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quarters and his servant to the guest chambers. It was all a mistake, of course.” Marblin rambled on, “I never intend to do these things, but I sometimes get a little mixed up inside my head. Well, one time I meant to do it-”

Loric interrupted him to say, “Oh, do tell on. I should love to hear all about it, but I would also like to see all that there is to see.” He was glad to have eased Marblin’s suffering over his error, and decided not to tell the man he had almost ended up abed with the Princess of Regalsturn.

“Oh!” Marblin chimed. “So, you want the tour then?” he asked, a merry expression lighting his features. “I’d be delighted to give it. Why didn’t you say so? Anyway,” continued the excited guardsman, “where was I?”

“You meant to lead someone astray?” Loric suggested, questioning the intention behind the deed.

“Oh yes, I remember!” Marblin declared, as he stepped into the hallway. “One time I led someone astray on purpose. You see, this sort of thing happens to me all the time, so I’m the only person--apart from you, now--who knows I intentionally misled the man. The fellow in question was King Turtioc of Nindronburg--you know, the usurper who leads the dragon

worshippers, curse them all!--who had come to discuss terms of truce with Lord Garrick. He had visited Moonriver a few times before, and each time he had been very rude to me. So, I says to myself,
I’ll be condemned to the Black Pools if I give this one the royal treatment--it’s the worst
room possible for him!
Do you know what the irony is, lad?”

Loric closed the door to his chamber, giving a shake of his head in response, so Marblin continued, “I gave him the best room by mistake. But Turtioc was nicer to me during that visit than he had ever been over his many previous stays with us. He left hating Lord Garrick, just as he always has, but he is still kind to me when chance brings him back.”

Loric chuckled at the guard’s tale. He quickly found that, regardless of Marblin’s breathless rate of speech, the Moonwatcher, as he and the guards of Moonriver styled themselves, was an excellent guide. Despite his mishaps helping strangers to find their rooms--which was not his official duty, but rather, something that seemed to fall to him by happenstance, and with great regularity--the lifelong fortress resident knew every inch of the grounds, and almost everything one could want to know about the castle structure. Not only did Marblin share a wealth of information about the keep and the surrounding city, but he also knew how to maintain a slow, steady pace as he related the history behind it all, even the secret passageway from the Hall of Heroes to the stable. That allowed Loric to absorb a great deal of knowledge about Moonriver, which would certainly please Lord Aldric.

In addition to giving Loric a detailed tour, Marblin made excellent company for him. The older man helped the younger to forget the troubles of his heart and heritage for the day.

However, as evening drew near, the young traveler from Taeglin remembered that he had to make ready for a feast. Loric was also keenly aware that the Princess of Regalsturn was sure to attend. He thanked Marblin for his hospitality and companionship, and then he took leave of his new friend.

****

together. The Lord of Egolstadt seemed distracted, as if his thoughts were on matters other than food, wine and dancing. The man scarcely uttered a word to his new squire during their long winding walk through those many corridors leading to the Hall of Heroes.

“What troubles you, lord?” Loric inquired.

Aldric shot him a quick glance and snapped, “It is nothing!” He sighed and offered more gently, “Rather, it is nothing of which I can speak.”

Loric questioned his lord no further concerning his somber mood. He only wished to make the most of the evening at hand. It was a magnificent event. People were all dressed in their finest raiment, and there was no shortage of food. Unfortunately for Loric, one of his duties was to see that Aldric’s cup never ran dry, which was an extraordinary feat to accomplish. About halfway through the meal, Loric and other servants received a break to sit and eat, for which the squire was grateful.

Loric saw Lord Garrick for the first time at the feast. He was a keen-eyed gentleman, whose green spheres took in every coming and going in and out of his hall. His light brown hair was long and thick, from his brow all the way down his back, with streaks of shiny silver threading their way through it. His broad muscular frame was wrapped in rich garments, which were velvet trimmed with silk, and dyed in aqua blue and wine red colors of his house. A thick, wiry beard concealed much of his lined face, which was as rugged as mountain stone. The man’s appearance met and exceeded Loric’s expectations of a great lord.

