The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 02 - The Yellow Palace

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Few people were there, and Mills came over to join him quickly. “I’m glad to see you back,” the trainer said as they each strapped on pads.

  “I always come back,” Kestrel said with a laugh.

  “I saw that shot Brace gave you yesterday,” Mills replied. “I would have had second thoughts of returning if I had been hit like that.”

  “I got my shot in on them,” Kestrel replied, “and I even did it within the rules. And my team won.”

  “Don’t think they’ll forget that – not those two,” Mills warned Kestrel. “Be aware, keep your eyes open, and don’t let Brace get you trapped in a room alone.” With that warning he dropped the topic, and they focused on working with their weapons, improving Kestrel’s skills. Afterwards, Kestrel went into the weightlifting room and spent a considerable amount of time working to build his strength as a means to protect himself from Brace in the future.

  That afternoon, after he had cleaned up and soaked away some of his aches in a hot bath, he went downstairs and waited in the parlor until his companions appeared, and then the three of the walked companionably through the city to the tailor shop, where Kestrel tried on his new wardrobe. Philip approved of everything, but Margo insisted that one shirt be altered, so they left with several parcels and a promise to return again in a few days for the last item.

  That evening they informed the staff that they would not be home for dinner, and went to a pretty little café along a quiet, shady street that Philip had seen.

  They conversation was friendly and fun, lubricated by a bottle of wine, and they all laughed continually.

  “Have you had a haircut recently?” Philip asked as they finished dinner.

  “No,” Kestrel answered immediately.

  “I know it’s a strange question. It’s just that I’d swear that your ears look bigger than they did when we first met,” Philip explained, and they all laughed, but Kestrel knew that he needed to remember, and he needed to start to think about how to hide his ears more, and better, with longer hair or hats, or other devices.

  After dinner they walked home together, Margo in the middle with the two men on either side of her, their arms linked together, and Kestrel felt more comfortable than he had at any time since their arrival in the city.

  As they turned a corner onto a broad thoroughfare, several bright lights appeared at a distance and drew closer, revealing the front of a large band of cavalry riding in formation along the road, new rounds of cheers from onlookers arising as the riders reached new groups of pedestrians out in the warm evening air. The front ranks of riders carried the Graylee flag, and the banner of the ruling house in front of them, but the riders behind were in alternating rows of the Graylee uniform and the Uniontown ambassador’s red uniform.

  “Channelport is ours!” the leaders shouted out. “A new member of the Graylee empire is welcomed!”

  “What’s that mean?” Kestrel asked in confusion, looking over Margo’s head at Philip, who wore a grim expression.

  “It means that our ruler has been talked into another foolish war by the ambassador from Uniontown,” Philip said in a low voice. “And we’ve won the initial battle. Let’s wait until we’re home to talk further,” he suggested as cheers arose from those around them.

  The mood was much more somber for the rest of the walk, and once they reached Creata’s house they sat in the parlor, Kestrel picking at his new finery unconsciously as he adjusted to its light fabric.

  “Our prince has fought a battle with the elves of the Eastern Forest, as you know, and he treacherously conquered Hydrotaz, our small neighbor who had allowed Graylee’s armies on her territory to fight the elves, according to a treaty,” Philip explained. “After just one battle with the elves, we broke the treaty and conquered Hydrotaz itself. Now we have a palace full of hostages from Hydrotaz’s royal and noble families, sitting just east of the city a few miles.

  “The prince has been persuaded that Channelport should also join his kingdom, which is now grandly called an ‘empire’, and those are apparently returning forces announcing our success in consuming another neighbor,” he continued. “So now, the prince rules over all the lands between the Water Mountains and the East Sea, although he controls Hydrotaz so weakly he can’t even afford to use his forces there to attack the elves this year because we fight the rebellion among the humans of the land instead.”

  That corresponded with the rumors and gossip Kestrel had heard at the armory and at parties.

