The Kings of the Seven Bells

by Marti Talbott

  “A door, finally,” Effrin breathed. His enthusiasm swiftly declined when above the door was the outline of an archway and when Raxton turned the handle, they were in the same or yet another garden. Speechless, Effrin followed Raxton into the garden, slowly turned all the way around and sighed. When he looked back, he was not at all surprised to see the door they had just come thorough close by itself. At least the old man was right where they left him

  “Perhaps, Raxton is not,” Effrin breathed, “but I am ready to hear whatever truth you have to tell.

  Oberra looked at Raxton instead. “Come back, have you? Had you not rushed off so quickly, I would have told you never to choose the middle path.”

  “Your fault,” Effrin mumbled as he put a hand on Raxton’s shoulder and then walked toward Oberra. Presently, Oberra was seated on a bench instead of a chair, which left enough room for Effrin to sit down. However, there was only enough room for two, which left Raxton standing. “Raxton fears nothing, but I do. I greatly fear small places.”

  “Raxton fears nothing?” Oberra asked. “Effrin, you have been misled, for Raxton Carbollo fears many things.”

  “How is it you know our names?” Raxton asked. He leaned against a narrow wall between two of the archways, and folded his arms.

  “Raxton,” Effrin admonished, “I would much rather hear of what you are afraid.”

  “For one,” Oberra began, “he is afraid if Nerratel becomes king, the Mobbox shall turn the Carbollo out.”

  Effrin was immediately alarmed. “Turn us out? What does that mean?”

  Oberra answered, “It means the Mobbox will force you off the mesa and send you to the Lowlands.”

  Effrin immediately shifted his gaze from Oberra to Raxton. “Is it true?”

  “Surely you are not surprised,” Raxton answered. He began to slowly stroll up and down the garden spokes hoping to find a third bell in the flowers. “Have the Mobbox not always wanted us off the land?”

  “Yes, but I did not believe they would actually do it,” Effrin admitted.

  “Why not?” Oberra asked. “The Mobbox think you imperfect.”

  Effrin scoffed, “The Mobbox are hardly without fault.”

  “True?” Oberra asked. “Perhaps we might say, they have fewer failings than you. Would you agree?”

  It took considerable thought before Effrin answered. “Failings? I know not what you mean.”

  “Perhaps I might say faults instead of failings, although failings is far more accurate,” said Oberra.

  Effrin clearly understood the word, fault. “What faults have the Carbollo?”

  Oberra uncrossed his legs one way and crossed them the other way. “You would know the answer to that better than I.”

  “I can think of nothing at all,” Effrin said.

  “Of course not,” said Oberra, “the Carbollo see themselves as faultless.”

  Raxton stopped looking for a bell just long enough to say, “The Mobbox are at fault, for they envy us and their envy has turned to anger. Just lately, two of them killed our king.”

  “Ah, yes, King Grafton. A fine fellow indeed,” Oberra agreed. “The king understood that which you have not yet grasped. For now, however, I suggest you be on your way. There are bells to be found and no time to waste. And just now I am reminded, there are no more bells in the garden.”

  The expression on Raxton’s face betrayed his displeasure and once more, he chose an archway, this time one across the garden from where he stood. He nodded to the old man, motioned for Effrin to follow, and started down yet another flower-lined, stone path. When the path split, he paused to consider which one to take.

  “Two paths instead of three,” Effrin pondered. “Which is the middle path?”

  “Oberra plays tricks on us. We need not his advice.” Instead of the path to his right, Raxton chose the one leading left. He was relieved to see the walls were a comfortable distance apart, but instead of flowers, the walls soon became covered by clinging vines. The leaves were a mint green, small vines mingled with large ones, and clung not only to the walls but the ceiling as well.

  His curiosity piqued, Effrin forgot to look for a bell. “How do you suppose Oberra knows so much about us?”

  “I know not,” Raxton grumbled.

  “He irritated you?”

  “Well, he might have told me it was not necessary to look for more bells in the garden instead of letting me waste the time.”

  “I wonder, is becoming irritated a failing?”

  Raxton rolled his eyes and kept walking.

  “Did you notice Oberra has but four fingers on one of his hands.”

  Raxton stopped to look back at Effrin. “Truly?”

  “If we see him again, you can look for yourself. Is that what is called a failing?”

  “Perhaps. You should ask him – if we see him again.”

  Effrin quietly followed for a time before he said, “I have given it careful consideration, and if not being whole, the way Oberra’s hand is not whole, is a failing, then...”

  “Then what?” Raxton was not sure if the vines were becoming thicker, or if it was just his imagination.

  “Well, I do not recall ever seeing a failing on any of our people or our animals either. Have you?”

  “I have never looked for failings.”

  “And another thing. Oberra has no mark above either of his eyes. He is neither a Carbollo nor a Mobbox.”

  “Effrin, are you looking for bells?”

  “Of course I am,” he lied. “I found the first two, did I not?”

  “True. Forget the old man and keep looking. There must be one somewhere in the vines.”

