The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 02 - The Yellow Palace

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “We could stay at Aunt Ressel’s home,” Margo replied, placing her hand on Philip’s. “It’s far enough from the city that guards aren’t likely to come there looking for us.

  “It’s about a two day ride away from here,” she told Kestrel.

  He looked at Philip for confirmation, and the older brother nodded his head. “If that is convenient for Kestrel to accompany you to Aunt Ressel’s estate, then I think that’s a prudent choice,” he agreed.

  Although he wasn’t completely sure about the relative locations of the palace of hostages and the estate they planned to go to, Kestrel was drawn by the idea of traveling with Margo and Picco for two days. He looked at Philip and nodded his head.

  “Let’s all go pack to leave and try to meet in the stables in five minutes,” Philip suggested.

  “Philip?” Margo asked, as they all stood up. “Is Clarce,” she paused, then began again. “Are you going to see Clarce?”

  “I’m sure I will,” Philip answered. “He’s an important part of this.”

  “Please tell him to be careful. Tell him I look forward to seeing him again,” she asked, as the others filtered out of the room, as Kestrel listened with interest. He felt stunned by the words that seemed to confirm the relationship between Margo and Clarce he had only recently suspected.

  He’d been entranced with Margo’s serenity and maturity, as well as her attractive human looks. But if Margo and Clarce were attached to each other, he would keep his regard for the girl hidden, and try to maintain the friendship and trust that they seemed to share. Clarce seemed like a reliable friend, one he could understand to be attractive to Margo, and much more acceptable to the girl than an elven half-breed, he thought with regret and self-pity.

  Kestrel ran upstairs and retrieved his purse of golds and the pieces of his yeti skin protection, then left his room that had been the site of so many memorable events. There was nothing else in the house that Kestrel needed to pack, so he went to the stables and helped the groom bring the horses out into the dusky yard, and prepare them for their various journeys that evening. As they saddled the horses, the other members of the party arrived one by one, and placed their bags on their horses.

  “This is it then, for a while,” Creata said as they all stood together awkwardly.

  “Be careful,” Picco told her brother. “I hope I’ll see you again soon,” she hugged him tightly. “And you too,” she added as she embraced Philip. “And I don’t want you to feel left out,” she told Kestrel, as she pressed her body against him in a squeeze as well, while Margo hugged each of the others.

  “We’ll see you at the manor in a few days,” Margo told Philip, as they mounted their horses and began to ride out of the yard. Kestrel looked back at the house, and saw the remaining members of the staff gathered on the kitchen steps, watching their employer ride away into an uncertain future. He waved at the small cluster, and they waved back, just before he rounded the corner of the wall and lost sight of them.

  “Margo, you take the lead. Both of you keep your hats on to disguise the fact that you’re women,” Kestrel told his companions as the others went off in their own directions. “Not that that will fool anyone who looks closely,” he grinned. “If anything happens, let me stay between you and the threat,” he turned serious.

  Margo obediently led them out of the city without incident as the sun set in the west. “We can stay in an inn a few miles up the road,” Margo told him a bit later. “It’s a long day’s ride away from Ressel’s.”

  “Have you heard of a palace where there are hostages from Hydrotaz?” Kestrel asked the two girls as they rode along the dark road.

  “It’s the Yellow Palace,” Picco answered. “We used to go to the prince’s summer party there, but he didn’t hold the party this year, obviously, since the palace is otherwise used.”

  “Are we close to the Yellow Palace?” Kestrel asked.

  “We’ll pass the drive to get there in a little while. We’re almost there now,” Margo spoke. “Is that where you have to go? Are you going to set some of the hostages free?” she shrewdly asked.

  Sensing that there was no longer any need to worry about anyone being caught, Kestrel answered candidly. “I do need to go retrieve two hostages, and then take them back to their home in Hydrotaz.”

  “That’s a dangerous place,” Margo said.

  “Not any more dangerous than Graylee, though,” Kestrel answered.

  “Perhaps not,” Margo sighed. “It’s so sad to think of our nation that way.”

