brendan said, ‘I didn’t sleep well last night. Those Brownies bother me.’
‘Yeah, I wasn’t too pleased with the thought of them up in the trees myself.’
‘No, it wasn’t that,’ Brendan said. He flexed his fingers into and out of a fist. It was the thing he did when he was trying to figure something out. ‘It’s like when I’m in an interrogation room and there is something I am missing but I don’t know what. That’s what it’s like when the Brownies are around.’
‘Well, if you suspect them of stealing something you’re probably right. But what’s this got to do with Turd-low?’
‘I got up last night to relieve myself and saw Turlow talking to that Brownie fellow. When they saw me the Brownie scooted back into the tree – fast – and Turlow looked mighty guilty when he walked back to the fire.’
‘What do you think they were talking about?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. When I mentioned it to Turlow after lunch, he denied it. When I pointed out to him that I saw the two of them together, he suddenly remembered and said that Dell had just come down from the trees to relieve himself and he only passed a casual greeting with him.’
‘It sounds like there were a lot of weak bladders roaming around last night. How do you know he’s not telling you the truth?’
‘I don’t really,’ he said with a sigh. ‘It’s just that… something isn’t right here and I’m not going to sleep well until I figure it out.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
King Bwika
After their afternoon tea, the Brownies resumed the lead – this time at a walk. Yogi once again offered them his mount but they declined and continued like it was a Sunday stroll in the park. At dusk they announced that it was time to break for dinner. Essa freaked out on them but they ignored her and started a fire. When Essa refused to give them any of our food they opened their packs and cooked their own. Everyone else resigned themselves to the Brownies’ erratic schedule and dismounted. Finally Essa did too and we began to make camp while the Brownies ate their dinner – which they didn’t share.
We were just ready to start cooking our food when Dell said, ‘Let’s go.’
‘Now?’ Essa shrieked.
‘Of course,’ the Brownie said. ‘Fearn Keep is just a short way down this path.’
‘Then why did we just break for dinner?’ Essa asked in a tone that made me step out of her way.
‘Because it was dinner time,’ the Brownie said, not realising just how close to death he was.
We all walked on foot in pitch blackness for no more than fifteen minutes before we saw the first glimmer of light from Fearn Keep. I’d like to be able to describe what the Brownie castle looked like but I never really got a good look at it from the outside. There were lights in a dozen or so windows over what seemed like a vast structure but other than that nothing was visible. It was like a blackout street in London during the Blitz. As I got closer I saw that many windows were in fact blacked out with dark draperies that were only faintly outlined by the light within. Welcoming it was not.
Sentries popped out of the blackness like answers on a magic 8-ball. We were expected but I didn’t get the feeling we were wanted.
Across an old-fashioned drawbridge over what I imagined to be an alligator-filled moat, we entered the castle. Dell and what’s-his-name left us without as much as a ‘Bye bye’. The sentries escorted us to four sparse rooms. ="0%"›
No one came to greet us that night. Turlow and Essa each took a separate room, forcing Brendan and me to share a bed. Yogi agreed to sleep in bear form on the floor in Tuan’s room. I’m glad it wasn’t in my room. I’d hate to think what would happen if I woke up in the night and stepped on his paw. We all met before we went to bed and tried to decide if something was amiss or if this was standard Brownie hospitality.
‘Our Brownie guides deliberately slowed us down today,’ Araf said. ‘I believe they didn’t want us to see Fearn Keep in the daylight.’
‘OK, but why?’
‘I didn’t say I had all of the answers,’ Araf replied.
‘What do you think, Turlow?’ Brendan asked.
‘I too think this greeting is strange but apparently strange is the way of the Brownie. I say we sleep on it and see what the morrow brings.’
Back in the room I asked Brendan what his uber-cop senses deduced from Turlow’s answer. ‘Either he is a good liar,’ he said, ‘or he doesn’t know anything.’
‘So, nothing then.’
Brendan conceded my point with a nod.
I dreamt that night Cialtie was talking to the invisible man. I strained to hear what they were saying but, as in the way of dreams, I couldn’t quite make it out. I awoke wondering what I had done to my ego to make myself the invisible man. I worried that my dream was a prediction and I would soon be face to face with my murdering uncle.
We found breakfast outside our doors – water and a couple of apples. Even though apples in The Land are practically my favourite things to eat, it wasn’t like the Brownies knocked themselves out organising a menu.
After our hearty meal, Brendan suggested that we take a stroll outside to test Araf’s theory. Sure enough an armed guard at the end of our corridor informed us that we had to wait in our rooms for information about an audience with the King. I said I understood but just wanted a quick nip of fresh air, but apparently nips or strolls were out of the question.
As we walked back to our room Brendan said, ‘I’m feeling less like a guest and more like an inmate.’
About a half an hour later Essa came back fuming after an attempt to get past the guards. ‘I am going to personally make sure that these people never get a drop of wine from the House of Muhn ever again.’ That was a fate she hadn’t even bestowed on me – and I’d dumped her.
