Quests of the Kings

by Robert Evert

  “Why would we go there?” Natalie asked as she stalked back toward The Maggie. “Sooner or later, Sir Edris would have to return to the inn to sleep, right? Let’s wait for him there. Besides, the last place I want to be is somewhere Brago might turn up. Now, be quiet and keep your eyes open. We can’t miss him!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Natalie awoke to find her head resting on Artis’s drool-covered shoulder. His arm was draped around her, hand lying lightly on her left breast. She slapped it away. Artis stirred.

  “Wake up.” She wiped the spit from her mouth and struggled to her feet.

  They’d been hidden behind a row of bushes in front of a general store diagonally across from The Maggie. The street was deserted, and most of the inn’s windows were dark.

  Artis stretched. “What time is it?”

  “A couple of hours before dawn, by the looks of it. Damn it! We probably missed him.”

  “We can always try tomorrow.”

  Natalie brushed dirt and dried leaves from her pants. “I’m not waiting. I have to get home and feed my family.” She pushed through the bushes.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “To see if that light’s coming from Sir Edris’s room.” She pointed to a window on the fourth floor, where a dim light shone between partially closed curtains.

  “Nat—”

  “I can climb it. Don’t let that constable scare you.”

  “You’re going to fall and break your neck.”

  “Then I won’t have to worry about Brago, now will I? Come on. You’re going to have to give me a boost.”

  They trotted across the street to the side of The Maggie, trying not to be seen.

  “Bend over,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  Artis bent over, and Natalie climbed onto his back.

  “Okay, now, very slowly…straighten.”

  Artis straightened into a standing position as Natalie clambered onto his shoulders.

  “Please don’t fall,” whispered Artis.

  “I won’t if you stand still!”

  “This kind of hurts!” Artis grunted.

  “I said stand still!”

  “Trying to…”

  She stepped onto Artis’s wobbling head. “Just…hold…on…”

  Natalie jumped up and pulled herself onto the ledge under the darkened second floor windows.

  “Be careful!” he whispered.

  Fingers straining, Natalie reached the lip right above the row of windows. For a moment, her foot slipped. Artis ran back and forth through the shadows, aiming to catch her if she fell.

  Natalie swore as she struggled to pull herself up. Her strength was giving way. “Art!”

  “I’m here!”

  The fourth-floor window directly above Natalie opened. A head, obscured by light, peered out and then down.

  “What the—?” said a male voice. “By the gods…hold on! Don’t fall!”

  A moment later, the end of a rope tumbled out of the window and slapped Natalie in the face. She seized it.

  The head reappeared. “Going up, or down?”

  “Up, if you don’t mind.”

  “You’re the girl who was looking for Sir Edris, aren’t you?”

  “Is he there?”

  “No.”

  Natalie glanced down. She wasn’t very high up, but she could barely see Artis positioned below her in the darkness, arms outstretched, just in case. She clung to the rope, muscles weakening. “Can I come up?”

  “I don’t know,” the voice replied. “Can you?”

  Somebody stirred in the second-floor room next to Natalie.

  “Don’t let me fall!” she whispered.

  “That wouldn’t be very chivalrous, would it? Either way, hurry. I’ve got work to do.”

  Natalie pulled herself up to the fourth-floor window, muddy boots kicking at the inn’s wall as she went. Somewhere, another window opened.

  “What the hell’s going on out there?” called an elderly man into the night. “Get gone, or I’ll make you run!”

  The young man from the fourth floor reached down, grabbed Natalie’s belt, and hauled her into the room. Had he not caught her, she would have fallen, sprawling, to the floor.

  He set Natalie on her feet. “Harder than it looks, eh?”

  She nodded, panting.

  He went over to the bed, where armor and several swords had been arrayed, and began to polish a breastplate.

  “You’re”—Natalie tried to catch her breath—“Sir Edris’s…you’re his squire, aren’t you?”

