The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 02 - The Yellow Palace

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “So, are Cheryl and her mom still living in town?” Kestrel asked.

  “They are. Cheryl married Malsten, and now her mom and sister live with them all together,” Backsin replied. “After her father died, Zeibold let them stay in the commander’s home through the end of winter, which was fair of him, but then he was ready to move in himself, and Malsten had been courting her pretty steadily while you had disappeared, and it happened that one afternoon they announced the engagement, and the next week they were married and moving everyone in together.

  “Malsten’s family built a fine new home for them all to live in,” he hastily added. “They’ve been married about six months now.”

  The words felt like a blow to Kestrel’s stomach, and his friend watched his face turn pale. “Sorry Kestrel,” he said.

  Kestrel knew that he had left Cheryl behind long ago, had been fecklessly entranced by Lucretia, Merilla, and Margo in the time he had been gone. But Cheryl had been the first girl he’d been infatuated with, the one who had seemed like a safe, fond memory of the simpler times of his life not so long ago. To hear that she too had moved on to the point of marriage and a home was a stunning bit of news.

  “I’m sure she’ll be happy,” Kestrel knew he had to say.

  “I’ll go up to see Zeibold now,” he said after a pause. “We’ll get together later,” he added.

  With that, Kestrel moved on down the lane on the base, and came to the office building that he had always associated with Commander Mastrin. Only now, he knew, the benevolence in the commander’s upper floor office had been replaced with the banal. Zeibold was a paperpusher who confused written orders for leadership, and who had never been held in high regard by the guardsmen on the base.

  He stopped at the front desk and told the orderly, a face and a name he didn’t know, who he was. After a minute of headscratching, the orderly sent him to the lobby outside Zeibold’s office, where ten other guardsmen waited to see the commander. Kestrel leaned against an empty section of the lobby wall and began to await his turn to enter the office. The others in the lobby were called into the chamber, and others arrived to wait in the lobby as well, so that the numbers waiting declined only slowly. But Kestrel remained waiting as those before him were called, and then those who had come to the lobby after him were called in, while the afternoon passed in minutes and then in hours of fruitless patience.

  When the room was finally emptied of all others, and the shadows through the windows had finally slanted at the lengthening angles of the end of the day, Kestrel’s name was called from the partially open door, and he left the lobby, which was finally emptied, and allowed to enjoy peaceful freedom from visitors.

  Zeibold sat at Mastrin’s desk. It was the same desk in the same spot. Only the occupant had changed. To Kestrel, it felt like an unworthy effort to try to equalize the two commanders, so that those who visited the office would say that Zeibold was just another face wearing the same uniform, a continuation of leadership, and he bristled at the notion.

  “Kestrel, what causes you to grace us with your untimely presence?” Zeibold asked as Kestrel arrived at the visitor’s side of the desk. There was no chair there to sit in, he noted.

  “I’m on my way to Center Trunk to report to my commander, sir,” Kestrel replied. He’d remind Zeibold who was really in change of giving him orders, he decided.

  “And who is that?” Zeibold asked.

  “Colonel Silvan,” Kestrel answered.

  “And what is your report?” the commander asked, wanting to assert some authority over Kestrel.

  The returning spy hesitated. He didn’t want to give Zeibold any fuel that would make him seem crazy or boastful or traitorous to the best interest of the elves.

  “I’ll answer the colonel’s questions, sir. He knows what he thinks is important to know,” Kestrel decided to avoid volunteering anything to Zeibold.

  Zeibold’s face turned red in anger, giving Kestrel a sense of satisfaction at thwarting the officer’s efforts.

  “Then you can do the same with me,” he snapped. “And I’ll start byasking, where have you been?”

  “When? Many places, sir,” Kestrel answered.

  “Where were you immediately before coming to Elmheng?” Zeibold asked.

  “Northern Hydrotaz,” Kestrel answered.

  And where were you before that?” the next question came.

  “Graylee, sir,” he answered again.

  “Just like that, among the humans, having a good old time as an elf in those countries?” Ziebold asked sarcastically.

