The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (50 page)

Arranulf said, and smiled at him.

“Oh yes, I think so,” Rahendo replied, smiling back, “Ninda writes

wonderful letters. There are always bits of sweet fruit pie in them.

I think it lends them a distinctive cachet. Makes them a bit sticky

though.”

The smile froze on their faces when they saw Obyann glaring

furiously at them. In his anger he didn’t seem to have heard a word

they had said.

“Pray, tell me, how is it possible that I just talked through the

door of your room with you, and now you are standing here?” he

barked.

Rahendo held on to the letter with both hands, holding it before

him as if it were a shield. His lips began quivering slightly.

“Look, Obyann, the explanation is simple,” Arranulf, who had

decided that their game was up, said. “Rahendo has a guest.”

“A guest,” Obyann repeated in a voice that made the room

temperature significantly drop.

“Hm, yes, a guest,” Arranulf affirmed, less sure this time.

“And would this guest be responsible for disappearing meat pies

and strange noises? Might it be this guest who inspired lame jokes

about squirrels, lame jokes at my expense, I might add?”

“He might be.”

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“So this guest has been staying here for some time?”

“Oh, a very, very short time, Obie,” Rahendo, with courage born

out of desperation piped. He indicated a small space with his thumb

and index finger.

“And where, Messier of Landemere, has this guest, if such he is,

his official residence? An easy question, since you are responsible

for the accommodations of the pages.”

Arranulf shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

“Well, see, there were some, eh, temporary difficulties of a certain

nature that made it seem opportune to provisionally list his current

residence as, eh, being...”

“Yes, Landemere, I’m waiting...”

“Well, actually, here.”

“Here, Landemere?”

It sounded foreboding.

“Yes, Obyann, here. It, eh, seemed for the best.”

Obyann couldn’t contain himself anymore.

“Have you gone totally bonkers, Landemere?” he yelled, an

unnatural shade of dark purple coloring his face. “Isn’t one weirdo

enough for you? Are you starting a collection? Do you realize that

whoever it is makes obscene noises and steals meat pies? My meat

pies?

“Once, only once,” Rahendo squeaked, still hiding behind the

letter. “He saved me a piece. To be honest, it was a little bit off, I

thought.”

Obyann gave him a devastating look and then returned his

attention to Arranulf.

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“Do you realize that he too runs around naked? Why, Landemere?

Please, tell me why? We had this nice, big barrack all to ourselves, and

you insist on stuffing it with weird little guys whose main pastime is

running around in their bare ass. Why don’t we just hang a big sign

outside, “Landemere’s Asylum for the Incurably Weird. Welcome All

and Sundry. The Weirder, the Welcomer. No Formal Attire Required.”

What the hell. “No Attire at All Required. Come as the Gods saw Fit

to Make You. Dicks swinging in the Wind No Objection.” No, no, no,

Landemere. This time I’m putting my foot down. I mean it. Don’t think

you’re going to smear syrup on my beard, as we say in Ramaldah.

You’re not making me change my mind by sweet talking me. I know

your tricks, and I won’t fall for them.”

Exhausted he paused. Rahendo began crying softly. Arranulf was

frantically racking his brain what he could say without making the

situation worse.

Then the door to Rahendo’s room opened and a young guy, under

a mass of curls, came running to the crying page.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he said, taking the sobbing boy in his

arms. “We’ll run away from this brute. It’ll be just the two of us. We’ll

wander around and sleep in the forest. Of course, wild animals will

eat us during our sleep, or we’ll freeze to death, but at least we’ll be

together and far, far, far away from this ogre. It will be awesome.”

His eyes shot fiery daggers at Obyann.

“See what you did, you child terrorizer? You made him cry, that’s

what. Proud of yourself, are you, you big brute?”

“It’s been a mild winter. It’s March. It hasn’t frozen in weeks.

There are no wild animals around here. Squirrels, maybe. They’re

not dangerous,” Obyann said, feeling beyond silly.

But the mass of curls wasn’t listening anymore. He was kissing

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393

the tears from Rahendo’s face, all the while caressing his hair.

“Come on, Obyann, man, Rahendo is practically your brother in

law and that makes this guy your...” He thought for a moment. “Also

your brother in law? I’m none too sure, actually. Anyway, don’t you

see they’re in love? You know how it is when you are in love, don’t

you?”

“She still hasn’t written,” Obyann grumbled.

Rahendo stuck the hand out that was holding the letter. Obyann

nervously grabbed it, broke the seal and began reading it, his brow

wrinkled in concentration and his lips silently mouthing out the

words as he read them.

When he had finished, he groaned.

“Everything is all right, I hope,” Arranulf asked worriedly.

“Oh yes, it’s perfect. I’m just wondering how she knew. I’m used to

you two ganging up on me, but she? How could she possibly know?”

Arranulf was dying to know what he meant, but Obyann had

turned to the two boys, still embracing each other.

“All right, you guys, you can turn off the waterworks. And please

stop licking each other like kittens. He can stay. Provided he doesn’t

cause any trouble, you hear me? No trouble at all.”

“Splendid,” the curly one said.

“Oh Obie, you won’t even know we’re here. He can stay in my

bed. Bedroom.”

“Even more splendid.”

Obyann decided to make the best of it.