The lady of the house was also present. Lady Elena was tall and thin, so that a man of average height would have to look up to her. She had a friendly round face and long, chocolate brown hair. There were blond clusters intermingled with the dark brown ones, so that the unique patterns of her braids held Loric’s eye like a masterwork on a weaver’s loom. Her sharp green eyes were set into a handsome face that had been hardened by too many seasons to remain pretty.

She was well preserved, causing Loric to wonder how lovely she might have been in the days of her youth.

The man Aldric had addressed as lord earlier in the day was in fact Lord Garrick’s son, Garrett. Loric had noted during his time at Aldric’s elbow that Garrick was warm and friendly, while he could only classify Garrett as a pompous snob. Unlike His Lordship of Durbansdan, nothing was ever satisfactory in the eyes of the haughty heir. Such unappreciative behavior troubled Loric, who could foresee days of Garrett’s rule as sorrowful times ahead, even without aid from his visions.

Whilst great warlords at court plotted the ruinations of Garrick’s rivals, lesser lords and ladies began to dance. Then the Princess of Regalsturn walked in. Lovely Avalana sparkled like sunshine on waves. Her hair was braided, so that it hung down her back like a platinum length of rope. Her blue eyes were bright and alive as they scanned the hall. Loric thought he might have imagined it, but it seemed as though the lady smiled when her gaze fell upon him. He returned the kindly expression, even as her father escorted her to Lord Garrick’s table.

Loric wondered what had delayed her coming--perhaps it had been gathering the flock of handmaidens she had acquired upon her arrival at Moonriver Castle--but she was here now, and the young traveler from Taeglin was delighted to see her again. Then Aldric beckoned his squire to fill his cup, thereby reminding Loric of his true purpose for attending the function. He reluctantly looked away from the princess and her radiance in favor of a wine bottle and Aldric’s chalice.

After the princess and the king ate their shares and gave them ample time to settle, they also joined in the dancing. The lady was like a swan--the very embodiment of grace and beauty. Loric admired her from his place at Lord Aldric’s side. She appeared to float rather than dance; for her movements were so smooth, one could scarcely see her feet touching the ground. Loric was enchanted.

Garrett stepped forward to take Avalana’s hand, and Loric watched jealously as he and the lady skimmed across the floor. The princess was having a wonderful time, which only added to Loric’s misery. Despite her dance with Garrett, Loric noticed that Avalana’s eyes strayed from her partner to him many times. Although he wished he could trade places with the arrogant lord who now held Avalana so close beside him, Loric found comfort in her divided attention between them, and thereby knowing she had not forgotten him, even at a distance.

Following Avalana’s final dance with Garrett, a servant extended a silver tray with a golden cup toward the couple. The princess politely declined. The bearer’s face darkened. At first, Loric thought he had imagined it, until Garrett lifted the goblet, whereupon the servant’s jaw stretched as though strapped to a torture wrack.
Something is amiss here,
Loric reasoned.
Could it be a
drink of venom?
questioned his inner voice.
Certainly, that could not be the case,
his good reason answered him, thereby discarding the notion. However, doubt nagged at him, begging to know,
At what risk would you do nothing? Is it worth the future of Durbansdan and Beledon?

probed the mediator between unreasonable suspicion and cold logic. Yet, Loric had no want to like this arrogant man, or even to care for his fate.
What of your oath, Blood of Logant?
begged his conscience.
What would become of your honor as a man?

Other thoughts weighed in, all in less than an eye blink, but Loric was decided upon his course. He knew he had to do something. He snatched up a tray of his own and raced to Lord Garrett’s side, remembering a sharp comment Aldric had made concerning one particular label he had poured earlier in the evening. He stepped in awkwardly beside the hot-tempered heir and offered as smoothly as his nervous tongue could say, “I beg your pardon, lord, but I have heard many a fine gentleman protest that this servant knows not his wines at all. Thrice already this fine feast night have I heard a worthy lord complain:
This tastes more the venom of an adder
than the sweet juice of a grape.
” Loric hated using those exact words in his present circumstance, but he had spoken them and they would have to suffice. More disagreeable to his mind was the sight of the unsavory servant slipping back into the crowd, where he would certainly escape unquestioned.