After a lunch of, you guessed it, apples and water, a guard arrived and informed us that the King would grant us an audience in two hours. Essa was fit to burst. Actually, everybody was pretty peeved, including me. And you know me, I don’t like all of the special royal treatment, but these guys were rude on any scale.
Brendan sidled up next to me and whispered in my ear. ‘Do you notice that Turlow is taking this in his stride?’
I hadn’t, but now that he mentioned it, Turlow didn’t look put out at all. Now, I don’t know T Turlow very well but he doesn’t seem to me to be like the kind of royal who lets a snub slide, but there he was sitting with an ‘oh well’ look on his face.
Three hours later an honour guard showed up and informed us that the King would see us now. Araf respectfully asked if he could be excused from the audience due to a foot injury that he sustained the day before. It was the first I had heard about it.
‘Are you OK, big guy? Why didn’t you tell us before?’
‘I did not wish to burden the group. It is nothing, Conor. It would simply be uncomfortable for me to stand for a long period. You go ahead.’
I was worried about my Imp buddy. He had never once complained about anything and I’d seen him get hit in the head with rocks. I was about to speak again, when he gave me a slight shake of the head that stopped the words in my throat. He was up to something and now was not the time to find out what.
‘You take it easy, pal,’
I said, patting him on his rock-like arms. ‘Take a load off your feet.’
We were escorted through a series of damp hallways. Even though I wouldn’t want to live here, I really liked the look of Fearn Keep. It was like a castle from an old black and white horror film. The walls were made of dark, rough stone built into long, not quite straight, corridors. Torchlight threw dancing shadows through periodic archways, making each corner feel like a place where a vampire might pop out.
We arrived at an open room and were instructed to wait at huge alder wood double doors. On the doors was carved a relief of an alder tree growing on top of a hill that seemed very much like the mound that Castle Duir was built on. A bulky Brownie informed us that we would have to be searched before entering the Hall of the Fearn Throne. Essa by this time was livid and threatened to break any finger that touched her. I pleaded with her to calm down. I pointed out that the last time the Brownies came to Castle Duir I had their luggage searched and this was probably retaliation for that. It took me about five minutes but she finally allowed herself to be frisked. Watching that guy pat her down was one of the tensest moments of my life. Turlow produced and unhooked his Banshee blade and surrendered it without a word. The guard found my throwing blade in my sock. I really had forgotten it was there but the guard didn’t look like he believed me. I handed it to him and asked for a receipt. I got a blank stare worthy of Araf.
King Bwika’s throne room didn’t disappoint. It was as spooky and as overblown as I expected it to be. There were huge tapestries, long rugs, ranks of soldiers in full armour standing at attention and a built-up platform on which the King sat, looking like a fat little kid, in a huge wooden throne. There were no other chairs. On either side of the King stood a dozen or so advisers.
We approached slowly on a long red carpet. Even though I am sure it was designed to be intimidating, I had a hard time not snickering. Long before we reached a comfortable conversational distance the King shouted, ‘Prince of Duir.’ I looked around to everybody, grimaced and stepped lively to the fore.
When I got to the bottom of the dais I bowed a low one and said, ‘My lord, greeting in the name of the House of-’
‘You think because you are of Duir you can sneak around my lands at will?’
‘Uh, um,’ was all I got out. I know it’s rare for me but I was at a loss for words. What should I do? I was pretty sure that he shouldn’t have been talking to me like that. I wondered if he would respect me if I stood up for myself, or maybe grovelling was the right way to go. I had no problem with grovelling; I really didn’t want to be kicked out of the kingdom, or for that matter executed. I really, really didn’t want to be executed. I decided to go for a good bow and scrape.
‘I meant no disrespect, Your Highness, and had no intention to trespass.’ I produced the gold bar. ‘See, I have brought you a tribute and have come on a matter of great import.’
The little flash of gold broke his concentration for a second. He motioned to someone on his right and a young man came down the steps to take the gold bar. As he got closer I saw it was the King’s youngest son.
‘Hi, Jesse,’ I said with a smile.
Jesse frowned. He had never told his father about the time that he and his brother had snuck close to the Vinelands and robbed me and Fergal in the night. When I caught up with them and got my stuff back, I gave him and his brother the nicknames Frank and Jesse, in honour of the great American outlaws. He took the gold bar from me, all the while trying to avoid eye contact, and showed it to his father. King Bwika eyed the bar, and casually accepted my gift with a flick of the wrist. Jesse handed it to one of the dozen advisers that were standing in the shadows behind the throne and it disappeared inside his robes.
‘That is the second time you have referred to my son as a “Jesse”. What does it mean?’
Wow, this guy had a good memory, better than mine. I racked my brains for Jesse’s real name and then it came to me – Codna. ‘The first time I met your son was in the Hall of the Oak Throne, when my father bestowed on you the freedom of the Oaklands. I mistook Codna for someone I had known in the Real World and when we met socially afterwards I used the name as a small joke.’
‘So because your father gave me permission to walk among the Oaklands, lands that I should rightfully own, and because you make idiot jokes with my idiot son, this gives you the right to spy on me?’
