“Where could I get some pants?” Kestrel asked the guard.
“The laundry maid’s a pretty little thing,” the guard said as he stared at the resplendent display of colors that covered Kestrel’s torso, “and she goes down two flights of stairs to where the washing’s done every day. I’d think you could filch some trousers there, if you’re not too picky about your style.”
“As long as there’re two legs and a waist, anything else would be fine!” Kestrel said, and he sprinted down the hall, wrapped in his sheet, leaving the guardsman to shake his head as the strange elf who had been given a splendid room in the private residence portion of the palace.
Kestrel flew down the stairs, and smelled the bleach and the steam and the pungent odors that led him to the doors of the laundry. He burst in through the door, where a half dozen men and women were scrubbing and wringing and sorting the dirty wares of the palace.
“Do you have a pair of pants?” Kestrel asked.
“What color are they?” one of the workers asked.
“Whatever color you want to give me,” Kestrel grinned, still ebullient with the pleasure of feeling all his own body’s capacity as a part of his every motion and action.
“Here – is this what you’re looking for?” one man asked, as he tossed a pair of workman’s black pants at Kestrel.
Kestrel let his sheet drop, then pulled on the pants and tied the drawstring at the waist. “Thanks!” he said. “How do I get out of the building?” he asked.
“Right through here is the delivery door,” one of the workers said, and Kestrel passed through, then climbed up a short flight of stairs to stand in an alley between two wings of the palace, facing due east and welcoming the light of the rising sun, whose rays reflected down the length of the brick walls as the sun rose in the southeastern sky. The air was cool, and Kestrel saw a momentary wisp of his breath’s warm moisture whiten the air before his face.
And then he started running. He shot out of the alley at full speed, his legs churning, his heart racing, and his soul thrilling to the sheer pleasure of efficient, effective physical exertion. He raced past delivery carts and messengers, and followed a looping, curving road around the grounds of the palace complex, past the gardens, beneath the tower, near the parade ground. As he ran he tried to push himself harder, to rediscover the limits of his body’s physical abilities.
The road he was on merged with another road, one that ran in a ring around the entire circumference of the walls of the palace grounds. He passed a gate and the odorous stables, full of horses he knew he could challenge in a race, then he passed an office building, followed by the working gardens the staff used to start and nurture the luxuriant plants that were transferred to the palace garden. He passed the delivery gate and an office building, and he saw the tower again and he raced near it, one lap of the vast palace property complete, the sun completely above the horizon.
Kestrel wanted more. He tried to run faster, to push himself harder, and he saw Wren ahead of him, standing in his path, her hands on her hips. He aimed directly at her, then swerved at the last fraction of a second and burst out through the gate of the palace, giddy, intoxicated with the rediscovery of the blessing that a healthy body was, and he saw a set of docks on the harbor-front not far away. The docks became his new target and he ran, faintly hearing Wren’s voice behind him as his tread changed tone when he left the paving stones of the road for the wooden planks of the dock.
The sprinting elf whizzed past startled longshoremen, then approached the end of the dock, and kept on going. There was a shout of surprise from those closest to the point of Kestrel’s departure, and the shouts redoubled when Kestrel achieved what he sought; he left the wooden dock and flew out into the open air, then dropped and hit the surface of the water and kept on running. He immediately began a wide, looping turn that returned him towards the shore line as his feet skimmed over the surface of the harbor waters, and within moments he was back on land, immediately bursting through a thin line of spectators who had stopped to see the unheard-of sight of a man running atop the water, and then ran back towards the palace grounds.
Wren stood at the front of the palace gate with Picco now as her partner, and Kestrel saw them, his broad grin spreading even wider, and he raced up right to them before he skidded to a stop at the last moment, making Picco squeal and duck partway behind Wren in fear of a collision.
“Gods above!” he told them both with a loud exclamation. “It’s good to be myself again!” He reached out and grasped the unexpecting Wren in a hug, then did the same to Picco, adding a buss on the lips.
“And so now you are really Kestrel in Kestrel’s body?” Wren asked in elvish.
“I am your beloved cousin, the soul you so adore, once again within the body that you so admire,” he replied in the same language.
“What is happening? How long was I asleep? Is Ruelin awake? What does he say?” the adrenalin-charged Kestrel spit out a series of questions, reverting back to the human language for Picco’s sake.
Picco linked her arm in his as the two women turned to re-enter the palace grounds with the wayward elf. “You’ve been asleep for two days,” she said, “and so has Ruelin. Moorin and I have been taking turns sitting with each of you, and you happened to pop up while I was out of the room. I looked out in the hallway and heard a snippet of conversation about the insane elf running around the palace, so I got Wren and here we are.”
“Seafare is calm,” Wren told the back story. “Your alliance of every kind of fighter was effective,” she said.
“Except the gnomes,” Kestrel interrupted with a grin.
“”Except the gnomes, and the centaurs,” Wren agreed.
“Are there really centaurs? Have you seen one?” Kestrel asked energetically.
“Your alliance won the battle of the palace, everyone who needed to has drank the water from the skin, and the Graylee and elven forces have already been transported back to their homes, and they all expect you to come tell them thank you personally,” Wren said, “even your pretty doctor friend.”
