The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 02 - The Yellow Palace

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “What will you do next, Kestrel?” Philip asked.

  “I don’t know,” he answered softly. “The important question is, what will you do next?”

  “I’ll have to go back to Graylee City and start over, trying to find who will be supported by the nobles and the merchants.” Philip answered.

  “What happens to Margo and Picco?” Kestrel asked. “Where can they go? They can’t stay here, can they?”

  “I don’t think they can, and I thought about it last night before I fell asleep. For now I think we’ll have to ask the locals to look after the manor, and the girls can stay with Aunt Ressel, or they can go to Picco’s home on the sea; that would be warmer in the winter, but I don’t have anyone to escort them there,” Philip said. He stood up. “I’ll go visit the kitchen, and we can talk later,” he told Kestrel, and then he was on his way.

  Kestrel stood too, and went out to the stables, where his skin of healing water remained on the saddle he had left it on in camp the previous morning. He sat down on a bench and removed his shirt, then sprayed a few drops of the water on his shoulder. There was still half a skin of the water left, which he hoped would last through whatever injuries and emergencies were likely to strike before he could return to the forest.

  He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall of the stable. He felt confused by the uncertainty of the future, not only his own future, but now the future for his friends in Graylee. There were soft footsteps approaching across the paving stones of the stable yard, and he opened his eyes to see Picco approach, wrapped in a robe, and carrying a cup of tea. Kestrel held his good arm open wide, an invitation for her to sit down next to him and snuggle in against him, which she wordlessly did.

  “Has anyone told you thank you for what you’ve done here?” she asked at length.

  “Folks have had too much to think about and do to worry about credit,” Kestrel told, her, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

  “I feel safer when you’re around,” she said. “And feel like I want to be a better person, to be good enough to deserve you.

  “I’m going to miss you so much,” she told him. “You’ll be leaving soon, I know; will you leave today?”

  “Not today, and probably not tomorrow, but it won’t be long,” he told her reluctantly. Even serious and subdued as she was now, Picco was a livelygirl, full of life and energy in Kestrel’s eyes, always ready to go to a party and help make it a cheerful event. He enjoyed that aspect of her personality, and found that he already knew that he was going to miss her effervescence.

  “Promise me one thing, little monkey,” he said affectionately. “Promise me that you and Margo will take care of one another while I’m not around. I expect to find the two of you together the next time I want to eat a chocolate cake on the bedroom floor!”

  “We’ll stick together, but you promise that you’ll be safe too! And don’t go off and fall in love with any of those Hydrotaz girls or Estonian girls or elf girls! You’re choices are Margo and me, don’t you forget it!” she grinned at him, and he grinned back.

  “What about the gnome maidens?” he asked. “You didn’t put them on the prohibited list,” he joked as she shoved him in exasperation.

  They rose from the bench and walked back to the house and into the kitchen, where a local woman stood putting on an apron. “Gladys, this is Kestrel, our warrior, as you can tell by the way he walks around without a shirt on,” Margo introduced him, “and this is Picco, my friend.”

  “This is Gladys. She used to be in service here as a cook. The neighborhood has heard about our tragedy, and people are coming to help out,” Margo said with tears of gratitude in her eyes. “Picco and I may be able to stay here after all,” she said.

  Kestrel greeted Gladys, then left the two women and the cook in the kitchen as he walked further into the house. He wasn’t sure that he thought it was wise for the two to try to oversee the restoration of the manor and the operation of the estate, not after he and Philip were gone. He hoped that the complete destruction of the squad that had been sent to the manor wouldchill and frighten the prince’s regime, and prevent any further such invasions, but he did not know.

  Kestrel spent the day with Greysen, teaching him more of the techniques for the use of the staff, and working on archery as well. They rode several horses in the afternoon, as Kestrel tested the extra animals they had retained from Clarce’s squad to see which would be best for the trip to Hydrotaz. When they returned to the stables afterwards, Philip and Yulia were practicing sword skills, and Kestrel was pleased to see how effective Yulia was; the girl had been trained, and trained well at some point in her young life.

