by John Marco
‘It’s why you’re here,’ the old woman had said gently.
But Laurella did not try to make her see the logic in her imprisonment the way Corvalos Chane had, and she did not condone what her beloved king had done to her. Laurella was becoming a friend, and Mirage cherished her counsel. She brought Mirage her meals, told her the idle gossip around the castle, and generally comforted her when she was morose, cheering her with simple talk about her family and what it was like to get old. It was strange for Mirage to be growing so attached to the maids, because she was a royal woman now in the eyes of the castle and she had noticed how the others of rank within the castle treated the servants. To Roland and his siblings, Laurella and her ilk were far less than equals. As she spoke to the maids, Mirage remembered her childhood with her parents, and how they had once been wealthy.
Before the fire.
By late afternoon the next day, however, Mirage had tired of talking and wanted only to be alone. She sat in a hard wooden chair near the window, looking out over the city and wondering if Roland the Red had left yet for Liiria. From her place in the tower Mirage could not see the parade ground or the steeple of the grand cathedral, but she could see the border of Hes and the rolling hills of farmland beyond. She smiled mournfully at the pretty sight. Would she ever go into the hills again, or ride through forests the way she had with Lukien? Would she ever see Lukien again.
‘No,’ she muttered. Roland’s words came back to haunt her. ‘I’m here forever.’
As she stared out the window, she hardly noticed the shadow creep into the room over her shoulder. Thinking it was Laurella, she did not turn around.
‘Yes?’ she asked, staring out the window. When Laurella didn’t answer, Mirage turned to see Corvalos Chane standing in the room. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked sourly.
Chane wore his usual expression, both arrogant and inscrutable. It amazed Mirage that she had not heard his heavy boots against the floor. He had shaved the stubble from his rugged face, looking almost handsome in the sunlight through the window.
‘The king has sent me to collect you,’ he said.
‘To collect . . . ? No, not today,’ said Mirage.
Chane laughed. ‘You’re mistaken if you think you have a choice. The king has summoned you, girl.’
‘Summoned me where?’
‘I cannot say,’ Chane replied. ‘It is to be a surprise.’
The statement puzzled Mirage. She got out of her chair, looking past Chane toward the adjacent room. There she saw Laurella, waiting dutifully and quietly. She had obviously been unable to stop the intrusion.
‘If Raxor wishes to see me why didn’t he come himself? Why did he send you?’ Mirage scowled at the man. ‘Why are you always popping up?’
Chane shifted. ‘Because I’m supposed to protect you,’ he sighed. ‘The king has ordered it, and so I am here. Now please, will you come?’
‘Protect me?’ Mirage found the notion delicious. ‘From what?’
‘From anything. From a hangnail. Enough questions, girl. Now come along!’
She loved getting under Chane’s skin, and was finding it easier all the time. He didn’t like being her chaperone, she could tell.
‘All right,’ she relented. ‘Are we going outside? If so I’ll need a coat.’
‘Then bring one,’ drawled the spy. ‘There’s a carriage waiting for you.’
Inside the splendid carriage, Mirage watched as the city rolled by through her gilded window. With no one inside the conveyance to accompany her, Mirage had no distractions, and could not even see Corvalos Chane as he led the carriage through the streets on horseback. She had asked the spy why he did not accompany her inside the carriage, but Chane had not answered, not even with a shrug. He had simply helped her into the vehicle, ordered the coachman to follow him, then mounted his tall stallion and led them away. Mirage’s mind raced with possibilities, not all of them pleasant. She feared the worst from Raxor’s surprise, wondering if at last he would demand more from her than just conversation. She had learned that the old war hero had a sweet side, but he was also suffering some kind of depression that made him unpredictable, and fighting him off would not be an option.
What would Chane do if Raxor came at her? What if she screamed for his help? She supposed Chane was too loyal to Raxor to lift a finger to help her, and that sickened her. If she was to be raped, she certainly didn’t want an audience.
