The Kings of the Seven Bells

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The Kings of the Seven Bells Page 5

by Marti Talbott


  “About us?”

  “No, about Extane.”

  “What do they say?”

  “What they always say – they want to rule Extane, they want a Mobbox king, and they are determined to have both.”

  “Have they not always said that?”

  “For as long as I can remember. Yet, they become more determined. I fear they mean to fight.”

  Raxton tried to ease her concern with a chuckle. “The king has forbidden fighting.”

  “And when you become king, you shall forbid it as well?”

  “If I become king. Sarinna, do not place all your hopes in my becoming king. Nerratel is strong as well as wise, and certain to win the challenge on the Mobbox side. While I...”

  “You shall win. You must, or we cannot marry. Nerratel will never allow it and only a king can perform the ceremony.”

  Raxton sighed. “Sarinna, are you quite certain that is what you want? Should we not take a few days to think more clearly before we ask permission?”

  “My thinking is clear enough for me, but you are a Carbollo. I hear the Carbollo must consider a situation this way and that, forever and ever, before they make a decision. Yet, I can wait.”

  “True, we make careful decisions, which is why we make fewer errors than the Mobbox.”

  “Yet, you have far less enjoyment.”

  He slightly narrowed his eyes. “We have enjoyment aplenty. Who’s to say if it be more or less enjoyment than the Mobbox?”

  Sarinna openly laughed. “I say it, and my mother confirms it. She has exceptional hearing and hears far more laughter on the Mobbox side.”

  “Perhaps we live too far away for her to hear the Carbollo’s laughter.”

  “Very well, I shall accept that explanation – if you insist.”

  She gave in a little too quickly, and he soon realized he would spend the rest of his life measuring the laughter on one side of Extane against the laughter on the other. Yet, a teasing glint in her smiling eyes made him want to spend the rest of his life with her.

  “Will you come back tomorrow?”

  “If I can.”

  “Then so shall I.” When he stood up, she did also. This time, it was Raxton who reached out and briefly took her hand. He quickly let go lest someone should see them. He wanted her in his arms, and he was tempted, but before anything more could happen, he walked away. There was much to consider – exactly how many problems a marriage between the two of them would cause.

  He had just entered the forest when he heard movement in the trees and stopped. He carefully listened and looked around, but when he noticed nothing more, he dismissed it, and went back to the Carbollo side of the mesa. Raxton Carbollo, hunter, beloved son, and possibly the next Carbollo to go on the quest, had a great deal to think about. Not once, but twice a Mobbox had warned him about a coming conflict between the two nations, but try as he might, he could not take his mind off the joy he felt having just been touched by Sarinna. It was not like a Carbollo to make a hasty decision, but his was already made. He loved her and there was no turning back.

  SARINNA WAS ALMOST home when Nerratel stepped out from behind a tree and showed himself. She tried to walk right past him, but he took hold of her arm. “Do not pretend you did not know I was watching!”

  “Very well, I shall not pretend it.”

  “Sarinna, say you did not ask him to marry you.”

  She struggled until he finally let go and let her continue walking. “Raxton is considering it.”

  Profoundly disappointed, he let his head fall forward for a moment before he hurried to catch up with her. “I hope he soon realizes your error and refuses you. ‘Tis the only way.”

  “Your way, you mean.” She stopped and turned her glare on him.

  “Sarinna, tell me,” he said, ignoring her glare and walking right past her, “if you should be ill-advised enough to marry him, where would you live?”

  “With my husband, of course.” This time she was the one who hurried to catch up.

  “And our mother? Would you take her to live with the Carbollo? And if not, would she be forced to cross the King’s courtyard to see her grandchildren?”

  Sarinna abruptly stopped. His biting words made her repeatedly blink.

  Nerratel stopped too, and looked back at her. “If you persist, you leave me with no choice but to petition the king. I shall implore him to force you to marry a Mobbox against your will.”