  That night, all six of them sat down to dinner together at the dining room table, eating a meal prepared by Gladys. They all were satisfied with the wonderful food, and then Kestrel listened to Margo and Philip discuss their plans. Both of them wanted Margo to stay and maintain the estate, and after a brief conversation it was agreed.

  “So we will be returning to Hydrotaz soon?” Yulia asked Kestrel, her eyes flickering to Philip for just a second, “the three of us?”

  “We will leave soon,” Kestrel agreed.

  “Tomorrow?” Greysen asked him, as the others listened. “We tested the horses today; we know which ones are best for the journey.”

  Kestrel sighed, wishing that the boy would not pin him down. He knew he had to leave, and he had to follow the dictates of the goddess who was watching over him.

  Kestrel’s eyes turned to Philip, then to Margo, and finally to Picco. “Yes, we can leave tomorrow. We’ll see what provisions we can gather from these folks in the morning, and leave at midday.”

  “Thank you, Kestrel,” Yulia said softly. “I am anxious to return to my people, to let them know I am alive, and to lead the fight against the same people your friends are fighting here.”

  That night, Kestrel slept poorly, as he thought about Margo and Picco living alone together in the manor. When dawn arrived, Margo gently tapped on his door and glided into his room, a long gown around her body. He was already awake, lying in bed thinking about those he was leaving and those he was heading towards, as he watched her approach his bed.

  She sat down on his mattress and reached up to his head, and brushed his hair away from his ears. “Look at the elf who has emergedfrom the human,” she said softly. “Yet you’re still the same very good man, the one who has done so much to help and protect us.

  “Be careful on your journey, Kestrel,” she said. “I want to see you again, alive and healthy and in happier times for all ofus.”

  “Margo, I know you have a huge task ahead of you, and I know you have a lot of pain and betrayal just behind you,” Kestrel began, “so I’m not being fair to ask,” he sat up. “But what does your heart say to you about us as a couple at some day in the future? You know I’ll do anything for you, and nothing to hurt you,” he told her.

  “Kestrel, I want to have this conversation, but I’m not ready to,” Margo answered. “I know you’re not like Clarce, that you’re a reliable, honest person, better as an elf that any human man I’ve known other than Philip and my father. But I don’t know when my heart will be ready to open up again. I’ll have plenty to do for the next few months, running things here;I don’t think I’ll have time to search for romance.

  “Don’t pin your hopes on me,” she said. “Don’t rule me out when the time comes either.” She rose from the bed. “I’ll go start some tea, and see you in the dining room.”

  When Kestrel arose and entered the dining room, Yulia and Philip were already there, drinking tea with Margo. “There are plenty of supplies available for you to take on your trip,” Philip said.

  “How much longer will you remain here?” Kestrel asked Philip.

  “Another two or three days, just enough for us to feel comfortable that everything will run smoothly here. I’ve seen a couple of former stable hands who I think will come back to help run the estate. I’ve heard that our steward is alive and h
idden in a village up north, so I’ll go see him too,” Philip answered.

  Kestrel installed a bolt on Margo’s door to give her extra protection, and brought a rope from the stable and left it on the floor by her bedroom window, just as a precautionary way to escape. He loaded up saddlebags on four horses with provisions from the larder, and took a walk around the grounds with Picco. “You’ve changed so much since we first met you, Kestrel,” she said.

  “Have I?” he asked.

  “You were a little shy at first, and now you’re so much in charge of every situation. I look around for you to make every decision for us now,” she said. “But my favorite memories will be eating cake in that tiny little room in the inn, and taking those baths together at Aunt Runnel’s house – you were practically one of the girls those nights!

  “In the best of ways, of course!” she laughed, and Kestrel laughed with her.

  “Oh Picco, you either changed a great deal this summer too, or I didn’t really pay attention to you at first,” Kestrel told her.

  She slapped him on the shoulder in mock anger.