An amused grin lit Garrett’s face, and Loric knew that he had volunteered to be sport for a mongoose. “So you have come to save me from drinking bitter wine, have you, boy?” inquired the nobleman. “I have seen you before, I do recall....”

Loric never lowered his eyes as he gave a firm, “Yes, lord. Your memory matches your

greatness, lord.” Loric bowed submissively.

Garrett grinned. He lifted the cup from Loric’s tray, and then he extended the first one toward Loric, saying, “We shall have to dispose of this somehow, if it is as vile a grape as you suggest. Only Aldric’s kin could be so bold,” he offered in jest.

Other nobles laughed.

Loric was prepared to dump the drink, until Garrett commanded raucously, “Drink with

me!”

Loric grudgingly accepted the suspect goblet, murmuring, “Yes, lord. You are too kind.”

Loric could not refuse Garrick’s heir this favor of camaraderie, and neither could he accuse the escaping servant in error. He could only tip his cup with Garrett. Emboldened by the knowledge that he might have truly served Beledon with his shortened life, he spoke up, “If it would please you, lord, it would be above my honor.”

“It truly is, boy!” Garrett proclaimed loudly. “To Lord Garrick and King Avalar: two men of equal worth. Let them soon share in equal titles, equal riches and equal glory!”

A hearty shout went up, bitter wine went down and a dangerous man went out from the hall.

“You made a fine choice in wine....” Garrett waited for Loric to give his name.

Loric thought he felt a hand on his back. His head swirled with ill effects of deadly toxins, although he vaguely remembered a sharp voice penetrating the cotton that seemed to have been stuffed so far into his ears that it was drying out his mouth, shouting, “Loric of Shimmermir and Taeglin! He is a good lad, who makes his father proud.” That might have been Aldric, but Loric’s focus was on the departing assassin.

“He must be an important boy to claim two homes!” roared Garrett, who ruffled Loric’s hair.

Loric never took his eyes from the assassin, his killer. He took three steps toward the double doors, teetered on the verge of falling and steadied between firm hands, while mouths he should have been able to match with individuals to whom they belonged moved to question, “Are you all right?” Loric never heard those words. He was vaguely aware of moving his lips in reply, but either his tongue would not form words, or his ears were deaf to them. He reeled and his blurry world dimmed to black....

Chapter Eleven

Secret Meetings

After drawing breath through six feet of earth, followed by darkness unequaled, Loric sat up with his eyes wide, his heart pounding and his hands clutching at his throat. He was drenched in sweat. His heart was racing. Queasiness took him. He dropped back into his pillow, praying that Great Donigan make him well again soon. Darkness enveloped him....

****

Light filtered in under the door, informing him that morning had come. Thinking back on the feast caused him to wonder aloud, “How many mornings have come and gone since that night?”

“Five days have passed since the feast,” Aldric replied from a chair beside him, “and we thought each one might be your last.”

Loric wearily lifted his head to see that Aldric was not alone at his bedside. Avalana was with the Lord of Egolstadt. Tired relief was visible in her face. “I am glad that was not the case,”

she said softly. “I hoped my use of herbs and potions would be enough to stave off the Soul Snatcher and my hope fulfilled is joy.”

“Who else could save me from illness, but Princess Avalana, with her blessed healing

hands?” Loric asked rhetorically. “Shall I ever be indebted to you, with ne’er a chance to repay your kindness, my lady?”

“I too am glad to see that you are well, Loric,” Aldric interjected skillfully. He went on to add, “Marblin the Moonwatcher will be pleased to know that you have come around. He has checked in on you each day since your collapse.” He turned to Avalana. His concern was clear as he said, “Princess, you have slept hardly a wink for five days. You should rest now, knowing that Loric is on his way to good health.” The princess with the white-gold hair let her mouth form an open circle, but Aldric would hear nothing of her protest. “If Loric shows the least sign of reversing his tracks, you will be the first to know how fast I can run to fetch you, because I know I could do nothing to save him.”