Mantle: The Return of the Sha (12 page)

“Majesty, I am still awaiting some counts of our weaponry, but I can report that at this time we have fifty thousand men who are active, with ten thousand more that can be called up if needed. Remember, though, that we are historically dependent on Bore to provide the bulk of the ground armies in any conflict, just as they are dependent on us to provide support through charms and sorcery.”

Zander hated the word
sorcery
. He would rather it be referred to as simple magic, but again he held his tongue. This wasn’t the time for trivial complaints.

“Yes, Bore and Tongar…have we heard if they will come to Forris to discuss these matters?”

Arthur Steed now spoke, “Majesty, they have both agreed to be at Obengaard within two weeks’ time, and are looking into matters from their side.”

“Very well,” Zander said.

General Brask continued, “I am prepared to send word to our reserves whenever you wish.”

A long pause ensued and Zander’s eyes were focused on the papers and inkwell sitting before him. He had picked up the brass royal seal without realizing it, and was slowly rolling it from one hand to the other, until finally General Brask broke the silence.

“Majesty?”

Zander looked up quickly as if pulled from a dream, and said, “Is there any known cause for Dark Weed to appear without a conjuring by the Skites?”

The full council turned to a thin man, also old, with long white hair that hung just over his shoulders. He wore small round spectacles which appeared too small for his face, while his clothes looked to be much too large for his thin frame, making his fashion almost comical. Balki immediately, and correctly, assumed that he was the steward of magic. His name was Hannibal Granger, but at Obengaard he was simply referred to as the
Emm
by most.

The man sat in deep thought, until the king said, “Granger, the room seems to have turned to you. Do you know of another way?”

Granger looked up and said, “No, Majesty, I know of no other way. The Dark Weed was created by—and is controlled entirely by—the Skites. I see no other explanation.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Just after the end of the Mantle War, when it was believed that the Skites had been eradicated, the Outlands grew green with foliage and flowers as far as the eye could see. It wasn’t until nearly a hundred years ago that it began to slowly die once more. This can only mean that the Skites have returned,
in one form or other
.”

Balki suddenly felt the medallion become warm against his chest. The inflock was stirring, celebrating maybe.

King Zander turned his gaze to General Brask. “Do not call up the reserves yet. I will leave at first light to consult with the Sovereign Trees. I’m sure that they will have much to say on the matter as I am confident that they already know of the weed.”

To this, Crook said, “Majesty, they may not know of the Dark Weed. We only recently learned of it ourselves.”

Granger chuckled from the other side of the table, and King Zander smiled and said, “My dear Crook, the Trees are not kept from much. They likely knew of your midmorning squat before you made it.”

At this, the table erupted in laughter. Crook didn’t laugh, though. He was old, and his sense of humor even older, but he didn’t object or become cross. He was too far along in years to get excited about such things.

Balki was laughing in appearance only. His thoughts were directed squarely on Zander’s meeting with the trees. He knew that he couldn’t accompany the king to see the trees, but if he could only get the king alone before he left for the forest, he could easily plant questions in the king that might render his trip fruitless. He would simply cloak and the king would hear all and ask all. He wasn’t sure what questions he needed to force, or even why he needed to do it, but the inflock was beginning to run things now. It hadn’t taken him completely, but its influence was palpable. It knew that there were things that were better left unknown.

When the laughter subsided, Zander said, “Then it’s settled; we will meet again on the matter of the weed once I return from my conference with the trees. But before we move any further, I would like to introduce Balki Touro of Maske. I have brought him here today to shed new thoughts on our situation, and I expect you all to welcome him honorably.”

The only other man dressed in uniform, other than General Brask, stared across the table at Balki and said, with a hint of malice, “So this is the boy who caused Tate Touro to deny an ambassadorship to the Sovereign Trees.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement that was clearly meant to inform the others of the link, in case they had forgotten or missed it entirely.

Balki calmly turned his eyes to the man, and said, “I will not be responsible for my father’s decisions, but as sure as I am sitting here, I will certainly welcome
that
particular choice.”

He ended his reply with a cleverly put together smile, and the room erupted in laughter once again. The man who had made the remark did not laugh, though. Balki knew that after this first meeting, he would have full trust from some and waves of suspicion from others. There was no logical reason for anyone to suspect him for anything at that point, but the council was old. Most continued on from King Alexo’s reign, and were not open to change…especially instigated by an outer village boy who the king happened to pick up along the way. Balki understood this way of thinking, though. He saw this behavior similar to that of the village council in Maske; hardheaded old men who were tough to bend.

When they calmed once more, Zander said, “As I’m sure you all know by now—for anything spoken once at Obengaard is spoken a thousand times—I am to be married.”

Those at the table clapped briefly before one gentleman asked, “Majesty, have you set a date for the affair?”

“We will hold the ceremony and celebration on the day of the Third Moon, some three weeks from now, and it would be appropriate for the kings of Bore and Tongar to witness the marriage as well. I have a feeling that their minds will rest easier knowing that I have plans to produce an heir. I imagine them to be quite unsettled at the thought of turbulence in Forris over the line of succession. If something should happen to me, one of my spoiled cousins would surely claim the right and throw the other kingdoms into discord. I plan to live a long life anyway, so never mind about that!”

At this, the gentleman responded by lifting his cup and exclaiming, “Long live Zander—in good health and good fortune!”

Then, the whole of the room raised their cups in unison, “Long live Zander—in good health and good fortune!”

