Chronicles of the Red King #3: Leopards' Gold

by Jenny Nimmo

  Wyngate was methodically sifting through the crystals on the table. “It might be here,” he said. “You could have —”

  “No,” cried Llyr, motionless at last. “The Seeing Crystal is always kept in this.” He held up a red velvet bag embroidered with a golden eye. “I replaced it before we left to begin the Vanishing. Someone has taken it. Let’s not deceive ourselves any longer.”

  Petrello couldn’t help himself. He had to ask, albeit apologetically, “How do you know when to use the crystal, Llyr? I mean, it’s a silent thing, and you can’t always be looking at it.”

  Eri raised his head. “It is not a silent thing, boy. It calls us when danger is close.”

  “Oh!” Petrello’s mouth fell open. “I see.” He felt foolish.

  “Your father will be in the cameldrome,” said the queen gently, “if you’re looking for him.”

  “I am,” said Petrello.

  As he hastened down the steps, he murmured to himself, “The Seeing Crystal is not silent.” He should have guessed. How else would the wizards have known when to use it?

  Petrello quickly made his way through the crowded courtyard. There were now five courtyards within the castle walls. The first was always bustling with activity for it was where the most necessary functions of the court had been established. Here were the stables, the dining halls, meeting places, and the Hall of Corrections.

  In the second courtyard, cooks, carpenters, and smiths worked in the open air or in covered areas beside the walls. In the third, the king’s sister, Zobayda, had re-created a Spanish garden with fountains, palms, and climbing roses. A gentle warmth permeated this quiet place constantly, a climate created by the king especially for his sister. Zobayda was almost always there, reclining on velvet cushions and reading, or sewing clothes for her nephews and nieces.

  The fourth had been filled with sand. It was here that the king kept Gabar, the camel that had accompanied him all the way from the secret kingdom. King Timoken still liked to share his problems with Gabar. The camel was his oldest friend. The fifth courtyard lay empty; it had only been in existence for a year.

  Today, the third courtyard appeared to be deserted. Zobayda was still in her room, recovering from the shaking she had endured during the unexpected Vanishing.

  Petrello could see his aunt sitting in her window, watching the fountain below her. Or was she? Petrello waved, but Zobayda didn’t respond. She was staring intently at something on the other side of the fountain.

  Droplets of sunlit water tickled Petrello’s face as he walked closer to the raised pool surrounding the fountain. A stone mermaid rose from the center and water splashed from the giant conch shell that she held aloft.

  As Petrello walked around the fountain, he felt a hot breeze on his ankles. He looked over his shoulder and saw the dragon, Enid, lolloping toward him. She was overweight and slow on the ground, but she could still fly, and her breath had lost none of its fire.

  “Come on, then, Enid,” said Petrello. “I know you want to see Gabar.” He rounded the fountain and gasped.

  Olga and Lilith were sitting on a bench in front of the fountain. Lilith wore a grin of delight. Olga was rocking with silent laughter. Before them stood Vyborn. At least, it was the top half of Vyborn. From the waist down he was covered in short, grayish bristles. His legs had shrunk, his knees had vanished, his feet were hooves.

  Vyborn turned a grimly triumphant face to Petrello. “I’m not nobody anymore,” he snorted.

  “N-no,” Petrello stammered.

  “He’s found his vocation!” Lilith said. “Don’t you agree, brother?”

  “V-vocation?” said Petrello.

  “His talent,” said Lilith. “The gift that was due to him, to all the king’s children.”

  “Perhaps not all.” Olga hid her mouth with her hand, but her words were deliberately clear, and she directed a scornful glance at Petrello.

  He hardly noticed. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Vyborn, though he desperately wanted to. His brother’s torso was slowly changing: Rough bristles covered his chest and arms, his hands turned black and hardened into hooves. When Vyborn’s face disappeared behind a mask of coarse hair, Petrello backed away.

  A snout grew in the center of Vyborn’s new face, and two tusks appeared on either side of it. Enid grumbled in her throat. Her smoky breath was filled with sparks.

  In a trembling voice, Petrello asked, “How did this happen?” He nodded at his brother. “Did you do it, Lilith?”