“So, Sir Squirrel, what is your name?”

“Ryhunzo.”

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“Ha, I know how this one goes,” Obyann said, laughing out loud.

“Actually your real name is Ryhippledypippledynippledyhunzo,

but since nobody can remember that, you decided to shorten it to

Ryhunzo.”

“No. Actually my real name is Ry, but since jerks kept making fun

of me and my short name, and making stupid remarks that since my

name is short my dick must be as well, and generally jerking around

with it, actually much like you were doing, I decided to lengthen it to

Ryhunzo, which is my uncle’s name by the way.”

Obyann looked chastised by the outburst.

“We don’t like jerks,” Ryhunzo added.

“No, we don’t,” Rahendo confirmed.

“Shouldn’t you guys thank Obyann for agreeing to let you stay?”

Arranulf asked.

Immediately they both began hugging Obyann.

“All right, you guys. I’m touched. Really, that’s quite enough. I said

I was touched. Far too much touching going on as it is.”

Letting go of him, they took each other by the arms and started

hopping up and down.

“We’re staying together, we’re staying together,” they shouted

excitedly.

Arranulf took Obyann, who was watching the scene sceptically,

apart.

“So what made you change your mind, big guy?”

“She. She did.”

“How? She couldn’t possibly—”

“Oh, she began by writing how she had enjoyed the visit and,

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ahem, my company. My rugged handsomeness and my chivalrous

manners. My soft, polite conversation... all very understandable of

course—”

“Yes, she’s obviously blind and deaf, but go on.”

“Then she said that what, eh, endeared her the most to me was

what Rahendo had written about how I protected him and took care

of him. Of course, taking care of one little boy is not the same as

raising a whole bunch of them, she wrote, but it was at least a very

good sign that I would make a decent father. So...”

“So, she would have been, let’s say, disappointed, upon hearing

that only two of them were too much for you.”

“Something like that, yes. Also, I figured I owed Rahendo one. And

well, look at them, it would be a shame to split them up, wouldn’t it?

They’re a set.”

Arranulf almost burst out in laughter.

“You did a good thing, Obyann, the fools at the administration

had allocated him to the bullies’ barrack. He wouldn’t have lasted a

day.”

Obyann looked surprised at his friend.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yes. We don’t like bullies, do we?”

“No, we don’t.”

396

Andrew Ashling

It was late in the afternoon, when a soldier came riding beside

him and told Anaxantis that they were being followed. No, not a

group. A lone horseman.

Anaxantis decided to make short shrift with the matter and told

his little band to stop and wait for the rider to overtake them. He

noticed that the Mukthars had become nervous and that several of

them had their hands on the hilt of their swords.

Soon enough the man had reached them and stopped his horse.

Anaxantis heard a hundred alarm trumpets all at once sounding

off in his head. He knew this young man. The wavy hair, the lanky

build, the eternal smile and the twinkling eyes...

“My lord of Brenx, what an unexpected pleasure,” he greeted the

new arrival.

“How? Wasn’t he supposed to have been taken prisoner by Portonas

who had him tortured and killed? What is he doing here? I don’t need

another complication.”

“I can only imagine what stories must have been told after I was

captured by your brother, your highness.”

“By the Gods, little Anaxantis, you’ve really grown into your own.

Where is that short haired, coughing, swooning little boy, always

surrounded by his servants, carrying his books? Look at you, riding a

horse as if you were born upon it. Is that a Mukthar, there beside you?

And when did you become so... so hot?”

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397

“Your highness, I have urgent news. For your ears only. Could we

talk alone?”

“Is he to be trusted, Anashantish?” Timishi asked, never leaving

Rullio with his eyes.

“I believe so, Timishi. Thank you for your concern though.”

Anaxantis smiled at the young noble.

“My lord of Brenx, would you care for a little walk?”

When they were far enough from the road so they couldn’t be

overheard, Rullio couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Shouldn’t they be in chains? The Mukthars, I mean.”

“Prince Timishi and his friends are my guests,” came the simple

answer.

“Guests? A Mukthar prince? And they’re armed. But—”

“I’ve been lord-governor for almost a year. I think I know what

I’m doing.”

It had sounded more terse than he had meant. That seemed to

happen a lot lately.

“Ha, but do you? That is where you might be wrong,”
Rullio thought.

“Yes, of course. My apologies, your highness.”

“Your news?”

“Yes. Where shall I begin?”

“The beginning is usually a good place to start.” Anaxantis smiled

weakly.

“OK. You know I was captured by your brother, prince Portonas.

Well, his hospitality leaves quite a lot to be desired. And then some.”

Rullio grinned. “Lucky for me your father claimed me for his own.

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Andrew Ashling

The regime was more tedious, but far less painful.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. About Portonas, I mean. Frankly, we

thought you were dead.”

“Yes, you miss a few birthdays and people start to draw

conclusions. However, I wasn’t dead. Just buried. Deep inside the

bowels of Fort Nira. I was superficially questioned, not under torture,

I hasten to add, and then left to rot for months on end. The boredom

was what got to me most. That and not knowing what went on in the

outside world.”

He looked at Anaxantis.

“Yes, I can imagine how it would feel to be chained to a wall for

months on end,” Anaxantis replied.