  Minutes later, she pointed to a lane with stone markers at the crossroads. “That’s the way to the Yellow Palace,” she indicated.

  They fell silent again, riding their horses along the dark road, and Kestrel reflected on the comfort that riding a horse provided. It was something that elves didn’t do, something that he had never done even a year earlier, but now he found the horse to be not only convenient, but soothing for his soul. He realized again how far he was falling away from the culture he had been raised in, and he doubted for the first time if he could ever go back to living his life among the elves. Perhaps if he survived all the challenges ahead he could live in a place like Estone he told himself, perhaps the only place he knew of where elves and humans did live together in peace.

  “Here’s the inn,” Margo called out later, as they approached a cluster of dim lights lining the road.

  It was a small village, hardly large enough to support a tavern, let alone an inn, Kestrel would have guessed, yet somehow an inn nice enough for the family of a baron was located here.

  “I’ll take the horses around to the stables if you’d like to go in and arrange the rooms for us,” Kestrel said to Margo as they climbed out of the saddle at the front door. “Here’s some coin for the rooms,” he offered her a gold from his small reserve of money.

  He found a young boy working at the stable, and found that the stable was surprisingly full already. “We’ve had several visitors stop in,” the boy said as he and Kestrel went to a pair of small stalls at the end of a row, the last two stalls left. They had to make do, and placed two horses in one stall, then Kestrel left to go to the inn, all their saddle bags and his weapons slung over his shoulders.

  When Kestrel arrived inside, Margo had a glum expression on her face, while Picco looked mischievously pleased. “They only have one room left,” Picco said. “We’re going to be roommates tonight!”

  Kestrel grinned at the contrasting expressions of the girls. “Let’s go see what our room is like,” he suggested. Picco jangled a key and led the way upstairs and down a hallway to a door that opened only after some forceful persuasion, and they looked in upon a small room with a single narrow bed.

  “Kestrel, you still like to sleep in the nude, don’t you?” Picco asked with a grin as he unloaded their belongings on the bed, then laughed as she and Kestrel both saw the horror that blossomed on Margo’s face.

  “I am not going to sleep nude tonight,” he laughed as he placed his arm around Margo’s shoulder in a friendly hug that brought a forced grin to herface. “Let’s go get some food for dinner, and then settle in to sleep. I’d like to start early tomorrow if possible.”

  Together they walked back downstairs and took a table in the crowded room. The room was brightly lit, the crowd was relatively genteel by the standards of taverns Kestrel knew in the Eastern Forest and Estone, and he asked Margo if it was typical of taverns in Graylee.

  “It’s like all the ones I’ve been in,” she offered a considered response.

  “It’s quite a bit different from a couple of taverns I’ve seen in the city,” Picco laughed, and she motioned to the waiter to bring a bottle of wine and glasses.

  “Here’s to friends,” Picco said, raising the glasses in a toast, once the wine arrived and was poured. “And to happy reunions.”

  “To happy reunions,” Margo echoed, and then they sipped their wine.

  “Kestrel, tell us what happened after the guards took you away,�
�� Margo said.

  The waiter returned just then. “We’ll have a plate of veal chops, roasted tubers, and a green salad,” Margo ordered for all of them. “And a small chocolate cake after that,” she added.

  “That is what my father always ordered for us every year when we stopped here for the night,” she explained to the others.

  “It’s just like old times,” Picco laughed.

  “We had three suites back then, not three people in one closet,” Margo said disdainfully.

  “Did you all sleep in the nude?” Picco asked impulsively.

  “Picco!” Margo sputtered in her wine glass. “Not everyone sleeps in the nude!” she spoke loudly enough that heads at surrounding tables turned, and she slid down in her seat, blushing in embarrassment.

  “That’s enough,” Kestrel tried to calm the situation.

  “Go ahead and answer Margo’s question,” Picco suggested. “Tell us what happened.”