  Lilith smiled with satisfaction. “There’s a lot that I can do, but not this. Poor little Vyborn, he wanted so much to be special, to have friends….”

  “So we said, ‘Then try, Vyborn,’” Olga piped up. “‘Maybe you could be different. Think of something.’”

  “He won’t get friends looking like that,” said Petrello.

  The new Vyborn could understand him, it seemed, for the wild boar lowered its head and, with a ghastly grunt, dashed at Petrello.

  He leaped back, but not before Enid had aimed long jets of fire at the boar. With a shriek of pain, the boar froze in its tracks and Vyborn’s face emerged from the bristles, shouting, “Next time I’ll be a serpent and then you won’t get me.”

  Petrello turned and, with Enid grunting in his wake, ran out of the courtyard and through the great arch that had once been the main entrance into the castle. Since the spirit ancestors had continued to build, the tall, carved doors were now to be found permanently open and in the very center of the castle.

  Beyond the arch, five passages led into the farther reaches of the building. Petrello entered the center passage. It took him to his favorite place: a room identical to the golden chamber in his father’s African palace, a room of golden furniture and walls painted with scenes of that hot, faraway kingdom. Camels adorned in gold and silk paced beside small sunlit houses, monkeys swung from vine-covered trees, exotic birds swooped through a vivid blue sky, and scaly creatures peeped between multicolored flowers.

  Today, Petrello and the dragon didn’t linger in the chamber of pictures. They passed the shining tables and the couches covered in cloths of gold. And then Petrello was opening the door into the cameldrome.

  Gabar, the camel, was dozing beneath a large fruit tree. The king sat beside him, one hand resting on the camel’s neck. All around them, banks of sand rose and fell in smooth golden waves, while high above, a slight ripple in the sky was the only hint that an enchanted net covered the cameldrome, keeping its precious inhabitant warm and dry.

  “Petrello!” The king leaned forward, smiling. “And Enid.”

  Petrello plodded across the manmade desert. Each step he took seemed to sink farther into the dense, soft sand. Enid spread her wings and flew to the camel that she adored, settling beneath his long neck with a contented grunt. The camel lowered his head and burbled fondly at her.

  All Petrello had wanted was his father’s company, to talk with him about the Seeing Crystal, but he couldn’t rid his mind of the scene he had just left: the awful image of his younger brother slowly turning into a wild boar.

  The king was pleased to see him. “Come and sit with us,” he said, lifting a handful of sand. He let it spill through his fingers. “You look worried, Petrello. You take our problems too much to heart. There’s always a solution, and we’ll find it eventually.”

  Petrello plunged through the last drift of sand. “It isn’t just the crystal and the bellman. I saw something, Father, and I’m ashamed that I want to wipe it out of my head.”

  The king frowned. “What did you see?”

  Petrello hesitated, and then said in a rush, “Vyborn. He turned into a wild boar. It was horrible; the bristles, the snout, the hooves, the tusks.” He covered his face with his hands.

  He heard his father sigh. He heard him say, “That’s not so bad. But better if he’d chosen to be a bird or a butterfly. He has obviously become a shape-shifter. Perhaps it had to happen to one of you.”

  “But he chose a wild boar!” P
etrello’s hands dropped to his sides. “And he attacked me.”

  “I see,” said the king gravely. “Vyborn is very young. It could be that his decision to be a boar was influenced by youthful confusion, or a sense of fun.”

  Petrello didn’t like to point out that there had never been the slightest sign that Vyborn had a sense of fun. “Perhaps,” he said. “But Lilith and Olga never use their talents in a helpful way, and Borlath’s fiery fingers always hurt.”

  For a moment, the king looked sad, and then he said, “But Amadis … ?”

  Petrello smiled. “Oh, yes. There’s Amadis.” He wished he hadn’t mentioned Borlath and his sisters. To lift his father’s spirits, he would have told him about Guanhamara and the rat, but he couldn’t find a way to do that without confessing to their spying. So instead he asked, “Will it happen to all of us, Father? I mean, having the ability to do what seems impossible?”

  The king spread his hands. “I have no idea.”

  “So you don’t know if I will be … empowered? Or Tolomeo? At the moment, neither of us knows if we’ll ever be able to do anything special, or useful.”