The carriage moved slowly through the streets, rocking gently back and forth. At last it came to a stop. Mirage peered expectantly out the window and saw they had parked in front of a large edifice of stone with a pair of rounded wooden doors, already opened wide like a mouth. The street in front of the building seemed empty. The utilitarian building frightened Mirage, who knew at once that it was not a residence at all but more like a concert hall, vast and echoing. She waited for the coachman to open her door. He did so silently, bidding her to step out then taking her hand and guiding her down the carriage’s two steps. She stood gaping at the giant building as Corvalos Chane dismounted. The spy handed the reins of his horse to the young coachman.
‘Remain,’ he ordered the driver, then smiled teasingly at Mirage. ‘Come along, girl. The king is waiting.’
‘What is this place?’ asked Mirage, refusing to walk through the rounded doorway. She noticed now that there were many such doorways, though the rest of them were closed, lining the round fac¸ade of the building.
‘A forum,’ said Chane. He shooed her toward the entrance.
‘I’m supposed to be some sort of entertainment?’ Mirage protested.
‘You are so tiresome,’ groaned Chane. ‘Nothing is going to happen to you. Will you believe me for once and just go inside?’
‘Fine, let’s just get this over with,’ said Mirage, walking past him into the doorway, at once entering a dark hall with a low ceiling and a worn out floor of gravel. There was light at the other end of the hall. Mirage could see a vast area there, open to the sky. She was indeed in some huge arena, and didn’t know why. With Chane keeping back a few paces, she walked warily forward.
‘Go on,’ urged Chane.
Mirage continued, finally reaching the end of the hall, stepping out onto the circular field. The sky spread out overhead, dwarfing her. Her breath caught at the sensation, and the noise of her gasp echoed through the arena. Above the walls of the arena she saw endless rows of empty seats. Not a single spectator was there to greet her entrance. Yet she was not alone within the arena. Far off to her right she saw Raxor. He wasn’t alone, either.
‘Fate above,’ Mirage exclaimed. Quickly she looked at Chane for an explanation. The spy smiled in amusement.
‘I’ll wait here,’ he said, then slunk back into the dark recesses of the hall. ‘Go ahead. I told you, you won’t be harmed.’
Mirage could not bring herself to move, for with Raxor were a pair of enormous bears, huge and black, one standing on its hind legs, the other rolling playfully onto its back while Raxor coaxed them both with treats. The king wore no armour, no protection of any kind, just a child-like grin on his face that widened when he saw Mirage. He snapped his fingers, ordering the bears to attention, and at his command both beasts stopped their tricks.
‘We have company!’ sang the king. The beasts turned to regard Mirage, and all she wanted was to run.
‘Oh no . . .’
‘Don’t be afraid,’ said Raxor. ‘I know they look frightening but they won’t hurt you.’ He waved her closer. ‘Come over here. I promise, it’s all right.’
‘I’d rather stay here, my lord, if it’s all the same.’
‘No, it isn’t all the same,’ said Raxor. He knelt down between the two bruins, resting his hands on their necks. ‘They want to meet you.’
Madness, thought Mirage. She had suspected it before, but now she was certain.
‘My lord, you should come out of there,’ she suggested. ‘I don’t think it’s safe for you.’
‘Nonsense! They’re li
ke big children.’ To prove his point, Raxor nuzzled the neck of one of the bears, burying his nose in its thick coat. ‘See?’
Speechless, Mirage could only imagine what sickness of the brain had driven the old king to such actions. Though he was a big man and obviously strong, the bears were many times his weight and could easily have killed him.
But they didn’t, and to Mirage they seemed remarkably tame. Even gentle. She inched closer, keeping an eye on the beasts.
‘My lord, is this what you wanted to show me? These two monsters?’
‘Not monsters, Mirage. Friends.’ Raxor stood up between the bears, who opened their mouths and let their tongues loll out. ‘I’ve had these two since they were cubs. They were born right here in this forum.’
‘Here?’ Mirage looked around. ‘It doesn’t seem the place for them.’
‘They have other areas where they spend most of their time. There’s a whole team of men who look after them and the other animals.’
Mirage stopped moving. ‘What other animals?’