  Instead of a straight line, this path turned this way and that, causing Effrin to be just a little concerned and to mutter, “No Slewworths here, right?” Before he could complain further, Raxton came to the end of the path. No light shown down on the handle of a door. In fact, there was no door, just a clinging vine that covered the back wall.

  Raxton heavily exhaled. Not yet completely deterred, he pulled several of the vines off the wall, looked for a symbol, and found nothing. Then he looked for some sort of handle, and even pushed on the wall – still nothing. “’Tis not a door. We must go back.”

  “Especially since we cannot go forward,” Effrin mumbled. He happily turned around.

  “I should have brought another with me instead of you,” Raxton said, as he walked past Effrin and started back down the path.”

  “Like who? Whildon? He could not solve a riddle even if he were to become a Boon.”

  “Yet, he does not constantly complain.”

  “Are you saying I have a failing?”

  “If complaining is a failing, then you definitely have one.”

  “Oh.” Again, Effrin hurried to catch up. “We must ask Oberra. He shall know if complaining is a failing.”

  Raxton again sighed. He was certain that this time he would remember which split in the path he had taken, yet as they walked and walked, there were no other paths to take, the vines turned back to flowers, and once more they walked through an archway and back into a garden.

  In that garden there were still six archways, but no bench, no chair, and no old man.

  CHAPTER 14

  ON EXTANE, ANY SHAME the Mobbox felt after two of them killed the king, they kept well-hidden and tried to go about their lives just as before. However, the Carbollo were far from forgiving. Thus began the whispering among the people in Carbollo City.

  Raxton’s mother, Delsic Carbollo, was not that concerned until she heard one whisper that greatly upset her. For years, Delsic, and Nerratel’s mother, Reven Mobbox, were secret friends. They had a secret way of letting the other one know she wished to meet, which was to hand a pink cloth over the branch of a tree where the other could see it. That was exactly what Delsic did, just before she headed out of the city to their usual meeting place.

  She could not be certain how long it would take for Reven Mobbox to see the signal, but she was
too upset to just sit in her home, or even to work in one of the many vegetable gardens. Indeed, she was too upset to think of doing anything other than sharing her worries with her best friend.

  At last, Reven came from the Mobbox side. She smiled, gathered her skirt so it would not get wet, and sat on a gray stone across the creek from Delsic. “I find now that Nerratel is not there to watch my every move, I have far more freedom. Perhaps if he becomes king, he shall not have time to hover over his sister and I.”

  “It is about Nerratel I wished to speak.”

  When she noticed the alarm on her friend’s face, Raven’s smile faded. “Is he hurt? What have you heard?”

  “He is not hurt, not yet anyway. Reven, the Carbollos talk. They say the Mobbox must be punished for killing the king.”

  “All the Mobbox? I assure you, the rest of us neither knew, nor took part in the brother’s treachery.”

  “Would you know if they had, though?”

  The question caused Reven to pause. “I have exceptional hearing. I hear when they speak, and I know when they are not speaking. I believe I would have noticed the silence if there had been a plot at hand.”

  “Yet, you cannot be certain.”

  Reven nervously laughed, “I have not been certain of anything in a very long time. Is there more? What else are they saying?”

  Delsic took a deep breath. “Naturally, they want my son to win the quest, but if he does, they are expecting him to punish the Mobbox.”

  “I see. And if my son wins?”

  “The Carbollo think to take their vengeance out on Nerratel.”

  Reven involuntarily reeled back. “Kill him?”

  All Delsic could do was bow her head.

  Nerratel’s mother sighed. “The whole of Extane has gone mad. The Mobbox are pleased that they have a chance, finally, to have their own king, and the Carbollo wish him dead. With two kings murdered, we shall surely go to war.”

  “If Raxton is king, he will not let them fight.”

  “I believe Raxton has a kind heart. After all, he did help Nerratel out of the pit. Rarely does one man help another on Extane, save when they are both on the same side.”

  Delsic was relieved, having finally told her friend the truth. “We should not allow the men to so thoroughly control us. What nonsense it is that we may not cross this line or that.”

  “We should have demanded they let the children play together. Perhaps then, we would not fight, we would have learned to live as friends.”

  “I agree, even if it was the Carbollo who insisted the children be separated. Our men are not so wondrous as they imagine.”

  “Neither are ours, although they do not admit it.”

  Delsic giggled. “Whildon seeks the courage to ask Gincar to marry him. He squares his shoulders, starts for her door, stops, loses his resolve, turns around, and walks away.”

  “The poor man. I like Whildon, what I know of him. He is entertaining.”

  “He is that.”

  “Does Gincar prefer him?”

  “It is hard to tell with Gincar. She claims to love Raxton, but she does not always have him on her mind the way a woman in love does. I am bothered that Raxton might someday marry her.”

  “While Nerratel has no desire at all to marry. He is too consumed with becoming king, especially now that the king has died.” Reven reached across the small creek and touched Delsic’s hand. “Did I say how sorry I am knowing two Mobbox killed him.”

  “You have, and I greatly appreciate it. Unfortunately, the silence from the Mobbox men allows the Carbollo to think they are gloating, and plotting still to throw us off our land.” When Reven looked behind Delsic and caught her breath, Delsic turned around to see what was the matter. Coming out of the forest was her husband, Lamine. She turned back around and rolled her eyes where he could not see.