“So you don’t know if Ruelin is awake?” Kestrel asked.
“We can go see right now,” Picco said.
“Unless you’d like to wear a shirt, some shoes, maybe a few other things,” Wren jibbed him.
“I’ll put some clothes on,” Kestrel agreed. His adrenaline was wearing off and the morning air felt chilly.
“Where can I get some clothes?” he asked, as he realized belatedly that he had come to Seafare in Ruelin’s body, and had brought none of his own.
“Where’d you get the pants?” Wren asked.
“From your room,” Kestrel quickly responded, then laughed at the momentary look of horror on her face. “From the laundry,” he replied. “Let’s go back down there.”
Minutes later they were freely sorting through a pile of clean clothes in the laundry room, and soon thereafter they were on their way up to Ruelin’s suite in the palace.
“His majesty isn’t here,” one of the guards posted at the door to the suite informed them. “He and his princess went to the presentation room half an hour ago. This place is empty.”
“What happened to, his, guests?” Kestrel started asking about the fate of the women in the harem before he appreciated that Wren and Picco were on either side of him.
“They have been released from the palace,” Picco answered matter-of-factly, though with a slight blush. “They all were apparently very successful courtesans before they were hired by the palace, so they’ll return to living as they did before. Or so I’m told.
“The Harem was a Uniontown institution that Ruelin introduced in the palace after he fell under the influence of the ambassador,” she added in defense of the prince.
“I believe it is as the lady says,” one of the guards agreed discreetly.
“I miss the gals,” the other one said, drawing a warning look from his partner.
With that, they left the blushing guard and his partn
er behind, and went in search of Ruelin and Moorin in the palace. They asked for directions from servants they met, and Kestrel was struck by the deference with which they were treated, so much so that he commented on it as they approached a reception hall.
“Well Wren seemed to be marshal of the army here the past two days while the prince has been unconscious,” Picco replied, “and with her and Creata being so close, and Creata doing so much with the council of advisors, she’s seen as a force to be reckoned with here in the palace.”
“Or perhaps sweet little Picco, being such a helper to Moorin, taking so much time being trusted to watch after the prince while he slept, is seen as being the important personage,” Wren countered. “Plus, she’s a pretty girl. She can get whatever she wants in this palace right now!” Kestrel’s cousin made Picco grin and bow her head.
“Well, whichever it is, it’s certainly not because of you,” Wren said to Kestrel.
“Thanks,” Kestrel said wryly, as the guards opened the doors to the hall and allowed them to enter.
Inside the hall they found a large crowd standing and sitting in rows of chairs, facing Ruelin and Moorin, who sat on a raised platform, dressed in robes of great formality, looking like a king and queen. They were flanked by guards and advisors, as they listened to a report that was inaudible even to the partial elven hearing of the Kestrel and Wren.
The three of them stood watching for several moments, observing the beginning of the process of restoring normalcy to the governance of Seafare, when Moorin happened to glance up and spot them. She gestured to a servant, whispered in the man’s ear, and watched him leave, then rose after a polite wait, and glided off the dais and discreetly exited through a door at the end of the room.
The servant worked his way to the back of the room and informed Wren, Kestrel, and Picco that Moorin would appreciate the pleasure of their company in a small room down the hall, and offered to lead them to her. Two minutes later he opened a door and they entered as he shut the door behind them and left them alone with Moorin.
She and Kestrel stared at one another, to the exclusion of the other two.
“So you’re really Kestrel, literally body and soul?” Moorin asked after several seconds of mutual scrutiny.
“I am,” he said, then paused in an awkward silence. “And you’re still Moorin?”
She gave a demur smile.
“Is Ruelin okay?” Picco asked.
“So far. He’s eager to resume control of his kingdom, now that he has the head to wear the crown,” Moorin replied.
There was another awkward silence. Kestrel wanted to speak to Moorin, but not in front of the other two. “What happens next? Did Namber have any Graylee forces here in Seafare that have to be dealt with?” he finally asked.
“No, Namber apparently only had a few retainers here at Seafare with him. He left his army behind in Graylee, near the mountains on the western border, while he came here to live in the luxury of the palace at Seafare,” Moorin answered.
“Can you two excuse us for a moment?” Kestrel asked after another pause. “I’d like to talk to Moorin for just a second.”
“I’m sure you would,” Wren said, but Picco opened the door and pressed the other girl out into the hall with her.
Moorin gave a sigh of relief.
“What happens now?” Kestrel asked.
Moorin paused as she tried to pick her words carefully. “Ruelin just awoke in his own body a couple of hours ago, and ever since then he’s been working to retake command of his palace. We haven’t talked about anything.
“I’m still engaged to marry him,” she said. “He didn’t say anything about that when he woke up. He just said, ‘I’m myself again.’
“But I think he misses some things about your body – the healthiness and ability. I understand you’ve already been out celebrating those things?”
Kestrel smiled. “It felt so good,” he paused emphatically between each word.
