“Could you open the door to the hall, so I can get someone’s attention?” he asked, as he pulled one of the red shirts out of the saddlebag and wrapped it around his skull.
“We’ll leave now, Kestrel-lover boy,” Dewberry told him as she grabbed the latch to the door. “Are you here to stay, or will you want us to transport you back to the land of the humans?”
“I’ll call you tonight and ask for your assistance,” he assured her. “Thank you again Dewberry. You too, Jonson and Reasion.”
As he bid them farewell, Dewberry pulled the door open, and the three magical entities disappeared.
Kestrel took a deep breath, then began to try to call attention to himself. “Hello guards! Can anyone hear me?” he shouted out. “Can I get some help here?” he called.
The sound of boots in the hallway immediately commenced clumping towards him, and within moments a guard stood in the doorway, looking in at him. “Who in the name of Tamson do you think you are, laying in the doctor’s bed? Get your haunches out of there!” he said belligerently.
“I’m wounded,” Kestrel answered. “Would you please go find Alicia and tell her Kestrel is wounded? She’ll want to see me,” he explained.
“To blazes with you! Get out of here right now, before I have you locked up,” the guard said indignantly, providing a complication Kestrel had not foreseen. The guard advanced and lowered the spear he carried, pressing its point against Kestrel’s kidney. “I’ll count to three and you better move,” the guard warned.
“One,” he counted, giving hard jab with his spear, “Two,” he added giving another jab.
“What’s happening here?” Kestrel heard Alicia’s voice from the doorway, though he could not see her behind the bulk of the guard’s body.
“I found this malingerer in your bed, doctor, and I’m just giving him the heave ho,” the guard said protectively.
“In my bed? The nerve,” Alicia’s voice rose in indignation.
“Alicia, it’s Kestrel!” he called out.
“Thank you Guard! Step aside,” Alicia’s tone changed immediately. She moved without waiting for his obedience, sliding her slender body around the guard.
“Oh gods! It is Kestrel!” she knelt beside him. “What are you doing here? I was afraid you were dead!” she said to her guest. “You’re dismissed,” she turned to the guard. “Thank you for watching out for me. Please close the door,” she added, as the guard withdrew his spear from Kestrel in confusion, then backed out of the room unnoticed.
“What’s happened to you? Castona told us there were reports that you were dead,” Alicia asked Kestrel. “Move over and make room,” she prompted him rising so that she could squeeze onto the mattress.
“I can’t move very well; I’m injured, Alicia. I wanted you to look at it,” he told her.
A look of concern crossed her face. “Injured? Where?” she asked.
“It’s my hip, the left one,” he answered. “I’m glad to see you,” he added, as he studied the classic elven features of her face, features that he hadn’t seen in months.
“What? What are you looking at?” she asked as she circled around the bed to examine his far side.
“I haven’t seen another elf in months,” Kestrel replied.
“Kestrel! Your eyes – they’re purple!” she exclaimed.
“It was from the gnomes; everything is okay. I’ll explain later,” he promised.
“Oh Kestrel!” she exclaimed, as she looked down and saw the gaping wound. “It looks like it’s been treated somewhat – but by a butcher, maybe.”
“The baron sent for a physician, a human physician, and he treated it. I just got the wound a few hours ago, earlier today,” Kestrel explained. “And there’s a great deal I need to tell you about what’s happening in Graylee,” he added.
“Let me treat this first. Stay right here while I get some assistance to carry you into a procedure room,” Alicia commanded, as she rose and left the room, returning only moments later with three elves who carried him out on a stretcher, and took him to the very room in which he had been operated upon before.
“Do you have to make me sleep for this?” Kestrel asked apprehensively, as he watched her prepare needles and thread, along with knives.
“It would be better,” she said. “But it will take time to bring the ale in here for you. Do you have time?”
“No,” he said shortly. “You better send for Silvan, and I can tell you both at once all that I’ve learned.”
