The Prophet of Panamindorah, Book One Fauns and Filinians (10 page)

Capricia turned away from Chance and Meuril’s
conversation with a bored expression. “Minster Erser, if this has
anything to do with the furrier’s guild, then you needn’t bother.
I’ve already ruled against the proposed tariff.”

“But your Highness! Do you know how many
cowries our furriers lost last year alone because of the swamp
fauns?”

“I do. I also know what kind of fur I choose
to have my own capes trimmed with. Two years ago, you were
demanding royal guards for merchant caravans entering Kazar because
of their swamp monster.”

The minister reddened. “Only because that one
incident threatened to strangle important trade routes with—”

“I would think,” continued Capricia, “that
contending with a swamp monster would prove more than enough
handicap for merchants attempting to trade furs out of Kazar.”

“But your Highness!”

“If our furriers want better business, tell
them to work more in their tanneries and less in my courtroom. I
will not pass a tariff to protect a vastly inferior product.
However, I am working on a deal with the furriers guild in
Danda-lay that would remove the embargo on cat pelts. That should
please you.”

Syrill had stopped to listen to their
conversation. “What are they talking about?” whispered Corry.

Syrill shrugged. “A few years ago, the swamp
fauns began exporting the fur of some small creature—a
shayshoo—from Kazar. It’s lovely stuff, nearly as a good as lynx or
leopard pelts. The cats had agreements with all the fauns at one
time that forbid the trade of cat pelts, and those concessions have
died hard, even after the war started.” Syrill’s expression turned
bitter. “No one wants to make an enemy of the cats if they’re going
to win. Shayshoo fur sold so well, the swamp fauns established
breeding colonies to increase their pelt yield. The wood fauns’
guild used to have almost a monopoly on furs, and they’ve been
complaining loudly. They have cat furs by the cartload right now,
but so far no one’s buying.”

Corry shook his head. “No, I meant the part
about Capricia in court.”

Syrill raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t you know?
As civil regent, Capricia has handled all of the internal affairs
of the realm since the war with Filinia began. These days, I don’t
think Meuril does anything except work with me as we attempt to
drive out Lexis and his cats.”

Corry blinked. “Then how does she have time
to go wandering around in the forest?”

Syrill gave him an odd look. “She
doesn’t.”

At that moment a messenger came trotting in
with a worried expression on his face. He went straight to the
king, leaned over, and whispered something in his ear. Meuril rose
and tapped the table for silence. “I have just received important
news.” He waited until he had their full attention. “Demitri of
Alainya is dead. Lexis of Alainya takes his place as king of
Filinia,” he hesitated a moment and then added, “and all Filinian
conquests.”

A babble of talking erupted. Corry turned to
look at Syrill. The general sat very still, eyes fixed on something
far away. Abruptly, he rose and left the hall.

Meuril followed him. Capricia hesitated for
an instant, then got up to go after them. “Well this explains the
lull in their fighting,” commented Chance, looking over Corry at
Laylan. “Perhaps Lexis grew impatient.”

Laylan shook his head. “Demitri was ill.
Lexis is too intelligent to risk his birthright when it was so
obviously about to fall between his paws.”

Corry only half heard them. He leapt up and
ran after Capricia. He caught up with her, already half way down
the corridor outside. “Capricia, when did you meet me?”

She glanced at him, still walking fast.
“Pardon?”

He lowered his voice. “If you’ve been holding
court here while your father fights cats, how did you have time to
go wandering around the forest with the flute? Or to write a
history book? That day by the lake when I first saw you, and you
ran from me…when was it?”

Capricia shot him a suspicious glance. “About
three years ago, before the war started.”

“But it was only days ago to me!”

Capricia’s only response was to walk a little
faster.

“Don’t you see?” asked Corry, trotting to
keep up. “This shows that time really does pass more slowly on
Earth than in Panamindorah. This explains how I might have been
gone for only a year of Earth’s time, while hundreds of years
passed here!”

“Will you please keep your voice down?” she
hissed.

