Everyone remounted and continued their journey. Sam rode close to Brin and Patrick, listening to their conversation. She told herself it was because she had not fully heard Patrick explain his history, but deep down she knew that Patrick was not the reason she was staying so close to the pair.
Brin showed no surprise when Hawk awakened and pulled himself out of the coffin. He had met vampires before, though only when he was hunting them, and he had already been warned about the team’s unusual member. Outwardly he displayed no prejudice and calmly accepted the fact that Hawk posed no danger. His only display of emotion was when Sam retired for the night to the coffin. His face displayed a mix of surprise and confusion and, Sam hoped, a little trace of jealousy.
Before turning in for the night, Sam took Tor to one side and conveyed what she had been told about Albian. The Prince shrugged off her concerns. He already suspected that the advisor had at least helped to set up the quest; he may have even devised it in its entirety. As for calling himself a Lord, Tor laughed it off, saying that the man had always acted above his station. His apparent lack of concern did nothing to quell Sam’s feeling of unease, however.
The next morning, Sam found herself riding next to Brin again and took the opportunity to ask him about his homeland. This was obviously a subject close to his heart and he willingly opened up to her, describing his home and the elven way of life in great detail.
The Eshden forest was a vast woodland in Amenia, close to the northern border. The elves built their homes in the trees, preferring to sleep away from the ground. The forest accommodated a large population of elves but, despite being the size of a small city, it had no name; they simply referred to it as home.
Though technically part of Amenia, a treaty was drawn up hundreds of years ago between the King of the Elves and the Amenian governor allowing the elves to be self-governing; it was treated like a small separate country rather than a province. When Amenia became a province of Emvale, the first act of the conquering King was to ratify the agreement. Elves travelled freely through most countries, though humans rarely ventured into their forest.
“We make all visitors welcome,” Brin explained, “but for some reason a lot of humans feel uneasy being surrounded by so many trees and most have trouble sleeping so far above the ground.”
“Exactly how far into the forest do you have to travel before you reach your people?” Sam asked.
“Elves patrol the forest edge, so within minutes of entering you will have been seen, though we keep to ourselves and do not approach unless we are concerned by the visitors’ intent. We live at the heart of the forest, which is two days walk for an elf, longer for most humans. It is possible to ride between the trees, but there are no paths so it does not save much time.”
They continued talking until Tor called a halt for lunch. Sam spoke a little about her life in the past and Brin was as fascinated as the rest of their companions had been. During their meal, conversation was not lacking; even Bellak joined in. River and Oak sat as far away from Brin as they could, but displayed no other outward hostility, so the meal passed pleasantly. The only person to remain silent was Patrick. He had grown visibly more tense as the hours passed.
Ellen tried to draw him out of his self-imposed seclusion. “How far away is Linket?” she asked, not realising that this was the one topic of conversion he wished to avoid.
“We will be there before nightfall,” he replied but refused to say anything more. As Tor took over describing Linket, for those who had never been, Patrick walked away. Samson watched him mournfully, then followed him, wagging his tail slightly as he caught up to him. The wolf liked Patrick and did not like to see him distressed.
Patrick’s estimated arrival time proved to be correct as, just as the sun was sinking below the horizon, they crested a hill and saw the sprawling metropolis that was the city of Linket. “Straight to the palace?’ Tor asked. Everyone nodded, except Patrick, who had been hoping to postpone a royal visit for one more night.
“This place seems very lacking in fortifications,” Dal commented as they made their way through the still crowded streets.
“It has never been defended,” Seth informed the young man. “I am surprised you have not been told by your tutors.”
“Maybe I just was not listening properly,” Dal replied quickly.
“Though it is the capital now, this was not always the case.” Tor had made him suffer history lessons and he decided to pass on his knowledge. “Whenever it was attacked, the citizens simply fled, abandoning the city to the invaders. It turns out that there is a tunnel from the city centre that goes under the hills, coming out on the other side. Details of exactly where the exit is have been lost over time so the chances of an army being camped over it, should it ever be needed again, are slim. Queen Helen’s grandfather fell in love with the city when he visited as a child so, when he took over the throne, he moved his family there, making it the capital by default.”
“So where is the entrance to the tunnel?”
“I have no idea. It has been rumoured that only the current ruler knows; the secret being passed from father to son, or daughter in Helen’s case. I personally cannot see how that can be true though. What would happen if the royal family were not present when the city was attacked? No, someone else must know where it is or where the information is kept.”
The history lesson was brought to a premature close by Tor announcing that the palace was just around the next corner. Much to Sam’s disappointment, it turned out to be much smaller than Allias’s. It was more like a large country house than a royal residence. There were guards on duty outside of the main entrance.
Tor asked if the Queen was currently available to receive visitors. When given the affirmative, he informed them of his name and title and a runner was sent to notify the Queen. Stable lads appeared to take their horses and Seth followed them with the wagon. Everyone else were escorted to a formal reception room and provided with refreshments. Seth had caught up with them and had just started drinking from his goblet when there was a polite knock on the door and a steward announced that the Queen was prepared to see them immediately in her private sitting room.
