Quests of the Kings

by Robert Evert

  “Thanks,” Artis said. “We’ll get cleaned up and come down for a bite in a moment.”

  “Splendid.”

  Artis led Natalie to their room.

  “You used your real name!” she hissed once they got inside. “What are you? A moron?”

  “What does it matter? Nobody’s looking for me.”

  “Nobody you know of. Come on, Artis! This isn’t a game. Think!” She rubbed the brownish bumps on her forehead in frustration and took a deep breath. “Sorry, again. I’m sure you’re right. In fact, I told him my name was Nat. So who am I to talk?”

  “What’s wrong?” Artis took her pack and set it next to his. “What happened at the cathedral?”

  Natalie collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. “Nothing. I just got a bit creeped out by one of the clerics I spoke to. He said he’s a fan of Brago’s.”

  “And?”

  “It was the way he said it, like he knew something. I don’t know, maybe I’m just tired.”

  Artis sat on the windowsill and watched the bustling street below. “Well, that’s something else I wanted to tell you.”

  “What? That I’m tired? Believe me, I knew that already. Three days of walking! I should have borrowed the money from Hadley and hired a horse and wagon.”

  “No.” Artis tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge. “Seems all of the adventurers worth their spit are here.”

  “Here?” Natalie sat up. “In Winros Minor?”

  “Yup. Evidently, there’s some sort of connection between the town and Balen.”

  Natalie went rigid. “Is…he here?”

  Artis surveyed the distant horizon. “I don’t know, but you were right about Sir Edris. He’s been here since Monday. Randell and his men are here too, as is Clooney. He got here this morning.”

  “Who?”

  “Clooney. Some short, fat lesser nobility from Clearfalls or some such place. He’s never won a quest in his life.”

  “You think he could help us with Brago? I mean, is he close enough to King Michael to protect me?”

  “Probably not. To tell you the truth, I think only Sir Edris could do that. Randell has some standing with the nobility, but the king never meets with him like he does with Sir Edris.”

  Natalie put her head in her hands. “How did I get myself into this?”

  “Hey.” The anger in Artis’s voice made Natalie look up. “You didn’t get yourself into anything. This isn’t your fault. It’s Brago’s. Stop blaming yourself.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Art. About what I said in the street—”

  He waved an indifferent hand. “You’re absolutely right; we’re friends. And that’s not a bad thing, Nat.” He motioned to her pack on the floor. “I’ll step out for a bit. Why don’t you change into some clean clothes? And I’m sure you’re hungry. The food in the dining room smells pretty good, but there’s also a place a couple of buildings over if you want to get a beer or two.”

  “Whichever you prefer,” she said.

  Artis barely looked at her as he stepped out into the hallway. Damn it. Once this was all over, she would have to have a serious talk with him.

  Once this is over.

  When would that be?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Natalie and Artis sat at the bar of the Winter Wind Tavern, a couple of buildings up from the Yellow Rose. To the rear of the common room, a storyteller stood on a makeshift stage, recounting his exploits in the last Goblin War. “Blood was spurting out of him, saturating the ground where he lay crumpled in the bushes,” he regaled, though very few patrons appeared to be paying attention. “And then my brother slowly opened his eyes, and he said to me, with his last, gasping breath: ‘Harden…tell Evelyn, tell her that I…’”

  “So what’s your plan?” Artis asked Natalie as he picked at his overcooked slab of pork. “Do you want to roam around a bit and see if we catch sight of him?”

  Natalie stirred her mushroom soup. She’d been so hungry hours before—famished, even. Now, she couldn’t stomach a thing. “I don’t know. But we have to find him quickly. I don’t know how long I can be away from my family.”

  “Don’t worry. Hadley and Ida are taking care of them.”

  “That’s the point! I should be. They’re my family. I’m responsible.”

  “…and then the goblins charged the hill upon which only I and three others remained alive! They waved their bloody scimitars over their heads and bellowed their war cries!” The storyteller screamed as he brandished an imaginary sword high over his head. A few patrons glanced over, annoyed, and went back to their conversations.

