Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms)

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  And they trained with a will, their spirits fired by the thought that such training was in itself an act of defiance against the demons. Soon all Tyrenia was caught up in the fever, making it very difficult for King Ignati to do more than grumble about the expense and the difficulty it would cause him in his dealings with Ba’land.

  Even my mood brightened. I found myself thinking that the Tyrenians weren’t such a disappointing lot after all.

  Still, I harbored no delusions about Ignati. He was king. And monarchs are rarely moved to risk their crown.

  * * * *

  Some time later Janela came blinking out of the archives like a mole into the sudden sun. She was wan and weary when she stumbled into our rooms. But victory glowed in her hollowed eyes.

  “I’m almost there, Amalric,” she said. “I’m at the same point my great-grandfather was when he told you he was a wisp away from discovery.”

  “What have you found?” I asked.

  Janela shook her head, the weariness catching up to her.

  “I can’t say, yet,” she said. “But I’ll show you what I can tomorrow.”

  Then she dragged herself off to bed.

  * * * *

  Janela slept late the next day and we didn’t set out from our quarters until early afternoon. Although there were crinkles of tiredness at the edges of her eyes she seemed filled with energy.

  She led me outside the main building for a stroll through the palace gardens that sprawled beside the outermost walls.

  “Actually, it’s well I was such a slugabed,” she said. “We need to approach what I have found with some care. I don’t intend to keep it secret long, but it might be better as a whole piece rather than fragmented — which is how my mind feels just now.”

  I looked about, then gave her a puzzled smile. It was a bright cheery day and courtiers were strolling by us on the same garden path inspecting the wares at the market stalls that lined the walls. Others were picnicking in a lovely park, while scores of high-born children were at play in a broad field.

  “If it’s secrecy that’s required,” I said, “this hardly seems the proper time. A good skulking session requires wet breeches as part of your reward. And if you want to truly test the mettle of your bladder I’ve found the night much better. It comes with so many more alarming shadows and sounds than day.”

  Janela laughed. “And if someone sees you,” she said, “suspicion is automatic.”

  “There is that,” I admitted.

  Janela took my hand. It was warm and smooth as silk off a caravan. “If we make this look like a romantic stroll,” she murmured, “no one will approach.”

  She was right. Although our fame drew stares, those looks quickly turned away when they saw us walking like lovers on a summer day. After a time her closeness and the smell of her perfume began to make me feel less like an actor in a play.

  We came to a small tavern near one of the museums she’d been working in. It was set under an enormous tree and with a start I saw it appeared to be same breed as the silver-leafed giant we had seen on the island after we took leave of Queen Badryia.

  “Don’t stare at it, Amalric,” she whispered. “And yes, it’s exactly what you think.”

  I tore my eyes away and we went into the tavern which was lightly attended since it was past the midday meal. The owner beamed when he saw Janela and hurried over to tell her everything she’d requested was nearly ready and would we care to sample his best chilled wine while we waited?

  Janela said we’d be delighted and led me to a table resting at the edge of what I took to be a dance floor. Once again I was surprised. Instead of a floor it was a large, thick glass window and looking down I could see a lighted chamber. In that chamber was an ancient bath with room for twenty or more. It was made of milky stone and graceful statues of unclad serving women rose up on all sides, each tilting a pitcher into the bath. At one time water would have flowed from those pitchers to fill the pool. The walls were frescoed but so damaged by age I couldn’t make out the scenes they portrayed, although they gave the impression of soothing femininity.

  “When the Prince told us he was restoring part of the original palace,” Janela said, “I mistook him to mean that all the Tyrenian monarchs had lived there since the beginning. Actually this kingdom is much older than that. The palace we see and the grounds around it were erected over the redoubts of even more ancient monarchs. When they constructed the museum they came upon the ruins you are looking at. No one saw any use in such a thing so they were going to cover it up.”

  I smiled, saying, “And a clever man or woman of business came along and saw profit where they saw a hole in the ground, no doubt.” I looked around the tavern. The few patrons were very wealthy, very cultured Tyrenians. “What better place to sup and dine than on the mysteries of your ancestors?”

  Janela chuckled. “Money makes you clear-headed Amalric,” she said, “where it confounds others. Yes, that is what happened. When I supped here the first day I came to the museum, my realization was somewhat different. I saw the tree outside and the view through that floor and doubted there was a coincidence. I cast a spell and found the tree to be near the age of that chamber. My interest was minor at first but the more I’ve delved into what I hope will be our deliverance, the more I thought these ruins deserved greater study.”

  She pointed at the chamber. “That was the bathing room of King Farsun’s queen,” Janela said after the tavern owner had delivered the wine and retreated. “You know... the king in the dancer’s scene.”

  “Yes, yes,” I said impatiently. “I know who you mean. The fellow Solaros said was Tyrenia’s first cowardly monarch.”

  “Her name was Monavia,” Janela continued. “Legend has it she was sorely wounded by her husband’s cowardice. When they wed the whole empire celebrated the joining of such a handsome couple. When Monavia took her oath as queen she swore she’d buckle on armor herself if that became necessary to defeat the demons. But everything changed after her first child was born. On the feast day of her son’s first year of life the demon king sent his diplomats to sue King Farsun for peace. By odd coincidence that day was also the day when Tyrenia holds its most important event.”

