"How many of these circles can you memorize?"
"There is a limit, I'm sure, but I haven't yet reached it. I guess that one day I'll have to forget one to make more room."
"You can do that?" Fitz said. "Selectively forget one?"
"I don't see why not."
"I wish I could selectively forget things," he said. "I've witnessed far too many deaths on the battlefield."
"And yet, it made you who you are today. We cannot undo the past, Richard, only make better decisions for the future."
"Well said," he agreed, "but shouldn't we be finding the others? They're likely wondering what happened to us."
Albreda plucked a flower from the vines, handing it to the baron. "Take this, Richard, it should glow for some time before its magic fades."
She also took one for herself, then led him down the stairs. "Now, let's find out what the others have been up to."
* * *
Aldus Hearn paused. They were deep in the cellars where stacks of barrels, boxes, and sacks lined the shelves. A dim light shone out from the bottom of a doorway.
"More stairs?" mused Kiren-Jool.
"No," said Hearn, "I believe we are far below the base of the tower, likely in the very rock itself."
"Another store-room then?" said the Kurathian.
"No," said Kraloch, "the light is green. I think we've found an eternal flame, the same magic that powers the Saurian gates."
Hearn grasped the handle. "Here goes," he said, giving it a pull.
It swung open towards him, revealing a rough-looking room hewn from the very rock itself. There was a fissure halfway across from which green flames climbed upward, sometimes short, other times leaping high to the ceiling.
Hearn, letting his eyes adjust to the light, noticed a figure lying near the fissure's edge.
"Revi!" he called out.
Fifteen
The Norland Court
Fall 964 MC
* * *
Gerald knocked on the door as the two guards watched in silent witness.
"Come," Anna replied.
He pushed open the door, revealing the guest chambers beyond. Anna was seated before a large mirror while Sophie combed through her hair. The trip up the ridge had played havoc with her blonde locks, and it was taking all her maid's efforts just to clear the tangled strands.
"Are you all settled in?" he asked.
She turned her head to look at him. "You look nice," she said, "I see you found that tunic I left for you."
"Well," he replied, "I can't very well go and meet the king in my battered old chainmail, can I?"
"She'll be with you in a moment," said Sophie, "I just have to remove this last knot."
She pulled on the brush, eliciting a cry from the queen.
"Ow," said Anna.
"Sorry, Majesty," said Sophie.
"It's all right," said Anna, "I know how hard my hair can be to keep straight."
Sophie tugged again, and the strands came free. "There," she said, "all done. Would you like it braided?"
"Not for today," said Anna, "we haven't the time. I don't want to keep King Halfan waiting any longer." She turned to Gerald, "Is my guard ready?"
"Beverly has six men waiting down the hall," he replied.
"Good, then it's time we met the King of Norland."
She rose, holding out her hand for Gerald's arm, "Lead on, Marshal."
When Sophie opened the door, Anna and Gerald passed through into the hallway. The two guards there stood straighter as the Mercerians passed by but maintained their positions. Farther down, Beverly stood chatting with Aubrey, along with half a dozen guards. The knight bowed her head briefly as the queen approached.
"We are ready, Majesty," she said.
"Lead the way, Beverly," said Anna.
The knight turned, leading the group through the castle, the guards falling in behind. Gerald felt nervous treading the halls of their enemy and had to remind himself that it wasn't so long ago that they would have seen Weldwyn the same way.
The route to the great hall was not difficult to find for King Halfan had been eager to make the visitors feel at home and so had roomed them nearby. Beverly led them down a side corridor that stopped at a large wooden door where a Norland guard stood. At their approach, he turned and opened it, the sounds of talking drifting towards them, along with the smell of tallow candles.
Beverly stepped in first, pausing a moment to take her bearings. She had entered by a side door, and to her left, she could see people standing around, their gaze directed to her right. Looking over, she saw the nobles of Norland gathered around an oblong table, one long side empty where Anna would be seated, along with her advisors. The knight turned, bowing to those assembled. "Your Majesty and noble lords," she said, "I present Anna, Queen of Merceria."
