The Last Elf of Lanis (27 page)

“We rest for today!” Summeninquis hollered above the confusion. “We will continue tomorrow!” And then, the judges filed out of the courtroom.

Ushered safely back to the palace, Alrhett was surrounded on all sides by Lords who now took her side, and begged for, or against, joining the armies at Tyny. Finally she could stand no more and had the room cleared, except for Meybonne, Prensy, and Kindoll.

“Does every session of court end in such confusion?” Alrhett asked Meybonne.

“It seems in these days, confusion is normality,” Meybonne sadly said.

“Stralain, the captain of the army wishes to speak to you,” Prensy said from the front door.

“Present him,” Alrhett said.

Stralain, the captain who led the forces at the siege of the Three Bridges of Rogar Li entered and swept in with a respectful bow. He was tall and muscular. And he led with a daring courage, making him much beloved by the
wealdkin. “My
queen,” he said, “I have found no trace of Yulenth, I am sad to report.”

“Thank you,” was all that Alrhett quietly said.

“My queen,” Stralain carefully continued with a twinkle in his eye, “if you command the army, we will obey.”

“The bravery and loyalty of the armies of the Weald are beyond measure,” Alrhett kindly said. The captain bowed low and excused himself.

“More and more,” Meybonne softly said, “the wealdkin look to you for leadership.”

“I
cannot
lead them,” Alrhett said, “until I have completely cleared my name, and wriggled free of the grasp of that judge.” The women agreed with their silence.

The rest of the day was spent admitting Lords, captains, and officials who all tried to win political favor with Alrhett. By the end of the day, she was exhausted, although the capitol still hummed with the frightful news of the looming war.

Late that night Meybonne woke with the sound of Alrhett’s voice. She heard her say, “Good, good, make sure every one of them attends.”

Meybonne entered the chamber to find Alrhett alone, standing in her room.

“Yes?” Alrhett asked.

“I heard voices,” Meybonne said.

“All is well,” Alrhett said. “Return to sleep.”

Meybonne returned to her cot just outside the queen’s chamber, and stared up into the darkness, filled with questions, fearing her queen was losing her sanity.

In the morning, Alrhett was filled with nervous energy. Her new friends noticed and they knew she was worried about her trial. The morning languished into the afternoon without the judges calling for court to begin.

“They are calling for a general gathering,” Kindoll entering said.

“What about my trial?” Alrhett asked.

“There has been no call for the trial to resume,” she answered.

The women went together to a large open area at the very bottom of the city. This was where the messenger guild usually delivered news that would be of general interest to every citizen of Rogar Li. The spacious area was surrounded on all sides by massive trees, the very supports of the city. It was dark, as little sunlight got through the houses and halls in the treetops overhead. In the common area, here on the ground, the poor set up humble shops along the edges of the square.

When Alrhett and her friends arrived, the darkened square was already choked with the citizens of Rogar Li. Alrhett recognized Summeninquis and his judges in a reserved space, and every other Lord and official was in attendance.

“This is why court is not in session,” Meybonne said.

“It must be grave news,” Prensy agreed.

A lanky, young man of the messenger guild stood up on a platform so he could be heard and seen by the throng. The mass of people quieted.

“As you all know,” the messenger began, “we have been watching carefully the movements of the garond army in Wealdland.”

“Spying, he means” Kindoll whispered, and was quickly hushed.

“We have reported on the slaughter last year, in Lanis of the elf population, to their very extinction. We have reported on the ruin of both Glafemen and Ethgeow. Just yesterday, the Madronites fended off an advance by the garond army, but all her people have left the Madrun Hills for the western lands. And, you may have heard that an army of all nations of humans is being gathered at Tyny to make war on the garond army being led by a garond called Ravensdred.”

“Dark times,” Alrhett breathed to herself.

“Haerreth, son of Healfdene, king of the Green Hills of Reia, respectfully asks the armies and people of the Weald to join him, and all the humans left in Wealdland, to fight the garond menace.”

A long silence followed.

“A formal request,” Alrhett worriedly whispered to Meybonne, who just shook her head.

“The Weald for the Weald!” A voice cried.

And then a pandemonium of dissent went up on all sides.

The messenger raised his hands to try to quiet the people of Rogar Li, and finally they respected his gesture.

“There is some last, other news from the messenger guild,” the young man said. “Our sources tell us that the garond force in Harvestley has doubled in size the last two days. And that, Deifol Hroth will arrive in Wealdland tonight, to lead his army.”

The news stunned the audience. The people quietly left for their homes with an ominous, worrisome gloom hanging over all the inhabitants of the city.

A soldier respectfully approached Alrhett. “Great Judge Summeninquis wishes to reconvene immediately,” he said.

“Good, tell him I will attend directly,” Alrhett told him.

Once again the great hall of the judges was full of spectators, but a quiet dread hung over the people with the recent, fearful news.

“Court is in session.” Summeninquis banged his gavel. “Do you wish,” he asked Alrhett, “to continue examining the Master of the Library?”

“If it
pleases
the court,” she answered.

The Master of the Library was seated and Alrhett rose to continue questioning him.

“Nostacarr,” Alrhett said, “we were discussing animal speak/hear.”

“Ah, yes,” the old man scratched his ear. “Animal speak/hear is known to have been a trait of the elves. The elfish people could converse with any animal as easily as you or I speak to one another.”

“Do any humans possess this ability?” She asked.

“There is no record of it,” he answered.

“If an elf and a human were to have a child, might that child have that ability?” Alrhett asked.

“I suppose,” Nostacarr mused.

“Would this be considered a black, or evil magic?” Alrhett asked.