Sam was a little concerned that she would be meeting royalty without first having the opportunity to bathe and change into clean clothes. She was not the only one.
The steward opened the door and walked into the sitting room without knocking. He announced Prince Tor and party, ushered them all in then left, closing the door behind them. A woman with long ginger hair that hung in tight curls sat relaxing on a chaise longue with an older woman standing serenely behind her.
“Queen Helen and Fuzzle, her advisor,” Patrick whispered to those closest to him, before trying to place himself out of sight behind Ban.
“Tor, how good to see you again,” Helen said rising serenely and walking toward him. She held out her hand, which he obediently took and gently kissed before grabbing her in a big hug.
“Good to see you too. My how you have grown.” He released his hold on her and she playfully punched him.
“I should hope so,” she replied indignantly. “I was only ten years old when we last met.”
“True,” he acknowledged. “Let me introduce you to my friends.”
Tor was only part way through the introductions when Helen spotted a face that she knew.
“Patrick, how nice to see you,” Queen Helen exclaimed, beaming. Her smile turned to a frown when she saw how reluctant he was to approach. “Come now, silly. It is not as if I can have you turned into a eunuch simply for jilting me.”
Fuzzle leaned forward and whispered in the Queen’s ear, causing the smile to return. “Actually, it appears I can do that. Should I call the surgeon now or later?”
“Do not be hasty,” Patrick said, a trace of panic in his voice.
“Helen,” Tor said in a serious tone. She turned to look at him. “Patrick is with me and therefore under my protection. Do you really want your little disagreement to
turn political?”
Much to everyone’s astonishment, instead of calling for her guards, the Queen stuck her tongue out. “You spoil all my fun,” she accused, sulkily. She flounced back to her seat and regarded them, pouting.
“Doesn’t seem to have grown up much does she?” Sam whispered to Seth, who grinned back at her.
“Jilted?” Ellen said to Patrick quietly, raising her eyebrows.
“She is exaggerating,” he hissed back, just as quietly. Ellen was about to ask more, but the look he levelled at her silenced her questions. She would tackle him later, once his mood had improved.
Tor continued his introductions, though Helen seemed uninterested, until Brin stepped forward and bowed to her.
“Brin the Hunter. I have heard a lot about you. I am pleased to finally meet you.” Sam had to suppress a surge of jealousy as the Queen patted the chaise longue, indicating the elf should sit next to her.
He remained standing. “How did you know about my title? Who have you been speaking to?” He spoke warily, a trace of concern in his voice. Something the Queen had said had upset him, causing his usual impeccable manners to slip.
Helen gave a girlish giggle. “I have the pleasure of playing host to your mother. She will be delighted to see you. Stay at the palace tonight and you can breakfast together in the morning.”
Brin stared at her, his features hard. “I am afraid I must decline your most generous offer.” Each word was said slowly and deliberately, his voice betraying no signs of emotion. Without requesting permission, he turned his back on the Queen and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. A stunned silence filled the room. Sam suffered a moment of indecision, then ran after him.
“Anyone know what that was all about?” Seth asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Nobody had a clue. “I guess our new friend is even more mysterious than I thought.”
“Why are you here?” Fuzzle asked. It was the first time she had spoken and her voice was nothing like they were expecting, well those who did not know her anyway. Instead of strict and sharp, her voice was soft and friendly, almost motherly. Tor explained about his quest, telling all of the important details while still keeping his narrative short and succinct. Helen and Fuzzle listened calmly, showing no reaction until he had finished. Then Fuzzle smiled.
“You are the first,” she announced.
Bellak was the first to react. “Yes,” he shouted. “What is the next clue? We must have it now.”
“Patience, old man,” Fuzzle said calmly. “It is late and you all need to rest. Rooms will be provided for you and we can discuss this in the morning.” Helen opened her mouth, as if to protest, but Fuzzle forestalled her. “You, too, are in need of your bed your Majesty.” Helen may have been Queen, but there was no doubt as to who was really in control of the country.
Chapter 23
Fuzzle clapped her hands loudly and servants appeared. They were instructed to escort the ladies to the bath house and prepare rooms in the guest quarters. While the ladies were whisked away, Fuzzle gave the men a choice; wait until the bath house was free or bathe with the soldiers. While the bathing facilities attached to the nearby barracks were smaller than those found in the palace and were located a few streets away, the water would be clean and hot, the wash girls friendly and it would probably be empty given the late hour.
Torrick opted to walk to the barracks. He had, after all, been a soldier so was used to much worse conditions than those offered by Fuzzle. “I also know how long my wife takes to bathe,” he confided to Tor.
“Good point,” the Prince responded. “I suggest all of you head off with Torrick. We will meet for breakfast in the morning.”
“I will wait for the ladies to finish,” Dal immediately piped up, then blushed when everyone turned to look at him.
Fuzzle informed him that this would be no problem and sent him away with a servant who was instructed to find him entertainment until the bath house was available.
When Tor was alone with Helen and Fuzzle, he thanked the latter. “He is at the age where he is shy about undressing in public.”
“I quite understand. I remember my brothers going through that stage.”