  “You have been so strong and helpful these past few days, and you’ve been a great friend for Margo,” he saw her eyes blink momentarily, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “I’ll think of something someday before you come back, don’t worry,” she grinned.

  Kestrel grinned back, and they laughed together as they walked back to the manor. Everyone else was gathered in the yard in front of the stables.

  “Here Kestrel,” Margo offered him a gift as Yulia and Greysen climbed onto their horses.

  Kestrel opened the bag and saw that it was a knit cap, one that would fit closely over his head, and cover his ears.

  “Thank you,” he said, realizing the practicality of the gift for his long journey ahead.

  “It was one of my father’s,” Margo said. “Philip and I both know that he would approve of you wearing it.”

  I’ll think of him when I put it on,” Kestrel said before he climbed up into his saddle. “And I’ll think of you as my family, the friends who have shared so much with me these past few weeks, good and bad. Someday I’ll be back here in Graylee and I’ll be back to see all of you!”

  He turned his horse and rode out of the yard and around the manor, followed by Yulia and Greysen. “Princess, you ride in the center, and Greysen, you ride in the back, just as we’re doing now,” Kestrel spoke over his shoulder. “I don’t know how long this journey will take, because I’m not sure exactly where we’re going in Hydrotaz.”

  “We’ll go to the capital city,” Yulia responded.

  “I suspect that’s right, eventually,” Kestrel said. “But for now I’d like to go due east along the feet of the mountains, and then turn south after we cross the border. I can’t tell you why,” he forestalled opposition, especially from Greysen, “but I just have a feeling that it is the right way to go.”

  Chapter 17– Reunion in Hydrotaz

  Ferris made it his duty to sew the body bags closed in the evening, at the end of the days when his patrols lost men to ambushes. He was still second in command of a squad of twenty men patrolling the countryside of Hydrotaz. They were assigned the unachievable task of suppressing the guerrilla opposition to Graylee’s conquest of the nation, and though they were supposed to cover several townships, in reality they were suppressing nothing that was further than half a mile away from them.

  The Graylee commanders of the Hydrotaz occupation were furious, and the seneschal, Nicolai, was furious. Any group of Graylee forces that went into the countryside beyond the capitol city inevitably risked attack unless it was two or three squads in size. Graylee did not seem to have enough forces and enough resources to endlessly supply such large patrols across the entire countryside of the small nation.

  Ferris continued to be one part of one strategy meant to be part of the solution. Patrols of mixed Graylee and native Hydrotaz forces still traveled the countryside as integrated units, preventing the rebels from attacking the units to kill Graylee men alone. Except the mixture wasn’t working. Somehow the rebels knew which men in each patrol were from Graylee and which ones weren’t, and they focused their attacks on the Graylee guards, leaving the Hydrotaz guards alone.

  Each mixed patrol started out with uneasy chemistry among the two different parts; it happened every time. As the Graylee members were slowly killed off during the course of the patrol, the Graylee survivors grew suspicious of their Hydrotaz counterparts, wondering who among them were tipping the members’ origins to the rebels. Ferris had seen the combination of suspicion and attrition destroy the effectiveness of patrol squads, and force them to ingloriously return home early on several previous patrols. This was going to be another, he was sure.

  He finished sewing the bag shut, and left the dead Graylee soldier’s body for the evening, as he returned to his sleeping blankets near the fire. They would dig the grave and bury the body immediately after dawn the next morning, then be on their way to try to reach a village whose Graylee administrator had not been heard from in eight weeks. There were no taxes or goods coming in from the village or its subdistrict villages, depriving the government of the money it needed to pay its bills, to pay its soldiers, and to pay its tribute to Graylee. And the body would be dug up and desecrated the following night.

  If they lost one more Graylee-origin member of the patrol, the commander would turn the squad around and return to Hydrotaz City, Ferris was sure. And he didn’t care. His only care was to avoid causing trouble; he had a son held as a hostage by Graylee. His was one of many families from the top to the bottom of the nobility whose families had lost loved ones to Graylee’s policy of holding the young as hostages to ensure cooperation by the ruling class. His wife had died of illness over the summer, though Ferris suspected it was a broken heart, the result of the loss of her son.