  “Listen, Nat. You’re the perfect daughter. Trust me. Nobody’s better. But you can only do what you can do; you’re going to kill yourself if you try to do more, and then where would your family be?”

  “I know.” Natalie stabbed her spoon at three pieces of green parsley floating on the soup’s surface, trying to sink them. “But they need to eat, and they need clothes, and—”

  “You can only do what you can do,” Artis repeated firmly. “Look, I know you think you can always do a little bit more—work another job, save one more penny, go without another meal—but that’s not true. There are limits, and I think you reached yours a couple of years ago.” He sipped his beer. “Please don’t take that as a slight; it has nothing to do with you, or your abilities, or with you being a woman, or anything like that. One person can only do so much.”

  Natalie wanted to throw her arms around him. What he said was certainly true; she knew it in her very soul. But what if what she did wasn’t good enough? If her family starved, it would be her fault—nobody else’s.

  “…three of the biggest, meanest goblins came right at me”—the storyteller took a defensive stance—“and all I had was my trusty dagger and my brother’s broken sword!”

  Natalie smiled warmly at Artis. “Thanks.”

  He patted her hand. “No problem, Nat.”

  “Nat?” A boy sitting on the other side of Artis turned to them. He was shorter than even Natalie, and one of his eyes pointed slightly outward, but he had a broad, inviting grin any street merchant would envy. “That’s my name, too! It’s short for Nathaniel.”

  Natalie and Artis nodded politely, neither wanting to be rude nor encourage further conversation. But the boy went on, regardless.

  “Kind of a stupid name—Nathaniel. It’s too big and awkward. But I’m told I’ll grow into it!”

  “I’m sure.” Artis made to resume his conversation with Natalie, when the other Nat spoke again.

  “People also call me Nat because I tend to bug them,” he lamented.

  Natalie would have mentioned that he was, in fact, bugging them, but she couldn’t, since she’d just bitten into a piece of bread.

  “…the first goblin swung at my head!” The storyteller dodged an invisible foe. “Then I saw my opening! Taking my brother’s sword I…”

  The boy continued to talk to whomever would listen. “Of course, there’s something to be said for bugs.” He slid them a meaningful look. “They always find what they want. Ever notice that? Drop a crumb of food, and they always find it. Doesn’t matter where you put it—floor, cupboard, top of the nicest house—they’ll find it all right, as sure as the sun coming up!”

  “Very true,” said Artis, “but my brother and I were—”

  “You were talking about finding somebody.” Nathaniel drank from his cup, then lowered his tone. “I can help. I’m good at finding things. Very good, if you get me.”

  Natalie and Artis turned to fully face the boy. He looked to be about ten or eleven years old. He wasn’t exactly poor; his clothes fit and weren’t too worn, yet a hardness in his good eye suggested he’d spent some time living on the streets.

  “Who you looking for?” he asked casually. “I bet I can find him, lickety-split.”

  Natalie forced herself to swallow. “We don’t have much money. Practically none at all, actually.”

  Nathaniel shrugged. �
�Every copper helps.”

  Natalie and Artis exchanged glances. Artis’s eyebrows rose as if to say, “What do we have to lose?”

  “Oh, all right.” She leaned in closer and whispered confidentially. “We’re looking for Sir Edris.”

  “Oh, shit!” Nathaniel chuckled loudly. Natalie and Artis both shushed him. On the stage, the storyteller faltered. “That’s an easy one. He’s at The Maggie.”

  “The Maggie?” they repeated.

  “Yeah, The Maggie. It’s an inn. Best in the city, if you ask me. I’ve never slept there, mind you, just eaten the food they’ve thrown out. Best I’ve had. Anyhow, it’s in the West Quarter, where all the hoity-toity live. The Maggie used to be called The Singing Canary, but the new owner, Matt, named it after his wife. She’s a pretty thing.” He winked at Natalie. “But not as pretty as you.”

  Natalie and Artis started.