  She watched her brother until he was out of sight, and then bowed her head. She had no doubt Nerratel meant what he said. Worse still, to petition the king would mean telling Boon Mobbox about her love for Raxton, and rarely did Boon Mobbox know a secret he did not tell everyone else. Her family would be the subject of hurtful gossip, and worse, she would end up married to a man she did not love.

  If only her heart would heed her brother’s warning, but it was too late. She would always and forever yearn to be in Raxton’s arms.

  IT WAS LATE WHEN RAXTON gave up the day’s hunt and went home. With so much on his mind, hunting on foot had proven futile anyway. He loaded his bow and shot at a deer, but his aim was off and he missed. All afternoon, he meant to consider the ramifications of choosing to marry Sarinna, but all he could think about was the joy in her eyes. It was the kind of distraction he was unfamiliar with and in the end, all he wanted was a good meal and a long night’s sleep.

  The city was nearly deserted when he walked down the street, and then started to climb the stairs to his home. He was surprised to find Gincar waiting for him. Having known her all his life, he was glad to see her, and sat on the step beside her. “You are well?”

  “I am, but you are not,” she uttered.

  He thought she was teasing him, but when he studied the angry expression on her face, he realized she was not. “In what way am I unwell?”

  “You have lost your senses.”

  “Gincar, of what do you speak?”

  She looked away for a moment, and then shifted her position so he could not avoid the look in her eyes. “You have betrayed me!”

  Annoyed, he started to get up. “Speak clearly, or I shall go home to a bed that I long to be in.”

  “Very well. You are to marry me, and this very day you have been untrue.”

  “Marry you? I have made no such offer.”

  “No, but you will. If not, I shall tell everyone you were on Mobbox land, and that you touched Sarinna Mobbox.”

  For a moment Raxton was at a loss for words. Slowly, and deliberately, he sat back down. She obviously knew what she was talking about, so there was no point in denying it. “You followed me?”

  “Not on purpose. I went to tell you there is...was to be a gathering. ‘Tis over now.”

  “What was the gathering about?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, I suppose not.” Raxton had somehow run out of things to say.

  “You’ll not see her again?”

  He avoided her question. “How shall it be if you tell what you saw? Will the Mobbox attack us? Shall you be the cause of the death of many a Carbollo, perhaps your father and your brothers?”

  Her smile was sinister when she answered. “No you, Raxton Carbollo, would be the cause.” She abruptly stood up and without another word, walked down the stairs to the street, and disappeared around the corner.

  He should not have been so surprised. Gincar was determined to marry him when they were children, and said so often. As a boy, he shunned her completely, but as the two of them grew older, they became cordial at first and then friends. He thought her fantasy about marrying him was forgotten. Apparently, he was wrong. Gincar was just as beautiful, in her own way, as any other Carbollo woman. She was pleasant enough, studious, intelligent, and even entertaining occasionally, but his feelings for her never grew beyond friendship.

  Raxton stood up and slowly went inside. He quickly ate the supper his mother set in front of him, made his excuses, and went back downstairs. Darkness was soon approaching and the str
eets were nearly empty, but he didn’t care. The iron gate was closed, but it was not locked. He opened it, walked through, and returned the gate to its closed position. Not having any specific place in mind to go, he settled on the grassland near the castle. First, he sat, and then he stretched out and laid on his back. It wasn’t often he looked at the stars, and on a clear night it should have brought him peace and serenity – but not on this night.

  He tried to imagine being stuck in a loveless marriage with Gincar, and being only able to see Sarinna from afar. Sarinna would marry too, eventually and he found that unthinkable. Yet, he knew Gincar was capable of doing exactly what she threatened. He could tell others that Gincar was accusing him falsely, but lying was not in his nature. There was only one thing he could do – he had to let Gincar think she had won until he could come up with a solution. It was the only way to keep her quiet. At least Nerratel had not told anyone about his being with Sarinna. Otherwise, his mother would have said something to Raxton’s mother. Nerratel was a brother intent on protecting his sister – just as he should. Raxton respected him for that.