“Silvan’s in Elmheng right now,” Alicia replied. “Conversing with the guards leaders. He’s trying to keep his eye on a lot of things right now; he says there are unusual machinations underway at court that don’t make sense. I think there are some of the new members of the king’s court who are trying to undercut him for some reason.
”And there are more and more armed men wearing red robes in the streets,” she added, making Kestrel wonder at the impossibility of Uniontown reaching into the elven culture of the Eastern Forest somehow.
And so Kestrel told only Alicia the various news items he had to report, grunting and gasping as she cut his flesh to remove the old stiches and possible infections, spread various treatments, and then began to stitch the flesh together again. “Will I be able to travel in a few days?” Kestrel asked.
“You should rest for a week,” she replied. “Are you going to go back tonight?” she asked him, as she lit a lantern to provide illumination while the sun set.
“I have to go back tonight, as soon as possible, so they don’t suspect I’ve been gone,” Kestrel answered. “But look at the contents of the saddlebag I left in your room. Use Dewberry to send a message if there is anything I need to know urgently.”
“Kestrel, I can’t believe everything you’ve been through! Silvan will be astonished! I’m astonished, though I shouldn’t be after all I’ve learned about you,” she patted him fondly as she finished up the last stitch. “Is there someone you can trust to take these out in a week?” she asked.
“I’ll manage,” he assured her.
“I’ll be in Graylee city in a fortnight, I suspect,” he concluded. “I don’t know what to make top priority – finding out about the invasion, or finding out about this ambassador and his plans. I think Uniontown is the key to everything.”
“it feels so odd to speak in Elvish again,” he blurted out. “It’s been so long. I’m not sure I feel like an elf anymore, sometimes.”
“You’re still an elf, sweet Kestrel,” Alicia soothingly replied. She called for her assistants, and had Kestrel carried back to her room.
“Your ears still look good, in a human way,” she told him. “This is so amazing,” she gently traced her fingers across his chest. “I never would have imagined anything like this for you the first time I saw you,” her voice trailed off.
“Is there anything I can do for you before you go?” she asked.
Kestrel grunted, as he slowly adjusted his position on the mattress. “Would you come lie here beside me for a minute? Don’t say anything– just let me hold you.”
There were tears in her eyes as she carefully slid onto the mattress and lay down, wrapping her arms around him, as he hugged her. Neither of them said a word, as the seconds passed. “I wish I didn’t have to go back,” he said at last. “But I know I must.” He released her, and as she sat up, he called. “Dewberry, Dewberry, Dewberry.”
Within seconds the sprites and imp were back, and Kestrel was enveloped and then back in the darkened room in the manor in Graylee. “Thank you Dewberry. Will you carry messages for me from time to time?”
“Kestrel,” Jonson spoke up, “there is a feel here, a feel of evil, it is very weak, but it reminds me of the feeling around those monsters in the swamp.”
“I think there is a connection. I think there is evil that is waging war against the elves and the imps and even against the humans– it’s one great evil that wishes to conquer and do harm to us all. That is why I am here now, to try to learn wha
t we face and how to battle it,” Kestrel replied, as he settled onto the comfortable bed in the suite in the manor.
“We will help you Kestrel,” Jonson assured him. “In any way we can. Call Dewberry anytime – her heart and yours are attuned to know and find one another now.”
There was the sound of Kestrel’s door opening abruptly, and they all looked up. “Good bye,” Kestrel said softly, and the small blue entities disappeared from the dim room.
“Kestrel! You’re here!” Philip spoke, as he carried a candle before him. “The girls said they came to feed you dinner, and you were gone! Everyone is out searching for you.”
“I managed to hobble over to the bathroom,” Kestrel explained. “They must have missed seeing me while I was in there.” His answer sufficed to satisfy Philip, though the women later insisted they had checked his room thoroughly, and Kestrel said no more.
There were suspicious looks from Picco and Margo for the next few days, but Kestrel did not disappear again, and gradually they came to focus more on the forthcoming trip to the capital, and all the festive events they would be likely to attend. The two girls came to see him often, and especially developed a habit of coming in to read to him every morning. Picco came in alone to see Kestrel on the afternoon of his third day lying abed; her forehead injury had progressed from a red knot to a mottled bruise.