  A haunted look came into Kestrel’s eyes. “The people at the palace thought there was a rebellion, a conspiracy, and they thought I could tell them about it, as well as who was involved. I couldn’t give them answers to satisfy them, so they beat me. When the torture was finally over, I had to ask my friends the sprites to help me escape,” he told them after another sip of wine. “Philip and Creata saw them in my room, when they came back to take me away to be healed.

  “Then they brought me back when I was better, and we’ve had an adventure ever since, haven’t we?” he cut his story short.

  So you know real sprites? Personally?” Margo asked.

  “I do,” Kestrel agreed. “But that’s too long a story to explain.”

  “You fought your way into the palace, set us all free, and fought your way back out, is that right?” Picco asked, then waited impatiently as the waiter arrived with their meal.

  “That’s just how simple it was,” Kestrel agreed.

  “And next you’re going to break into the Yellow Palace and set someone free?” she asked.

  “I am so commanded,” Kestrel said between bites.

  “Are they elves?” Margo asked. “Are there elves held at the Yellow Palace?”

  “We should perhaps talk about something else,” Kestrel said. He picked up the wine bottle and poured more in each of their glasses.

  “So tell us about Clarce,” he suggested to Margo.

  “Yes Margo,” Picco chimed in. “Tell us about Clarce. After I found Kestrel in your bedroom that morning, I was sure he was the secret romance that was making you so giddy. Was I wrong?!”

  “Oh yes!” Margo laughed. “So wrong!” she looked at Kestrel, and tried to stifle her laugh. “Not that any woman in Graylee wouldn’t want to be in a romance with Kestrel. I just misunderstood a couple of things,” she apologized to him, “and Clarce has always been such a good friend. Our friendship just became something more this summer.”

  “So I could have thrown myself at Kestrel any time this summer, and I wouldn’t have been stepping on your toes?” Picco asked, as if Kestrel wasn’t sitting at the table.

  “I think I alienated her when she thought I was misusing Lucretia, the slave girl,” Kestrel chimed in, the wine loosening his tongue so that he spoke more freely than usual. “She grew distant after that.”

  “I couldn’t imagine that someone who seemed as nice as you did would do something like that,” Margo burst out. “And it seems to me you almost did throw yourself at him a time or two, not that I minded,” she shot back at Picco.

  “Such as?” Picco asked while she sat back in her seat.

  “The very first day after we met him, when you took him riding horses down bythe river and he cut himself,” Margo answered.

  “I didn’t really cut myself, you know. I’m not usually that clumsy,” Kestrel defended himself. “It was one of the assassins from Uniontown.”

  “What assassins?” Margo asked in confusion.

  “There were two assassins from Poma, who had a device that could find me. They tracked me down on that first morning, while I was reviving Picco,” Kestrel explained. “One of them gave me that sword cut on my hip that hobbled me for a while.”

  “What happened to them?” Margo asked.

  “Kestrel killed them, and then he made me undress them and help throw them into the river,” Picco answered.

  “So we’ve had our quiet little secrets together, haven’t we Kestrel?” she asked.

  “We’ve had our secrets together too,” Margo retorted, as both women sat forward. “Like the time you found Kestrel in my room, he was telling me he is an elf!”

  Picco shook her head in disbelief, and Margo realized that she had revealed a secret she shouldn’t have, while Kestrel’s eyes grew wide in astonishment at the way his identity had suddenly emerged as a topic.

  Picco turned to look at Kestrel through narrowed eyes. Kestrel looked at Margo in shock, as she clapped both hands over her mouth momentarily. “I’m so sorry,” she said to Kestrel.

  “Is it true?” Picco asked.

  “I feel human,” Kestrel answered. “I listen to human gods, I ride horses, I have more friends in Graylee than anywhere else, I think.”

  Picco looked at his ears, no longer so swollen with the aftermath of his surgery.

  “I have them cut away,” he answered her unspoken question in a low voice. “The doctor who treated me after I was tortured at the palace, the same doctor who fixed my hip injury, she is the one who cuts my ears back when they grow too long. The sprites took me back to the Eastern Forest to save my life.