  “I had my ears surgically cut to look human. That’s why I came back– they grew back to elven ears and I wasn’t effective,” Kestrel said quietly.

  Ziebold was taken aback, and shut his mouth just as he prepared to make his next cutting comment.

  “So, you were a spy among the humans?” he asked less certainly.

  Kestrel only nodded in agreement.

  “Are they going to attack again soon?” Ziebold asked.

  “No,” Kestrel shook his head.

  “And that’s you doing?” Ziebold regained his sureness, and voiced a sarcastic question once again, not willing to let Kestrel maintain the upper hand in the conversation.

  “To some degree, yes,” Kestrel agreed again. He was tired of spending time in the room with the smallminded man. “Will there be anything else?” he asked.

  “No,” Ziebold was taken aback.

  “Shall I go pick up my past due pay at the paymaster?” Kestrel asked.

  A look of alarm flashed across Ziebold’s face, then he was expressionless. “The paymaster is off today, but you can collect what’s due tomorrow morning.”

  Kestrel stood up. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be going then. I’ll spend the night here and leave in the morning to get to Center Trunk as quickly as possible.” He saluted and left the room as quickly as possible, before the commander could think of a reason to keep him longer.

  He left the building and went back to see Backsin, knowing where he would go next. “That was painful, but at least it’s over. Where is Cheryl’s house?” he asked the gate guard.

  “It’s a yellow house on the east side of town,” the guard answered, sending Kestrel on his way.

  The walk through Elmheng was too short in one sense and too long in another for Kestrel. He knew every building he saw, and waved at several people he knew. But when he got to the yellow house,he wasn’t sure he was ready to knock on the door.

  He did it anyway, and felt lightheaded when Cheryl opened the door, visibly pregnant, and surprised by his appearance. “Oh Kestrel! Inever thought I would see you again,” she pulled a smile into place on her face and awkwardly hugged him on the porch steps. “Come in, please,” she invited him.

  “I’m sorry mother’s not here right now,” the expecting mother said. “Crozanna, come see who’s here,” she called, and Kestrel almost didn’t recognize the taller, slender girl who came in response as they sat down in a parlor in the front of the house.

  “It’s Kestrel!” the teen chirped, torn between gladness and shyness.

  “Crozanna, you’ve grown up!” Kestrel told her. “How did that happen?”

  The girl giggled, and the ice was broken that simply.

  “Where have you been?” Cheryl asked. “Dad never knew what happened to you after he sent you to Center Trunk. He just told us that he thought you had an important future for the elf nation, but it would be on a road of shadows.”

  Kestrel listened, and felt the phrase resonate. “It has been a road of shadows,” he replied. “I’ve been in Center Trunk and Firheng and Estone, and other places as well.

  “I was sorry to hear about your father,” he told the two girls. “He was a good man.”

  “That’s what everyone said, but we already knew it,” Cheryl said simply.

  “I tried to write to you last summer, when I was in Firheng,” Kestrel said.

  “I never received yourletter,” Cheryl said, truly mo
ved. “I wish I would have known.”

  “She wouldn’t have married Malsten if she’d known you were still interested,” Crozanna interjected.

  “Crozanna, you can’t say that,” Cheryl remonstrated gently.

  There was an awkward silence.

  “I need to return to the base,” Kestrel finally said.

  “Will you be staying here?” Cheryl asked.

  “No, I’ll be on my way to Center Trunk as soon as I can, to see what my next assignment is,” he spoke as he stood up. “You look good, Cheryl.”

  “Thank you, Kestrel. I’ve missed you. Thank you for coming by. Your assignment must have been good for you; you seem so much more composed, like you’re surer of yourself now,” she said, as they walked arm in arm to the door, with Crozanna behind them.

  “That’s funny, because I don’t feel like I have a clue about what I’m doing!” he laughed.

  They hugged for a long moment at the door, then Kestrel gave Crozanna a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “Take care of your sister,” he directed her. “Tell Malsten I said hello,” he added in an offhand manner, and then he was gone from the porch and walking away from the yellow house that was home to the girl he had dreamed of once upon a time.