“If I may, I would like to speak with Helen for a while before I bathe. We have a lot to catch up on.”
Fuzzle grimaced. “That will not be possible I am afraid. The Queen is in need of rest. It will have to wait until the morning.” Before Tor could offer any complaint, Fuzzle had summoned one of the Queen’s personal maids and instructed her to help Helen retire for the night.
“What is going on here?” Tor demanded as soon as Helen had left the room, a trace of menace in his voice.
Fuzzle sat in a nearby chair, sinking into it like a marionette with cut strings. Suddenly she looked ten years older. “Please, sit down. I do not mean to hide the Queen away from visitors, but there is something I need to explain to you before you speak to her further.” Tor took a seat opposite, but did not relax.
“Go on,” he instructed.
“I should start this conversation with ‘Helen is no longer the girl you used to know’; unfortunately I cannot. She is exactly the girl you used to know all those years ago. She stopped growing up when her family died. While her brother was being trained to take over running the kingdom, she was given no education or social training. Her father expected to marry her off to some Duke or Earl where she would not need to know anything about politics or warfare. She was taught how to dance and how to dress and how to address visitors, but that is all. When her family were killed in that tragic accident we were suddenly left with a monarch who does not know how to run a household let alone a kingdom.”
“I see your problem.” Tor stood and walked to a nearby table, pouring himself a goblet of wine. He poured one for Fuzzle, who took it gratefully.
“I am trying to find her a suitable husband, but it has not been easy. I dare not leave her alone with any visiting dignitaries in case she inadvertently agrees to something that will be disastrous for the kingdom. You have seen how childishly she behaves.”
“Hence the situation with Patrick.”
“Yes,” Fuzzle agreed. “He is the perfect candidate. Can you not change his mind?”
“I am afraid not. His situation is a lot more complicated than you realise. He has personal reasons, which I will not go into, which prevent him marrying anyone, let alone the ruler of a country.”
“Damn. Any other suggestions? I am neither fit nor qualified to run a country.” Fuzzle’s calm composure had disappeared, revealing the worn out and frustrated woman that hid behind it.
“You could try educating her,” Tor suggested. “From what I remember, she was always a quick learner. If you explain the situation to her she might start to grow up on her own. Bring in the best tutors; I can find out if those who taught me are available. I presume that you have been allowing her to hold court, but making sure that there is always someone there to advise her?” Fuzzle nodded. “Good. Keep doing it. There must be several high ranking officials around who used to assist her father. Get them back.”
Fuzzle sighed, her face showing how tired she was. “Most are still here and helping out, but I am not sure how much longer we can continue to keep quiet about how inept our young Queen really is.”
“You will do fine,” Tor assured her, placing his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. “Now go and get some sleep.”
Tor headed off to the barracks’ bathhouse, intending to soak his aching muscles in the water for a while. On his way he passed the kitchens. Hearing a voice he recognised, he quietly ducked inside and was amazed to see the head cook giving Dal a cookery lesson. Smiling to himself, he silently departed from the room. At least the young man was staying out of trouble.
While the rest of the group were bathing, Sam, having caught up with Brin, was sitting alone with him in a quiet corner of an inn. The beer they were drinking was warm and watery, but at least she had persuaded him to stay in the city. For a while th
ey sat in silence, Brin lost in his own thoughts and Sam trying to read them. Eventually she asked what the problem was and was pleasantly surprised when she was not told to mind her own business.
“I will try to explain, though I do not expect you to understand,” Brin said. “I had a happy childhood, growing up in the forest home of the elves with my sister, brothers and father. I never knew my mother; she died when I was young. I was educated and trained, as all elven children are. I joined the home guard and quickly went through the ranks until I was in charge of my own company. Then my father married my stepmother.”
Bitterness crept into his voice as he continued. “She was a bitch from the start, treating me like a child. As a member of the home guard, my main duties were within the boundaries of the forest, but occasionally duties became available that involved travel afar. Every time I volunteered, she made sure I was rejected. Eventually I confronted her, pointing out that I am 129 and perfectly capable of looking after myself in the big bad world.”
He did not notice the look of shock that crossed Sam’s face when he mentioned his age. He was too caught up in his tale to notice anything around him. Even his mug of beer went untouched.
“She laughed at me. She actually had the audacity to laugh. She informed me that she wanted me to stay close by and always got what she wanted. I found out exactly what she meant a few months later when my father had to leave for a few days. All of my brothers, and my sister, had their own homes by then so I was left alone with the woman. I feel sick just thinking about it.”
“It’s okay,” Sam assured him, placing her hand on his arm. “You don’t have to go on if it distresses you too much.”
Brin tried to smile at her and failed. He looked down into his drink and continued speaking. “I was woken up that night by her climbing into bed beside me. When I started to protest, she kissed me passionately. I tried to resist but she forced herself on top of me, telling me how much she wanted me and that she knew I wanted her too. She proudly announced that she only married my father so she could spend more time with me.” The bitterness in his voice turned to anger as he recalled that dreadful night. “She whispered in my ear that we could be together whenever my father was away and that if he found out he could be disposed of.”
The Guide Page 29