Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (42 page)

He had been a widower ever since his wife died in childbirth. Even though many a noble lady would have considered a union with him a high honor and a fortunate state in life, he never remarried. Some said the chief reason was the heavy burden the governance of the northern realm had laid upon him. Others, mostly women, believed he was still in love with his wife, Lady Layal. The portrait that graced the main hall of the fortress revealed a tall woman of darker complexion. Her smile was gentle, but her eyes showed strength of character and a resolve that her daughter had inherited.

“Have you been dreaming lately?” he asked after a short while.

Noraldeen shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I wake up crying, but I don’t know why. I think I dreamt of something, but I cannot remember what.”

Lord Orgond refrained from prodding further, for he did not want to bring up once more the subject of the slave, the only topic that set him and his daughter at odds. It was a painful rift between them. Still, these dreams, and the vision she had just now, worried him.

“Very well, Daughter,” he said after a while. “Why do you not go and get ready? We have company tonight.”

Noraldeen’s anger flared, but she managed to control it. She sweetly replied, “Yes, Father,” and curtsied obsequiously, mimicking the surfeited amiability of the noblewomen who fawned over her father, waddling like chickens before a rooster. Lord Orgond clutched his fists to the railing and looked away.

Since he insists on bringing young men to meet me, I might as well enjoy myself
, she thought with a grin that would not have reassured her suitors. She walked into her room, closed the door, and twirled several times before falling backward onto her bed. Then, she got back up, went to a nearby trunk, opened it, rummaged through its contents and pulled out a small figurine that had a striking resemblance to a certain Silent with curly hair. She sat it on the edge of her bed and stood facing it.

“Well now, Ahiram,” she said, “tonight Lord Derek Mistlefoot, Stewart of the Royal House of Argamon, ruling over the Kingdom of Bar-Tannic, comes for a formal visit with his son, Lord Braird Mistlefoot. Bar-Tannic, where the goddess Astarte mourns the loss of her beloved Adonis, is a land of rain nine months a year. The people are stout, determined, and courageous. Well, how else can they be living under cloudy skies for months on end? Their manners can rival the Court of Ophir. I suppose, when your food is dreadful, you overcompensate with great manners, so perhaps, my love,” she said addressing the doll, “you should spend some time in Bar-Tannic, to learn how to treat a princess as she ought to be treated.”

Noraldeen knew that by being unfair, she was contravening the Code of the Silent, but her anger had gotten the better of her. “You see, Ahiram, Lord Braird Mistlefoot comes to us highly recommended,” she said, imitating her father’s voice. She jumped to her feet and tried to imitate the gait of a prince she had never seen. “Why do I have to suffer the presence of this pampered prince? ‘He loves dandies and his father cultivates the best dandelions north of the Great Sea.’ But what do I care for dandelions? You have never mentioned dandelions in any of our conversations. Don’t you like dandelions, my love?”

Angrily, she snatched a dart and aimed it at the thick, velvety curtain, then at a bust of an ancestor, and finally, at a portrait of an obscure ancestor with a prominent nose.

“I did
not
ask to be a princess,” she muttered as she targeted the nose.

“Wait,” she said, looking at the dart as if she were seeing it for the first time. “It occurs to me that I might be able to put my training as a Silent to good use.” Noraldeen smiled mischievously. “What do you think, Ahiram? Maybe a little live dart competition? We can use poisoned darts to spice things up a bit. Or, we could swing from rope to rope in a romantic sort of way—like Jedarc does when he is chasing a chicken– and end it with a kiss. He could swing blindfolded from the northern balcony of the fortress, believing that I am going to meet him midway by swinging from the southern balcony. Instead, I send a blindfolded pig. Let’s see how much Lord Braird Mistlefoot would enjoy the close encounter,” she added fiercely.

She sat on her bed, grabbed the doll gently and fell back on soft pillows. “I bet Jedarc would laugh hearing me talk about it,” she whispered, “but Banimelek would wag his finger and nod disapprovingly, and you, my love, would simply look at me and smile.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Ahiram, where are you now? I miss you so much.”

“That was scary,” exclaimed Jedarc. “Scary, strange, and well, really strange and scary, and I have no idea what that was all about.”

“Neither do I,” said Master Habael pensively. “Still, the fact that Noraldeen came to your rescue is a good thing, a very good thing indeed.”

“Master Habael, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The old man chuckled. “Yes, yes, indeed. I apologize, my dear Jedarc. I should have never told you to look at the ring of fire. I did not expect it to flare so soon. Never mind that,” he added quickly. “Still, we know now there is some high magic at play here, and I am beginning to wonder what Master Ibromaliöm is up to.”

“Magic?” asked Jedarc, bewildered. “Did I just experience magic?”

“Deep magic,” replied Master Habael. “This handle is under a powerful curse. Some say Baal cursed this door, others whisper of a deeper magic still. It is best not to touch this handle, my lad,” said the old man, smiling.

“Better yet, it is best not to touch any part of the door,” said Jedarc, shuddering. He took a step back and did not hide his distaste for all things magical. He heard some footsteps.

“Someone is coming,” he whispered.

They looked down and saw Master Garu shuffling his feet, wearily climbing the stairs. As he reached the last bend, he caught sight of Habael and the Silent, and froze, his hand clutching the rail, and his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes went from Habael to the Silent and back. He resumed his climb, a broad smile on his face.