  “I can tell you one thing, Petrello,” said the king. “If you and Tolomeo eventually develop any unusual talents, you will use them wisely. I know this and it comforts me.”

  Two days passed. One of the Knight Protectors had still not returned: Sir Peredur. Peredur was known for his solitary quests. He often took up the cause of some poor family who were being bullied by their masters. Nevertheless, Sir Edern was anxious.

  The king couldn’t decide what to do. His chancellor advised letting the matter of the crystal rest. “The wizards can make a new Seeing Crystal,” said Lord Thorkil.

  “Easier said than done,” muttered Eri, when the king relayed the chancellor’s suggestion. “Perhaps there is only one Seeing Crystal in the whole world.”

  Eri had found the crystal on one of his long walks into the mountains. Llyr had been with him. He was only four years old but he could walk as far as any man. As they picked their way across a shallow stream, Llyr had noticed a patch of quartz sparkling beneath the water. Eri gathered some of the shining stones and brought them back to the castle. It was only when he was cleaning the quartz in one of his potions that a soft tinkling sound could be heard. Llyr pointed to one of the crystals. As Eri lifted it out of the liquid, light spilled through it, onto the wall, and an image appeared: soldiers, riding through a forest.

  “It sees,” Llyr said. “Soldiers are coming.”

  It was true.

  From that day on, the crystal had been used to warn them of any approaching stranger. It had never failed.

  The Knight Protectors were all for riding to Castle Melyntha.

  “But what if the crystal isn’t there?” said King Timoken. “We can’t attack without a reason. I don’t doubt that the eagles saw Rigg and his abductors on the castle road, but we need more proof. The crystal might still be here, hidden by whoever took it.”

  John, the guard, might have told them more, but he had inconveniently escaped. The soldier who had been guarding him was overcome in the middle of the night, knocked senseless by a blow to his head. His keys had been taken and John set free.

  The stricken soldier wasn’t discovered until morning. It was feared that he might never regain his senses.

  Never before had the king and his court had so many problems to deal with. In the meantime, with everyone in the castle so distracted, Vyborn discovered how to have fun. Encouraged by Olga and Lilith, he practiced his new shape-shifting talent almost the whole day long.

  The boys in Vyborn’s bedchamber were kept awake all night by boar grunting, owl hooting, bat screeching, and donkey braying. Wings scratched their faces, tusks pulled off their covers, and the donkey seemed to fill every space in the room with its great head and rough-haired body.

  “Perhaps it’s not a donkey,” Petrello muttered, burying his head under his pillow.

  It was a dark night and Vyborn’s shape-shifting couldn’t be seen. There were only the familiar animal sounds to suggest what was going on.

  “I’ll bet you can’t become a quiet creature like a cat,” said Tolly, hoping Vyborn would take up the challenge.

  “Cats aren’t always quiet,” said Gunfrid, who was sharing Tolly’s bed.

  There followed several moments of grunting and sniffing. Fingernails scraped the floor, a heavy object rolled and scratched and struggled. Something banged against Petrello’s bedpost. What was going on?

  All at once, the moon swam out from the gray cloud that had buried it, and Vyborn’s human shape could be seen. The light on his face was eerie and cold, and the voice that came from him was an awful, yearning, resentful sound.

  “I can’t,” said Vyborn, through gritted teeth. His dark, fathomless eyes glared up at Tolly. “Why did you say a cat?”

  “Just a thought,” said Tolly.

  “No,” barked Vyborn. “You guessed I couldn’t. I tried to be a leopard, but I couldn’t. Why?” He looked up at Petrello, who had removed the pillow from his head.

  “How should I know?” said Petrello.

  “Why? Why? Why can’t I be a leopard?”

  “Leopards are very, very special.” Guanhamara stood in the doorway, a lantern swinging from her hand. “Leopards are creatures that can never be used by ‘things’ like you, Vyborn, and you’d better get used to the idea.”

  “S-s-s-s-k-k-k-gr-gr-gr!” Vyborn’s voice went through a series of unidentifiable animal noises. The sounds ranged from a quiet squeak to a deafening roar. And it was while he was roaring that his face and body began to change into a big, featureless lump, a creature that never was, and never could be.