  “Delsic, your sons need you at home.”

  She slowly stood up and turned around, “And when I get home, they shall not need me at all. Say the truth, Lamine, you wish me not to talk to a Mobbox.”

  “You know very well I do not approve. The less they know about us, the better.”

  “And the more you speak, the less I can remember why I married you,” Delsic shot back. “The father of the future king lives by rules determined generations ago, and sees no fault in the old ways.”

  “We have discussed this before.”

  “Have we? Or did you just decide you were right and I am wrong. We do not grow, Lamine, because we live by ancient laws. How can we grow? Day after day, ‘tis the same. We hate the Mobbox and they hate us.”

  “Perhaps I should go,” an embarrassed Reven said. She started to get up, but Delsic waved her back down.

  “Come home, Delsic, where we can speak of this in private.”

  “I have nothing to say in private that Reven, or any other Mobbox cannot hear. The women of Extane are caged in a land of foolish bitterness. We, none of us, know not what happiness truly is.”

  “’Tis the only way we know,” said Lamine.

  Delsic finally lifted her skirt and stepped over the rock she had been sitting on. “Which is what you taught our son. If Raxton becomes king, perhaps he will not be as narrow minded as his father, and pass some reasonable edicts instead.” Furious, she stomped right past her husband on her way back to Carbollo City, leaving him to try to catch up.

  Behind her, Reven smiled. “And if my son is king, and the Carbollo do not murder him, perhaps he will let the Mobbox and the Carbollo children play together again.”

  DELSIC CARBOLLO AND her husband had just made it to the Carbollo City gates when they heard shouting in front of the castle. Both of them went that way, and when they drew near, they discovered five angry Mobbox men glaring at an equal number of Carbollos. Each had their swords drawn and looked as though they were about to fight.

  “What is happening?” Delsic asked a Mobbox woman at the back of the onlookers.

  “A bull gored a Mobbox man, and when they heard, the Carbollos cheered.”

  Delsic closed her eyes. She turned around and went back to the home she shared with her sons and Raxton’s father.

  “Do you see what we have become?” Delsic asked her husband as soon as they were alone.

  “Then why did you not say something. You are Raxton’s mother, they would listen to you.”

  “I haven’t the courage, but rest assured, when Raxton is king, I shall have plenty to say.”

  Lamine went to the window to see what was happening. He was relieved to see none of the men had gone to blows, and were instead walking away.

  GINCAR WAS OVERWHELMED by what she saw in the Lowlands. This was not the Lowlands they could see from high above. When she turned to look up, she discovered the mist no longer covered the mesa, but from far below, she could not see her beloved home. Some of the people were dressed in clothing she found unfamiliar, while others wore the silk and leather clothes found on Extane. There was something else too. She could hear the sound of horse’s hooves pounding on the dirt, and when she looked that direction, the herd of horses racing beyond the other side of the village were not all the same, but many different sizes and colors.

  Unlike Gincar, Sarinna asked a more important question, “How do you know my brother and Raxton are tied in the quest?”

  The woman’s smile was warm and generous. “You have much to learn and we have much to teach you, but you have only just arrived and it is too soon.”

  “Who are you?” Telder asked.

  “I am Lentee and I have been chosen to answer all your questions.”

  “They still have their marks,” a man among the Lowlanders loudly said. “That has never happened before when people are sent to us.”

  Lentee answered, “These were not sent, they came on their own.” Her answer seemed to satisfy everyone, and soon the others went back to placing their wagers on the quests.

  While some took gold coins out of one pot and put them in the other, more often than not, the next pers
on did the opposite. It was only then that the strangers noticed – not one person in the Lowlands had a mark over either eye.

  A man stepped out of his cottage. “NERRATEL HAS SEEN THE OCEAN!” he shouted.

  “What did Nerratel say?” a woman asked as soon as everyone quieted.

  The man making the announcement answered, “He says the crashing waves calm him.” That brought cheers from the people, and made the man dash back inside his cottage.

  Gincar could contain herself no longer and turned to Lentee. “I thirst.”

  Lentee nodded, went to the well, let down a bucket, filled it, and then hoisted it up. Next, she filled a ladle and took it to Gincar.

  Gincar drank half, and handed the ladle to Sarinna.

  After Sarinna drank, and gave the ladle back to Lentee, Telder complained, “Are we not to drink of the water?

  Lentee slowly turned her fierce glare on him. “After what you have done, you have no right to water or anything else. As soon as we heard you were coming, we talked about a fitting punishment for the two of you.”

  “Punishment?” Enor asked. “Is our banishment from Extane not punishment enough?” When he looked around, several men with swords drawn were coming toward the brothers. Telder quickly stepped behind Enor, but Enor saw the size of the men approaching and scoffed. The Lowlanders were short and stocky, which he guessed would be no match for his superior height and strength. As well, the Lowlanders had red hair, a sure sign they had not yet grown up.

  “Perhaps you have not heard how pleasant life is on Extane,” said Enor. “It is a place of vast riches and beautiful women, and it is there for the taking, all of it, if you care to...”