  He felt reflective as he walked back to the base, as he realized that Cheryl’s life was settled and moving forward, while his was uncertain and up in the air.

  “Hey!” a loud call caught his attention, and he looked down an alley to see Backsin urgently motioning towards him, calling him into the alley.

  “Don’t go back to the base,” Backsin told him urgently.

  “Why?” Kestrel asked in shock.

  “Zeibold issued a warrant for your arrest on charges of treason as soon as you were gone,” Backsin replied.

  “Treason? That’s a lie! I’ve done a world of good for the elves!” he replied, knowing that his words were true, yet feeling a sense of uneasiness as he recollected his past musing about staying among the humans. It wouldn’t have been treason to stay there, and Zeibold didn’t know about those daydreams anyway, he told himself. “How did all this happen?”

  “Five minutes after you left his office, Zeibold came out of the building and went straight to the paymaster’s office. A few minutes later the two of them left the building together,” Backsin said before Kestrel interrupted him.

  “Zeibold told me the paymaster was out today, when I asked about collecting my back pay,” Kestrel protested.

  “Well, the two of them came to the gate and said that when you came back to immediately put you under arrest for aiding the humans and to lock you up,” Backsin told Kestrel.

  “I have not committed treason!” Kestrel said.

  “You need to get out of town right now,” Backsin urged him. “You said you’re on your way to Center Trunk; you need to get on that monster of yours and ride it to Center Trunk in a hurry. You know Zeibold will send a messenger with a story about you as soon as he can.”

  “What does the paymaster have to do with this?” Kestrel asked. “I told Zeibold I was going to go collect my back pay, and he told me the paymaster was gone today.”

  “Maybe he’s been stealing your pay while you were gone,” Backsin answered. “I can ask the assistant pay clerk what’s been happening to your wages every month.”

  “Do that for me,” Kestrel agreed. “I’ll go to Center Trunk to give my report and let them know about the shenanigans here, while you get that info for me. Maybe we can clear up my problem and get rid of Ziebold at the same time.”

  The two shook hands, then parted ways, as Kestrel slunk back to Glowsen’s house and prepared his horse to ride, then hurriedly left the woodlands home without saying good bye. He galloped the horse through Elmheng and headed east as the sun moved through the western sky behind him. He rode through the day and far past sunset, then spent the night in a grove of trees not far beyond the village where he had been beaten on his very first trip to Center Trunk.

  The next morning he rode his horse again at a rapid rate, knowing that he was making a spectacle of himself in the heart of the elven kingdom, half expecting to be barraged by another arrow assault at any time. He raced through the village where he had met Kere, and first encountered both the healing spring and Dewberry, and he wondered how Dewberry was doing in the strange, distant land she was in.

  Elves shrieked as he passed them, but he pushed his horse to maintain the rapid pace. At one point he slipped out of the saddle to give the horse a break and ran alongside the animal for many miles, then resumed his seat in the saddle, until he reached the edge of Center Trunk at sundown.

  He left the saddle, and slowed the animal to a walk, ignoring the comments and stares he drew. The city felt different – there was a sense of gloom that somehow pervaded the air, even weighing down on Kestrel as he merely walked through the streets.

  When he reached the gate of the base he stopped and was forced to explain his horse.

  “I’ve been out among the humans, and used one of their horses to get back to the forest,” was his simplified explanation. “I’m here to report in to Colonel Silvan,” he told the alert and apprehensive sentries on duty at the gate to the guard base.

  “What are you going to do with your horse?” one of them asked. “Will you eat it?”

  “No!” Kestrel cried in horror. “I’ll keep it here, and if I’m assigned to go back to the human lands, I’ll take it with me.”

  “And what if you’re not?” the guard asked.

  “I’ll send it up to Firheng. They’re close to Estone; they can trade it for other goods,” Kestrel nearly choked on the thought of having to trade the animal away.

  “Proceed to your building; deal with your animal,” the guard instructed Kestrel. “Silvan is no longer in charge of his operations, so you’ll have to report to Major Strab.”

  The matter-of-fact statement shook Kestrel to the core. “Silvan’s not in charge?” he asked without moving. “What happened?”

