The Gates of Iron

by David Debord

  “It’s a general restorative. There should be no reaction.” Larris took the man by the arm and steered him toward the door. “I’ll send for you if there is a problem. Thank you for your time and attention.”

  Allyn waited outside, along with two guards. Larris set his friend the task of escorting the priest back to the temple and closed the door.

  “That was discourteous of you,” Arissa said though her tone was one of curiosity rather than disapproval.

  “I don’t trust him, or anyone else from the temple, for that matter.” He hurried on, forestalling her argument. “Mother, I promise I have my reasons, but I can’t share them right now. I only ask that you trust me.”

  “When will you tell me?”

  “As soon as I can. I give you my word.” He moved to the window seat, settled onto the thick cushions, and looked out across the city.

  Arissa took a seat beside the king’s bed, took Allar’s hand in both of hers, and kissed his knuckles. “I assume you’ve had no word about your brother?”

  “Not yet, but I have people searching for him.”

  “What shall we do if your father passes before Lerryn returns? We have no proof that he abdicated, so you cannot take the throne.” She sighed. “We can’t keep the severity of your father’s illness a secret for much longer, and this is not the time to be without strong leadership. The war with Kyrin, the rebellion in Kurnsbur, the goings-on in Lothan...”

  “And the coming Frostmarch,” Larris added. His mother did not reply. She still refused to believe such a thing was possible, but her self-delusions would not change the reality of the situation. “There is one possibility we have not considered.” He took a deep breath. Arissa would not like this suggestion. “If Lerryn died in battle, the succession issue would be solved.”

  “You said his body was never found.”

  “That is true.” He’d received a message from Hierm confirming there had been a battle in Galsbur, won at great cost by the Galdorans. All but one of the White Fang, Lerryn’s elite cavalry unity, had died in the battle, and all of the bodies had been recovered. Lerryn’s body, however, was missing, and the locals believed he had survived. “But no one else knows that. If I send men to Galsbur and they return with a coffin, who’s to say it’s not Lerryn inside? We could say the body is in no condition for him to lie in state. We announce his passing, spread the story of his heroic death, hold a state funeral, and no one will be the wiser.”

  “Until he does return, and then what?” Arissa asked, her voice now trembling with anger.

  “He won’t return. At least, not in a public way. He made it clear that he does not consider himself fit to rule.”

  “I won’t hear of it.” Arissa rose from her chair. “If you dare spread such lies, I will publicly denounce you.”

  “Mother, you said it yourself. We must have strong leadership.”

  “And how secure would your seat on the throne be once the truth comes out? We can make any announcement we like, but there are people in Galdora who know the truth. Sooner or later, the story will make its way back here, assuming it hasn’t already. The closed casket would only fuel the rumors.”

  Larris wanted to argue, but he saw the wisdom in her words. He nodded his grudging acceptance.

  “Your uncle can serve as regent until the problem is settled.”

  Larris was on his feet in a flash. “No. Orman is needed in the field. He says this latest batch of troops is almost ready though the gods only know what has taken him so long to train them. I can rule as Prince Regent for the time being. I’m going to be king anyway.”

  “You have not yet earned the respect of the court. The memory of your disappearance is still fresh in too many minds, and that is the only thing most people at court know about you. And the Regis does not yet trust you.” The Regis was the small council that advised the king.

  Arissa closed the distance between them, put her hands on his shoulders, and drew him close. “Remain strong. We will find our way.”

  “I will.” He gently broke off the embrace. “I think I should be the one to hold court today. As you point out, I need to change the way the nobility think of me. Not being a soldier, I can’t earn their respect on the field of battle so I will have to do it another way.”

  Arissa gave him a long, speculative look, and finally nodded. “I think that is an excellent idea. Will you want me there to keep you from making a mess of things?” She managed a half-smile.

  “Yes. Let me take the lead, and if you feel I’m headed in the wrong direction, take out your kerchief and dab at your brow. How does that sound?”