  Indeed, the best thing to do was to stay away from Sarinna. With his decision made, Raxton was about to get up when he heard the sound of a gate opening on the Mobbox side of the castle. He expected to see Boon Mobbox’s robe, but there were two men, not just one, and neither wore a robe. Cautiously, he lifted his head and watched as the two men closed the gate, opened the door to the castle, and went inside.

  It was none of his business, so Raxton got up and went home.

  CHAPTER 6

  TELDER WAS RIGHT. ENOR simply would not quit talking about killing the king. He talked well into the night, whispered in his brother’s ear in the marketplace, and constantly continued insisting, even after they returned to the home they shared now that their parents were no longer living. It was even the topic of discussion at the dinner table that night.

  Telder listened – what else could he do? All day long he struggled to gather his courage and refuse to go along with such an outlandish idea. Alas, he had never stood up to his brother before, and once more he allowed himself to be convinced that they wouldn’t get caught.

  Late into the night, Telder and Enor Mobbox quietly made their way down the street in the center of Mobbox City, slowly opened the Mobbox door to the castle, and slipped inside. Enor brought a candle, expecting it to be dark inside, but there was light – a soft, dusty blue light coming from a place not obvious to either brother.

  Enor quickly blew out the candle. One hallway led to another, and when they were about to walk into the second hallway, they heard snoring. Enor cautiously peeked around the corner. In the throne room, both of the king’s guards were laying on opposing benches fast sleep.

  More than once, Boon Mobbox mentioned that the king entered and left the throne room through a side door, and that his bedchamber was upstairs. Enor guessed it wouldn’t be hard to find – once they made it past the guards. Fortunately, the marble floor left no prints and was polished enough for the brother’s soft shoes to slide right past the guards. As carefully as he could, Enor opened the side door, while Telder kept an eye on the king’s protectors. At last, they were beyond the throne room and into yet another, albeit short hallway with no doors on either side. To hasten their escape, Enor left the throne room side door open a crack, and then led the way up the stairs.

  Several minutes later, a terrified and upset Telder rushed out of the bedchamber, down the stairs, through the side door, and slid across the throne room. When he reached the two hallways, he got confused and almost turned toward the door that would have let him out on the Carbollo side. Just in time, Enor grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him in the right direction. A terrified Telder stood watch as Enor quietly closed the castle door, and then the gate. Even then, they were put upon to slip back into Mobbox City without detection.

  At last, they were safe at home. Enor went right to bed, but Telder’s nerves were completely shattered. He leaned against a wall and with his eyes closed, slowly slid down until he was seated on the floor. In a voice he hardly recognized as his own, he whispered, “What have we done?”

  AS WAS CUSTOMARY, THE king’s guard let him sleep late whenever he wanted, but it was nearly noon, the hour at which Boon Carbollo was to marry the woman of his choice. The King, and the king alone, had the authority to say the significant words that bound a man and woman together. Therefore, the bride and her family, together with the groom and his family, were gathered in the throne room waiting.

  Boon Mobbox was there too, for a guest from the opposite civic was required to witness the marriage, thereby making it valid in the eyes of both civics. They waited patiently – until they became impatient. Boon Mobbox began to yawn, the groom started to pace, and fear that the king disapproved of the marriage and had no intention of performing the service, was bringing the bride nearly to tears. After all, what other reason could there be for the delay?

  With demands from both impatient Boons, the guards were sent to wake the king.

  Timidly, the commander of the king’s guards quietly opened the double doors and peeked into the King’s bedchamber. In the lavishly furnished room, all seemed normal at first. That was before the commander went to the window and pulled back the drapes, while the other guard pulled back the silk sheers that surrounded the king’s four-poster canopy bed.

  “Oh noooo!” the guard moaned.

  “What is it?” the commander asked, rushing to the side of the bed. To his horror, the blanket that cover the king was blood soaked, and when he touched the king’s arm, it was obvious there was no life left in him. The commander hung his head. “He has been murdered.”