  The young man bowed. He was probably about seventeen or eighteen, and broad of frame, though he still had to put on several more pounds before his shoulders would fit the rest of his body. “Reginald, at your service. But call me Reg. You hurt?”

  “What? No. No. I’m…I’m fine, thank you.”

  “That was a pretty stupid trick you were trying. You could’ve broken your neck.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Natalie collapsed into a chair, arm muscles still quivering from the climb.

  Reg handed her a cup of water.

  A knock at the door made her choke as she drank.

  “Everything okay in there?” someone called from the hallway.

  “All’s well,” said Reg. “Sorry for the disturbance. I’ll make sure I’m quieter.”

  “See that you do!” Somebody stomped away.

  Reg waited for Natalie to finish the water. She passed him the empty cup.

  “More?” he asked.

  Gasping, she shook her head.

  A hissing sound came from outside. “Nat!”

  Reg leaned out the window. “She’s fine. I’ll send her out through the front door.”

  “Wait. Don’t make me go,” Natalie said. “Not yet. I have to talk with Sir Edris.”

  Reg crossed his arms. “Let me guess. You saw Sir Edris at some festival your tiny town was having and you immediately fell in love with him. You haven’t been able to eat or sleep since your eyes met his, and you know he feels the same way because of how he smiled at you.”

  “Oh, gods!” Natalie exclaimed. “People don’t actually say those kinds of things, do they?”

  Reg went back to polishing the already-shining breastplate. “All the time. Trust me—and please, don’t take any offense by this—he won’t be interested. Not the way you want him to be, at any rate. He prefers his women older and more…girly.”

  Natalie stood and straightened out her boy’s clothes. “Well, that’s good for both of us, since I’m not interested in him in that way, either.”

  Reg chuckled.

  “But I do need to see him,” she said, attempting to sound more businesslike. “It’s an urgent matter. He’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

  Reg spat on the shining breastplate, then buffed it with a white cloth. “Again, let me guess. You have information about the Kings’ Quest; information Sir Edris desperately needs to win. You’d go after the treasure yourself but, being a woman, you aren’t allowed to, so you want to sell what you know to Sir Edris.”

  Natalie huffed. “I could most certainly go after the harp! Being a woman doesn’t mean I couldn’t win such a thing.”

  “Yes it does.”

  “No it doesn’t.”

  Reg spat and polished the underside of the breastplate. “Does.”

  Hands on hips, Natalie stamped her foot. “You’re saying only men can win the quest?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “What? You plan on finding the harp with your little prick?”

  Reg looked at her, then laughed, long and hard. “What’s your name?”

  “Does that matter?”

  “I’m beginning to think it might.”

  “My name’s Natalie. I’m from Upper Angle, and I have some information about the Kings’ Quest that Sir—”

  Reg smirked. “What a surprise!”

  “It isn’t what you think!”

 
; “Of course not.”

  “I mean it! Can I speak with him? Where is he?” Natalie glanced about the room, though clearly they were alone.

  “You seem like an intelligent person, Natalie—”

  Natalie made to protest, until she realized he’d used the words “intelligent” and “person,” not “stupid” and “girl.” Taken aback, she closed her mouth.

  “—so let me tell you what Sir Edris would say, and we can get it all out of the way.” Reg struck an overly noble pose and deepened his voice. “My lady! It is so wonderful that you wish to be of assistance. Truly, it is! However, in the name of honor, it would not be fair to all of the other adventurers were I to accept your most gracious offer of aid.”

  Reg went back to polishing the breastplate.

  “But, you don’t understand—”

  “It’s a matter of life and death?” Reg offered. Seeing Natalie’s reaction, he smiled. “Trust me, I’ve heard it all: the crops were bad last season, and the landlord’s taking the farm; your father’s sick, and you need the money to make him well. Oh, I know”—he nodded at her stomach—“some lesser nobility told you he loves you, made you with child, and has left you for—”

  “Shut—up.” She made a fist. “So help me, if you don’t, by the gods, I’ll show you what a woman can do!”