“One good thing about this delay is that my face will have time to heal before we get to the city,” she told Kestrel. “Now, you promised to tell me your story, who those men were and why they wanted to kill you,” she reminded the injured man. She listened intently as he told her an abbreviated version of events that had occurred in Estone, with the blessing by Kai and the attack by the Uniontown ambassador, as well as the horrific discoveries at the ambassador’s estate.
Kestrel refused to be seen by the doctor again. He declared that he felt he was healing satisfactorily and didn’t need any further attention; in reality, he didn’t want to have to explain how Alicia’s fine stitchery had come to replace the local man’s cruder effort. After four days lying quietly in bed he began to walk about a limited amount each day, leaning heavily on his staff, as he went down to Sisbeen’s room and received the finished garment with the yeti hide inside. He thanked the seamstress then returned to his room and continued to fidget while his hip injury healed further. On the seventh day he decided he could stay in bed no longer, and declared he was ready to ride out with the other three on the trip to Graylee City.
Picco, Margo, Philip and Kestrel left the manor in the midmorning, accompanied by three servants and Kestrel’s string of horses. Most of their clothing and items had been sent ahead of them with Creata and the other servants, making for light traveling for the laggards. They departed in rain, the girls insisting they would ride horseback rather than go to the trouble of riding in a carriage, and all of them rode with hoods up, engaging in little conversation as they went. They forded their horses across the river not far from where Kestrel and Picco had encountered the red clothed assassins, and Kestrel couldn’t help surveying the river for the dead men’s bodies, which were nowhere to be seen.
They rode easily for the next two days, without further rain, their meals always secured in advance by their servants, staying at country inns each night, on a journey as genteel as any Kestrel had ever known; and because of his still tender hip, he had no complaints about the slow pace. They stopped at a large manor house– one that Kestrel would have called a palace– on the second day of the trip, where Kestrel sold his horses. On the last day of their trip they arrived at Graylee City shortly before sunset. A servant went ahead of them to Picco and Creata’s city home to announce their arrival and arrange for their meal, while the rest of them gaily rode at a comfortable pace.
Graylee was a vaster, older, city than those Kestrel had seen before. Center Trunk was built mostly of wood, with many trees and much empty space scattered among the structures; Estone was built mostly of brick, with much stone and wood included. Graylee’s buildings were built of stone, with some brick. They were built not just of stone, but smooth, polished stone, and they were built high, many of them six and seven stories tall; as an elf, with a preference for high places, that alone was the only vaguely comforting reminder of trees. In Graylee there were no large trees, nor any space for trees, as the buildings crowded against one another. And several buildings were ancient, reminders of Graylee’s long heritage as a center of dominance, a formerly greater imperial center that still was the most powerful of all the kingdoms of the Inner Seas.
The girls were excited as they rode through the familiar streets of the fashionable neighborhood they would reside in. They saw two or three peers they recognized, and stopped briefly to exchange greetings and pleasantries, as Kestrel sat quietly by and observed. He had enjoyed socializing with the three young nobles on their journey, but found the atmosphere of the city just as intimidating as Estone’s had been when he first arrived there.
Kestrel was impressed by the size and wealth of the city, and yet also disturbed to so keenly feel a looming presence of evil, the same presence he had felt when the Uniontown ambassador had been at the Estonian court, except this evil was more pervasive, a tangible presence throughout most of the city they rode through, and it left him with an uneasy feeling that the evil knew he had arrived, and was lying in wait for him.
When they reachedCreata’s home they had a happy reunion with Picco’s brother, and let the servants put everything away as they were shown to rooms and freshened up before dinner. Kestrel was comfortable taking an upper floor room, giving him an elf’s satisfaction in being high above the surface. Soon there was a knock on his door as he lay on his bed and rested his hip, a servant’s knock to tell him that a light dinner was ready to be served. With his staff in hand, Kestrel climbed down the stairs and hobbled his way into the small crowd that awaited.