  The guard drew in a deep breath. “I best fetch the Boons. They will know what to do.” With all due haste, he hurried out of the bedchamber, flew down the stairs, ran down the hallway, and burst into the throne room. “The king is dead!”

  It took a moment for the guard’s words to sink in. “What?” Boon Carbollo gasped. “Impossible!”

  The bride burst into tears. At first, all the upset men wanted to see for themselves, but Boon Mobbox blocked the door, and would not let them pass. “Let us see about it first!” He nodded for Boon Carbollo to join him, and then said, “Good people of Carbollo, wait here until we return. He is likely just sleeping and we would not want to upset everyone.” When he felt certain they would obey, Boon Mobbox followed the king’s guard and Boon Carbollo out the door.

  Halfway up the stairs, the guard whispered, “He is dead right enough. The king has been murdered.”

  Both Boons stopped to stare at the grave look on the guard’s face.

  “Murdered?” Boon Carbollo whispered.

  A shocked Boon Mobbox muttered, “I believe it not.”

  All three men quickened their pace up the stairs, and rushed through the open door. By then, the commander had pulled back all the bed sheers, exposing the gruesome details. Boon Carbollo took one look at his beloved Carbollo king, slumped and searched for a chair to sit on. “What has Extane come to?”

  Archenemies any other time, Boon Mobbox put a hand on his opponent’s shoulder to comfort him. His horror had already turned to anger by the time he directed his ire on the guards. “Why did you not protect him?”

  The already upset guards exchanged glances. “No one entered. I swear it.” said the commander.

  “We thought he was still sleeping and did not wish to wake him,” the guard added.

  Boon Mobbox left Boon Carbollo’s side, went to the window and looked out. He confirmed what he already knew – no one could have gotten into the king’s second-story window. “You heard nothing?”

  “Nothing,” the first guard answered. “But...we are the day guards.”

  “The night guards, then,” he insisted. “Find them and bring them to me!” Boon Mobbox watched the two guards scurry from the room, and then took a more thorough assessment of the bedchamber. There was little to see. No footprints in blood on the floor
, no murder weapon left behind, and nothing in the room seemed to have been disturbed.

  “The people wait for word from us,” Boon Carbollo softly muttered. “We must tell them what has happened.”

  “Tell them he was murdered before we know who is guilty?”

  It didn’t take long for Boon Carbollo to set aside his grief, and once more become combative. “You know very well a Carbollo would not have killed him. It was a Mobbox!”

  “I see your point and I might even agree, but which Mobbox?”

  “We can hardly discover who, if no one knows the king has been murdered. You fear the Carbollo shall rise up!”

  “Of course I fear it. You do not?”

  Boon Carbollo calmed himself. “I do fear it. I greatly fear it, but I detest lying to my people. He is...was a Carbollo king. They deserve to know the truth.”

  “They shall.” Boon Mobbox stood back from the bed, and then rested an elbow on a tall dresser. “But not until we know who did this. ‘Tis the only way to prevent a battle. Agreed?”

  After a long pause, Boon Carbollo nodded.

  For twenty minutes, the night guards tried to explain how anyone could have gotten into the king’s bedchamber without them knowing. At last, both confessed that sleeping in the throne room had become a nightly habit. After all, who could possibly want to kill the king?

  “Who indeed?” Boon Carbollo asked.

  Boon Mobbox was even less pleased with their confession, and turned his ire on the commander and all three guards. “Not a word of this to anyone! The four of you shall see that he is properly taken care of, and then call for his box. Give me your word, for the Carbollo do not want an unnecessary war any more than do the Mobbox. Understood?” He examined each of their sad faces, one at a time, until they nodded their pledge to obey. He offered Boon Carbollo a hand up, and together they left the king’s death bed.

  FOR TWENTY MINUTES, the wedding guests waited downstairs. The longer they waited with no word at all, the more they were convinced the news would be the worst they had ever heard. And still, no one came to confirm or deny the death of their beloved king.

 

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