  Now his mother did smile. “You are already thinking like a leader.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour. There are some things I need to take care of first.” He kissed his mother on the forehead, gave his father’s hand a squeeze, and headed for his private quarters.

  “Nothing to report, I’m afraid.” Allyn whirled the blood red wine around in his glass but did not drink. “The priest had no interest in conversing with someone as lowly as me and certainly didn’t invite me into the temple for a chat.”

  “If you’d let me grant you a title, you’d receive better treatment. I could marry you into a noble house and everything.” Larris took a sip of wine and enjoyed the outraged expression on his friend’s face.

  “You know I don’t want that. At least, not in the near future.” A sly smile creased his face. “Speaking of marriage, I know someone who needs to find a nice young woman and produce an heir. Surely your mother has mentioned it.”

  “She has.” Larris had now lost interest in his wine. There was only one woman he had any interest in marrying, and she was not a royal. At least, not yet. “I’m putting her off for now.”

  “Marrying a Diyonan might motivate them to help us crush the rebellion in Kurnsbur.”

  “Or I could marry a Halvalan or Cardithian in hopes they would intervene in the Kyrinian war.” He lowered his gaze to his abandoned glass of wine. The red liquid reminded him of all the blood that would be spilled before the conflicts came to an end, especially if there were another Frostmarch.

  “I know what you’re thinking and you know it cannot be.” Allyn’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “You will sit the Galdoran throne, and Shanis will rule Lothan. It is not a match. If Lerryn had not abdicated, it would be a different story.”

  “I don’t care to discuss it right now. We have too much to attend to at the moment, and I have to be in court shortly.” Rising from his chair, he fished the bottle of restorative from a pocket inside his cloak. “Do you know of a reliable herb woman here in the city?”

  “No, but I can doubtless find you a few in short order.”

  “Splendid. Find two of the best and have each of them examine my father separately. I don’t need to tell you, it must be done in secret.”

  “Of course. I’ll dress them as chambermaids. What is in the flask?”

  “This is the restorative the priest wants to be given to my father. Have it tested for poison.” He handed the bottle to Allyn.

  Allyn eyed the flask as if it were a coiled serpent. “Do you honestly think they would be so foolish as to put the evidence of their deceit directly in your hands?”

  “They killed Melina. I don’t know if they conspired with her, or simply wanted to guarantee her silence about something she’d discovered, but right now, there’s nothing I wouldn’t put past them.”

  Chapter 20

  “How did it go?” Naseeb grinned as Oskar sat down at the table in the dining hall.

  Oskar shook his head.

  “They didn’t believe the note was real?” Naseeb let the chicken leg he’d been gnawing on fall back onto his plate. “Are we in trouble?”

  “Oh, the note fooled them. At least, it fooled the fellow minding the store. The problem is, they keep all such notes and pass them along to Corwine.”

  “We’ve got to get it back.” Naseeb slapped his palm on the table. “If Master Sibson finds
out I forged his signature, I’ll be turned out at once.”

  “I’ll tell them I forged it. No need to bring you or Whitt into it. You were only trying to help me, after all.” Oskar hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but he couldn’t see how he could avoid it.

  “I don’t want you to get chucked out either. We’ve got to do something.”

  Oskar shrugged. “Any suggestions?”

  “Not really.” Naseeb chewed on his lower lip and gazed into the distance. “I suppose we could sneak down there tonight and try to get inside.”

  “Maybe. I can’t believe they would make it easy to get inside. The door might even be magically warded.” Oskar rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the dull pain rising in his head. “If I can’t come up with a better idea, I’ll try the door. I don’t want you to go, in case I’m caught.”

  “We’re in this together. Besides, I don’t have anything else to do tonight.”