  Nathaniel laughed. “Not to worry about me. I don’t care who you pretend to be, as long as your coin’s good.” He held out a dirty hand. “One copper, please.”

  Natalie repositioned her cloak to cover her ponytail. “How do we know you’re telling the truth? About Sir Edris, I mean.”

  Nathaniel chuckled. “Where else would he be? Do you honestly think a highfalutin knight would be caught anyplace else? No sir! Only the best for people like that. But don’t take my word for it. Ask anybody.” Before Natalie could stop him, the boy shouted across the common room. “Hey, Merrick! Where’s your hero, Edris, staying nowadays?”

  The storyteller, now visibly upset, started talking even louder: “…and I drove my mighty dagger, hilt-deep, into the other goblin’s…”

  A huge man eating an entire chicken shouted back, “He’s at The Canary, or whatever it’s called now. And don’t forget, you’ll owe me three silver when he wins this harp quest.”

  The tavern erupted.

  “You’re supporting one of King Michael’s adventurers?” a soldier eating at the bar yelled indignantly.

  “You could get yer head cut off for that!” his comrade added.

  “I ain’t supportin’ nobody,” Merrick said. “The little bug-eyed bastard here gave me ten-to-one odds, and I took ’em! Personally, I want Sir Karl!”

  Again, the room exploded. Scores of differing opinions were flung about. Several people yelled that Fredrick of Haverton would get Balen’s golden harp first, while others claimed Holden would find it. Somebody in the back countered that it didn’t matter who found the harp, the winner was the one who brought it to the king. This created another surge of shouting.

  “…so I took my brother’s broken sword,” the storyteller bellowed at the top of his lungs, “and I…and I…” He stopped. Everybody was hollering back and forth, debating the merits of each of the adventurers. Stomping his foot, he climbed down from the stage and stormed out of the tavern, cursing.

  Nathaniel wiggled his fingers at Artis. “One copper, if you’d please, my good sir.”

  Artis gave him a copper piece.

  Nathaniel slipped it into his pocket and got up to leave. “You’re from Upper Angle, aren’t you?” he asked, then went on as if the answer didn’t matter. “Well, let me tell you this. If you ever need any information, anything at all about Winros Minor or the goings-on, I’m your man.” He took Natalie’s hand rather suggestively. “Remember that. I’m your man.” He kissed her knuckles.

  Natalie jerked her hand away.

  “Which reminds me,” he said to her, “if you’re going to pretend to be a boy, you might want to wear baggier clothes.” He leered at her small chest. “Those are a dead giveaway, though I’d hate for you to hide them, you know what I’m saying?” He tipped an imaginary hat and departed as the quarrel over the winner of the Kings’ Quest raged around them.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Natalie and Artis stood in the middle of the road directly in front of The Maggie. It was a stunning building with hand-carved soffits and sculpted arches so spectacular they made Natalie feel too poor to even be looking at them. A well-dressed couple glanced in their direction, obviously curious as to why two adolescents were staring at the building.

  “What now?” Artis asked.

  Natalie shook her head. “I haven’t a clue. But I think the kid was right. If a wealthy knight would stay anywhere in this town, it’d be here.”

  She counted the windows on each of the five stories. “How many rooms do you think there are? For guests, I mean.”

  Artis pursed his lips. “Twenty-five, maybe thirty. Too many for us to go knocking on each one, if that’s what you’re thinking. Besides, if we step foot in there dressed like this, they’ll throw us out on our asses.”

  Natalie nodded. “The best rooms would be on the top, right?”

  “Actually, the owners usually live on the top floor. At least, in Upper Angle they do. Things might be different here. Maybe the owner doesn’t want to lose potential business and lives someplace else.”

  “Maybe.” Natalie scratched her chin, then looked up and down the street. It was past the dinner hour and night was deepening, but people were still strolling about. Lanterns lining the street spat and sputtered. “There’s too much light.”

  “What do you mean? Too much for what?”

  Natalie beckoned for him to follow. “Let’s look around back.”

  “Nat, we’re going to get in trouble.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Ida. Besides, I’m already in trouble, remember? Serious trouble. Now come on!”