  Reg stood, spread out his hands, and grinned. “Miss, I’ve been studying to be a knight nearly my entire life. I am well-versed in all manners of combat, if you could even strike—”

  Natalie stepped forward, fist cocked back. Laughing, Reg went to block the blow, but then Natalie’s foot came up and kicked him in the groin. The squire fell to the floor, holding himself and struggling to breathe. He whimpered.

  “You were saying?” Natalie asked.

  Reg labored to get to his feet, but Natalie planted a manure-encrusted boot onto his rear end and drove him back to the floor.

  “This is what’s going to happen,” she told him. “You’re going to help me meet Sir Edris, or I’m going to tell everybody you were beaten up by a girl. What do you think they’ll call you when you’re knighted? Sir Ballshurtalot?”

  Reg lifted a finger, while his other hand clutched his crotch. He winced.

  “Are you going to help me or not? ’Cause if you don’t, by morning, everybody in town will know what happened.”

  “Not here,” Reg wheezed. He took in a deep breath, then said more clearly, “He’s not here. So you couldn’t talk with him, even if I wanted you to.” He sniffed and pushed aside Natalie’s boot. Taking in another deep breath, he clambered to his feet and gave a slight bow. “How can I be of assistance?”

  From outside, a hiss floated up to the still-open window. “Psst! Nat! Nat!”

  Reg leaned out. “She’s still here. She just kicked me in the groin.”

  “Oh, gods. I’m sorry,” Artis whispered. “I hate it when she does that.”

  “I’ll send her down in a few minutes.”

  “Why would you tell him a girl beat you?” Natalie asked suspiciously.

  Reg sat down onto the edge of the bed, thighs spread as far apart as they could go, and grimaced. “I’m not going to deny it. I’m studying to be a knight, remember? Some of us object to lying.” He beckoned for her to sit in one of the chairs. “Tell me your tale. I’m sure it’s interesting.”

  Natalie sat across from him, but soon realized she didn’t know what to say.

  “I hate to rush you,” Reg prodded, “and I certainly don’t want to incur your wrath again, but people will be awakening soon, and I can’t allow them find you in my room, unescorted. So maybe we should talk in a more public place.”

  “No!” Natalie said, then quieted her voice. “No. We can’t. You see, somebody’s going to kill me.”

  “Who?”

  Should she say? Would this squire believe her?

  “Brago,” she blurted out.

  Any humor left in Reg’s expression slid from his face. “What did you do?”

  “Me?”

  “He doesn’t usually threaten to kill random people.” He suddenly seemed to understand. “You! You’re the one who’d stolen something from him. Look, Miss, I can’t help you. I can’t get—”

  “I didn’t steal anything from him!” Natalie corrected herself. “Okay, I did! But he did just threaten to kill a random person. He’s crazy!”

  “Of course he is! That’s why people leave him alone.”

  “That’s your answer? ‘Of course he is’?”

  Reg nervously ran his fingers through his thick, curly hair. “Okay, I’m sorry, but you have to understand, he’s not somebody to be trifled with.”

  “Neither am I!”

  “Good point.” Reg sighed. “All right, tell me what happened, and don’t lie, not even by omission. I won’t help you if you lie.”

  Quickly, Natalie told Reg about her sneaking into the library, seeing the two men, and how Brago had beaten her within an inch of her life. Then she told him about the saddlebags and the books, and how Henry’s livery had burnt down.

  “I was only trying to get back at him, you know?” she said on the verge of tears.

  “I understand perfectly.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course.” He added, “But you should only fight battles you can win. I’m sorry, but you picked the wrong person to take revenge on. You can’t poke a wasp’s nest, then be shocked when the wasps sting.”

  “I know. But he started it! I’m being honest when I said I was doing absolutely nothing outside the library; I was minding my own business!”

  “And stealing books.”

  “All right, I admit it.” Natalie squirmed. She didn’t like being thought of as a thief. “Still—”

  “And who steals books, anyway? Is there a black market for them? I can’t imagine you’d get much, unless they were really old or rare.”