  Oskar remembered that he, in fact, did have something to do. “I’ve got to go. I’ll let you know about tonight.” Rising, he took an apple from his plate and pocketed it inside his robe. It might not have been what Lizzie had in mind when she said to bring her a surprise, but right now he was too distracted by his own problems to think of something better.

  “You’re late.”

  Oskar jumped as the words rang out in the darkness of the stairwell.

  “Lizzie?” His voice came out in a rasp. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Keep your voice down,” she whispered. “You weren’t exactly nimble up on the roof, so I thought it would be safer to meet you down here. You’re more likely to survive a tumble down some stairs than a fall from a rooftop.”

  He strained his eyes to see in the dark, but the blackness was absolute. Remembering himself, he extended his hand and called up the circle of light. A few paces away, Lizzie shielded her eyes.

  “Next time warn me before you do that.”

  “Sorry.” He let the light fade to a dull glow. Like the last time he’d seen her, she was clad in tight, dark clothing that would have caused a scandal in Galsbur. He looked away, grateful that the darkness hid his discomfort.

  “Where’s my surprise?” she asked.

  Oskar handed her the apple.

  “Oh! I never get fresh fruit unless I steal it from the grounds here. Most of the time, it’s not worth the bother. It seems you people love your midnight strolls in the orchard.” She bit down on the apple with a loud crunch.

  “You steal things from the grounds? But you’re...” Oskar stopped himself in mid-sentence.

  “I’m what?” Lizzie smiled. “A girl?”

  “You’re too pretty to be a thief.”

  “Right.” Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard that more times than I care to think about, usually from fat old men who reek of sour wine; men who have to be taught to keep their hands to themselves.”

  “No, I really mean it.” Oskar’s mouth was dry. “I like your eyes and your smile.”

  “Nice try. ‘You have pretty eyes’ is the line young men use in hopes you won’t notice what they’re really looking at. Maybe that worked with your farm girls back home, but you’ll have to try harder to sway me.” She sat down on the stairs, took another bite of the apple, and smiled as he struggled for words.

  “Not me,” he finally said. “I’m just the fat boy who likes to read.”

  Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. “Does fat mean something different on the farm than it does in the city?” Smiling at the puzzled look on Oskar’s face, she reached up and poked him in the belly. “You, my bear of a friend, might be clumsy, but you’re hardly fat.”

  Oskar put a hand to his stomach and was surprised to realize what remained of his soft middle had melted away. He knew his travels had firmed him up, but he hadn’t realized how much of a change it had wrought in his physique. He had to stop himself from flexing his arms just to see how much his muscles had developed.

  “I swear, I don’t know what to make of you.” Lizzie finished her apple, pocketed the core, and indicated with a tilt of her head that he should sit down beside her.

  Oskar settled uncomfortably on the stone steps and she leaned her head against his shoulder. He veritably tingled at her touch. He hadn’t had many opportunities to enjoy such closeness with a girl and wasn’t quite sure what to do now. Should he put his arm around her? Heart racing, stomach turning somersaults, he shifted so he could snake his arm around her waist, and succeeded only in jostling her.

  Lizzie sat up straight. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

  “It’s not that, I was just moving around.” His mind seemed to be moving at half speed. “The steps are uncomfortable.” He reached out and clumsily took her hand. For a moment, he wondered if she’d pull away, or even reach for her belt knife, but she took his hand in both of hers and rested it on her knee. They sat there in the dim light until the companionable silence turned uncomfortable. He racked his brain for something to talk about.

  “The other night I asked you if you know a way into the archives. Do you?”

  “I might. I know my way into quite a few places I shouldn’t. What’s in there that’s so important to you?”

  “Mostly, I need information, but that’s a long story. Right now, what I need the most is a document.” He told her about the forged pass.

  Lizzie’s eyes grew serious and she fixed him with an appraising look. “You acted so shocked at the thought of me stealing fruit, but now you want me to break into your archives and steal something for you. You’re not the most honest fellow in the world, are you?”