  “But,” Philip warned, seeming to repeat an argument he had often made before, “Uniontown has been also gobbling up the other kingdoms of the Inner Seas. There used to be eight nations that bordered the waters, now there are only four, and I’m sure River Cape knows that its doom is to be conquered by Uniontown within the next year. Once the southern invaders have finished consuming all the other nations, Graylee appears likely to be targeted for conquest as well.

  “And then your homeland of Estone and the other northern nations will have to wait to see if the southerners want to take all of you over.”

  “You sound just like father,” Margo said.

  “He knows what he’s talking about,” Philip replied. “When the red uniforms come marching into Graylee it will be too late for most, but at least the northern marches along the mountains will be forewarned and prepared to fight for our freedom, just as the guerrillas of Hydrotaz are doing now, with such devastating effectiveness.

  “Philip, perhaps you shouldn’t say anything more,” Margo said. “I know Kestrel will keep this confidential, but you know how Creata feels, and the servants hear and repeat more than you realize.”

  Philip began to respond, then closed his mouth. “You’re right, dear sister. Always the bright one in the family, aren’t you? If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go prepare a letter to send to father in the morning to keep him informed. Kestrel,” he stood, and turned to face his guest, “we had a delightful time tonight. Thank you, and don’t let my gloomy opinions spoil your evening.” He gave Margo a kiss and then was gone.

  Kestrel looked at Margo. “I’m a bit restless,” he excused himself. “I think I’ll go take a walk in the moonlight,” he said as he stood.

  “Would you object to company?” the girl surprised him by asking.

  “No, of course not; it would be such a pleasure!” Kestrel said. “Just let me get a couple of things,” he excused himself and went to get his knife and his staff, uncertain of the safety on the streets in the aftermath of the army’s victory parade. And then, without any justification, he put on the vest that contained the yeti hide.

  They went out the door and began to walk. “Kestrel, the servants say that your elf friend has disappeared,” Margo said delicately, “that she wasn’t in the house yesterday or last night.”

  “I haven’t seen her since the night before last,” Kestrel agreed.

  “The servants hear a great deal and repeat what they hear, as I told Philip,” Margo said, as they walked along. “I was sitting quietly in the parlor today, reading, and they didn’t realize I was there, so they spoke freely.

  “According to the servants, your bed has not been particularly mussed, nor is there anything else to make them think you and the elf were actually intimate,” Kestrel couldn’t see Margo’s face, but he was sure she was blushing at discussing such a topic. It was surprising that she would bring it up at all.

  “Is that true?” she asked.

  Kestrel deliberated as he walked along silently. When he had first started infiltrating Graylee society, he had wanted to seem sober and reliable, as he perceived Margo and Philip to be. But he had adjusted to the reality of Lucretia’s presence, and now he imagined he needed to maintain some element of his less responsible image to appear to be another of the carefree, careless young nobles, so that he could continue to listen to their rumors. Already he was growing confident that, based on the rumors he had heard, there would be no further attack on the elves for months to come because so many forces were needed
to fight and protect against the guerillas of Hydrotaz who fought in opposition to their nation’s occupation by Graylee – Philip’s words just moments ago had confirmed what he had heard elsewhere.

  “It’s true,” he admitted the truth. While it might be wiser to say otherwise, to protect that thoughtless youth image, he still found that he valued Margo’s good opinion so much that he was willing to risk clues to his identity to please her.

  “Why? Why would you do that?” she asked simply, and this time she raised her face to look up at his.

  “The girl fainted, and I caught her, and I wanted to protect her,” Kestrel told a story as close to the truth as he could. “When we talked, she told me that she had nearly been raped by others, and I wanted to protect her more, so I made her my companion. That way no other man would try to violate her, and everyone would treat her with more respect in a sense, not just dumping on her as though she were a drudge without feelings or a soul.”

  Margo put her hand on his arm. “Kestrel, only you could take something as abominable as sleeping with a slave and turned it into a noble endeavor. I’m so sorry I doubted your character,” she said. “Where did the elf go? Why did she leave if you made her life so much better?”