Anna stepped forward, eliciting a gasp from the crowd. Beverly, looking to see what the commotion was about, overheard someone utter, "She's so young!"
Lord Hollis, who was sitting at the table, rose. "Your Majesty," he said to his king, "it has been my honour to escort these Mercerians to our halls. May I have the privilege of introducing them to our esteemed council?"
He looked at an elderly man who, despite his frailty, watched with keen eyes. "You may," the man said.
Hollis seemed to grow in stature, his back straightening as he cleared his throat. He then turned to Anna and bowed slightly. "This," he said, indicating the old man with a sweep of his hand, "is his most regal Majesty, King Halfan of Norland."
The king nodded slightly.
"Pleased to meet you, Your Majesty," said Anna. "I look forward to forging a lasting relationship with your people."
"As do I," said Halfan.
"You already know me," said Hollis, "so let me introduce Lord Rutherford, Earl of Hammersfield."
The man sitting to Hollis's right nodded his head in greeting.
"And to his right," the earl continued, "is Lord Thurlowe of Ravensguard."
Thurlowe, a thin man with a cadaverous face that seemed pale and sickly, stood, bowing at the waist. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance," said Thurlowe, "and look forward to meeting with you in the future."
Hollis waited as Thurlowe sat, then indicated a fairly rotund individual. "This is Lord Calder, Earl of Greendale."
Hollis waited, but as Calder failed to make any acknowledgement of the meeting, he continued on.
"To the other side of our king is Lord Creighton of Riverhurst."
Creighton, the youngest of the earls, nodded his head, his sandy coloured hair catching the light as he moved.
"Greetings," he said, "I trust your journey here was pleasant?"
"It was," said Anna, "thank you."
"To the other side of him," said Hollis, "sits Lord Waverly, Earl of Marston."
Marston stood, revealing an impressive height. Beverly was immediately reminded of Sir Heward, but where the Mercerian knight smiled from time to time, she had the impression that Lord Waverly would never deign to show any emotion whatsoever. His lordship bowed, quickly sitting, allowing the man at the end of the table to stand.
"And finally," said Hollis, "Lord Witcombe, Earl of Walthorne."
Witcombe smiled, showing his teeth. On anyone else, it would have been comforting, but the Earl of Walthorne was missing many of his teeth, and the ones that remained were an unhealthy colour. The man merely nodded his head in greeting but said nothing.
"Thank you, Lord Hollis," said Anna. "Allow me to name Lord Gerald Matheson, Duke of Wincaster and Marshal of Merceria."
Gerald bowed slightly, keeping his eyes on the king.
“He is accompanied by Lady Aubrey Brandon,” she continued, “Baroness of Hawksburg.”
The mention of her title raised some eyebrows, but the Norlanders kept silent.
"And this," continued Anna, "is Dame Beverly Fitzwilliam, Knight of the Hound."
Beverly nodded her head in greeting. Like Gerald, she was on alert, but her attention was rivete
d on Lord Hollis. King Halfan waved a hand at Hollis, prompting the earl to sit. The king leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
"Come," he said, "sit and eat with us. It is our custom to welcome strangers with a meal before we get to business."
Servants came forward, placing chairs on the empty side of the table. Anna chose to sit in the middle, with Gerald to one side, Beverly and Aubrey to the other.
Wine was poured, but before Anna could drink, Beverly took her goblet, sniffing it, then took a sip. She waited a moment, then handed it to her queen with a nod.
"I see you are cautious," said Halfan, "a trait I admire, though I promise you it is entirely unnecessary. We have not brought you here to kill you. That would only start a war, the very thing we seek to prevent."
"Some of us, anyway," added Lord Creighton.
Beverly noted a twitch of irritation on the king's face and immediately started wondering which earls favoured peace.