  The policy had worked early in Graylee’s occupation of the country, but then the small acts of rebellion in the countryside had begun. Graylee patrols attacked. Officials assassinated. Payrolls and funds robbed. Graylee, through the traitorous seneschal, Nicolai, had tried to punish the nation, but hadn’t known who to punish. Some noble families had received their hostages back in coffins as a lesson, but the attacks had continued and grown more widespread.

  The prince of the nation had even tried to lead a countercoup, and lost his life. Allegedly, his sister, the last of the ruling family, who had been taken as the first hostage shipped to Graylee, had subsequently been put to death.

  So Ferris kept his profile low, rode his patrols in the northern region of the nation, did what he was ordered to do, and waited hopefully for a spark to come that would allow Hydrotaz to rise and regain its independence from the Graylee overlords.

  He had no idea when he awoke the following morning that the spark would be delivered to his doorstep.

  A patrol left the camp just before dawn to oversee the empty lands surrounding the location of the mixed Graylee/Hydrotaz squad out in the countryside. Half an hour later a rider from the patrol came thundering back. “We’ve caught an elf, and they’re bringing him into camp!” the rider had reported, causing a stir in the camp, for hatred of elves was the one unifying characteristic that all Graylee and Hydrotaz citizens shared in common.

  “Elves don’t come this far west,” the Graylee squad leader had announced dismissively, and made a crude joke about the intelligence of Hydrotaz soldiers.

  Ten minutes later, the other seven members of the patrol had come into camp, escorting horses that carried a badly wounded elf, and two human companions.

  Ferris had looked at the elf with interest, a fairly robust example of an elf, other than the bloody red stain that soaked his shirt where it covered his gut, but clearly an elf. Then he looked at the two human companions, an angry-looking young woman and an even angrier-looking young man. And as recognition dawned and punched in him the gut, Ferris felt his heart stop.

  His eyes widened, and he cautiously put
his finger to his lips to shush theboy when their eyes met, and the boy’s eyes widened.

  “Sir, this situation calls for drastic action,” he said loudly. “Drastic action,” he repeated the phrase at nearly a shout.

  “What are you talking about, Ferris?” the Graylee leader asked in an annoyed tone.

  “There’s something here out of the ordinary, and we need to take drastic action.” Ferris repeated the code phrase for the third time. All the men in the squad who were of Hydrotaz origin had gathered around, coming out of their blankets or from their breakfast seats.

  “Now sir?” one of them asked.

  “Now,” Ferris said calmly, and the Hydrotaz soldiers all simultaneously pulled their swords from their hips and quickly murdered the few Graylee members that remained in the squad.

  Greysen and Yulia watched in stunned horror as only a matter of seconds passed while men were butchered in front of their eyes. “Adole, Mitchell, organize a burial squad and put them six feet under, Ferris said promptly.

  He stepped over the body of the Graylee commander he had just killed, then hugged Greysen in a long, silent embrace.

  “Greysen, what’s happening? We need to tend to Kestrel right away,” the dark-haired girl said. Ferris looked down and saw that she was kneeling next to the injured elf.

  “Dad,” Greysen spoke, backing out of his father’s embrace. “This is the princess! This is Yulia, the ruler of Hydrotaz! We escaped from a prison in Graylee two weeks ago.”

  “Who’s the elf? Her slave?” Ferris asked. “We were told the princess was dead, killed in Graylee while trying to escape.”

  “The only reason she’s not dead is because he’s the one who saved us; he was bringing us back to Hydrotaz. We were in camp and I fell asleep on the third shift of watch. When I woke up one of your men had stabbed Kestrel in his sleep,” Greysen answered. “There’s healing water on his horse,” Greysen said as Yulia ran to the horse and pulled a water skin off the pommel of the saddle.