‘Birds mostly, from all over the continent. I collect them.’ Raxor patted the bears’ heads. ‘But these two are special. I bring them out here to play when I visit.’
‘Is that what all those things are for?’ asked Mirage, noting the balls and other toys scattered on the ground. ‘For play?’
‘That’s right,’ said the king. From his pocket he produced some treats, giving one to each of his pets. Their big tongues licked them out of his hands. Still a safe distance from the bears, Mirage watched them in awe.
‘What was that you gave them?’
‘Just bread balls. But they’ll eat almost anything. Butter, scraps of fat, fish heads . . .’
‘Sounds delightful.’
Raxor smiled brightly at Mirage. ‘I thought you’d like to see them. Aren’t they beautiful?’
‘Yes, my lord, they are,’ Mirage agreed. Slowly she felt herself relax. ‘But why do you have them? I don’t understand.’
‘All the kings of Reec have kept bears, since the founding of Hes. Bears are the symbol of the city. If you look you can see them everywhere in the architecture.’
‘Yes,’ realized Mirage suddenly. ‘Yesterday when I was walking. I did see bears.’
Raxor continued scratching the heads of the beasts, careful not to neglect one for the other. ‘They say a bear was with the first king of Hes when he founded the city. That was almost five hundred years ago, but you can still find bears in the hills around Hes.’
‘And these two live here all year round?’
‘They have to,’ said Raxor. ‘They couldn’t live out in the wild. Look at them! They wouldn’t last a day out there.’
‘They do seem gentle,’ said Mirage. Curious, she went closer, studying the bears who watched her in kind, their dark eyes following her every move. ‘Do they have names?’
‘Broud and Varsha,’ Raxor answered. He patted the slightly larger one. ‘This is Broud, the male. They’re brother and sister.’
‘How old are they?’
‘Almost three years. They won’t get much larger than this.’
Charmed by the beasts, Mirage could not stop herself from going closer. Their furry faces seemed to smile at her. And Raxor looked like a boy between them, innocent and happy, without all the trappings of kingship dragging him down. He even looked younger.
‘Would you like to touch them?’ asked Raxor.
He was giving her a gift, Mirage knew. This whole spectacle was for her benefit.
‘I’m afraid . . .’
‘Do not be,’ said the king. ‘I promise you, they won’t harm you. Here, I will prove it to you.’
Kneeling down again near the big male, Raxor put his head beside Broud’s mouth. ‘Open,’ he commanded, and when the bear opened wide its great jaws Raxor placed his neck between them.
‘My lord, stop!’ cried Mirage.
Raxor laughed but did not pull free. ‘You see? I raised these two myself. I’m like their mother!’
‘Just stop, please!’
At last Raxor removed himself from Broud’s mouth. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
‘I’m not sticking my neck in there.’
‘Of course not. Just touch them.’ King Raxor waved her forward. ‘Come easy. Don’t be frightened.’
Mirage reached out her hand but only moved a few inches nearer.
‘Closer than that.’
‘I know,’ said Mirage. ‘I’m coming.’
Finally in range, she let her fingers brush the crown of the Varsha, the female. The sensation thrilled her.
‘It’s so soft, like a blanket!’
Confident the bear wouldn’t harm her, she buried her hand in Varsha’s coat, rubbing hard and eliciting a happy groan from the beast. Varsha’s big brow knitted together in pleasure at Mirage’s touch.
‘You see? Like children,’ said Raxor.
‘My lord, children have tempers. Haven’t they ever harmed you, even in play?’
‘Never. They never could do such a thing.’
‘Let’s see them play, then,’ Mirage suggested. ‘Let’s see some of their tricks.’
King Raxor looked at her lovingly. His expression frightenened her more than the bears did. ‘If that’s what you wish,’ he told her. ‘They’ll perform for you all night.’
‘Just something simple,’ said Mirage.