  Natalie sneered. “Somebody who likes to read. That’s who borrows books. But I suppose you don’t know anything about that.”

  “Hey, I love to read, when I have the time. I even know three different languages.”

  Natalie was tempted to challenge him on that claim, but he could speak gibberish and she wouldn’t know the difference. Oh, how she wished she could read more than one language! Whole new worlds would open up to her.

  “But I still don’t understand what you want with Sir Edris,” he said. “I’m guessing you want to sell him what you’ve stolen from—” Reg raised his hands as if to ward off Natalie’s fury. “What you’ve acquired, I mean. But I’m not sure what good money would be to a dead person, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

  Natalie slumped, dejected and tired. “I figured, since Brago’s afraid of Sir Edris—”

  “Oh, he isn’t afraid of Sir Edris.”

  “Then I’m doomed!” she sobbed.

  “No, not yet.” He handed her an embroidered handkerchief. “But explain how you think Sir Edris could—”

  At that moment, the door flew open to reveal a large, muscular man in a crimson cloak. Both Natalie and Reg leapt to their feet.

  Sir Edris regarded Natalie with surprise, then looked at Reg. “Reginald!” he said angrily.

  “It’s not what it looks like!” Natalie pleaded. “Honest!”

  “Reginald, I told you—”

  “Brago’s trying to kill me!”

  Sir Edris hesitated.

  “It’s true, sir,” said Reg. “At least, so it would seem. Remember Brago racing back to Upper Angle?” He inclined his head toward Natalie. “Evidently, this is the thief.”

  “No I’m not!” Natalie protested. “He tried to kill me first! So I took a few of his things to get back at him, and now there’s a reward for me, and everybody’s looking, and I’m going to die!”

  “All right! All right! Let’s not lose our wits.” Sir Edris closed the door behind him. He studied Natalie with curiosity. “So, what exactly did you take from Brago’s saddlebags?”

  Chapter Seventeen

 
“So these maps and papers…” Sir Edris sat on the bed next to Reg, its mattress sagging with his added bulk. “You’re sure they showed the altar in the cathedral? Absolutely sure?”

  “Oh, yes!” said Natalie. “I went into the cathedral to have a look around. One of the sketches is of the chancel; they’re an exact match.”

  Sir Edris stroked his neatly trimmed beard in thought. “The chancel…”

  “Nat!” a hoarse whisper called from outside.

  Natalie rushed to the window. “He’s here! Give me a second!”

  “Who’s outside?” Sir Edris asked Reg.

  “Not a clue. Boyfriend, I suppose.”

  “You didn’t ask? That should always be your first question.” Sir Edris got to his feet. “It would appear we’ve been focusing too much on military matters, and not enough on more important things.”

  “He isn’t my boyfriend!” Natalie returned to her chair. Reg smirked. “He isn’t!”

  “I believe we’re drifting off course,” Sir Edris said, as he fiddled with one of the swords Reg had cleaned. “Are you absolutely—”

  “Yes!” Natalie cried. Then, remembering herself, she adjusted her tone. “That is, yes, sir. I’m absolutely sure it was of the Cathedral of the Stars.”

  “The chancel?” Sir Edris twirled the sword by its hilt as he wandered about the room. “Why there?”

  “Can you help me?”

  “Protect you from Brago?”

  “In exchange for the maps and things,” Natalie replied eagerly. “I’m sure they’ll help you on the quest.”

  “Perhaps.” Sir Edris parried an unseen foe.

  “They must contain everything you need to find the harp. Why else would he want them back so badly, badly enough to burn down Henry’s livery?”

  Sir Edris thrust the sword in a counterattack. “Because Brago is a mean, spiteful little man.”

  “Please help me—please!” Natalie wondered if crying would help, but found she was doing it anyway.

  Sir Edris looked at her. “How old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

  Natalie dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief Reg had given her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “How old are you?”

  Natalie prayed he wouldn’t suggest she get married. “Sixteen, sir,” she replied as pleasantly as she could.