A Darkness at Sethanon (17 page)

Aglaranna said,
“Come, Martin, Baru, witness something miraculous.”

Tathar followed
his Queen, turning to say, “If it is indeed a true Returning
and not a ruse.”

The Queen and
Tathar were joined by her other advisers as they hurried down to the
forest floor. When they reached ground level, they were greeted by
several warriors who surrounded a moredhel. The dark elf looked
somehow odd to Martin, showing a calmness beyond what was normal for
the dark elves.

The moredhel saw
the Queen and bowed before her, lowering his head. Softly he said,
“Lady, I have returned.”

The Queen nodded
to Tathar. He and others of the Spellweavers gathered about the
moredhel. Martin could feel a strange, fey sensation as if the air
had suddenly become charged, and as if music could almost be heard.
He knew the Spellweavers were working magic.

Then Tathar
said, “He has returned!”

Aglaranna said,
“What is your name?”

“Morandis,
Majesty.”

“No more.
You are Lorren.”

Martin had
learned the year before that there was no true difference between the
branches of elvenkind, separated only by the power of the Dark Path,
that which bound the moredhel to a life of murderous hatred toward
all not of their kind. But there was a subtle difference in attitude,
stance, and manner between the two.

The moredhel
rose and the elves surrounding him helped him remove his tunic, the
grey of the moredhel forest clans. Martin had lived with elves all
his life and fought the moredhel many times and could recognize the
difference. But now his senses were confounded. One moment the
moredhel seemed odd, somehow different from what they had expected,
then suddenly he was a moredhel no longer. He was given a brown tunic
and, miraculously, Martin saw an elf there. He had the dark hair and
eyes common to the moredhel, but then so did a few other elves, just
as an occasional moredhel was blond and blue-eyed. He was an elf!

Tathar observed
Martin’s reaction to the change and said, “Occasionally
one of our lost brothers breaks away from the Dark Path. If his kin
do not discover the change and kill him before he reaches us, we
welcome his return to his home. It is a cause for rejoicing.”
Martin and Baru watched as every elf in the area came to embrace
Lorren in turn, welcoming him home. “In the past, the moredhel
have attempted to send spies, but we can always tell the true from
the false. This one has truly returned to his people.”

Baru said, “Does
it happen often?”

“Of all
who abide in Elvandar, I am eldest,” said Tathar. “I have
seen only seven such Returnings before this one.” He was silent
for a time. “Someday we hope we shall redeem all our brothers
in this fashion, when the power of the Dark Path is at last broken.”

Aglaranna turned
to Martin. “Come, we shall be celebrating.”

“We may
not, Majesty,” answered Martin. “We must be away to meet
with others.”

“May we
know your plans?”

“It is
simple,” answered the Duke of Crydee. “We shall find
Murmandamus.”

“And,”
added Baru without expression, “we shall kill him.”

J
immy
sat quietly.

He absently
studied the list in his hand, attempting to keep his mind on the
matter before him. But he was unable to concentrate on the task. The
duty roster of squires for that afternoon’s cortege was done,
or as done as it was likely to be. Jimmy felt an emptiness inside,
and the need to decide which squire was posted where seemed trivial
in the extreme.

For two weeks
Jimmy had been fighting the feeling that he was caught up in some
horrible dream, one from which he could not shake himself. Nothing in
his existence so far had affected him as deeply as Arutha’s
murder, and he still couldn’t face his emotions. He had slept
long each night, as if sleep were an escape, and when awake he was
nervous and anxious to be doing something as if being busy would keep
him from dealing with his grief. He kept it hidden away, to be
confronted later.

Jimmy sighed.
One thing the young man knew, this funeral was taking a hellishly
long time getting organized. Laurie and Volney had postponed the
departure of the funeral procession twice now. The bier had been
placed aboard its carriage within two days after Arutha’s
death, awaiting his body. Tradition held the Prince’s cortege
should have started for Rillanon and his ancestral vault within three
days after his death, but Anita had taken days returning from her
mother’s estates, then a few more days in recovering enough to
depart, then they needed to wait for other nobles who were arriving,
and the palace was in disorder and so on and so on. Still, Jimmy knew
he wouldn’t begin to get over this tragedy until after Arutha
was carried away. Knowing he lay in the temporary vault Nathan had
prepared, somewhere not too far from where the squire now sat, was
just too much for Jimmy. He rubbed his eyes, lowering his head, as
once more the threat of tears was forced down. In his short life,
Jimmy had met only one man who had touched him deeply. Arutha should
have been one of the last men in the world to care about the fate of
a boy thief, but he had. He had proved a friend, and more. He and
Anita had been the closest thing to family Jimmy had ever known.