“We could figure out when I left…when I was
stolen
the first time. We could calculate it, you see?
Figure out how much time passed in Panamindorah between our first
two meetings and how much time passed on Earth. Capricia, don’t you
want to know who I am?”

She said nothing.

Corry’s mouth opened slowly. “Or do you
already know?”

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“Corellian, listen to me: I have already made my decision—”

“Passed your judgment, you mean? This isn’t
your courtroom, Capricia.”

“Do you know what would happen to most shelts
if they spoke that way to me?”

“Well, you’ve already threatened twice to
kill me. What’s a third time?”

She rounded on him with a snarl. “I have told
you: the past cannot be reclaimed. What if you found you were
someone bad? Someone evil?”

“Was I?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that you are
keeping me from an important conference.”

“Will you at least tell me the date we
met?”

“I’ll check my records tomorrow, when you
come to work on those translations.”

Chapter
12.
Thief

I learned today that Corellian is missing. I
wish I could help look for him, but as usual Lexis vexes me by
consuming all my attention.

—journal of Syrill of Undrun, Summer
1700

Corry waited next morning for Capricia’s
summons. He had dreamed all night of wolves in dungeons and felt
singularly unrested and irritable. While he waited, he read her
book:

Since I wish to write a scholarly work, I
will omit details of the events before the fire until I am able to
better understand the old manuscripts. The legend, then, in
brief:

Some say the wizards came across the sea and
our years are numbered from their coming. Others say they were
always in Panamindorah, but they were not always evil. Some say
that they are with us still, others that they are gone.

All say this: that a wizard called Gabalon
gathered to himself the support of many nations, that he made his
capitol in Selbis, that he made it mighty. They say he invited his
fellow wizards to a great feast, and at the feast he poisoned all
but seven of them. Those seven formed his inner circle.

It is said that Gabalon hated beasts and
robbed them of speech, but that the cats were stronger and fiercer
and Filinia too vast for his armies. He could not master them, and
so they speak still.

It is said that Gabalon possessed a weapon
of magic that allowed him to perform such feats. His weapon
protected him during rebellions, the largest of which involved the
last of the talking wolves, the durians. The legend goes that they
entered the Endless Wood and vanished, and that is why the wood
faun kingdom is called Endless, because it swallowed them without a
trace.

The cliff fauns and their allies finally
overthrew the tyrant in 1388 (this date is well documented). In
myth, they say the Creator sent a bird of fire, which went before
the armies of the cliff fauns and terrified their enemies.
Historians speculate that the fauns may have had the help of
pegasus, perhaps the first Pegasus to appear in middle
Panamindorah. Others say they had the help of the Unibus, who
figure prominently in old stories, but purportedly disappeared into
the Snow Mountains of Filinia during the time of Gabalon’s tyranny.
It is not now certain that Unibus ever existed. Their legends call
them shape-shifters, and they may, in fact, have been some form of
iteration.

That Gabalon actually existed is a matter of
no dispute. The ruin of Selbis is with us still, and many
manuscripts mention him. However, the details of his reign and fall
are subjects of speculation, and it is this area to which I will
attempt to bring real scholarship in my next work.

Meanwhile, we concern ourselves with the
events since the great fire of Danda-lay.

Chapter 1. The Swamp Fauns

As any faun child knows, the swamp fauns
figure prominently in stories of Gabalon’s atrocities. They were
the footshelts of his army and the muscle of his secret police. At
the time of the Great Fire, the swamp fauns were still under the
military supervision of Danda-lay. Their monarchy was in exile,
having fled across the desert.

A number of nasty uprisings convinced the
cliff fauns that they ought either to annihilate the swamp fauns or
set them on their feet again. Having no real stomach for genocide,
the then-king of Danda-lay, Sansuel, began a gradual process of
reinstating them—

“You concentrate too sharply when you
read.”

Corry looked up. Capricia was standing on the
other side of the table. “What happened to Gabalon?” he asked.

The princess shrugged. “No one knows. Some of
the legends feature him flying away in the form of a dragon. Some
say he fought the fire bird and was wounded. Others say he vanished
before the armies even got inside the city. No story claims he was
killed.”