  The dark shape lumbered toward Guanhamara, but she stood her ground. “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson, Vyborn,” she said, her voice very stern.

  The lump hesitated. It grunted and sniffed the air. And then it shrieked. Everyone else screamed.

  There, standing just inside the door, was a tall, white, writhing monster: a demon with two heads, its eyes red embers, its open mouth awash with fangs, its arms scaly, its fingers bloody.

  Petrello knew it had to be one of his sister’s illusions, but he couldn’t stop himself from screaming.

  It was the middle of the night. Bloodcurdling screams were bound to cause a stir. But by the time Nurse Ogle appeared on the scene, Guanhamara had tiptoed away, the ghostly demon had dematerialized, and Vyborn’s head was under the covers.

  “What’s going on?” Nurse Ogle demanded. “Are you causing trouble again, foolish Petrello?”

  “I am not,” said Petrello indignantly.

  “He is not,” said Tolly. “Nor is he foolish.”

  “Who asked you?” snapped the beanpole woman, advancing into the room. She was supposed to care for the children, but in Petrello’s opinion, she couldn’t care less. “There was a noise coming from this bedchamber, loud enough to wake the dead.” The nurse lifted her lantern, sending its flickering light across the beds. “Who’s that hiding under the covers?” she demanded.

  “Vyborn,” said Petrello. “He doesn’t feel well.”

  Nurse Ogle marched over to Vyborn’s bed and prodded the body beneath the covers. “Was it you, boy, making all that noise?”

  The others waited to see what would happen. Gunfrid pressed his fist against his mouth, to stop himself from screaming again.

  Vyborn’s small body began to writhe. A head emerged, not Vyborn’s head of flat, black hair, but a head of bristles, pointed ears, and small black eyes.

  You have to hand it to Nurse Ogle, thought Petrello. For someone who was looking at a wild boar in a bed, she was remarkably calm. Taking only the slightest step back, she said, “So, we have another offshoot of King Timoken’s enchantments.”

  Vyborn grunted. For some reason, the awful tusks didn’t appear on his cheeks, and his nose still looked rather human. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to reveal his newly acquired talent to Nurse Ogle, but was find
ing it difficult to hold back.

  “Maybe he doesn’t know he’s only half turned?” Tolly whispered behind his hand.

  Petrello suppressed a giggle.

  Nurse Ogle sighed. “Well, boy, just keep the noise down and don’t show off. Not in my presence, anyway.”

  “It was Guanhamara.” Vyborn’s own hair was taking over from the bristles. His pointed ears shriveled and his eyes looked almost normal.

  “What do you mean, it was Guanhamara?” Nurse Ogle peered at Vyborn. “One girl can’t make a noise like that.”

  “She made us scream,” Vyborn protested. “She … she brought in a demon. It had two heads that touched the ceiling, and fangs and bloody fingers.”

  Nurse Ogle stared at Vyborn. “Is this true?” She turned to the others.

  Petrello shrugged. “We didn’t see.”

  “Liar!” cried Vyborn. “You screamed.”

  “There was certainly more than one scream,” said the nurse. “So, it seems that two more royal children have acquired their endowments, and both on the same day. It must have something to do with that uncomfortable Vanishing.” She made her way back to the door. “Any more noise and I’ll make you all take a potion, one that will give you a horrible stomachache for a week.”

  They thought she had finished with her dire warnings. No such luck. “As for you two” — she glared at Petrello and Tolly from the doorway — “Heaven help us if you acquire talents. They are bound to be nasty. So look out, little waif.” She directed her gaze at Gunfrid, who was trying to hide behind Tolly. “You’re in for a rough ride, sharing a chamber with these three.”

  The nurse walked away. Her rush slippers slapped the floorboards, and her lantern creaked on its rusty handle as she trundled back to her bedchamber at the end of the passage.

  * * *

  Next morning, Petrello opened his eyes just as Tolly was leaving the room.

  “Are you going to your secret meeting?” Petrello called after his brother.

  Tolly didn’t answer, and then, popping his head around the door, he said, “Vyborn’s taken Gunfrid to the dining hall. He said he was going to show him around.”