Servants began carrying in their meal, laying it before them to display a feast of epic proportions. Most of the food was easily recognizable, but Beverly could see at least two meats that she couldn't identify. She chose, instead, to stick with more familiar fare. To the queen's other side, Gerald sliced off some beef, laying in onto Anna's platter. He had stood to reach it, and when he sat back down, he looked confused, as if searching for something.
Beverly held up her knife, mouthing the words, 'No forks'.
A look of realization dawned on the old warrior's face, and then he speared a small hen that dripped with some type of sauce.
Beverly looked to her hosts, only to see them ripping off wings and drumsticks with their hands. A large dog pushed past her, and she watched as Lord Marley wiped his hands on the beast's fur. The queen seemed unsure of how to behave and looked at her for guidance. The knight cut off a thin slice of chicken, holding it between thumb and knife and pecked away at it gingerly, the queen soon following suit. Aubrey, not one to miss a hint, did likewise, though somehow she managed to make the action look refined.
The meat was tender if a tad overcooked to Beverly's liking. Everything seemed to be smeared in sauces of various descriptions, leading to a very messy meal. She looked at the Norland nobles, but they appeared to care little for the niceties of society, digging in with gusto. Lord Marley, perhaps incapable of eating such fare, had settled in with a thin soup which he slurped noisily from a bowl.
Lord Creighton, the neatest of the earls, held a drumstick, picking away at it in small bites.
"Have you such fare back in Merceria?" he asked, looking at Beverly.
"We have," the knight replied, "though we seldom have so many choices at one meal. At the court in Wincaster, the meal is usually only one or two meats."
"Only two?" burst out Lord Calder. "That would never do here." He stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth, chewing it noisily, an action that Beverly found distasteful.
She turned her attention to a plate of buns that had been placed before her, selecting one at random. It was still warm to the touch, and she broke it open with her hands, enjoying the delicious aroma of the freshly baked interior. Using her knife to smear butter on it, she then placed some of her meat within.
Suddenly, those on the Norland side of the table fell silent, and Beverly looked around to see everyone staring at her.
"What are you doing?" asked Lord Marley.
"Eating," said Beverly.
"You should use your hands," said Lord Calder.
"And so I shall," she replied, "but the bread allows me to hold it without getting my hands messy."
"What a strange notion," said Calder.
Beverly placed the other half of the bun on top and took a bite, a bit of grease dribbling down her chin.
"Hah," said Calder. "It didn't work, you'll have to get messy now."
Anna turned to Beverly. "I shall give it a try," she said, "it looks interesting."
"That's an old trick," said Gerald, "we used to do it when we were on patrol up by Bodden."
His words brought a frown to Hollis's face. "Bodden, you say?"
"That's right," said Gerald, "do you know it?"
"I understood that Lady Beverly was from there," Lord Hollis replied, "but I had no idea you were familiar with it."
"Oh, yes," said Gerald, "I was born there, in fact."
"Lord Matheson served my father years ago," added Beverly.
"Ah, yes," said Hollis, "the Baron of Bodden. Lord Richard Fitzwilliam, isn't it?"
"It is," said Beverly.
"Tell me," continued Hollis, "have you a brother?"
"No, why?"
"I was wondering who would inherit Bodden when your father passed to the Afterlife."
"That would be Dame Beverly," said Anna.
"Surely her husband would be baron," said Rutherford between chews.
"Beverly will inherit the barony," said Anna. "Our laws are now clear on that."
"And are you married?" asked Rutherford.
"I am," Beverly replied, "and my husband will eventually become Lord of Bodden, though not the baron."
"How does your husband feel about that?" asked Marley.
"He has no objection," she replied.
"Astounding," said Rutherford, "the things these Mercerians get up to. Tell us of your husband, does he have lands of his own?"
"He is a smith," said Beverly, enjoying the looks of shock that passed down the line of Norland nobles.
"You mean he's a commoner?" said Rutherford.
"Not anymore," said Anna. "He's a lord by marriage. Surely you have people that have been elevated to the nobility?"