“Habael, what a surprise. What brings you to the top of the tower?”

“I could ask you the same question, Master Garu.”

Garu laughed as he moved toward the door. “We use this room for our secret deliberations during the Games. It keeps the inquisitive minds of overly curious individuals away.”

“I see,” replied Master Habael. “Very wise, and I suppose you are coming up here to meet with Master Ibromaliöm?”

“Ibromaliöm?” asked Garu surprised. “He is here?”

“Yes. I saw him go up these stairs a little while ago.”

“So, you think he is in the Star Room?”

“Where else could he be?” replied Habael.

“Very well then, allow me.”

Garu inserted a bronze key into the keyhole, careful not to touch the handle. He turned the key and the door pivoted quietly, giving way to a wide room that would have been brightly lit had its four large windows not been shuttered with a clumsy assortment of wood planks—as if someone had hurriedly blocked the windows. A round table stood in the center of the room. Its surface was covered with a two inch thick layer of black wax. The floor under and around the table was also covered with black wax.

Ostensibly, someone burned hundreds of candles here,
thought Jedarc,
but why?

The wind whistled constantly, rattling against the shutters like a tormented spirit trying to get inside the room. Jedarc shivered inwardly; something in the room caused his hair to stand on end, but he did not know what it was.

“Well now, he is not here, is he?” said the head judge in a patronizing voice. “If you are looking for Master Ibromaliöm, you may try his room. I think he went there to rest. Now, if you do not mind, I should like to remain alone. There are some important issues regarding these Games that must be resolved before sunset.” With this, Master Garu accompanied Habael and the Silent to the door and locked it after them.

They scrambled back down quietly until they reached the second floor and walked toward the judges’ quarters.

“Now lad, what do you think of all this?” asked Habael.

“I don’t think the judges were going up there to deliberate. Something in that room scares me. I don’t know what. Besides, you said you saw Ibromaliöm go up, but he was not there, so I don’t know what to think.”

“Now, let us see if Master Ibromaliöm is in his room,” said Master Habael.

They walked silently along the wide corridor. The judges’ quarters were directly behind the middle hall. As they passed the first door into the Silent’s quarters, Jedarc was surprised to see it ajar.

“You had better take a look, lad,” said Master Habael. He remembered closing the door behind him after they left, and they both knew Commander Tanios’ strict orders to keep all four doors leading to the Silent’s quarters closed at all times.

Quiet as a cat, Jedarc opened the door. The smooth, dark wood of the common area gleamed in the light. All bedroom doors were closed except Banimelek’s, which was ajar. The area was deserted, since all the Silent were on assignment. Jedarc wondered if he should inspect the rooms but found the idea ridiculous. After all, the Silent kept nothing of value here. He was about to leave, when he noticed a red blotch seeping from beneath Banimelek’s door.

“Master Habael,” he called, “come quickly!”

The old man came rushing in. “What is it, lad?”

Jedarc pointed to the dark patch. “It’s blood.”

“Whose room is this?” asked Habael.

“Banimelek’s,” replied Jedarc. “It’s Banimelek’s room.”

Master Habael opened the door and walked in, followed by Jedarc. They gasped before the ghastly spectacle: the body of a young man lying in a pool of blood with a rope around his neck.

His clenched right fist lay in the blood, as though trying to retain the life that betrayed him. Habael respectfully closed his eyes.

Jedarc breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s not Banimelek,” he whispered.

“No, it’s another member of Hiyam’s team.”

“How many deaths is it going to take?” wondered the Silent.

“Please call the commander,” said Master Habael. “He had better come and see this.”

Tanios gritted his teeth in frustration. He had lost the trail once more. First, a slave working in the kitchen admitted seeing, earlier, a young man matching the description of the athlete leaving the castle by the narrow gate. He cantered away on a horse, seemingly in a hurry. The tracks of the young man’s horse led the commander to the Rock-of-the-Sentinel, a promontory where one could see the entire countryside. The rider had waited for a signal there. Inspecting the ground, the commander found a small, red velvet ribbon.

“This explains why this young man…what was his name again…ah yes, Simer. This would explain why he came here. Someone must have slipped this ribbon under his door; a signal that the woman he was courting agreed to see him. Someone told him to wait here for a second signal.” A quick inspection of the grounds confirmed his suspicions: the horse’s trail led to the valley below the castle.

“Someone must have signaled for him to come down there.” He followed a winding path between two hills covered with silveria
—
a foot tall shrub that gave the impression of being an evergreen on account of the thick flanges on the stem and the dense cluster of sharp, tiny yellow flowers. The golden field was peppered with oleander
,
a grayish, spiny shrub with a brilliant pink flowers. The commander kept a wary eye on the path ahead, knowing these hills were a perfect hideout for snakes.

“Did anyone warn him about the snakes, I wonder? Then again, this is a junior of the High Riders we’re talking about. He must have known what he was doing.”

Down in the valley, there were more hoof prints. “Three horses now” muttered Tanios. “A secret meeting was held here between three people, not two. This changes everything. This is no longer the case of a romantic encounter; the man I am after is a spy.”

A quick inspection of the ground confirmed that the meeting had occurred early this morning. He followed the trail which led him to the hidden river. There, it looked as if the tracks crossed the river, but when Tanios examined the other bank, there was no trail to be found. Clearly, the riders went up or downstream in the shallow part of the river.