  “When I went to see her a couple of days ago I found her sleeping with her husband’s bodyguard,” he added. “I was just coming to believe that I could trust her, after she tricked me the first time she operated on my ears. Now I don’t know what to think, except to maybe just think that she’s as fragile as the rest of us, just as likely to make a bad decision or to hurt someone she loves.”

  “That elf slave my brother owned, you knew her, didn’t you?” Picco asked.

  Kestrel closed his eyes. “I did. I knew her before she was caught in the war, when she was more open to the possibility of excitement and good and new things in the world. We met at an archery competition during a festival, when she saw me with a sprite,” he answered. “She’s different now.”

  “Will you excuse me?” Picco asked, suddenly pushing her chair back. “I’m going to get a breath of fresh air.” She grabbed the bottle of wine and fled from the room.

  “I didn’t intend to do that Kestrel; I am so sorry,” Margo said, reaching her hand out to hold his atop the table. “The words were out before I even knew.”

  He squeezed her hand tight. “I know Margo. You’ve never hurt me intentionally. You’re too good to do that.”

  “I’ve never hurt you unintentionally, have I?” she asked.

  Kestrel thought about the revelation of her apparent preference for Clarce. “If you have, it’s not your fault.”

  “Should I go talk to her?” he asked.

  “No, why don’t you let me?” Margo answered. She pushed her chair back. “We’ll be back,” she assured him, then left him alone at the table.

  Kestrel sat at the table, as the other tables in the room slowly emptied. The waiter brought the chocolate cake that Margo had ordered earlier, adding to Kestrel’s feeling of foolishness as he sat alone with the baked item.

  After several more minutes passed, Kestrel left coins on the table to settle the bill, picked up a fork and the plate of cake, and went up to the room, where he knocked on the door. “May I come in?” he asked.

  After a pause of silence within, he heard Picco’s voice. “Come in,” she said, and Kestrel opened the door to find his companions sitting side-by-side on the floor, the wine bottle nearly empty between them.

  “Since you brought the cake, you can stay,” Margo told him. She patted the floor next to her, and he gingerly took the seat, then held the cake and fork up as an offering to them.

  “I’ll take the first
bite,” Margo volunteered, emptying Kestrel’s hands, and taking a large chunk of cake that left a rim of dark icing and crumb debris around her mouth.

  Picco greedily took the plate from Margo, and ate two bites, then offered the cake back to Kestrel.

  “What is it exactly?” he asked cautiously.

  “It’s a chocolate cake,” Margo stated what seemed obvious.

  Kestrel took the fork and cut out a small bite that he cautiously sampled. The taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, sweet and a little bitter, almost as intoxicating as the wine, and the texture was moist deliciousness that melted in his mouth. He took another bite, one with some of the icing, and marveled at the texture.

  “I’ve never had anything like this before!” he told them enthusiastically.

  “Elves don’t eat chocolate?” Picco asked.

  “I never have. Maybe they did in the big city,” he passed the plate to Margo, who took two more bites.

  “So you’re really an elf?” Picco asked.

  “I was raised as an elf,” he answered, as Margo gave the cake to Picco, then took a swig from the wine bottle. “But I never quite fit in, because I look so human.”

  “What makes you look human to an elf?” Margo asked. “You look human to me.”

  “You know, my ears are cut to look human now, and my eyebrows are surgically straightened. Before I was changed, they were different, but even when they’re natural, they still aren’t as pointed and long as the ears of other elves. Plus, elves are slender,” he said.

  “You’re pretty slender, Kestrel,” Margo observed.

  “But I’m bulky compared to most elves. I’m stronger than most elves too, though,” he explained.

  “Do you like being an elf?” Picco asked between bites, as she and Margo exchanged the cake and the fork.

  “I always did until the last year. I always dreamed of fitting in and being more like the other elves,” he replied. “But since I’ve been trained to be a human, I’ve been comfortable living this way, especially this past month with all of you as friends.”

  “So, will you be a human the rest of your life?” Picco asked.