A knock upon the
door brought his head up and he saw Locklear standing before the
entrance. Jimmy waved him in and the younger boy sat down on the
other side of the writing desk. Jimmy tossed the parchment at him.
“Here, Locky, you do this.”

Locklear quickly
scanned the list, and took quill from holder. “It’s
almost ready, except Paul is down with the flux and the chirurgeon
wants him in bed for the day. He needs rest. This is a mess. I’d
better recopy it.”

Jimmy nodded
absently. Through the blanket of grey sorrow that wrapped his
thoughts, an irritant was gently scratching. Something had been
nagging at the corner of the young man’s mind for three days
now. Everyone in the palace was still in shock at Arutha’s
death, but there was an odd note here and there; every so often
someone said or did something that was somehow discordant. Jimmy
couldn’t put his finger on what that difference was, or even if
it was important. With a mental shrug he pushed aside his worry.
Different people reacted differently to tragedy. Some, like Volney
and Gardan, threw themselves into their work. Others, like Carline,
went off to cope with their grief in a private way. Duke Laurie was a
lot like Jimmy. He just put his grief aside to be faced at some other
time. Suddenly Jimmy understood one reason for his feeling of oddness
about the palace. Laurie had been just about running the palace from
the time Arutha lay stricken until three days ago. Now he was almost
continuously absent.

Looking at
Locklear as the younger boy wrote on the duty roster, Jimmy said,
“Locky, have you seen Duke Laurie about lately?”

Keeping his eyes
on his work, Locklear said, “This morning, very early. I was in
charge of delivering meals to the visiting nobles for breakfast, and
I saw him riding out the gate.” His head came up, a strange
expression on his face. “It was the postern gate.”

“Why would
he leave by the postern gate?” Jimmy wondered.

Locklear
shrugged and returned to the roster. “Because that’s the
direction he was heading?”

Jimmy thought.
What reason did the Duke of Salador have riding toward the Poor
Quarter on the morning of the Prince’s funeral procession?
Jimmy sighed. “I’m becoming suspicious in my old age.”

Locklear
laughed, the first happy sound in the palace in days. Then, as if he
had sinned, he looked up guiltily.

Jimmy stood.
“Done?”

Locklear handed
over the parchment. “Finished.”

“Good,”
said Jimmy. “Come along, deLacy will not show his usual
forbearance if we’re late.”

They hurried to
where the squires were assembling. The usual jostling play and
laughing whispers were absent, for the occasion was solemn. DeLacy
arrived a few minutes after Jimmy and Locklear were in place and
without preamble said, “The roster.” Jimmy gave it to him
and he glanced over it. “Good, though either your penmanship is
improving or you’ve acquired an assistant.” There was a
slight shuffle among the boys, but no open mirthfulness. DeLacy said,
“I’m changing one assignment, though. Harold and Bryce
will stand as coach attendants to the Princesses Alicia and Anita.
James and Locklear will remain to assist the Steward of the Royal
Household here at the palace.”

Jimmy was
stunned. He and Locklear would not be in the cortege to the gates.
They would stand idly by in case there was some minor problem the
steward judged required a squire’s presence.

DeLacy absently
read the other assignments aloud, then dismissed the boys. Locklear
and Jimmy exchanged glances, and Jimmy overtook the departing Master
of Ceremonies. “Sir . . .” Jimmy began.

DeLacy turned on
Jimmy. “If it’s about the assignments, there will be no
debate.”

Jimmy’s
face flushed angrily. “But I was the Prince’s Squire!”
he answered hotly.

In an unusually
bold moment, Locklear blurted, “And I was Squire to Her
Highness.” DeLacy looked at the younger boy in astonishment.
“Well, sort of . . .” he amended.

“That is
of no consequence,” said deLacy. “I have my orders. You
must follow yours. That will be all.” Jimmy began to protest
again, but was cut off by the old Master. “I said that would be
all, squire.”