  “I suppose not,” he admitted. “I’m desperate. Can you help me?”

  Lizzie made a show of considering his request. “I can,” she finally said, “but not for free.”

  “I have a little money, but it’s back in my quarters.”

  “Not money. I want a story.”

  “A story?” He knew plenty of stories— some from the books he’d read, others heard on the porch of Master Serrill’s inn or at his grandfather’s knee. But what sort of story did she want to hear?

  Lizzie seemed to read his thoughts. “Not that kind of story. I want to hear about the world outside of the city. I’ve never left, and I suppose I never will.” Her face fell. “Tell me a story from your life, and make it good. I want to believe I’m really there.”

  Oskar had listened to stories all his life, but he’d never tried to tell one of his own creation, and he had no gift for description, so he figured he should start with something familiar. He began with his home of Galsbur. He described the various shops that ringed the emerald oval of the town green, and the great tree with the odd carvings on its surface. Warming to his task, he soon found it easy to paint pictures with his words. He recalled with great clarity the Vulltu River, the sound it made is it rushed over the rocks, the way its icy water numbed his toes when he dangled his feet in the water, and its pure, clean taste. Soon, the words seemed to pour forth of their own volition. He lost his train of thought once when Lizzie shifted onto her side and laid her head in his lap, but he recovered quickly. He talked about his friendship with Hierm and Shanis, and soon had her in stitches with tales of Shanis’ prodigious temper. When he told the story of how Shanis, in a fit of rage, had climbed up onto the roof of her house and used her sword to hack a hole in the thatched roof, Lizzie’s eyes popped open.

  “You’re lying.” She poked him in the chest for emphasis.

  “May the gods strike me down if it’s not the truth.”

  She sat up. “You’re a good storyteller, but it’s getting late. I need to hurry if I’m going to get your paper back.”

  “I should go with you.”

  “No. I’ll need you to keep watch. Besides, I can move quickly and quietly in the dark. I doubt you can say the same.” She didn’t wait for him to argue with her but stood and mounted the stairs. Oskar followed along behind. “Can you at least try to be quiet? You walk like a runaway draft horse,�
�� she whispered.

  Shanis and Allyn had tried to teach Oskar how to move silently in the forest, but that mostly involved him not being foolish or clumsy enough to step on dry leaves and branches or brush against shrubbery. He’d never advanced to the point where he learned how to properly place his feet. He tried tiptoeing but found that difficult on the steps, so he settled for walking on the balls of his feet, which at least kept the heels of his boots from clacking on the stone steps.

  “Better,” she whispered. “Next you can work on your breathing. You sound like an ox with a cold.”

  Oskar stifled a laugh. In some ways, Lizzie reminded him of Shanis.

  They’d climbed for no more than a minute when Lizzie came to a stop. “It’s right here,” she whispered.

  “What is?” Oskar focused on the light that hovered in front of him and it shone brightly. He saw nothing to distinguish this spot from any other.

  “The way in.” She knelt and ran a hand along the riser in front of her. “Found it.” She drew her knife and pushed it into the stone until it stopped and then rotated it a quarter turn to the left.

  Oskar sucked in his breath as the stair slid back, revealing a dark opening.

  Lizzie slid gracefully into the hole. A moment later, she stuck her head back out. “Tell me exactly where to find your paper.” She listened intently as he gave directions. “All right. I’ll be back soon. Whatever you do, don’t pull the knife out. If you do, I’ll be trapped.”

  Smiling, Oskar let his light die. He settled down on the steps to wait. He strained to hear any sound that might warn of someone approaching, but he heard nothing. Finally, a soft, shuffling sound came from the hole, and Lizzie climbed out a moment later.

  “Did you get it?” Oskar asked.

  “I did.”

  Oskar heard the sound of the step moving back into place, and then he felt her take his hand.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” She didn’t sound afraid, but there was a tension in her voice that hadn’t been there before.