"Not in Norland," said Hollis. "The earls you see here all trace their lineage back to the supporters of King Talburn, our founder."
"I thought his son, Galburn, was your first king," said Gerald.
"He was," said Rutherford, "but Talburn was the rightful ruler of Merceria, and so earns the title of king."
"I suppose that makes sense," said Gerald.
"Tell me," said Rutherford, "is your family ancient?"
"My family?" said Gerald.
"Yes," Rutherford continued, "you're the Duke of Wincaster, from what line do you hail?"
"I was born a farmer," said Gerald.
Rutherford stopped chewing. He leaned forward, spitting his food onto the table.
"And by what right do you sit among us now?" he asked.
"Easy, Lord Rutherford," said King Halfan, "their customs are different from ours. We must learn to accept them."
"This is outrageous," Rutherford fumed, "to force us to sit in such company is beyond all reason."
"Do you wish to give offense so easily?" said Anna. "Lord Matheson is a seasoned veteran and Marshal of my Army. I will not sit idly by and allow you to insult him."
"Tell me," said Lord Creighton, "how did you rise to such prominence, Lord Matheson."
"I was Sergeant-at-Arms to Lord Fitzwilliam," said Gerald. "When I was wounded by..." he bit back his words, choosing instead to be more diplomatic, "by raiders, I was sent away to recuperate from my wounds. I ended up at the estate where the queen was being raised."
"I was only a little girl at the time," said Anna, "and Gerald became my friend."
"A royal can have no friends," mused King Halfan. "Isn't that what you're always saying, Hollis?"
"It is sad but true," Lord Hollis replied. "For a king must be wary of any who would claim friendship, lest they seek power."
"There," said Halfan, "you see?"
"I disagree," said Anna. "I have many I can trust, none of whom seek power."
"Then they are weak," said Rutherford. "It is the way of men to seek power, it has always been so."
Anna smiled knowingly, "It may surprise you to know that I have elevated several women to positions of power, including Lady Aubrey."
“I presume through marriage?” said Rutherford.
“No,” said Aubrey, “by inheritance. My father was the previous baron.”
“No,” she continued, “much like Lady Beverly, the barony will remain mine.”
“Ridiculous,” muttered Lord Thurlowe.
"There you have it," noted Lord Marley, "the Mercerians have become weak. Your women wouldn't last a day in Norland."
"I beg to differ," said Anna, "even my champion is a woman, and I'd lay odds that she could defeat any Norland warrior, one-on-one."
"I doubt that," said Marley.
Anna looked at Beverly, who simply nodded.
"Shall we see?" the queen asked.
"What are you proposing?" countered the king.
"A fight between my champion and a warrior of your choosing," said Anna.
"Very well," said the king, "though not to death, of course."
"I would only ask that Lady Aubrey be allowed to intervene if needed," said Anna. "As a Life Mage, she would be able to attend to any wounds, should it prove necessary."
"Very well," said the king, "we shall test your champion's mettle. Who is this champion whose prowess you speak of?"
"Dame Beverly Fitzwilliam," said Anna.
Beverly stood, bowing to the queen.
"But she is a noble," said Rutherford, "you said so yourself."
"What of it?" asked Anna. "Do nobles not fight in Norland?"
"Not in a duel," said Rutherford, "we have champions for such things."
"Nevertheless," said Beverly, "I stand ready to defend the queen's honour. Choose your champion."
The earls all looked at each other.
"Hollis, use yours," said Marley, "you're always bragging about the man."
"Very well," said Hollis, "with the king’s permission, of course."
King Halfan nodded his approval.
"Send word for Marik," the earl barked out, "and we shall give this 'Knight of the Hound' a true lesson in combat. Tell me, Dame Beverly, what weapon would you prefer? A lady’s sword, perhaps?"
"Sword, axe, hammer, you decide," said Beverly. "I am familiar with them all."
"Let your champion choose that which is most familiar to him," said Anna, "though Beverly, I think, will use her sword.”
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