  “I’m just a guard. Someone with rank knows better than me,” the guard replied.

  “What about Alicia, his wife?” Kestrel asked.

  A sly smile crossed the guard’s face. “She’s in detention,” he answered. “Go to your department and they’ll tell you whatever you need to be told.”

  Kestrel took a deep breath, then crossed the threshold of the guard base gate, and he imagined he heard the clang of gates closing behind him. The sun was setting, adding a gloomy dimness to the atmosphere and the apprehension Kestrel felt.

  Silvan’s building looked the same to Kestrel, though Kestrel knew that that something inside had changed dramatically. He tied his horse’s reins to the railing of the stairs bannister, then climbed up to the front portal, and opened the door. He stood on the threshold of entry into the building and wondered what his thoughts would be when he left the building. He had come to Center Trunk to disgorge himself of all the information he had gathered, to relive the experiences he had lived through, and to pass along the opinions he had developed during his months among the humans. While he wasn’t sure he trusted Silvan completely, he nonetheless believed that the Machiavellian spymaster was the one person who he could openly talk to about most of his recent life. Additionally, he knew that Silvan could easily discharge Zeibold’s ridiculous accusation of treachery, and turn the tables on the greedy, small-minded commander.

  But now Silvan was gone, and Kestrel had no idea of who he was going to talk to, what knowledge he would trust his new commander with, or what judgment or principles the man would exercise.

  He stepped into the building, and let the door close behind him. He turned to his left and went down the hallway to the precincts that Alicia’s clinic had formerly occupied. The doors were closed, the rooms were dark, and his expectations that he would have his ears trimmed again so that he could return to the human lands were suddenly on shakier ground than they had been five minutes earlier. With grim uncertainty, he went back to the central staircase and climbed
the steps in the seemingly empty building.

  On the top floor there were lights burning, and a guard at the door that had formerly been Silvan’s.

  “Who approaches?” the guard called.

  “My name’s Kestrel,” he replied. “I’ve been on assignment and am returning to report.”

  “What assignment? Who sent you? Where’s your written report?” the guard asked.

  “Colonel Silvan sent me to check on the humans,” Kestrel replied as he walked up to the guard and stood an arm’s length away. “And there’s nothing in writing right now.”

  “Submit a written report tomorrow and Major Strab will contact you if he requires further information,” the guard directed him with immense self-importance.

  “Are you sure about that? Do you want to just check to see if the name Kestrel means anything on the other side of the door?” Kestrel asked. He wasn’t certain that he wanted to contradict the guard; a written report submitted at his leisure would buy him some time to try to understand what was happening in Center Trunk. But his ego got the better of his discretion, in believing that his assignment had been so unique and important that he would merit special attention.

  The guard gave him a hostile glare. “Don’t move,” the guard imperiously commanded, and he disappeared into the office for thirty seconds, then returned. “Stay here,” he said in a bored tone. “The major’s secretary is checking.”

  Two minutes later the door opened, and after the guard leaned in for a brief audience, he motioned for Kestrel to enter the wide open door. “The major wants to see you,” he said in a confused tone.

  Kestrel entered a secretary’s office, then was ushered through by an attractive woman into the office that had formerly been Silvan’s.

  A tall, darkhaired elf sat behind Silvan’s desk. The man had broad shoulders, and a set of facial features that struck Kestrel as vaguely human – not as much as his own features were, but not classically elvish.

  “So you are the extraordinary Kestrel, the pre-eminent elf spy! I’ve read the small bits and pieces that Silvan put down on paper about you, and the amount that isn’t written down tells me that you must be the biggest walking secret on the face of the world! Welcome home Kestrel,” Strab told him, walking around the desk and holding out his hand to shake Kestrel’s. “I had no idea to expect you to arrive; I had no idea of where you were, what you were doing, or how you communicated, but it’s clear you’ve passed along some extraordinary information in some very timely and mysterious ways. I’m so glad to meet you,” he said, then released Kestrel’s hand and motioned to the chairs in a corner of the room behind them as a place to sit.