I shot a quick glance at Jesse. He looked like he had been slapped. ‘I have no reason to spy on you, Your Highness, I come because my father is ill.’
‘Ill?’ he said in a tone that made me realise that illness was a concept he had never encountered.
‘It’s like a mortal wound that we cannot see, Your Highness. I need to find healing magic or he will die.’
This made the Brownie monarch think, which I suspected was something he didn’t do very often. ‘Is he cursed?’
‘That may be the cause. We need to get to the Isle of the Tughe Tine that lies off the edge of your land.’
King Bwika threw his head back and laughed. ‘What? Are you looking for help from the Grey Ones?’
‘I don’t know what I will find, Your Highness – I only want to save my father. For that I will do anything.’
The smile on the Brownie’s face vanished in an istant. ‘Your father,’ he said, his voice filled with contempt. ‘The last time your father was here… No, I lie – your father was never here. It was your father’s father, Finn. Finn stood and called me “a supercilious toad” and then spat on the floor, there, before he left. I was a young king then, he was fortunate. If he had done that today he would have left with a bolt in his back.’
The more I hear about my grandfather the more I think we all would have benefited if he had taken a few anger-management classes. I stood and walked to the place where the King had pointed and dropped to one knee. ‘Was it here that my grandfather spat?’
King Bwika stood and walked down the steps of his dais. Towering over me he pointed to a slab of marble floor directly in front of his feet. ‘It was there.’
‘Then let me spit on the same spot,’ I said and I spat. Then I pulled my sleeve over my hand and used my shirt to clean up the spittle. ‘So that I may wash away the memory of it. I, Conor of Duir, do humbly apologise for the rudeness of my ancestor.’
I didn’t know what else to say, nor, I sensed, did the King. He looked up and scanned the faces in the room, then said, ‘Go. My guards will escort you to the ends of the Keep grounds to the Peninsula Trail. There is but only one way to go from there and you must go alone – I cannot spare you a guide. Report to the alder trees daily.’
‘Thank you, Your Highness, we shall leave at dawn,’ I said, moaning silently to myself.
‘You will leave now, before I change my mind, and you will not rest until you are off the Keep grounds.’
He gestured with his hand. The honour guard surrounded us and escorted us quickly from the room.
We found Araf resting on his bed.
‘Is your foot up for a hike?’
‘Why,’ the Imp said, ‘are we going on one?’
‘The King says we can go, if we go now.’
We began to pack. It didn’t take long. It’s not like our welcome prompted us to put all of our underwear in drawers. I was almost ready to go when I answered a soft knock at the door.
Standing on the other side was the young prince with a cloth parcel in his hand.
‘Jesse,’ I said, extending my hand, ‘or should I say Prince Codna. It’s good to see you again.’
He looked confused and then shook my hand like he had never done it before. ‘No, I like Jesse,’ he said with a nervous smile. ‘My brother and I still call each other Frank and Jesse when we are alone.’
‘Are you going to be one of our escorts to the Peninsula Trail?’
‘Oh no,’ he said with a nervous laugh, like that was a ridiculous notion. ‘No, I came because… Well, I stole this from Castle Duir and have been worried that it has been sorely missed b
y its owner. I would like for you to return it.’
I took the parcel and opened it. Inside was a round piece of brass. ‘You stole a doorknob?’
Jesse shrugged. ‘Frank got some better stuff but that Dahy man found it and took it back.’
‘Well, thanks,’ I said, rewrapping the parcel. ‘I’m sure there is a door somewhere in my castle that someone is just dying to open. Speaking of Frank, where is he?’
‘My brother prepares for war,’ he said with a quiver in his voice that made me look at his face. He was almost at the brink of tears.
‘Hey, guy,’ I said, motioning him over to a set of chairs. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Demne,’ he said, wiping his nose on his sleeve, ‘you know – Frank. He’s in the Torkc Guards.’
I searched my memory for the meaning of torkc. ‘Pig Guards?’
Jesse laughed a little at this. ‘Boar,’ he corrected.
‘So what’s so bad about that?’
‘I never get to see him any more and I’m worried about him. The Torkc are the first to attack in a war.’
‘But the Brownies aren’t at war with anyone.’
‘They’re not?’ he said, beaming at me. ‘Did you sue for peace?’
I didn’t answer that right away, I didn’t know what he was talking about. Just as I was about to ask, Tuan came to the door flanked by guards saying that the Brownies were insisting that we leave immediately. The guards made Jesse nervous. I told them to give us a sec.
‘Thanks for returning the doorknob,’ I said. ‘Here, I have a present for you.’ I reached into my pack and took out the green-handled knife that was thrown at Brendan on Mount Cas. ‘Take this and give it to Frank; it’s a throwing knife. The gold tip will make sure the blade hits its intended target. Maybe it will keep him safe.’ I resheathed it and handed it to Jesse.
He smiled and then hugged me. That Jesse is a cute kid.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Fearn Peninsula
It was dark outside but I could just make out two Brownies waiting for us at the end of the drawbridge.