  Reluctantly, Artis followed Natalie to a stately courtyard behind the inn, where a stone fountain babbled merrily. Yellow light streamed through an open door amid the banging of pots and pans. Inside, cooks yelled their orders.

  “You aren’t going to go in there, are you?” Artis asked, dismayed.

  “Don’t be stupid. Even the staff are dressed better than we are.” Natalie stepped back a few paces and examined the rear wall of the inn.

  “I could buy some decent clothes, you know,” said Artis. “I have the money.”

  “It’s bad enough you had to pay for our trip here. I’m not going to have you buy me clothes, too.” She continued studying the wall. “Do you think we could climb—?”

  “What’re you two doing back here?” shouted an angry voice.

  They spun around and found a constable standing in the shadows. Artis tensed to run, but Natalie grabbed his arm.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she replied.

  The constable stepped closer, slapping a threatening cudgel into his palm. “Try me.”

  Natalie pulled her ponytail out from underneath her cloak and gave him a girly smile. “We were thinking about climbing up to the fourth floor and seeing if we could meet an adventurer!”

  “We heard Sir Edris was staying here!” said Artis, guessing Natalie’s plan.

  The constable groaned. “What is it with you kids and these adventurers?” He slid the cudgel into his belt. “You’re lucky I stopped you. You would’ve broken your necks!”

  “I’m really good at climbing trees!” said Natalie, still forcing herself to sound like a young girl.

  “Miss, this ain’t no tree! Where would you put your hands and feet? Sure, you might get to the second floor, but what then? You’d fall and kill yourself—that’s what. Think about what would happen to your parents; they’d be beside themselves. Now, go on home, before they start worrying themselves sick over you.”

  Natalie pouted and shrugged. “Okay.”

  The constable watched them slink off toward the street. He swore. “Wait a second!” They turned. “You’re going to come right back here after I’m gone, aren’t you? Damn you kids. All right, this is what I’ll do. I’ll go see if Sir Edris will come out and smile or wave at you or something—if you promise you won’t go climbing up no buildings.”

  Natalie and Artis brightened. “Sure!”

  “Fine. Wait here. And don’t do anything idiotic while I’m gone.”

  The constable di
sappeared into the noisy kitchen. A few minutes later, he came back, alone.

  “The innkeeper says Edris isn’t here right now, and neither are any of the other adventurers. And they won’t be back ’til late, so it woulda done ya no good to have climbed up there anyhow.” The constable scrutinized them. “You two together?” he asked Artis. “A couple, I mean.”

  Artis defensively raised his hands. “We’re just friends.”

  The constable chuckled. “Men and woman can’t be no friends, lad. But I see that’s not your decision. Look son, if you like this girl, you’ll take her someplace special and make her forget about climbing any buildings, you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Artis.

  The constable eyed him. “You can’t make her do anything, can you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, at least you realize it now; it’ll save you a whole lot of heartache when you’re older.” The constable rubbed his thick neck in frustration. “All right. This is what I’m going to do for you two. If you absolutely promise me you won’t be a pest to anybody, I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “Yes, of course!” Natalie nodded eagerly. “We promise!”

  “Yeah!” Artis added, playing his part.

  The constable glanced at the servant entrance, then back to them. “From what I understand,” he said softly, “several adventurers have been nosing around the Cathedral of the Stars. Seems it has something to do with the Kings’ Quest, though if I knew what, I’d be a rich man. If you really want to meet an adventurer, I suggest you look around there. But don’t go making yourself a nuisance, hear me? The clerics have enough to do as it is. They don’t have time for no babysitting!”

  “We won’t!” Natalie pulled on Artis’s cloak. “Come on, let’s see if he’s still there!”

  “And kids…” the constable called. They stopped. “Sir Edris isn’t going to win this one. It’ll be Sir Otto—mark my words!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  With that, Natalie and Artis ran for a couple blocks before halting.

  “What’s wrong?” Artis asked, panting. “Don’t you want to go to the cathedral?”