Downstairs he found not only the other travelers as well as Creata, but five other young members of the noble class as well. “I thought we should keep things small and casual since you’ve just arrived,” Creata explained to the group that stood scattered around the room that held the dining table. He clearly relished acting as hospitable host, sitting at the head of the table and presiding, Kestrel could tell, but only in the sense that the young nobleman took joy in seeing his friends socializing with one another. His traveling companions were delighted in the company of their obvious friends he observed, as they hugged the guests, exchanged kisses on the cheek, and greeted each other loudly.
“So you must be the great warrior?” a man walked up behind Kestrel, and shook his hand as he turned. “Creata has told us fabulous stories about the savior who dropped out of the trees and killed a dozen men alone, after walking across the mountains in the winter. I expected you to be eight feet tall!” a blond-haired young man laughed. “My name is Clarce. We’ll have to go to the armory together soon so I can try to learn your skills,” he spoke pleasantly.
Kestrel gestured towards his staff with a smile. “I’ll not be much of a contender in any matches for at least a few days until I heal a bit more,” he deferred the offer to spar.
“Well, when the time comes, let me know. The season’s just starting, so I imagine we’ll all have time to get together repeatedly over the next few weeks,” Clarce accepted Kestrel’s answer, and turned to greet someone else.
“May I claim you as my partner tonight?” Margo asked, as she stepped in close beside him and placed her hand on his arm.
Kestrel looked at her, unsure of her meaning, but touched and flattered by the request from the girl whose company had so entranced him during the journey south. “For dinner, you mean?” he asked. “I know you can’t mean for dancing,” he gave a gentle laugh.
“Yes, for dinner,” she replied. She leaned in against him and stood on her toes. “One of Creata’s friends is a little too aggressive in his affection,” she whispered. “I’d appreciate your kind protection tonight. With your reputation, Sleek isn’t li
kely to come around.”
“I’d be happy to help,” Kestrel smiled. “Which one is he?” he asked.
“The tan one, with the short hair, in the corner behind you, watching us now,” she said softly.
“Why don’t you take me around and introduce me to the others then?” Kestrel suggested.
And so the two of them circulated together for the next few minutes, until another bell rang. “We really must take our seats this time,or cook will be quite upset,” Creata said with a chuckle, as he shepherded everyone towards the wide double door that gave entrance to the dining room. Kestrel held Margo’s chair for her, and watched as Clarce held Picco’s chair, as she beamed a bright smile at the young man.
“I say Kestrel, you were supposed to sit with one of these delectable young women who are here as our guests; Margo’s already had her opportunity to monopolize your company for days now,” Creata called from his seat at the far end of the table.
“And she and your sister have absolutely dazzled me so far,” Kestrel quickly replied. “It’s difficult to pry myself away from them,” he laughed, and the rest of the table laughed as well.
“Touche!” one of the other girls said, and Kestrel turned to see her, then lost his focus, and his face turned white, as he saw an elf maid bringing in the first dinner course. The woman hobbled in the same way that Termine and Hinger had in Green Water, and Kestrel knew with a sickened feeling in his stomach that the woman had had half her foot cut off. She had her head shaved nearly bald as well, and a pair of vivid, ugly scars streaked her face.
Kestrel felt his stomach turn at the sight of the mutilated girl, and he hung his head, looking down at his lap as he tried to regain his composure.
He heard the sounds of plates being placed on the table, then felt Margo’s hand on his arm. “Kestrel, is something wrong? Are you feeling okay?” she asked with real concern in her voice.
“I feel a little queasy,” he replied, as he struggled to control his emotions. He was meant to be a spy, which meant he was supposed to act just like a human; no other human in the room was even aware of the slave who was serving their food to them, a woman who must have been a warrior in the elven guard, proud and fierce, and was now reduced to ignominy. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself and slow his racing heart. He would get to know the slave, he told himself, and if the chance came to help her in some fashion, he would. He would find a way, he corrected himself – he would force a chance to come.
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 02 - The Yellow Palace Page 9