  “I think that a bad day of life as a free person is better than the best day of life as a slave,” Kestrel answered. “She didn’t tell me she was leaving. But I’m glad she’s free, somewhere.”

  Margo continued along in silence, thinking about Kestrel’s story. “It was Brace,” she said at last.

  Kestrel looked at her without comprehension. “Creata only bought the slave because Sleek and Brace lusted after her. I heard that she fought them off, even after they used a knife to give her those scars, and Brace beat her terribly.

  “They are terrible men, and our prince is ruling the nation as though he were one of them,” she concluded.

  Kestrel felt his blood boil. He had never pressed Lucretia for painful details, had never been sure who had abused her. Now he felt anger churning within him, and he imagined getting revenge on the two assailants.

  He and Margo turned another corner silently, and saw that they had nearly completed acircuit around the neighborhood; Creata’s doorstep was within view. “Why do you stay at Creata’s house?” Kestrel asked abruptly. “Surely your family could have its own home in the city.”

  “We used to,” Margo said. “We had a home on a little hill on the west side of the city, with a view of the harbor and the city. But after the old prince died, and his son began to display the type of person he was, father didn’t want to come to the city any longer. So he rented the house out, and Philip and I come to visit friends, and stay with Creata and Picco.”

  Moments later they were inside the house. “Have a good evening,” Kestrel told Margo. “And please keep our conversation confidential.”

  “I will,” Margo assured him. “I’ll let you keep the dark mark on your reputation intact, since you seem to want it. Good night, Kestrel,” she said softly, then went immediately up the stairs.

  Kestrel stood and watched her climb the staircase, as he considered all that he had heard. On the one hand, the suspicions of the servants about the nature of the relationship between Kestrel and Lucretia meant that sooner or later, others besides Margo would find out that there had been nothing physical, and they would ask why. But beyond that, to find out that Brace and Sleek had carried out the indefensible attacks on the elf girl drove him to want to kill the two cruel men, and to let them know it was punishment for their crime.

  He knew where they each lived, one not far from the other, and both near the Uniontown embassy. He ran up to his room and pieced together the rest of his yeti hide protection, adding the sleeves and the skirt that lengthened the vest to protect his haunches and thighs. He knew his impulse was reckless and dangerous, but the thought that he might catch either of the men exposed and unprotected was too tempting, too much a simple answer for the gnawing question of what was he accomplishing by staying among the humans, so that he gave in to the compulsion. He grabbed his bow and arrow to complete his portable armory, and then he left the house again.

  He had a relatively long way to go to reach the section of town where Sleek’s family lived in a city mansion, and he tried to travel through alleys and back ways as much as he could, away from the small bands of celebrants that were out toasting the night’s news of martial victory over Channelport. He told himself that if it was true that Graylee’s preoccupation with Channelport meant that there was no danger of another attack on the elves and the forest, then he could freely begin to focus all his attention on his other mission, the one he had assigned to himself, to learn more about the ambassador from Uniontown.

  Kestrel could make the ambassador and his circle of friends his new target. Instead of information, he could seek to damage and limit the ability of Uniontown to manipulate and pollute Graylee society. And his first step would be to remove the worst elements of the ruling class, the unsuccessful rapists who had attacked Lucretia.

  There were many lights shining through the windows at the Uniontown embassy, the first of the potential targets he came upon. Kestrel kept a wary distance from the building as he surveyed its windows and doors, then he went on past it to scout out Sleek’s home, where the only lights turned out to be dim ones in the back of the house, where Kestrel assumed the servants lived. Finally he went on to Brace’s home, which was also dark.

  Sleek and Brace were likely to be at the embassy, part of an impromptu celebration of the victory in Channelport, Kestrel guessed, and so he went back to the embassy and took up a position from which he could watch traffic that left the building to travel towards the two homes, and he began a vigil. The moon was low on the western horizon, providing a darkened evening that would be to Kestrel’s advantage. With eyesight superior to most humans, he felt confident that he could observe and track his quarry without being observed.