  “It wouldn’t be Creator’s Day, would it?” I asked.

  It was Janela’s turn to be startled. “Yes. How did you know?”

  I quickly filled her in on my meeting with the Prince and the deadline set by King Ba’land.

  Janela grew troubled, then brightened and she said, “Yes. That makes things much clearer now.” She resumed the tale.

  “When the emissaries presented themselves they behaved so familiarly many suspected this was not the first meeting. The suspicion grew when one of the demons boldly asked for a private audience and the king obediently cleared the chambers and had the doors barred and guarded. No one knows what was said in that room but the secret meeting lasted all that day and into the next.

  “As you can imagine it cast a pall on both celebrations, with the whole kingdom worrying what might be occurring. Was the king dead? Was he a hostage? Just when the Queen was at the point of ordering soldiers to burst into the chamber the doors came open and the king called everyone in to announce this had been the most historic day since the founding of Tyrenia. The war with the demons had ended, he said.

  “From this moment forward they would be welcome whenever they chose to visit his court. Furthermore, the demon king, Ba’land himself, would be arriving soon and a month of feasting would be decreed to honor his arrival.”

  I sipped my wine, reflecting. “I wonder what was said?”

  “No one knows,” Janela answered. “I’ve scoured all the old parchments for a hint. There was all kinds of speculation, of course. The life of the Crown Prince threatened. Or the Queen’s. The King was possessed, or he’d made a bargain to keep his throne. I’ve finally concluded it doesn’t matter and any further effort to find out would be a waste of valuable time. After all a demon’s greatest talent is delving
into one’s most secret, most weak self, and using one’s greatest fear... or most shameful desire against you.

  “More important is Queen Monavia’s reaction as Ba’land and his demon courtiers swarmed her palace and took increasing liberties. She did her best to resist, even threatened to break the royal marriage. But King Farsun locked her child in a tower and said he’d keep him prisoner there until he could make a child on another queen and when that child was born the Crown Prince would be assassinated.”

  “How bold cowards can sometimes be,” I said.

  “I thought the same thing,” Janela said. “Fortunately the Queen was no fool. And she was patient as well. She put on a royal face and braved it out for some years. Meanwhile she conspired with a woman she had in her service who was a very powerful witch. Her name is lost to history. Her birthplace, however, is not. One old historian who was a devil when it came to thickly-laid prose spent several glowing pages describing it. He said she came from a wondrous lake district where the River Of The Heavens is born.”

  “Our river?” I asked.

  “The very same,” she answered.

  I just had to laugh. “So it’s likely this witch was kin to Queen Badryia?”

  Janela grinned. “Remember how she lectured us like an old schoolmistress on the non-existence of Tyrenia?”

  “Very well,” I said. “Badryia reminds me of a teacher I once had who insisted on the truth of facts that were nonsense. Such as — and he swore this to the gods — that women had fewer teeth than men.”

  This drew a belly laugh from Janela. “Didn’t he ever count them?” she asked.

  “No,” I replied. “But I did. My father dismissed him soon after. Thank Te-Date I was blessed with a wise father.”

  “And he a wise son,” Janela murmured.

  I flushed, feeling like a small boy hearing welcome praise.

  “To continue,” Janela said. “The witch coaxed roots to grow from the stem of a magical leaf, a leaf from a rare tree that grew in her homeland. When it became a sapling she planted it by a spring whose waters were reputed to be an elixir of renewal and protection. It grew swiftly and before long it was one of the larger trees in the kingdom. Its roots were becoming a nuisance, boring through the foundation in some places. But the Queen would let no one touch it, declaring its leaves a beauty aid of much importance to her.

  “The spring that fed the tree, by the by, was also used for the Queen’s bath, which the old historian said kept her from being harmed by the demons who knew she opposed them.”

  I started to ask her a question but the tavern owner bustled over with large wicker basket. He assured my Lady Greycloak only the most excellent food had been prepared, with samples of their very best spirits to compliment each dish. Would she wish a servant to assist us while we picnicked? Janela said, thank you, no, but this was to be a very private affair. She winked. The tavern owner floated away on a wave of good humor.

  Janela finished her wine and rose. “Shall we, my Lord?” she asked in mock formality.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” I said, too distracted by her tale to take note of all the trouble she’d gone to. “But tell me one thing before we leave.”

  “If I can.”

  “What was the tree’s purpose?” I asked.

  “That’s one of the reasons for the picnic,” Janela said. “I intend us to find out. But I do have a guess.”

  “And that is?”

  Janela tossed a silver coin on the table, saying, “She used it to murder the king.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MURDER IN THE PALACE

  An arbored path wound around the tavern and tree. It emptied into a secluded garden the tavern owner rented for romantic trysts, such as he imagined ours to be. A colorful pavilion had been set up for our picnic but Janela only dumped the basket next to it and motioned for me to follow her to a wide spot between two mighty roots. The ground there was moist and covered with a carpet of thick moss.