****

The main house of Obengaard, known as Bannister Castle, sat in the center of the city at its highest elevation and was the oldest of the structures, by many centuries. It was named such, for the Royal House of Bannister—of which, Zander belonged, as did his father and his father before. The outside of the castle was plain in comparison to the rest of Obengaard, but its ordinary appearance on the outside was deceiving.

When Bella and Lizabet had first entered the castle, they came into a vast and open foyer. The foyer was round with a domed ceiling high above. The flooring seemed to be made of polished white stone with hints of thin gold lines that came together in the center to form the shape of a single rose.

Along the edges of the room hung iron candle displays, each two feet in height. The candles which rested in them were covered by protective glass, and the candles themselves were made of regenerating beeswax. They didn’t know at the time, but the candles in the foyer had been burning constantly, with the candles never losing height, for perhaps centuries.

On both the left and right sides of the room sat tall, narrow double doors leading to the various wings of the castle. The doors were set within large pointed arches. Directly in front of them was a wide but short corridor that led to another set of double doors.

Arthur Steed had instructed one of the king’s inner butlers to escort Bella and Lizabet to their quarters, while he was needed in the council chamber. Although neither Bella nor Lizabet spoke it aloud, they both felt relief at this, since neither was comfortable in the presence of Mr. Steed. The inner butler, whose name was Mr. Oliver, was odd-looking, thin as a strand of wheat, and towered over both of them. But he was very attentive, answering any questions they might have, and extending manners in a way that Bella and Lizabet were not accustomed to. If he would speak, he would bow to them after each statement as if punctuating it. It became quite comical to both of them, and they pained to keep from laughing.

While standing in the foyer, Mr. Oliver explained that the left doorway led to the part of the castle where most business was conducted—where Bella’s fiancé was at that very moment, in fact. The doorway to their right led to the ballrooms, sitting rooms, parlor, and libraries. The king’s quarters, and other private rooms, were situated on the upper levels of the castle, and overlooked the square that they had entered upon their arrival.

The door at the end of the corridor in front of them, Mr. Oliver explained, opened into the Throne Room. In this room, the king would formally greet dignitaries and subjects who had requested an audience with the king. When Mr. Oliver led them down the corridor, and opened these doors, Bella and Lizabet saw something they hadn’t expected. The room was simple, quite different from the rest. There was only a large wooden throne with a back that stretched upward nearly six feet. But there was nothing elaborate about it. The wood was worn and darkened where a person would sit, and where one’s arms might rest, but there was no decoration on it. It sat elevated on a stone pedestal toward the far side of the room. The rest of the room was empty except for the candles that hung along the walls, cradled in their iron cribs. The floor seemed to be carved from a single slice of wood, but Bella thought that impossible for the size of the space. It might have been a charm illusion, but whatever it was, it struck her as magnificent. Although the Throne Room was ordinary by the standards set by the foyer, it proved to be one of the more interesting. Mr. Oliver went on to explain, when asked, that the Throne Room was meant to project humility, not to flaunt the riches of the king.

****

Once they arrived at Bella’s apartment, Mr. Oliver explained that she would be staying in the same rooms as that of King Zander’s grandmother. She had moved into the apartment once her husband had died, and her son, Alexo, had taken the throne. The room was large, much larger than Bella thought necessary. In addition to a bedroom, it contained a parlor and sitting room, with a private bathing area attached. Bella was overwhelmed.

Lizabet’s apartment was quite smaller, but with a similar design. Hers was connected to Bella’s by an entrance which could be locked from either side. It was apparent that whoever had designed the rooms had wanted the occupants of them to have the luxury of being close, but not too close.

Lizabet noticed a silver bell hanging on the wall next to the bed. Dangling from both sides of the bell were small bell-hammers hanging on silver chains. One hammer was silver, but with a blue tint, and the other was a dark gray color that reminded her of burned coal. There was a similar set near the door of the apartment, and Lizabet had noticed bells hanging in other rooms as well, including Bella’s.

“Mr. Oliver, what do the bells do?” Lizabet asked.

As was his way, Mr. Oliver bent his head downward without bending his back, smiled, and replied, “Those bells are to call for someone.”

Lizabet looked confused and said, “But, call who—and for what?”

Mr. Oliver chuckled lightly and said, “Miss Abbot, my apologies for not being clear. The blue bell-hammer on the right will call your maids, should you need anything, and the—”

“What would I possibly need?” Lizabet interrupted, prompting Bella to glance a stern look in her direction.

“If you would like food, drink, or anything at all, your maids will be at your service anytime you wish.”

Lizabet wasn’t sure how she felt about this, so she decided that she would wait and revisit her thoughts on the matter once she had actually met her maids.

Mr. Oliver continued, “And, as I was saying, the blue bell-hammer will summon your maids. The dark bell-hammer on the left will summon the Royal Guard.”

When Mr. Oliver spoke these last words, Lizabet instinctively took Bella’s hand in her own. It was childish, she knew, but it happened without thinking.

“Mr. Oliver, how do the bells work? Surely, no one would hear such a small bell from such a large room,” Bella asked. Now it was her turn to be curious.

There was a brief widening of Mr. Oliver’s smile and he was visibly glad that she had asked. It was clear that he enjoyed telling the story of the bells.

“The bells were a gift from the Spiers many generations ago, possibly in the time of King Zander’s great-grandfather three times removed. They are all connected to each other, almost as a family—siblings, if you will.

“It is told that the Spiers first created a single large bell. Once the bell had been created, including its large clapper dangling inside, they charmed it. The magic they used, I do not know of, but it created a connection in the bell—a oneness.

“Once charmed, they then cut the clapper in two and charmed each piece again separately. From this, they melted the pieces and created the small bell-hammers that you see here.”