Jimmy turned and
began walking away. Locklear fell in beside him. “I don’t
know what’s going on here,” said Jimmy, “but I
intend to find out. Come on.”

Jimmy and
Locklear hurried along, glancing about. An order from any senior
member of the court would prevent this unexpected visit, so they took
pains to avoid the scrutiny of anyone likely to find work for them.
The funeral cortege would depart the palace in less than two hours,
so there were ample tasks remaining for two squires. Once begun,
there would be a slow parade through the city, a stop at the temple
square, where public prayers would be said, then the long journey to
Rillanon and the tomb of Arutha’s ancestors. Once the funeral
party was outside the city, the squires would return to the palace.
But Jimmy and Locklear were being denied even that small part in the
procession.

Jimmy approached
the Princess’s door and said to the guard without, “If
Her Highness can spare a moment?”

The guard’s
eyebrows rose, but he was not in a position to question even as minor
a member of the court as a squire, so he would simply pass the
message inside. As the guard pushed open the door, Jimmy thought he
heard something out of place, a sound that ended before he could
apprehend its nature. Jimmy tried to puzzle out what he had just
heard, but the guard’s return diverted his attention. A moment
later, he and Locklear were admitted.

Carline sat with
Anita, near a window, awaiting the summons to attend the funeral.
Their heads were close together and they were speaking softly.
Princess Mother Alicia hovered at her daughter’s shoulder. All
three were dressed in black. Jimmy came and bowed, Locklear at his
side. “I’m sorry to intrude, Highness,” he said
softly.

Anita smiled at
him. “You’re never an intrusion, Jimmy. What is it?”

Suddenly feeling
it was petty to be concerned over his exclusion from the funeral,
Jimmy said, “A small thing, actually. Someone ordered me to
remain at the palace today, and I wondered . . . well, did you ask
for me to be kept here?”

A glance passed
from Carline to Anita, and the Princess of Krondor said, “No, I
didn’t, Jimmy.” Her tone was thoughtful. “But
perhaps Earl Volney did. You are Senior Squire and should stay in
your office, or at least I’m sure that’s what the Earl
decided.”

Jimmy studied
her expression. A discordant note was sounding here. Princess Anita
had returned from her mother’s estate displaying the grief
expected. But soon after, there had been a subtle change in her.
Further conversation was interrupted by a baby’s cry, quickly
followed by another. Anita rose. “It’s never just one of
them,” she said, with affection clearly showing. Carline smiled
at that, then suddenly her expression turned sombre.

Jimmy said, “We
have intruded, Highness. I am sorry to have troubled you over so
petty a matter.”

Locklear
followed Jimmy outside. Moving out of the guard’s earshot,
Jimmy said, “Did I miss something in there, Locky?”

Locklear turned
and regarded the door for a moment. “Something’s . . .
odd. It’s like we’re being kept out of the way.”

Jimmy thought a
minute. He now understood what had arrested his attention outside the
door, just before they had been admitted. The sound that intruded had
been the Princesses’ voices, or rather the quality of those
voices: chatty, lightly bantering. Jimmy said, “I’m
beginning to think you’re right. Come along. We don’t
have much time.”

“Time for
what?”

“You’ll
see.” Jimmy hurried off down the corridor and the younger boy
had to scramble to catch up.

Gardan and
Volney were hurrying toward the courtyard, accompanied by four
guards, when the boys intercepted them. The Earl hardly spared a
glance as he said, “Aren’t you two supposed to be in the
courtyard.”

“No, sir,”
answered Jimmy. “We’ve drawn steward’s duty.”

Gardan seemed
mildly surprised at that, but all Volney said was “Then I
expect you should hurry along in case you’re needed there. We
must begin the procession.”

“Sir,”
said Jimmy, “did you order us to remain?” Volney waved
off the question. “Duke Laurie has been attending to those
details with Master deLacy.” He turned his attention away from
the boys as he and Gardan walked off. Jimmy and Locklear halted as
the Earl and Marshal vanished around a corner, the boot heels of
their escorts clacking noisily on the stones. “I think I’m
beginning to understand,” said Jimmy. He grabbed Locklear by
the arm. “Come on.”