  The moon set, the stars climbed across the sky, and Kestrel’s resolve began to wane, as the windows stayed lit and an occasional whoop of celebration reached his ears. It had grown very late, and Kestrel estimated that dawn was not far away when he saw the front door suddenly open and a dozen men come slowly walking out together. Grooms began to come around from the stables, leading horses, and the men and the servants and the horses mixed together confusingly for several minutes, talking further, until some men finally started to mount on their animals and ride away.

  A small group rode south together, and Kestrel dismissed them. Then a group of four began to ride north, towards the homes of Sleek and Brace, and Kestrel rose from his knees and began to move, following the riders as they left the lit yard of the embassy among a chorus of farewells. Kestrel stayed across the street from the embassy, moving in the shadows, allowing his potential quarry to lead by a comfortable distance. He jogged at an easy pace, his elven muscles not challenged by the horses’ gait, and the group moved noisily along until it reached Sleek’s home.

  They stopped at the gate, and one of the party dismounted to open the way. There were brief goodbyes, and then one man departed as the others entered the estate yard. Kestrel followed the single rider, certain that it was Brace, as they ambled along, quarry and unseen hunter, down the dark road.

  Minutes later Brace stopped at his own gate, and dismounted to open it. He was an easy, open target. Kestrel pulled the bow from his shoulder and sighted an arrow. He could easily put an arrow through Brace’s groin, a fitting punishment for a rapist, he thought, or he could put a pair of arrows in his thighs, immobilizing Brace so that Kestrel could finish him off up close, taunting the thug and telling him why he was about to die.

  His fingers held the arrow, just waiting for the signal from his brain to release the weapon and send it flying through the air, but Kestrel hesitated. This assassination by ambush felt wrong, immoral, and as much as he wanted to do it and could justify it, he couldn’t make himself do it– not yet, not even to Brace. His fingers slowly eased the ten
sion on the bow string, and he lowered the weapon, slung it over his shoulder, then began a long slow walk back to the other side of the city. Much later he returned to Creata’s house, and went in through the back door, where he startled servants who were already rising to start their daily duties. He went up to his bedroom, closed the door, then ducked in panic as something whizzed by him.

  “Friend Kestrel! Where have you been all night? I only have a few moments left before I have to go see Jonson,” Dewberry spoke to him in an irritated tone.

  “Dewberry!” Kestrel said gladly, pleased to see the sprite, and anxious to hear from her. “How are you? How did everything go when you took Lucretia home?”

  “I have two letters for you. I was at the elf doctor’s room a few hours ago, and she gave me these messages. The one we took home is getting better, and she wants you to allow her to come back and be with you,” Dewberry said, as they sat down together on the mattress.

  “I can’t do that,” Kestrel said softly. “Are you ready for your journey?”

  “Jonson says that I am ready,” Dewberry said. “I don’t really know, but we will find out. We’re taking several of his people to help us on our quest.

  “I have to go now Kestrel,” she said as she stood up.

  “I hope you’ll be safe, and find success,” Kestrel told her, as the two looked at each other in the slowly brightening morning light that filtered into the room. “Will you do one more favor for me? Will you go back and tell Alicia that there will be no attack on the forest? The men are too busy fighting each other to attack the elves this year.”

  Dewberry hugged Kestrel tightly, holding a lingering grasp that he returned with affection and concern and sadness. “I’ll miss you, my love,” he whispered in her ear, and then she was gone.

  Kestrel looked at the two envelopes that lay on the mattress where Dewberry had sat. One was labeled Kestrel, while the other only had a K on the front.

  He picked up the one that had his name written in full, in Elvish. As he opened the envelope, a faint whiff of fragrance rose from the paper. It was the smell of Alicia, he realized, as he unfolded the contents and began to read.