“Moorin, I know you’re in a delicate situation, and I know you’ve had a lifetime’s worth of stress in the past week. But I want you to know I still feel you are my destiny, and I want to be with you,” he blurted out what his heart felt.
“I shouldn’t even be in this room with you without a chaperon,” Moorin answered.
Kestrel reached out suddenly and grasped her arms, then pulled her against his chest and began to kiss her. She resisted momentarily, then started to respond, then pressed him away.
“Open the door, Kestrel. We can’t do this. I just can’t cope with another emotional crisis at this moment. I don’t know what to do,” she reached out a hand and stroked his shoulder momentarily.
Kestrel placed his hand on the door knob, and paused to look at her, astonished once again by her serene beauty, then opened the door wide.
“We should all return to the hall together. I’m sure Ruelin will want to publically thank you for the great contributions you’ve made,” she said, and squeezed out through the door way to take the lead of Wren, Picco, and Kestrel as she walked down the hall towards the reception room again.
Accompanied by Moorin, they were allowed to enter through the small side door close to the front of the room, and Moorin left them on the side as she slid into her seat and began to whisper into Ruelin’s ear.
“How are you feeling?” Kestrel asked Picco in a whisper, his lips pressed against her ear.
“Fine. Why?” she asked turning to look at him.
“Because; you know,” he answered, with a gesture of his eyes down to her stomach, where her shape was beginning to change.
“Oh, her. She’s fine. Having a skin of water from the healing spring makes pregnancy so much different from every horror story I’ve ever heard. I just sip a thimbleful each morning,” Picco answered, and she unconsciously rubbed her hand across her abdomen.
“You think it’s a girl?” Kestrel was startled by the conviction in Picco’s voice.
“Absolutely!” she said too loudly, and heads turned to look at them.
“Sshh,” Wren spat at them quickly.
Ruelin was looking over at them, Kestrel saw. “Let the court welcome some of our newfound friends,” Ruelin spoke, gesturing to them to approach him.
“First let me introduce the lady Wren, the preeminent female warrior of our day,” Ruelin waved Wren to stand forth from the other two. “Her valor, skill, and leadership were instrumental in the victory we achieved here in the palace, and she is honored in Graylee as well, according to our ambassador from that land, Lord Creata,” the prince smiled as he spoke to the room of observers. “But of course all of you already know of Wren’s ability, if you saw her anywhere around the palace recently.
“And speaking of Creata, the new ambassador from the rightful new ruler of Graylee, here is his lovely sister, Picco,” Ruelin motioned for the girl to step forward, as Wren stepped back beside Kestrel. “Picco is as kind and good-hearted as any person in our own land, and her good spirits in recent days have made all the difference in my ability to withstand the battle.
“Thank you, Graylee,” Ruelin turned to Creata, who sat in a front row seat on the far side of the audience, Kestrel realized, “for sharing your greatest treasure.
“And here, with them is a true rarity, an elf from the Eastern Forest, one of the many fine archers who came to our land in our time of need and helped us finish up our victory,” Ruelin’s smile was just as broad as it had been for the other two as he waved to Kestrel.
“Let us all acknowledge and applaud their friendship and assistance,” and then the prince graciously rose himself and began to clap, triggering a thunderous round of applause that was heartfelt among the Seafare ruling class that was gathered.
“You didn’t get the credit you deserve!” Picco said indignantly as they stood and let the applause role on through the room.
“What’s he going to say? ‘Here’s the guy who really did everything while he occupied my body and wooed my fiancée?’” Wren asked pointedly.
The applause was starting to die down, when Moorin suddenly lifted her hand high in the air, drawing the attention of all observers.
“My lord, in truth, we must acknowledge that Lord Kestrel is a nobleman among the Eastern Elves, and a hero among the people of Graylee and Hydrotaz too, as well as the friend of the imps and the sprites who came to our aid. His work may not have been visible, but it was crucial; he deserves a round of applause all his own,” she began to clap, and the rest of the room politely joined in, including Ruelin.
“Everyone should take some refreshment,” Ruelin announced. “This morning’s audience has gone well, but it’s time that we all turn our attention elsewhere. Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” the prince said. He pointed to Creata, pointed at the other three, and motioned for all of them to approach him, then he promptly led them out yet another door and directly into a small conference room, where they all were seated.
“So how did we manage to return to our bodies?” Ruelin asked Kestrel. “Moorin believes that you did it all on your own with some mystical power, but I can’t say I felt any such energy in your body while you borrowed my body. Your abilities are wonderful, I’ll grant you,” he said with a smile, “but not divinely wonderful.”
“But they are,” Wren spoke up immediately. “The goddess Kai herself gave him the powers of a god, foolish as that choice seems to me,” the mostly human girl spoke. “I saw it happen. Growelf thought it wrong, but Kai did it.”
You saw the gods, fighting among themselves, over Kestrel?” Ruelin sounded amused. “Perhaps he has the godlike ability to deceive people on a grand scale.”
“No,” Picco spoke up quickly as well. “He used his power to save me, and to create that covering on his body. He even brought our mother’s spirit to visit us after she died, and helped give her peace,” the reddish blond girl asserted.
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 05 - Journey to Uniontown Page 5