“Oh heavens no!” Nostacarr smiled. “It would be a blessing.”

“Is there any record of an elf and a human becoming husband and wife?” Alrhett asked leaning forward.

“Ah!” Nostacarr’s eyes sparkled. “Now we come to my area of expertise. Yes. In the three hundredth and forty second year of the fourth age, immediately following the Great Elf Human War, Garrethent, the two hundredth and fifty sixth King of the Weald took to wife Whinnappalle, a princess of Lanis. This name and location suggests she was an elf. Many scholars have disputed this. However, the record does not clearly say she was not.”

Then the enormity of the line of questioning dawned on the clever old man.

“You are saying,” Nostacarr, the Master of the Library said, “that Whinnappalle WAS an elf and you possess, through your royal heritage, the power of animal speak/hear.”

The great hall was shocked into silence.

“I wish to call my eye witnesses,” Alrhett cried to Summeninquis.

Then she turned to old Nostacarr. “Thank you,” she quietly said with a smile and a pat on his bony shoulder.

“Open the doors!” Alrhett cried. And on cue, Prensy and Kindoll heaved open the massive doors of the great hall.

In flapped eight, black crows, which then settled, wings beating, all about the witness chair.

“Where is the ninth?” Alrhett asked. “Are you out there?” Alrhett boomed to the open doors. A ninth crow, with embarrassment, hopped into the chamber, squawked apologies and settled with his brethren.

“You were witness to the slaying of the man in the meadow, is that correct?” Alrhett asked the crows, who began all loudly croaking at once.

“Please, please,” Alrhett held up her hands. “One at a time.”

The nine crows then croaked a single caw, one after another to the astonishment of the gathered audience.

“Please speak up if you saw me doing any violence to that man,” Alrhett instructed the black feathered witnesses. The crows continually preened and fidgeted, but none cawed.

“Do you see,” Alrhett swept her hand over the crowd, “here in this room, the one who slew that man, whom we called Lord Argotine?”

The crows began to excitedly caw and croak, flapping and bowing.

“Go to him,” she said. The nine crows flew up with fury and flapped around Lord Stavolebe, who slunk into his seat.

“It was
self-defense
!” Stavolebe cried swatting at the crows.

“Thank you, no further questions,” Alrhett called to the crows. The large black birds circled the court room, and then sailed out the great doors.

“I wish to examine Lord Stavolebe!” Alrhett cried to Summeninquis.

Stavolebe sat in the witness chair.

“You just said,” Alrhett pressed, “or insinuated, that you killed Lord Argotine in
self-defense
.”

Stavolebe squirmed and said nothing.

“In your first testimony,” Alrhett continued, “you never said that I slew Argotine, but that you discovered me with a sword in my hand, which was true, was it not?”

“I did not lie,” Stavolebe sunk lower in the witness chair.

“And the robbery,” she went on, “was merely a supposition on your part.”

“Yes,” Stavolebe squeaked.

“I have other witnesses,” Alrhett turned to the judge. “A pack of timber wolves saw what happened. However, they will not come into the city. We must go to them. But,” Alrhett paused to look squarely at Stavolebe, whose sweat was running down his silk blouse, “I
cannot
be responsible for the wolves behavior if they see Lord Stavolebe, for they abhor murder above all else, and may tear him to pieces.”

“He drew first!” Stavolebe screamed. “He drew his sword, and I defended myself!”

“With ten of your guards nearby,” Alrhett smiled. “Perhaps he drew first, because he saw your treachery in luring him out to the woods to be slaughtered. Perhaps some of your guards will testify against you to save their own necks.”

Stavolebe began to cry into his hands. “I never meant to slay him,” Stavolebe lied.

“Your honor,” Alrhett said, “I ask the charges against me be dismissed.”

The court was filled with tension. The sound of the grinding of teeth was almost audible. Summeninquis’ eyes rubbed around the room at the pale, angry faces.

“Charges dismissed,” Summeninquis banged his gavel.

The galleries exploded with joy. The lords and soldiers lifted Alrhett onto their shoulders, as the people cheered. In the tumult, Summeninquis and his cronies once again saw that it was prudent to make an exit, before the crowd turned on them.

“My people,” Alrhett said, “my friends, my kin, if you will have me, I will be your queen once more.” The shouts of approval were deafening. The whole city erupted in a great festival of happiness and joy.

Meybonne caught Alrhett by the shoulder. “Did you really have some wolves out in the Weald to testify for you?”

“Lord Stavolebe believed it,” Alrhett said with a wink.

Feasting, drinking and music rang throughout the towers of Rogar Li, all the rest of the day.

As night fell, a great flash of lightning caught everyone off guard and stilled the festivities.

“What was that?” Meybonne said in fear.

“I think,” Alrhett solemnly said, “the Lord of Lightning has entered Wealdland. Tell the people of the capitol we will have a great, proper feast tomorrow. Tonight I wish to speak to every captain of the army, individually.”

The rest of the night, Alrhett, at the palace, interviewed captains as to their readiness and strength.

The next morning, Rogar Li was readied for an official celebration. Garlands of autumnal flowers and bows of evergreens were hung throughout the city. At the palace, furniture, easily identifiable as royal, suddenly turned up at the front door in the morning.

“Has Lord Stavolebe been found?” Alrhett asked Meybonne.

“All his house is missing,” she replied, “every vassal and servant.”

“We will not let his escape ruin this day,” Alrhett said. The air was filled with the smell of baking. The harvest had been brought in only a month earlier, so savory and sweet breads of all types were readied.

In the late afternoon, a messenger of the guild was admitted. “They have burned the bridge across the Holmwy River at Alfhich,” was all he said.