Corry nodded. “So that’s why you tried to
abandon the flute. You’re afraid he’ll come back for it.”

Capricia didn’t answer him. “My father is
moving to the castle at Pyn-lay nearer the Canid border, so that he
may help rally the troops there. I will be busy. I would like,
however, to spend a quarter watch with you each morning working on
the translation.”

“How long is half a watch?”

“There are four watches of the day and two
of the night.”

Corry thought about that. “About four hours
of Earth time in one watch, then.”

Capricia didn’t seem remotely interested in
how Earthlings told time. “I will meet with you in the
library.”

Corry caught a movement beyond Capricia’s
shoulder. Glancing towards the door, he saw the tip of a shadow
fall across the threshold.

Capricia continued. “Otherwise, I advise you
to spend your time learning a useful trade, since you seem so
anxious to settle down in Laven-lay.”

The shadow moved in a little further, then
stopped. The door was open, but the shadow came across the
threshold obliquely, and the creature casting it remained out of
sight.

“Your knowledge of reading and writing would
make you an excellent scribe, and I am willing to employ you here
at the castle—”

Corry stood up and walked past her towards
the door. The shadow disappeared. He quickened his steps, but by
the time he reached the door the hallway was empty. He thought he
heard the clop of heavy hoof beats on the stone floor.
A
centaur?

He turned to find Capricia at his elbow.

“There was someone in the hall listening to
us. I saw the shadow.”

“Probably just a nosy servant.” But
Capricia’s voice had a nervous edge. She glanced up and down the
hall.

“Why did you leave the door open?” asked
Corry.

“I didn’t.” Capricia reached out and swung
the door. The hinges were well-oiled and soundless.

For a moment, they both stood silent. The
eavesdropper had been no casual passerby. He had taken the trouble
to ease the door open. “I’ll get you a different suit of rooms,”
said Capricia.

“That’s not necessary. I think it may have
been a centaur. Aren’t they leaving soon?”

Capricia nodded. She didn’t say anything.

“What about your records? You said you would
let me see them so that I could try to calculate the exact time
that passed in Panamindorah while I was on Earth.”

“Oh, will you leave that alone!” snapped
Capricia and strode from the room.

Corry glared after her. Outside his window, a
group of soldiers passed through the garden, their long spears
catching the sunlight.
Perhaps I should volunteer to go with
Syrill. He was friendly to me, and he is a friend of Laylan, who
knows more about the Raiders. With Capricia, it’s all guessing and
prying. She doesn’t
want
me to understand.

Corry left his apartments and started in the
general direction of the garden. He wasn’t sure where to find
Syrill, but he was hoping to catch up with the group of soldiers
and ask them.
I wonder if I know how to use a sword or
spear.
The idea of making such a discovery amused Corry.
Perhaps I should find out before I actually apply to
fight.

Corry took a passage that looked familiar.
The further he went, the more certain he became that he had walked
this way before, and yet he thought that the hall was angling away
from garden. Then he came to a flight of stairs.
This is the way
to Capricia’s study.

THUD! BOOM!
A distant noise, probably
from the top of the tower. Corry was pretty sure he was hearing it
through his feet—his vibration sense—and not with his ears.
What
is she doing up there?
He listened intently, but heard nothing
else. Corry suddenly remembered Capricia’s hunted expression when
she realized they’d been overheard.
Maybe she was right. Maybe
I’m the fool for not thinking it’s important.
On an impulse, he
started up the stairs.

He was panting by the time he came to the
landing at the top. He saw the study was ajar and started to open
it. Too late, he noticed the splintered wood around the broken
bolt. By then, he was already staring up into the face of the
creature coming out.

A centaur. Corry’s head came only to his
horse chest. Looking up into his face, Corry saw a mixture of
surprise and uncertainty. Behind the centaur, Corry caught a
glimpse of the study in disarray, papers and books strewn across
the floor, a roaring fire in the hearth, bits of paper fluttering
like wounded moths.