Just as she was drawn to the bears, she was drawn now to Raxor. The affection in his eyes was startling, and for a moment Mirage forgot that it was not truly for her, but rather for a dead wife. She stood aside while Raxor ordered the bears through tricks, delighted by their antics. Under his careful hand the bears stood up tall, rolled, and made sounds that were almost human, rewarded after each trick by a treat from Raxor’s pocket.
‘You have to give them something for each trick,’ he explained. ‘And you can’t eat sweets around them. Anything sugary drives them mad.’
He lifted his hand high into the air, bringing both bears to their feet. The bears walked in a circle around him. Mirage laughed, enchanted by the beasts, who suddenly seemed more like house cats to her than wild animals. Throughout their performance Broud and Varsha growled playfully, never threatening either of the humans. And they never tired or grew bored, but rather continued to entertain their new guest, showing her every trick they knew. The way Raxor handled them was remarkable. As big as he was, he was like one of the bears, brusque on the outside but calm and gentle within.
For almost an hour Mirage watched the bears play, sometimes involving herself by tossing bread balls into the air or rubbing the beasts’ broad backs. She forgot that she was with a king, her captor, or that Corvalos Chane was somewhere in the shadows, watching her. Finally, when Raxor’s pocket of treats was exhausted, he gave the order for the bears to sit, laying them down on the ground at his feet. The old king beamed, pleased with himself and his pets. And Mirage, exhilarated by the experience, finally felt her breath return.
She looked at Raxor, not knowing what to say. The king smiled awkwardly.
‘Thank you,’ said Mirage. ‘This was so unexpected. But why?’
‘Because Corvalos told me what happened to you yesterday, and the things my son said to you. I am sorry for that, Mirage. Roland has always talked too much.’
‘I have thought about this,’ said Mirage. ‘It was I who wandered off and uncovered his secret. Some of the things he said to me . . . well, they don’t really matter. It’s his army that concerns me.’
‘Roland has much on his mind,’ said Raxor. ‘If he offended you I’m sorry. He speaks without thinking.’
Mirage didn’t care about Roland, and no longer wanted to talk about him. ‘But the army, my lord – they’re making ready to march for the border. And you’re going to join them.’
‘Yes,’ said Raxor, looking away from her. He knelt down beside Varsha to scratch her ear. ‘Things have been happening in Liiria, things no one has told you. Baron Glass has crowned himself king. My people in
Koth have told me so. A week ago, he called his troops around him in Chancellory Square. He declared himself Liiria’s ruler. All of Jazana Carr’s lieutenants were there. He called them from Norvor to witness his declaration.’
‘All right,’ said Mirage. ‘But that doesn’t mean there’s war coming. Thorin doesn’t want war, my lord. He only wants Liiria.’
‘I wish that were true,’ said the old king. His rheumy eyes looked up from his quiet pets. ‘The word from Koth says otherwise, Mirage. My people tell me that Baron Glass has become paranoid, that he worries about all the enemies he’s made. He’s seen my armies on his border and he thinks we mean to invade.’
‘Then you should pull them back, my lord.’
‘And leave the border unprotected? You’re asking me to trust the Black Baron, and I can’t do that.’
‘But you’re provoking him,’ said Mirage. Trying not to reveal too much, she added, ‘Thorin only wants Liiria, but if you chase him into a corner he’ll be like one of these bears. You have to treat him prudently, my lord.’
Her candour intrigued Raxor, who grinned at her. ‘You have so many secrets.’
Mirage tread carefully. ‘I just know him, that’s all.’
‘No, Mirage, you know so much more than that. But you may keep your secrets. I told you already – I won’t harm you. When you are ready you will tell me what you know about the Black Baron.’
But it may be too late by then, thought Mirage. She asked, ‘When will you leave, my lord?’
‘In a week perhaps. Let Roland command the men for a time. They don’t need me yet, and I don’t want to provoke Glass more than I must. If he learns that I have come to be with my troops, he will either talk to me or fight me. I hope he chooses talk.’
‘Talk,’ said Mirage, ‘Yes.’ But she knew Thorin would not talk to Raxor, any more than he had talked to Lukien when the knight had tried to stop him. ‘My lord . . .’