  She pointed to a depression about four feet square, saying, “That’s where we dig.”

  She dropped to her knees and started cutting a furrow into the moss with her knife.

  “Why, pray tell, do we need to?” I asked.

  “To get into the old palace,” Janela said. “I’ve cast spells to find an entrance but they’re all either too deep or lack seclusion — such as through the tavern floor. Except for here. Now if you’ll only help me all we should have to do is peel away this moss.”

  I did as she said although I was still mystified.

  “I’ve been experimenting with measurements of sorcerous energy,” Janela explained. “And from what I can determine there is more of a disturbance in the ethers in this area than just the presence of the witch’s tree can account for. I don’t what it is although I have my suspicions. I thought it important enough to investigate. I found old builders’ sketches of Farsun’s palace and managed to trace the source of the disturbance. If fortune smiles we should soon learn if I’m right.”

  With that she made a final cut and we gingerly rolled back the mossy carpet. The damp earth beneath it crumbled under our fingers and I could hear the sound of rushing water. Janela brushed at the dirt, revealing an old stone grate. Cool, sweet air wafted up between the openings.

  “That’s odd,” I said. “I’d expect the air to be dank and foul smelling.”

  Janela didn’t answer. She scratched a faint impression around the edges of the grate. Her knife glowed and the damp stone hissed where the knife touched. The grate fell away and splashed into the watery recess below.

  Her action amazed me. I hadn’t seen her lips move in a chant, much less heard her mumble. But before I could ask how she’d accomplished it she fumbled firebeads from her purse and they’d barely winked to life before she’d swung over the side of the hole and was clambering down — using impressions cut into the stone sides as foot and handholds.

  The hole was only ten or so feet deep and she quickly reached the bottom. I saw the firebeads shift this way and that as she investigated.

  “It’s a culvert,” she called up to me, her voice light with victory. “Just as I hoped. Come on, Amalric. It’s not very wet.”

  I dropped in after her and found myself standing on a stone path that rose above a stream of water. The culvert was quite wide and high enough for us to stand comfortably straight. I raised my own firebeads and saw the water came from a small pool that on closer inspection proved to be an overflowing well. The water ran along the culvert into a high tunnel that appeared to head off under the tavern

  Janela bent to scoop up some of the water, drank, then nodded in satisfaction. I did the same. It tasted exactly the same as the elixir spring we’d encountered on the island. She motioned and we set off into the tunnel.

  As we walked along the path I heard a roaring sound that grew louder until we couldn’t have made one another out if we’d talked. But we didn’t have to go far to find the source of the noise, for abruptly the tunnel widened and we came into a small chamber. The water was channeled through the center of the chamber, then plummeted over a rough, natural ridge.

  I looked down but the bottom was so distant light couldn’t reach it. Janela nudged me and I saw an alcove cut into the opposite side. We leaped over the stream and went to it. I saw a heavy door made of some metal that didn’t seem to be affected by the elements, since it was as smooth as the long ago day when it was first cast in one solid piece.

  There was a depression for a handhold and Janela got a good grip and heaved. But the door came open so easily I had to catch her when she lost her balance and nearly fell.

  As I righted her she shook with mute laughter at her clumsiness. Her eyes were dancing with excitement and she gave me a quick hug and said something I couldn’t hear over the deafening sound of the waterfall. She shrugged giving up, and signaled for me to follow her.

  We entered into a large room filled with shadowy objects. Janela shut the door, which was so well-designed the water’s sound va
nished. She whirled the firebeads about her head and the whole room lit up as ancient, magical torches flared into cold life.

  The objects were now clearly visible as well-made vases and jars of various sizes and shapes. We examined a few. They were wondrously decorated. The larger vases showed various scenes of women bathing in natural settings. The smaller ones had glazed picture of different flowers. Janela broke the seal on one and a delicious, sensual odor wafted from it.

  “How lovely,” Janela murmured, dabbing a little behind each ear. “Still fresh after all these centuries.”

  To one side was a pot large enough to hold a person. Beneath it was a small furnace with the coals and ashes heaped into it from a long dead fire.

  “This is where the Queen’s maids came to fetch her bath water,” Janela said. “They went through that door to dip it out of the spring. They heated in that pot. Perfumed it with the fragrances in those jars. Then carried it in the vases to wherever the reservoir is that fed the bath.”

  I had no doubt she was correct but as further proof she showed me a small door with a peephole about two-fingers wide. I peered into it and could make out the bath chamber we had seen in the tavern. By stooping and craning my neck I could even catch a glimpse of someone walking past the glass floor in the tavern above.

  There was one other door in the chamber and on the other side of that was a long corridor with three more doors set into its length, which carried on around a dark bend. One door was warped by the heavy weight of rubble on the other side so it was impossible to investigate. Janela guessed it was Queen Monavia’s bedchamber.

  A second door opened easily, revealing a warren of corridors leading into the ruined palace. The third was a little stiff on its hinges but when we looked inside we found a small empty room with what I at first took to be a raised stone pallet for a mattress. When we looked closer, however, we saw the familiar decorations carved into it. In the center was an even more familiar box-like recess. Except this one was empty.